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sunflower-lilac42 · 22 days

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✧ 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 || hughes brothers ♔

summary: in which she is asked to call her brothers to see who would send her money

warnings: luke being siblingly mean

publish date: 04/07/24

notes: just a little blurb idea thing i thought of when i was watching youtube shorts and yes there are two versions because i couldn't help myself. it is short and dialogue-heavy but oh well | add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

Version One | The One Where They're All Together

She was walking through campus with her friend, talking about what had just happened in the past day that they had seen each other. As they got closer to their destination a man approached them. He was around their age, maybe a year or two older, he had a microphone in one hand as a camera guy trailed behind him, “Do you guys have any siblings?”

The two nodded, a little skeptical, “I’ll give 20 dollars to whoever can convince their sibling to send them more money than the fiend person.”

Her friend whined, “No, her brothers are rich, this is so easy for her, it isn’t fair.”

“Oh, they’re actually all together right now so that works! Wait, why am I making them send me money? I’ll think of something.”

Y/n pulled out her phone and face-timed Jack, hoping that out of the three of them, he’d pick up, “Hey y/n/n!”

Quinn and Luke joined the frame soon after, “Uh hey, can I ask you guys a huge favor?”

All three raised an eyebrow, but Luke answered, “What is it?”

“Can you guys send me some money? I need to buy a new textbook but my paycheck hasn’t come-“

“How much?”

“Like a 100? I’ll pay you back, I kind of need it soon.”

Quinn, being the big brother he loved to be, answered right away, “Yeah, of course. no need to pay me back too.”

“I promise I will.”

“Nope, I make like millions a year, I think I can spare my baby sister 100 bucks.”

“Thanks, Quinny. good luck tomorrow you guys. Love you.”

“Love you too.” The three chorused back right before she hung up.

Quinn was quick to send her the money, yet instead of the 100 she asked for, he sent her 200. Attached was a note saying that they missed her and to go buy some food for her and her friend.

“Hah, have fun beating that.”

Her friend called her sister, getting a mere $30 from her. She frowned and rolled her eyes, telling y/n that she owed her for lunch now. And after the guy left, she sent all $200 back plus the extra 20 she had just got saying it was just for a video and that she loved him. Jack and Luke whined about losing 20 dollars after that.

✧༺✎༻∞

Version Two | The One Where She Asks All Of Them Separately

She and her friend had been walking back from class, talking about the new project that they were doing. They were on their way to grab something to eat as it had been slowly approaching lunchtime. There was a guy in the courtyard, with a microphone and his own camera guy. It was a little weird and they became a little skeptical when he asked them if the two had any siblings.

While her friend shook her head no, she replied, “Yeah, three.”

So while they couldn’t see whose sibling would send them the most money, they could see which ones out of hers would, “Okay we haven’t done this one before but I’ll give whatever sibling of yours who sends you more money 20 bucks.”

“Deal!”

She called Quinn first, figuring that out of the three of them, he would be the one not doing anything at this time of day. He answered instantaneously, a soft hi coming from his side of the phone.

“Hey Quinny, I have a favor to ask you.”

“What’s up?”

“Can you send me some money? I have-“

“Yeah, how much?”

“You didn’t even let me finish my question.”

“You’re my sister, I’m going to send you money no matter what. I mean unless you’re buying drugs, are you buying drugs?”

“No just my-“

“Yeah okay. How much?”

“Like 50?”

“Okay, I’ll send you the money. I have to go, but I’ll call you later, okay? I love you.”

“Love you too.”

She looked back at her phone and smiled when she realized he sent her 75 instead of 50. She looked back up as she moved to call Jack, “Alright, let’s see what Jack will do.”

Jack answered his phone within the first three rings, “Y/n.”

“Jackson.”

“What’s up sasquatch?”

“I got a favor to ask you.”

“Should I be scared?”

“I don’t know, do you have a reason for the Devils to stop paying you?”

“No?” His voice was more confused than worried at this point.

“Okay cool, can I borrow some money? Just like 50 bucks.”

“For what reason?”

“I need some new books for class.”

Jack raised an eyebrow from the other side, “positive?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay fine. 50 you said?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll send it when we hang up.”

“Thank you, Jack. I love you.”

“Love you, you dork.”

And when the phone hung up and she got a notification, she realized Jack had sent her the exact amount she was looking for, “Cheapskate. Just kidding, I’m sending this back anyway after this video. Alright, I highly doubt Luke will send me any money, but we can try at least.”

“Luke!”

“Hey y/n/n.”

“Listen I got this huge favor I need to ask you.”

“Whatever it is, no.”

“Not even for your favorite sister?”

“Not even for my “favorite” sister. What is it anyway?”

“I was just wondering if you could send me some money for my-“

“Yeah, no.”

“What do you mean no? You didn’t even let me finish?”

“I’m broke.”

“You play hockey for a living and make more than me right now.”

“So? Get your own money.”

She scoffed, “Rude. And this is why you aren’t my favorite.”

“Oh well.”

“Bye Luke.” She hung up before he could say anything else.

“And just for that I’m sending Quinn and Jack like an extra 20 each.”

𝑵𝑬𝑾 𝑱𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬𝒀 𝑫𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑳𝑺 + 𝑽𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑼𝑪𝑲𝑺 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

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hermajestyimher · 1 year

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This Is How We Will Own 2023:

We're less than a month away from the New Year, and as such, it is important that we begin to set the foundations and plans we have to not only succeed, but make 2023 a memorable year.

Regardless of how 2022 went for you, regardless of how many goals you were able to achieve, a new year marks a new beginning. Do not beat yourself over how things went, focus on how you can improve them moving forward.

In 2023 we're:

Spending less time being passive scrollers online. The pandemic is over, the world is back in action and so must we. It's time to stop letting our minds be consumed by the opinions of thousands of people on the internet. More often than not, the things we read online come from the psyche of mentally unwell individuals, and given social media's tendency to prompt out the voices of the most unhinged, it gives people that shouldn't have a platform a false sense of authority. In 2023 we're getting off the grid as much as we can and reconnecting with the real world. We will not allow this online façade to swallow us into its void any longer.

Spending more time learning and engaging in high-end activities and hobbies that can elevate our social circle and our taste. Things like polo matches, pilates, ballet, opera, piano classes, poetry, political forums, martial arts, and high-intensity sports, among other things. It is crucial to cultivate a persona that engages in a variety of fulfilling activities that can bring us joy but also help us grow as individuals.

Prioritizing our health and fitness. No more excuses, it's time to cut down on added sugar and refined carbs, time to eat more nutrient-dense whole foods, drink plenty of water daily, invest in vitamin injections every other month, take supplements to improve our body's collagen production, and overcome feelings of laziness by pushing ourselves through fitness goals. 2023 we will make of the gym our sanctuary.

Living below our budget and investing as much as we can. If you haven't already, get a financial advisor, develop long and short-term financial goals and get organized with your income. It doesn't matter if in the past you've felt like your financial habits have not been the most adequate, it's never too late to take control of them and be responsible. We owe to ourselves to spend wisely to have the peace of mind financial security brings. Never go broke trying to impress others.

We're no longer entertaining inadequate men. I must admit I'm guilty of this myself. After years of not dating, getting back into the dating scene has felt extremely disappointing and tiring. Most prospects are simply not up to par with the standards I have and what I want out of my life partner. Sometimes we allow ourselves to become desperate to build these types of romantic relationships that we begin to overlook the things that we really want deep down. In 2023, we're refocusing our attention on living our best lives and being as active as possible in real-life events as touched upon previously, and trust that the right dating prospects will present themselves when we least expect. We attract, we don't chase.

Finally, we're overcoming negative self-talk patterns that hinder our growth. We're investing in therapy, we're unlearning the limiting beliefs that keep us in bondage to people, routines, and views of the world that are not good for us. We have to put an end to the insidious lie of the scarcity mindset, overcome past traumas, and look forward to the good things that are yet to come.

There are many more things I could add to this list, but for now, these are the things I and I know many of you will find helpful on improving on for the year to come. These lists can come out as intimidating to some people, but we have to remember that we are not expected to become the ideal version of ourselves overnight. Growth is a marathon, not a sprint, and it requires consistency. Each day that you wake up and choose to do one or two things differently you're making stride towards that better you. No improvement is ever too little.

Let's make 2023 a memorable year, and every year afterwards.

Daphne.

#2023 planning #blog piece #things ive learned #goal setting #level up journey #levelingup

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recaptchalater · 9 months

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You can worship all of the gods

There seems to be this perception online right now that a god has to reach out to you personally through signs and omens and mysterious dreams before you can start praying to them.

There's also this idea that you have to establish a close personal relationship with every god before you can ask them for anything.

People ask things like "I want to work with [deity], but they haven't reached out to me. What can I do?"

I'm not saying this modern version of worship is wrong, but it's vastly different from how gods were worshipped in the past. You don't need a close relationship with a god to pray to them. People who were closer to specific gods were closer to them due to their lifestyles, and the things they were prone to pray for.

Sailors prayed to the Dioscuri for safe passage because they were sailors.

Soldiers prayed to Mars for strength in battle because they were soldiers.

People prayed to gods based on the things those gods were in charge of, the things they did.

You might wonder, if there's no pre-established relationship between myself and this god, why would they help me?

The answer is offerings. Offerings are a transactional relationship, given and received. A gift for a gift. And they didn't always take place before the gift was given, either. It was equally common for a person to pray something like;

"Mercury, if you deliver me safely on my journey then when I arrive I will pay to have an altar raised to you in the town I find myself in."

We know this because there are a great many plaques on offerings and even buildings devoted to the gods, describing the debt owed to the god, by whom it was owed, and what was given in payment.

If you want to worship a god, just do it. You don't need anyone's permission. Just start praying to them. If you want something from them, give something in return. It's far more straightforward than many people make it seem.

#paganism #neopaganism #gods #witchcraft #witchblr

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rthko · 5 months

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Hey, I remember reading a while ago a post or two of yours about the word faggot, specifically as almost a third/"failed" gender. I've come to identify with the word a lot myself as I've figured out my sexuality and gender, so I was wondering if you had any further reading on the word and its history and reclamation that I could look into? Thanks!

First, I'm glad this post resonated with you! I unfortunately can't help much with the etymology or history of the term itself, but maybe I can help with the concept I use it to represent. It has been an ongoing project of mine to articulate, if nothing else to myself, the specificities of gayness. "Gay" refers to too wide a range of experiences to really be specific, but I am referring to those of us for whom "gay" refers not to the mere fact of our desires but what distinguishes us in a gestural and cultural level from other men. In effect, a gender in its own right. When writing that post I opted for "faggot," because what I wanted to described referred not just to male homosexuality but the experience of having chance or the expectation to live as men and symbolically or literally rejecting it.

I have a lot to say but I'll try to keep it brief. When I have articulated something like this in the past, some people have commended it saying that there's a lot of writing on lesbian as a gender but not the same for gays. This is not entirely true. Karl Heinrichs Ulrichs was the first to write of and identify with homosexuality as an essential characteristic, but this version of homosexuality was the urning, or "woman enclosed in the body of a man." We would recognize this today as trans womanhood, although there is great writing by trans women challenging the "wrong body" framing. This concept came to be known as inversion, which sexologists co-signed often in good faith but to predictably unhelpful ends. This concept is understandably obsolete because of its essentialism, the proliferation of trans theory, and of course the offense it poses to gay men. But as someone who has always self-identified and been externally considered at the fringes of manhood, I took a strange comfort in it. To know that gay men and trans women were grouped together in this uneasy alliance goes against ahistorical notions that transgenderism is an unwelcome intrusion into queerness.

So I guess the text I was looking for was The Faggots and their Friends Between the Revolutions by Larry Mitchell, 1977. People recommended me that book after my post, and I was stunned by its resonance. Mitchell waxes lyrical about the faggots, their allies the women, and their adversaries the men. His description of the faggot's identify formation is as follows:

The faggots once called themselves the men who love men. But they discovered that they did not love men, they loved only other men who loved men which was not that many of them. The men who hate others were false and death-inflicting and obsessed with being strangers. The men who hate others hate the men who love men. And this hatred is so strong that it turns the men who love men into the faggots.

Notice it does not use the logic of inversion or make any pretense of the faggots being women. Yet it does locate the point at which "faggots" detach from "men" and recognizes them as different categories. The post-stonewall pre-AIDS period in which this book was written produced a lot of "proto-nonbinary" identities, like faeries and queens. It's hard to determine by 21st century standards who in the mix counts as trans and who doesn't.

When I tried to articulate in more personal terms what this gray area means to me today, a lot of people found it resonant but a lot of people found it offensive. I felt like I owed apology to those who felt aggrieved, but the problem was that half considered it offensive that I considered myself related to transness in any way and the other half considered it offensive that I still described myself as cis. I was either a cis man who refused to check his privilege or a self hating non-binary person who just needed to come out already. I maintain that whatever you want to call me or what I want to call myself, there are material distinctions between me and most trans people that can't be ignored. And I think what keeps me from making the jump is that to introduce myself as nonbinary would make people tiptoe around language in a way I don't personally feel is necessary, but gayness has its own methods that work for me. I like the way we careen promiscuously between gendered scripts and signifiers, and the camp sensibility that refuses to take itself too seriously. I am also hesitant to describe myself as what Lyft would call "Women+."

This is a long post by Tumblr standards but if I were to really say everything I want to say Tumblr would not be the medium for it. But if you're looking for something to read on the subject, I recommend Larry Mitchell of course, Susan Sontag's Notes on Camp, Judith Butler's Gender Trouble (but just skip to part three and the conclusion honestly), Cruising Utopia by José Esteban Muñoz in part for his analysis of gesture in queer of color dance, and The Queer Art of Failure by J Halberstam that further elaborates on Muñoz's writings on failure and adds a butch perspective. Currently I am reading Male Subjectivity at the Margins by Kaja Silverman, which is a little psychoanalytic for my taste but offers a fascinating re-evaluation of inversion theory without endorsing it.

Despite all the effort I put into this post it will not be rebloggable sorry. 🤐

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 1 year

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Not You

Summary: While Dean and the reader are working a djin case, the hunt goes wrong and they wind up stuck in the djin’s perfect little world made just for them. Dean owns his own successful line of garages and the reader is a school teacher and stay at home mom to their three small kids. Dean and the reader know it’s not real and that they have to find a way out before they get sucked into their own bubble of happiness...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,300ish

Warnings: language, fight

A/N: Enjoy!

______

“Oh, crap,” said Dean. You blinked open your eyes, taking in a bright, sunny room. Sitting up, you found yourself in a bed, a king sized bed, soft sheets all around you. Looking at Dean you found him staring at you, green eyes slightly narrowed.

“Did that djin get the drop on us?” you asked, turning your head and taking in the nice master bedroom.

“Good, it’s you,” he said, giving you a quick hug. “But also, crap it’s you.”

“Sam will come and find us,” you said.

“Or if we bite the bullet in here, it’ll be enough to shock us back awake,” said Dean. “I bet this place has a kitchen with some fancy knives or something.”

“This better not hurt,” you said, rolling out of bed the same time as him.

“Hopefully we’re not strung up out in the real world,” said Dean. He took your hand and you walked out the door.

You nearly fell back on your feet when something went past quickly and down the hall.

“Sorry mom!” said a boy, probably around ten years old.

“Dad, can we have pancakes for breakfast?” said a girl, maybe a year or two older, rushing out of a bedroom nearby.

“I want bacon,” said another girl, this one around seven if you had to guess. She went with the other ones down to the stairs before they all ran down them, pairs of feet rushing around below you.

“Who’s dream world is this?” you asked.

“I always wanted a little girl with you,” he said quietly, pulling you back into the room.

“I wanted three kids,” you said, Dean pursing his lips. “We’re sharing a dream world.”

“Apple pie life,” said Dean. He shut his eyes and sighed. “We need to wake up.”

“Agreed,” you said. You and Dean walked down the hall and down the stairs to the landing, then down some more, finding two kids sitting on a couch watching cartoons, the littlest one sucking on a juice pouch as she climbed up onto a counter stool.

“Daddy. Bacon please,” she said. You went past her and to a butcher block full of knives, grabbing two and skirting out of the room. “Daddy?”

“We’ll be back in a minute,” said Dean, following you around the corner to a dining room in the front of the house.

“Just do it quick before we get sucked in,” you said.

“Wait,” said Dean, grabbing your wrist. “The djin. It didn’t glow blue, remember? Wasn’t it like purple?”

“Yeah? So?”

“What if it’s a different version of djin, you know, like the one with Charlie was,” he said.

“If we stay, we die,” you said.

“We could end up killing ourselves if we do this. A purple djin is not normal. I just...give Sam a little more time to find us. If we don’t snap out of by the morning, we do it then.”

“Dean, one night in here-”

“It’s one day. I survived out in the real world for a day in here,” he said.

“We have no idea if time works the same. We could be-”

“One hour then,” he said.

“I can live with an hour,” you said. “In the meantime...let’s cook breakfast for our fake kids.”

“Alright. I could do with some bacon myself.”

About fifty nine minutes later you were watching Dean laugh with the girl that’d requested bacon. Dean had promised to make cookies with her after breakfast and they were busy washing up some dishes in the sink. The boy and girl tucked into either side of you on the couch.

“You’re not real,” you said, loud enough for them to hear you in the kitchen.

“Of course we are,” said the boy next to you. You stood up and Dean walked over, resting his hands on your arms.

“One more hour?” he asked.

“No. We’re getting suckered in as is,” you said. He frowned and gripped you tighter. “Ow.”

“One more hour,” he said.

“Oh fuck!” you said, Dean grabbing you and pulling you flush against his chest. “You’re not Dean.”

“Took you long enough,” he smirked. The kids disappeared and he wrapped a strong arm around your back, pining you to him. “In case you’re unaware, purple djin? They do something special...you’ve read about it before in the lore…”

“Oh god,” you said, trying to get away from him but he was an image, nothing to truly fight against.

“Dream and then a nightmare,” he said. “My own special blend of nightmare. We all know how Demon Dean treated you and you gave Dean some distance when he first got back. This face hurt you and it’s gonna hurt you again.”

“For your information, he was on that hunt with me, he-”

“I’m your head. The twisted version but I know what you do. I’m sure he’ll get caught too and then it’ll be a party,” he said.

“You can’t do anything to me. It’s my head. When I want to wake up-”

“Should have stabbed yourself earlier,” he said, pushing your wrists behind your back. “Normal Dean, yeah you could take him in a fight if you had to. But me? The demon kind? You got no chance, sweetheart.”

“Fuck you.”

You stomped on his foot and he grunted, giving you enough space to at least get an arm free. You spun away from and slammed back with a punch to his gut he wasn’t expecting. You kicked and got your other arm free but he swiped your feet out from under you. He was on top of you fast and reached behind his back, pulling out the first blade.

“Now you’ve pissed me off,” he said. He raised it up and moved his arm down fast.

Your heart jumped into your throat and your eyes went wide for a brief moment as you were somewhere else, Dean patting your face.

“Honey,” he said, turning your cheek. “Y/N, sweetheart. Talk to me.”

“You get it?” you mumbled as he reached above you and cut you down.

“Yeah. He was nastier than usual,” he said. He caught you as you dropped down and pulled the needle out of your neck. “You can barely stand. How close was I?”

“Well the demon version of you was mid swing to stabbing me in the chest so pretty close,” you muttered.

“That’s...come on,” he said, scooping you up and carrying you out of the building bridal style. Five minutes later you were in the front seat of baby with his jacket laid over top of you. You had your eyes shut when the door opened and you heard him get in. “How you feeling?”

“Crappy,” you said. “Tired.”

“You lost a bit of blood.”

“I’m alright,” you said, shifting over on the seat and leaning against him. “Just wanna go home.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry for what I did back when I was a demon. I know I roughed you up.”

“You weren’t you.”

“Still. I-”

“Dean, you apologized for it a long time ago. It was never your fault. I just want to go home with the real you and cuddle and eat breakfast in bed in the morning,” you said.

“We can do that,” he said.

“We had kids over there too,” you said after a beat. He was quiet as he started to drive away from the old building.

“We can talk about that too,” he said. You tilted your head up and he smiled. “Tomorrow. Tonight, let’s get you fixed up.”

“That I can agree with.”

_______

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean x #dean x you #dean one shot #spn one shot

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rainbowdaisy13 · 25 days

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DNP Anon thanks for the message

I’m gonna give you my take because you asked—I have said from day 1, that Eras Tour seemed like a farewell tour to me. What I meant by that is that it seemed like her way of honoring and thanking the fans for everything they’ve done for the past 2 decades, but that her art and alllll the old versions of Taylor are being retired. Of course, as a Gaylor/Kaylor, I hope that means she’s moving into a more truthful time of her life for her own sake, but it could just as easily be a jump off point to take back her agency from the hoardes of fans who still feel a claim to her

I read the post you sent me and it’s pretty evident from the comments that Swifties still feel like she owes them specific attention—again not to repeat myself over and over, but this is a monster of TS the Business’ own creation—SS, hand picking people for meet n greets, sending fans personal notes and gifts, lurking on fans pages and then acting like she knows them personally has all come back to haunt her as she’s aged. Those fans can not comprehend that Taylor has gotten older, insurmountably more famous, and that the way she interacts with fans has understandably gotten less personal—they are no longer the special “friends” since she’s selling out stadiums left and right, and don’t know how to move forward from that

As far as TTPD, the lack of promo feels intentional to me as well—she’s a 34 year old woman, there’s no reason for grand theatrics anymore *if she doesn’t feel like doing it* We know all through her worldwide tour she’s been writing, directing, producing and recording god knows how many more projects and collabs

It’s my sincerest hope that Dear Reader was a heads up that TTPD signals a new beginning for Taylor to end her pathological people pleasing, and make art just for herself—whether that be in or out of the closet

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keruimi · 3 months

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Found Myself Because of Her

Obanai Iguro x reader

Comfort!

Note: I just hope that this fanfic can help you realize something. Mention of self-hate, sexual assault, death, and scars. Not proof-read

__________________

When did everything start? When my eyes suddenly just started to look for her.

An unfamiliar woman that just caught my eyes during my journey to the Ubuyashiki Estate as she played with the children of the village.

The woman who I lock gazes with as she sends a smile to my way that made my heart skip a little.

It was the first time I saw her in that village that made me question my fellow Hashira who she was.

How can she have a huge effect on me?

"Oh, she was the woman you saved from the Entertainment District" Shinobu informed me as the gears on my mind started working.

"She must be strolling around the village"

Somehow, seeing her with the younger generation made me think how it feels to be near her.

Seeing the happiness of the kids she is playing with, made me curious on what kind of woman she was.

Why does that kind of woman end up in a place like the Entertainment District.

Until destiny finally let us meet again. She made a huge impact on me as her first impression was still lingering on my mind.

The happiness she showed when she met me.

I never saw someone that happy when they saw me.

"You must be Obanai-kun that Shinobu is talking about" she started as she bowed towards my direction that made me lower my head to return her greetings.

The moment she raised her head to see me, I felt my heart skip a beat.

That made me question how beautiful she is.

"Here" she handed me a book as I stared at it. "It's a book of appreciation"

Poetry...

I took the item from her hands as she properly stood up. "I never got the chance to thank you. I owe you my life"

I quietly observed the book she gave me before I brought it closer to me before giving a nod to her.

"I was just doing what I was supposed to do" I finally muttered a sentence as her eyes widened a little before she look down.

"Well at least you still did..." I heard her mutter.

I felt her gaze soften before she uttered the words I never knew I would hear for my entire life.

"You are unknowingly the writer who chose to continue my story that was already reaching its ending"

I felt silent on her words that made me feel that saving someone is indeed a big deal.

I finally felt like my actions finally had a huge impact on someone. I let out a small smile under the bandages that were covering the lower part of my face.

I saved someone...not only physically but mentally too.

That was the first encounter we had. And I silently yearn for the next one.

On the four walls of my room, I flip the pages of the book she gave me.

How can I forget... That I love reading these things.

A small smile lifted from my lips when I remembered her. There was no day that I didn't read the book that reminded me of her.

A book that comforts the person in me. It was like an eye opening for me.

Nobody is perfect.

Nobody is born as a mistake.

The person you are today is shaped by the painful past that you have lived in.

Nobody is cruel;

Nobody is completely free

From the chains of hatred they have locked themselves in.

In life, you can be at the highest peak of the mountain,

Or at the floor of the deep ocean.

But it shouldn't be a reason nor an excuse to suffocate yourself.

You are beautiful, just as you are.

Love yourself, it's never too late

It feels like, destiny is finally comforting me. That reminds me how deep my self-hatred is.

Because I look like the monster I fear when I was a kid.

How long can I fight the demons that have been living in my mind?

How long will I last?

~•°•~

"Obanai?" I heard her voice below that made me look down and just saw her smiling up to me.

"Don't you want to eat lunch with us?"

I shook my head and I didn't hear her bother me anymore. And the moment I finally went back to reality, there was already a rope on the branch above me as she pulled herself up while carrying a basket.

I just watched as she did her best to reach me.

To be close to my distant personality.

"You should eat. I'm the one who cook it" she stated as she landed in front of me and started setting up the small table and the food she brought for me.

"Take care of yourself, Obanai." She looked at me with her soft gaze. "You need it to keep going"

I felt a pinch in my heart on her words as I let out another small smile under my mask.

I'm thankful she is trying to take care of the body I am abandoning.

I whispered a small thank you before she decided to leave to give me the privacy I need as I look at the food she made.

I felt tears slowly build up in my eyes as I thought to myself...

How long will I hide the ugliest part of me?

Our path keeps meeting and I found myself watching her gracefully dance under the moonlight like a free soul that is not ruined by the world.

I felt the cold breeze as I sat on the floor of the gazebo as my thoughts went hazy again.

I want to know her more. I want to know how she learned those comforting words she never failed to utter every time we meet.

It's God, finally giving me mercy?

Is he finally willing to cure me from the past he let me experience?

The past that was still engraved on the very part of my body. The body he gave me, is it wrong for me to hate it?

"Obanai?" Her voice made me snap my train of thoughts as she walked closer to my direction.

I internally compliment how she looks good at the light yellow kimono she was wearing.

How can someone be this beautiful?

"Are you okay?" She asked me with a small frown on her face as I lifted my lips to a smile but immediately stopped as I imagined how I looked without it.

"I'm fine"

I am not...

She quietly sat beside me as we both gazed at the garden in front of us whose beauty was completely shown by the moon that illuminates its light.

I felt her giving me side glances as she was really thinking if she would ask me to let out myself.

I know that but... Maybe I just want someone to ask.

If I was really fine. I want someone to ask, if I need someone.

Because I badly needed one or I would really lose against my own insecurities.

"I was known for being Tengen's first wife" I heard her mutter that made me turn my head in her direction as she didn't remove her attention in the garden.

"No one knew who I was" she stated as a small smile lift from her lips.

She was Tengen-san's rumored first wife?

I want to know how she ends up where she is now as I properly sat on the floor.

"Tengen is a nice guy. But that alone was not enough for me to survive with his family. Because of that action I made, it ruined the relationship we both have" She continues her story as my thoughts wander again.

Tengen never mentioned her...

"Ever since that incident, there is no day I didn't endure the torture of hatred his family had when he was not beside me. But knowing we were not in good terms yet, I never mentioned it" she finally turned her head to look at me.

Her smile never faded from her lips.

"Obanai, I have scars too" it felt like our surroundings went silent when she let out those words.

It was a moment where she was sharing the most painful part of her story that was not heard.

"There are times I want to cry so badly because I won't have the same perfect body I have when it was marked on me. It was permanent damage to my body, it was a painful strike to reality."

"That's why I left him" She whispered as she let out a low chuckle before facing the garden again. Yet my eyes never left hers.

"I was burned, whipped, poisoned, and beaten. Because I killed a person, I killed one of his brothers" my eyes widened from how she states every word without any hesitation.

Is it really okay to share this with me?

"Now that you heard the reason why I experience that kind of torture, what do you think of me?"

I saw her eyes turned glossy as I felt my heart ache with her.

Burned, whipped, poisoned, and beaten everyday? If I was her, would I kill somebody too?

I wouldn't.

Because ever since I was a kid, I was scared to protect myself. I was helpless.

"I wouldn't kill someone knowing he is important to the person I love. No matter the torture I went through." I finally spoke my mind as I looked at the moon above us.

"But what if it was self-defense? What if that was the only choice so I won't get rape? Would you still blame me?" I snapped my head in her direction when I heard her words.

Rape?

"Then I can't blame you for it..." I breathlessly whispered and a smile lifted again from her face as a look of slight happiness adored her face.

"You see, we were characters of an untold story. People's opinion is based on who's telling the story. Whether we would become a hero or a villain, it was already a decision we can't decide"

I listen to every word she says.

"People's thoughts are something we can never control. So even if you're perfect just the way you are, in their eyes, you have flaws and that's okay" she turned in my direction before lifting a hand to ruffle my hair so I just lowered my head so she could reach it.

"It's okay to be quiet, it's okay to stay silent. But you should be aware when your limit is" I felt her hand lower as it reached one of my cheeks.

"I know you're experiencing your own war with yourself but remember"

"You have no one but yourself" we both stated in sync as she gave a thankful smile before caressing my cheek.

"Ourself is our worst enemy, but also our greatest ally. Never forget that"

And that night, the painful past we both have buried was opened again.

And I found comfort in the woman I never spoke too much with. I found my heart softened on the time I cherished with her.

It felt like I finally found the partner I needed to survive.

I never knew that the night could be this peaceful. It felt like the haze on my mind was finally clear.

Having the strength to look at myself again in the mirror, I slowly removed the bandages that were hiding the ugliest part of me.

I heard Kaburamaru near me as I traced the healed mark on my mouth.

"Is this really fine to show?" I muttered to myself as I looked at myself in the mirror.

Seconds passing and I already felt the fear and hatred creeping behind me as I tried my best not to look away from the mirror.

You are beautiful, just as you are.

I shut my eyes to calm myself down as I felt Kaburamaru circle himself on my wrist as I slowly opened my eyes after I calmed myself down.

The moment I looked at myself back in the mirror, I thought of a question I should have asked long ago.

"Why did I hate you?" A tear slipped from my eyes as I weakly muttered those words.

Nobody is completely free

From the chains of hatred they have locked themselves in.

"It was never our fault..."

The person you are today is shaped by the painful past that you have lived in

"How come I hated you?..."

"You have no one but yourself"

The God just harvested those sinners who have committed grave sin. Whether they died or not because of me...

It was not in our control anymore.

~•°•~

I found her sitting under the Sakura tree, seems to be sewing my haori that I forgot at the gazebo yesterday.

I walk closer to her as she looks up when she hears my footsteps. She greeted me with a smile as I kneel in front of her and sat at the heel of my foot. I watched how she went back to sewing my ripped haori.

"I never got to know your name" I decided to break the silence as a giggle pass her lips.

"Pardon me, I'm Y/n" she playfully introduces herself and manages to lift a small smile from my lips again.

"Thank you for clearing my mind yesterday" I continued and she showed me a gentle smile before tapping my cheek.

"You need it"

I felt my heart warmed from her words as I decided to sit beside her and face her direction where no one would see my face.

I want to know if she is willing to stay or leave.

"I want to show you the scar that ruined me" I whispered to her that made her tie the threads when she finished what she was doing.

She turned to face me.

"Go on" she muttered and I felt nervous if I was doing the right thing.

Noticing my hesitation, she gave me a gentle smile. "I won't leave"

Hearing her assurance, I slowly removed the bandages that were covering my face as I hid it from the world.

Her eyes never left mine as I completely removed the cover.

Please don't leave me...

Without wasting any second, I felt her hand on my cheeks as she gave a proud smile as her eyes started to turn glossy.

"You did great" she whispered and I can't help the tears that were building from the corner of my eyes, attempting to escape.

My trembling hands touch her own as she drapes my haori on my head.

"You did it"

I can't forget the happiness she felt for me and my heart chose her over and over again.

I want her to be with me. That made me ask to court her and she gladly accepted it.

She was the person my tortured soul needed.

When we became a couple, I was the happiest. I didn't care about her past anymore.

I was her present and I would make sure I would be the one with her in the future.

My relationship with her is nothing but happiness and comfort. Something I never had nor given with.

I never hesitated on going to her arms for comfort or even assurance. A side that I only show to her and only her.

It's hard to show it during the daytime with many people watching.

I also saw her scars that littered her body. Some left a mark, some completely healed.

I just found myself tracing the scars of the whip on her back as she put some cream on her body.

Both of us would love any flaw in each other's body.

And I can't ask anymore for a better partner like her.

While on the left side of her hips, the burn is found. There are bruises that have already turned darker than her skin color so it's not easy to hide it.

She was silent the whole time I observe her body. I decided to snake my arms around her waist and pull her closer to me that made her look at the mirror just to see me.

"The scars never makes you less beautiful" I softly whispered as she let a gentle smile before kissing my cheeks.

"I know..."

Our body became a book where the scars of our past are written.

Having someone like her, all my fears disappeared.

I would trade the world for her

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #hashira x reader #love #kny #kny fanfic #kny hashira #comfort #demon slayer obanai #obanai x reader #kny obanai #obanai iguro #obanai iguro x reader #Spotify #obanai x reader comfort #kny iguro #demon slayer iguro #iguro #iguro x reader

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pinchinschlimbah · 1 month

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On "Coming Out" and Noel Fielding

I mentioned forever ago that I had this post in mind and then never got around to it, but now with the new interview quote I was yelling about recently it feels like a particularly good time to get it out of my brain and onto the page! tl;dr: musings on the concept of "coming out" as it has evolved over time, whether it's something that should continue to be necessary or expected of queer people, and why Noel is particularly inspirational to me in that regard since this is, after all, my brainrot blog. This may be extremely long and a bit disjointed but I hope some of y'all will enjoy it!

So a while ago myself and several friends were discussing the concept of coming out. All of us are some flavor of queer both in gender and orientation, but each is in a different place along their self discovery and identity journey, with some being long since out and proud, and others just starting to dip their toes into exploration past the expected cishet.

This discussion actually was prompted by a different discussion about Noel, spurred by comments we'd come across slamming him as being homophobic/transphobic on Bakeoff for making comments suggesting he has romantic or sexual attraction towards Paul, referring to himself with female-centric terms, playing female characters in the skits, and a particular moment where he brings up Old Gregg while talking to KimJoy and says "he was a sea transsexual....quite a demanding role for me" while laughing to indicate that that last part was said in jest. Hey fellas, is it homophobic/transphobic to be a little bit gay and trans? This got us talking about how the current culture of queer identity has evolved to the point where "coming out" feels more like something the public feels they're owed in order for them to view one's expression as valid, rather than its original purpose as something one does for themself in order to live most authentically. I don't think I need to go into detail about how many artists have been harassed by their "fans" into coming out before they were ready because people wouldn't accept the validity of that person's work without knowing exactly how that person identified, there've been plenty of articles and video essays and better written tumblr posts about that, but it's definitely a concerning trend. It can be particularly dangerous when it comes to people who aren't feeling confident or safe enough to come out, who end up being criticized and shunned by the queer community as being somehow problematic for not being able to fully articulate to a group of strangers the ways in which they're experiencing their identity. In this situation, the people who are struggling the most end up with the least support. Forcing people to either declare an identity or get out just leads to more people staying closeted out of fear of doing it "wrong" and never getting the chance to explore the most authentic and joyful versions of themselves, or even worse, feeling the need to out themselves before they're in a safe place to do so and suffering the resulting consequences. Questioning or cautious people deserve space in the community to experiment even if they haven't yet or maybe never will come out! My high school's Gay Straight Alliance was comprised entirely of "straight allies" when I was there. There was not a single "out" person in the school at the time. Nearly all of us in the GSA ended up being some flavor of queer or trans years later after graduation. But whether it was intentional closeting or just feeling an innate affinity towards something we couldn't quite pinpoint at the time, we all knew we belonged there and made that space for ourselves and others like us. Back when "coming out" first became a concept in the public consciousness, it was during a time where cishet identity was not just considered the default, but the only option. By coming out, queer people were giving genuinely revolutionary representation for themselves and others like them by telling the world that, as the old saying goes, we're here, we're queer, get used to it! Nowadays, we're lucky to live in a culture that is much more cognizant of queer identities being a thing, so in many cases coming out has become less about having to explain to those around you the basic concept of queerness existing, and moreso about which specific identity you fall under, and that's where things get messy.

My friends and I shared our own thoughts and experiences. One is currently identifying as "unlabeled" because they haven't found a term that feels correct yet, and therefore hasn't come out because they wouldn't know what to say. One spoke about how when they first came out they were much more insistent on what terms or pronouns people used for them but as time has gone on they've grown to find joy in being inscrutable and letting others wonder what they're perceiving. One expressed that given the state of the world they've been retreating somewhat back into the closet for safety reasons rather than being super outward with their queerness like they used to and is working on learning to embrace those parts of themself again. One said they felt like they'd already been existing as queer and expressing that queerness "before I even had the terms to come out to myself" and is now working on catching up on the conscious end of figuring out what's what. I myself never really had an official "coming out", I just became increasingly visually/socially/vocally queer as I became more and more confident in who I was and what I wanted to be and who I had on some level always been, and decided if people didn't get the hint that's their own problem. I came into consciousness of my queerness during the early 2010s original tumblr MOGAI microlabel boom, where there was a ton of focus on figuring out the hyper specific identity labels that exactly described what you were experiencing. I did a lot of digging and soul searching and experienced a lot of unnecessary stress trying and failing to find my perfect labels and landed on clumsy terms like "full time drag queen" because it was the closest I could get to what I was feeling about my gender, only to be told it was problematic for me to call myself that as an AFAB person because drag "belongs to cis gay men" (don't get me started on that statement, that's a whole other essay lol) It was a real wake up call once I distanced from these aggressively labeled and segmented online spaces and made my way into real world queer communities where I was relieved to find that in fact no one there asks to check your membership card before letting you in, if you feel like you belong there you're welcome no questions asked.

I had other people in these communities referring to me as "queer" and "fag" and "gay" and "queen" before I felt comfortable doing so myself based on online Discourse I'd experienced over who is Allowed to use certain terms, and having these community leaders I respected recognizing those things in me and welcoming me in like that gave me the confidence to really find my own footing in ways that attempting to find my exact correct identity label so that I could officially proclaim it never did. Once I could answer the question of what I was with a shrug and "queer I guess!" things became so much easier. Microlabels can be incredibly helpful and liberating for some, don't get me wrong if it works for you that's great, but let's not pretend that everyone is going to have the same experiences.

So anyway, back to Noel. Noel has never, to my knowledge, ever had any sort of official “coming out” or explicitly referred to himself as queer. So I know there are people out there who will disagree with me considering him to be queer. But so much of what he’s said and done throughout his several decades long career has indicated to me that this is clearly someone of queer experience navigating the world as such, and just as the queers in my local community welcomed me as one of them before I knew to do it myself, I extend that welcome forward.

Let’s take a look at some of the facts. In the public span of his career, Noel has.....(in no particular order, also if anyone wants to add additional instances of note in the reblogs or comments please feel free, this is by no means a fully comprehensive list) -repeatedly called himself "the woman of the Boosh" or Julian's/Howard's "wife" in ways that suggest that's how he actually felt about it rather than it just being a punchline that he was mistaken for female in the show [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] -referred to himself at the GQ "Man of the Year" awards as "never been a man" and "a sort of girl, he/she" -been referred to by Sandi Toksvig as being "on the cusp" in regards to gender, to which he reacts with amusement and acceptance -consistently expressed excitement and appreciation when others refer to him with feminine terms or say he looks like a girl [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] -said "I love being a man-woman, it's much more interesting than being one or the other" and expressed that the loved shooting the Boosh Electro episode for this reason -referred to Vince Noir (a character who he's been pretty open about being based on himself) as "wasn't seemingly one gender or the other" -expressed that he felt most free and happy when presenting femininely [2] -had Julian, one of the people closest to him, express that Noel and Sandi (an out lesbian) may have "real sexual chemistry" because Noel is "all over the shop, he's a different sex" -used the "Confuser" line of "Is it a boy? Is it a girl? I'm not sure I mind" to refer to himself rather than Vince, and express that he's had to work to find new ways to feel as androgynous as he'd like now that he's older -referred to himself as a lesbian [2] -said that he "sometimes looks in the mirror and sees a woman", in the same interview that Julian implies that Noel is in fact a girl -referred to himself as a "girl/boy" -consistently referred to himself with feminine terms on panel shows and bakeoff -made a joke on bakeoff about not being a testosterone-based person -responded positively when asked about the ways Boosh had influenced queer and nonbinary youth -has said he's "quite obsessed with the man/woman mixup thing" -has said if he was an animal he'd want to be a seahorse because the males get pregnant -Had Lee Mack, who Noel used to live with, refer to him as "the little transsexual one, yeah I think she's fantastic" in a Boosh documentary and "a young lady who came out here happy to be herself" in response to Noel's Wuthering Heights drag performance -had his own mother refer to him as "the daughter I always wanted" -described his own appearance as that of a "transsexual witch" and when an interviewer attempted to make fun of him for calling himself "a transgender witch" by showing Noel a drawing the interviewer clearly found repulsive, Noel responded that the interviewer was "holding up a mirror" and called the image his passport photo

And I'm not even going to bother citing sources on the countless times he's made comments suggesting romantic or sexual attraction towards men. Literally just watch any non-character appearance he's ever done, it's kind of his whole thing??? Not to mention his penchant for picking up explicitly queer and gnc character roles, and also just [gestures vaguely to everything Noel and Julian have said about each other suggesting romantic and sexual tension between them and how they used their characters as an excuse to explore those feelings in a less scary way, again that could be a whole other essay on its own but ooh boy] I also think there's something interesting to explore in the idea of Noel repeatedly referring to his appearance as transgender or transsexual rather than identifying himself as such- at what point does the appearance of something become reality?

It all begs the question- is it even a joke anymore if it's that consistent? Either it's not a joke and it's an authentic expression of his real feelings and experiences, or he for some reason really really wants everyone to believe that he's queer when he's not, with this behavior spanning back to a time before the concept of queerbaiting was on anyone's minds and when being publicly queer could mean the end of your career. Which scenario do you think is more likely? And, does someone who’s been conducting themself like this for their entire career really NEED to come out? Honestly, I find this level of simultaneous authenticity and inscrutability aspirational.

In this Velvet Onion interview from 2012, Noel compares his penchant for dresses to both Grayson Perry and Eddie Izzard. This is interesting because those two people represent pretty opposite intentions behind their presentation- Grayson identifies solidly as cis male, and for him the shock value of crossdressing is the point, saying “I signed up for a gender and I want them to be very clearly delineated so I know I’m dressing up in the wrong clothes.” This doesn't seem particularly in line with where Noel is coming from given him famously referring to himself as "the Confuser" and stating in that same Velvet Onion interview that he "never even bothered giving it a label, I never went oh I'm a transvestite, I just went yeah if I fancy wearing a dress I do, never really thought about it really" Eddie on the other hand has famously said "They're not women's clothes. They're my clothes, I bought them." indicating that they were a genuine part of her authentic expression rather than a crossdressing costume, and has subsequently over the years identified more and more solidly as transfemme. I find Eddie's trajectory particularly fascinating because it's been so non-linear. In the 90s when the language for transness was much less public knowledge, she referred to herself consistently as a transvestite- a cishet man who enjoyed dressing as a woman, as well as using terms like "male tomboy" and "male lesbian" and "a full boy plus extra girl". Despite doing most of her standup shows in femme looks, most of her acting jobs were male-presenting, and there was a period of time in the 2010s where she dropped the femme presentation entirely in an attempt to be taken more seriously as the "crossdressing" was seen by many as a gimmick. Swinging back around more recently, Eddie has been explicitly identifying as genderfluid and transfemme, and in recent years has made the decision to "be based in girl mode from now on", and use primarily she/her pronouns. Since this announcement, in her trans advocacy work Eddie has described herself as being "out" as trans since the 1980s despite all of the above. She always knew who she was, it's just she's gotten access to more accurate terms over time to describe what she was experiencing, as well as feeling more safe to do so the more that transness became a known and accepted concept in the public eye.

The interview I mentioned at the very start of this post isn't really a coming out from Noel. And I don't think we'll ever really get one from him. In my opinion Noel has spent the past several decades conducting himself as someone who is in fact already out- it’s pretty clear Noel knows and is proud of who he is regardless of how he chooses to describe that identity. At this point, making some sort of official statement would just be for the benefit of others looking for clarification on their own perception of him and people who want to be able to put him in one box or another, and that’s not what coming out should be. The statement in the new interview is not "I am genderfluid", its "I've always been genderfluid", simply putting an accurate name to what's always been publicly visibly true now that he's got the terms to do so.

#noel fielding #gender files #gender files masterpost #gay yelling #the mighty boosh #shouts into void #a lot of this could also apply to my other wife #but that discussion is way more of a minefield so I'm not touching that for now plus many more people already have

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fanficbarbie · 7 months

Text

❝i might just give you a bite.❞

part 1 of this fic

A/N: this is for my besties who don’t go out on saturday nights, but are instead reading fanfics in bed. before we start off this chapter, i’m gonna explain the au a bit so it’s not confusing when you read this. the characters included will be mostly from TLOU2 so SPOILERS. although there’s no outbreak and it’s modern-day joel, sarah still dies. TLOU characters will be referenced (deaths, reasons they’re not around, etc.) The only person who is not the same age as they were at the beginning of TLOU2 is Joel because i didn’t want to write a big age gap lol. he’s still daddy tho. this also isn't edited so ignore any mistakes. enjoy ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

Chapter Summary: the sweetest baker celebrates barbieween.

Chapter Warnings: death of parents (mentioned), death of a child (mentioned), language, alcohol and drugs (mentioned), slight age gap (F!MC and Joel are 6 years apart), symptoms of anxiety and depression.

Key Tags: chef! Joel, single! father Joel, no outbreak! Joel Miller, Joel x Ellie x Reader, slow burn, fluff, flirting, friendship, eventually established relationship, eventual smut, original character, black!fem!MC, no y/n.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist, joel masterlist ⋆ spotify playlist ˖ ݁ 𖥔.

⋆ word count: 6.3k ⋆

October 31st

Adding a final sugar bat wing to the specialty cupcake, I tuck a stay curl behind my ear with a huff. After 2 hours of baking and decorating, I decide it was time for a break. Taking my headphones off, I turn towards my neighbor’s little sister, Dina.

Dina's ponytail bounces as she bops around the front with her headphones in, making sure the bakery is ready to open in an hour. She’s only 15, but she’s been a massive help with the bakery. She works part-time shifts, but I’m paying her holiday pay for being here since 6 a.m. at her age. Waving my hand through the open window between the kitchen and the register, I grab her attention. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Do you want anything?” I ask.

Dina shakes her head and smiles. “No thanks,” she says.

I shuffle around the kitchen grabbing my things. “Okay, I’ll take you to school when I get back,” I accept her answer. Dina’s probably stuffed from me feeding her croissants and donuts this morning.

Dina beams, seemingly grateful she doesn’t have to take public transit today in the city. “Cool. Do you need help after 4?” she offers.

Shaking my head, I secure my bag on my shoulder. “No, Dina. Go out and have fun. There’s gotta be a party or whatever you young kids are doing these days,” I argue. No one I know should be working on my favorite holiday. It’s the best time of the year.

Dina’s nose crinkles and she leans on the counter. “I don’t really party,” she confessed.

Nodding, I think about the fact that Dina's sister is probably working the E.R. night shift tonight. “Do you want to come over tonight? I’m just handing out candy and probably watching a movie later,” I offer her someone to hang out with.

Dina happily nods, accepting the offer. After reminding her that I’ll text her sister, I turn the handle to the door. The cool autumn air nearly whips me in the face as I step out onto the small threshold.

Staring down at my phone, I start to formulate the message to Talia. I only take two steps before I bump into a small figure. Setting my hands out on the tiny human’s shoulders, I look down and notice a brunette girl peering up at me. Her face twists in anger and she shrugs my hands off her shoulders. “Ow, fuck. Watch it,” She puts me in my place with so much attitude, it reminds me of myself when I was a kid.

Taking a deep breath, I try to compose myself. The younger version of me would’ve given her a piece of my mind, but it’s the best day in the world. Halloween. “I’m sorry, tiny human. I wasn’t paying attention,” I apologize and try to move past her to get coffee.

She steps in front of me again with her arms crossed. “Hey, I am not tiny,” she counters.

“Don’t take it personally. I call anyone under the age of 18 a tiny human,” I placate her.

She huffs before shifting a bit. “Well, now that your main concern should be avoiding a lawsuit, maybe you’ll hear me out,” she snips.

My head tilts in confusion at her statement. “Lawsuit? What do you mean lawsuit?” I ask in disbelief.

Her eyes roll in response to my question. “You know? I got hurt at your business & you discriminated against me. You should pay me or something,” she explains as if I should know this already.

I’ve spent enough time with tiny humans to know when one wants something from you. “Smart, but we’re on the sidewalk. It’s public property,” I break the news to her, gesturing to the cracked concrete beneath our feet.

The brunette teenager’s face turns red as her eyes dart down and then back up at me. “Shit, maybe I should’ve done this another way,” she thinks out loud.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I daydream about a vanilla latte with almond milk. “Look, I need some coffee. Can we walk and blackmail me at the same time?” I ask.

She gnaws on her bottom lip, shifting back on her heels. “Well that’s the thing…” she pauses and waits for my name.

“Ginny,” I inform her.

She nods, seemingly internalizing every syllable. “Ginny. I have a class in 30 minutes. My da–” she stops herself, cursing under her breath. She squeezes her eyes shut right and takes a deep breath. “Anyways, he forgot to pick up the order last night. It might be under my name or his,” she blurts before opening her eyes.

I usually don’t allow customers to pick up orders a day late but the kid looks like she’s going through it. “Okay, how about you come inside and we figure it out so you get to school on time,” I say.

Her face instantly softens and a smile replaces her frown. “Cool. Thanks, Ginny,” she replies.

I open the door, motioning for her to step into the shop ahead of me. “What’s your name?” I ask her.

She looks over her shoulder and watches as I lock the door. “Ellie,” she beams.

Nodding, I start to walk with Ellie toward the back of the bakery. “Nice to meet you, Ellie,” I extend my hand and she shakes it.

When we get into the kitchen, Dina is sitting in the corner with her backpack at her feet. “That was fast,” she comments, ready to stand.

I motion for Dina to not get up with my hands. “I didn’t get coffee yet. Ignore us, I can handle this,” I chirp, breezing over to the iPad.

My fingers tap the screen looking for the list of pick-up orders. “Okay, let’s do this by process of elimination. What’s your last name so I can look you up?” I ask Ellie.

“Williams,” Ellie states clearly.

Typing the letters into the search box, I press enter. “Well your name isn’t in the system so let’s try his name next. Last name?” I try to move on to the next name.

“Miller,” Ellie replies.

Miller, that name sounds familiar. Miller, Miller, Miller. It’s on the tip of my tongue.

My brows twist as I try to place the name. “First name?” I finally give up and ask.

“Joel,” the name rolls off Ellie's tongue as sweet as lilies in May.

Shit. That’s why the name was so familiar. Maybe it’s not the same Joel. “Joel Miller? The chef?” I ask for clarification.

Ellie's brows furrow and she nods. “Yeah. Do you know him?” she counters.

Nodding, I click Chef Miller's order. “Yeah, I didn’t know he had a kid.” Not that’s it a bad thing. It makes him more attractive knowing he has the patience to be a support to a teenager.

Ellie rocks on her heels, looking over her shoulder at Dina. “Joel’s my adopted dad,” she mumbles.

“You don’t have to explain your relationship with him. I get it,” I chirp, turning to grab a box for the first half of the order. “It looks like you need 20 cookies. I haven’t put them out yet. Did you want to come to the rack and pick them out?” I ask Ellie, pointing to the back corner.

Ellie’s face lights up and she nods. “Fuck yeah. But I have to be quick. Art is first thing this morning,” she informs me.

“Let’s go, then,” I smile, waving her in my direction.

My eyes flood with tears as I weep in my office around 3 p.m. My body jolts when the office door slams open against the wall. “Ginny,” I hear my employee Grace start to say. I swivel towards my chair, wiping the tears from my face. “Woah. I’m sorry,” she apologizes with wide eyes. I understand, I probably look like a hot red mess right now.

Motioning with my hand for her to ignore me, I take a deep breath. “You’re okay, what did you need?” I ask.

She nods, shifting to lean on the other leg uncomfortably. “There’s a customer in the front saying he had an order but we can’t find it. Can you help us?” she asks.

Nodding, I stand from the chair. “Yeah, I’ll be right there,” I chirp, trying my hardest to plaster on a fake smile. Grace gratefully takes this as a sufficient answer, turning on her heels to hurry back out to the front of the bakery.

My pink heels carry me over to the cabinet where I grab a pack of baby wipes. A sharp pain shoots up my soles as I shuffle over to the floor-length mirror in my office and I smooth my hands over my dress. My hair still looks perfect, which I'm grateful for. Grabbing some of the wipes, I try to clean my face as best as possible.

Once I deem my appearance acceptable, I toss the used wipes in the trash. The click of my shoes fills the back kitchen as I make my way up to the front. When I round the corner I see the back of a man with salt and pepper hair. “That’s the boss,” Chloé, another employee, says loudly over the noise in the large room.

My brain sparks, mentally preparing myself for the worst as the tall man slowly turns around. When I see his face, my tense body instantly relaxes. “Oh, Chef Miller. Hi,” I sigh and smile, genuinely this time.

Chef Miller looks me up and down while I close the large gap between us. My nose crinkles when I stop in front of him and he still hasn’t said anything. “Hi. I - um- I’m sorry,” he stammers.

Feeling confused, I break eye contact to look down at my outfit. There’s no flour on my costume but I’m suddenly feeling insecure. “Is everything alright?” I capture Chef Miller's chesnut irises again.

Chef Miller inhales sharply, letting his arms fall to his side. “Mhm, just didn’t know you owned this place is all,” he informs me.

Thank fuck. I thought I had a booger front and center. I suddenly remember forgetting to call The Austin after Ellie came in, as promised. “Yeah, and shit. I meant to call your restaurant and tell you. Ellie came in earlier and I gave her the school order,” I try to ease his mind.

Chef Miller lets out a heavy sigh, doubling over. “Oh lord. I forgot ‘em once and thought I forgot ‘em again. Been so busy at the resteraunt, I –” he cuts his rant short. The denim shirt seems to constrict and I notice his shoulders rising and falling rapidly.

My eyes go wide and I step a little closer to the chef, putting my hand on his back. “Chef Miller, are you alright?” I ask.

Chef Miller nods with his face still towards the pink tile floor. “I’m fine. It’s just the cold air all of a sudden,” he lies and I feel the bass of his voice in my palm.

My hand instinctively rubs circles on his back. “Chef Mill-”

“Joel, sweetheart. Call me Joel,” Joel cuts me off.

“Joel,” I say, and the name almost feels foreign on my tongue. “Do you want to sit down for a second? Try a Halloween brownie?” I offer, hoping it’ll keep him from going down this continuous spiral.

Joel shakes his head and slowly starts to stand, straightening his back. “No, thank you. I don’t want to take up more of your time,” he acknowledges the long line of customers in the bakery.

Taking a step back, I clasp my hands in front of me. Something about Joel intrigues me, and I quickly think of an excuse to keep him in the shop. “How about you sit because you’re saving me from the joy of interacting with rude Halloween patrons,” I practically beg him.

He peers over his shoulder at the case with the sweet treats. His eyes return to mine with a gleam in them. “Okay, deal,” he agrees with a small smile.

Nodding, I feel the heat rush to my cheeks. Joel picks a booth to sit in while I scurry to grab him a brownie and a glass of water. When I get back to the booth, I’m out of breath from trying to function in the pink block heels. “Here, it’s on the house,” I suggest, pushing the items towards him.

Joel shakes his head, pulling out a 10-dollar bill. “This is all the cash I have on me but, I can offer two redo meals for the price of one,” he proposes, sliding the cash over towards me.

Shaking my head, I slide it back over towards Joel. “It’s not a big deal,” I argue.

“No, it is. You saved her from embarrassment. I should be tipping you 10 fold,” Joel contests, pushing it back across the table.

Getting frustrated, I reach out and push the cash back in his direction with finality. “Put it in the fucking tip jar. For Christ's sake, Joel. I don’t need it. My staff will split it at the end of the shift,” I declare trying to convince him I do not need the extra cash.

Joel looks down and grabs the cash, tucking it into his back pocket. “Fine,” he mutters under his breath. “So, how was she?” he asks a bit louder.

My head tilts in confusion. “What do you mean?” I ask for clarification.

Joel picks up the brownie, examining the spiderweb marshmallows covering the dessert. “I mean what was she like? Just trying to make sure she’s on the right track is all. Happy and everything,” he explains before taking a bite.

My eyes squint as I study Joel chewing. Every muscle in his jaw flexes and he closes his eyes. “Mmmm, this is good,” he moans and I feel the color drain from my face. My stomach flutters and I try to force the bile back down my throat.

It’s platonic, Imogen. Not even that. We’re acquaintances. “She reminds me of when I was a teenager. Didn’t think I’d ever meet someone that swears more than me,” I finally answer him.

Joel picks up the water, taking a sip of the cool liquid before setting it back on the table. “I told her no more goddamn swearing in public,” he complains.

Pursing my lips together, I try not to laugh at how ironic the scenario is. “Um, Joel,” I say, trying to fight a snicker while Joel takes another bite.

Joel's eyes flick up to mine and I almost crumble. He hums for me to continue while he chews.

Clearing my throat, I try to think of the best way to put this. I don’t want him to think I’m trying to tell him how to parent his kid. “If you want her not to swear in public, you have to lead by example,” I advise the mesmerizing man sitting across from me.

Joel instantly stops chewing and takes a big gulp. “Shit, you’re right,” he swears again and I stifle another giggle.

The desire to spend more time with Joel creeps up my spine once again. “Can I ask you something? And you can say no,” I start feeling a slight warmth in my chest.

Joel nods, wiping his mouth with a pink napkin. “Yeah, sure,” he confirms before going in for the last of the brownie.

My fingers tap the table beneath me, feeling anxious about what I’m going to suggest. “Did the two of you have plans tonight?” I investigate.

Joel takes a few moments to finish chewing while he shakes his head. “No. It’s Ellie’s first Halloween with me, too. I didn’t know what to do so I didn’t plan anything.” he addresses their plans.

A small smile creeps onto my lips. “Well, I’m closing the shop early. My neighbor’s little sister is coming over to hang out and watch a movie. You should bring Ellie by for a little while. Maybe they’ll end up being friends,” I ramble.

Joel’s face brightens as he processes the information. “I think that’d be good for her. I took off work and she should be out of school in an hour or two. I’ll get her fed and we’ll be on our way,” he voices before finishing the glass of water.

A few drops of water slip past his bottom lip onto Joel's beard, and I resist the craving to reach up and fix him. “Sounds good,” I note his plans while I slide out of the booth. “Look, I have to get back,” I tell him, seeing the line grow in size.

Joel nods and waves, following suit behind me. As I glide away, I feel something gnawing at my insides. He’s so worried about Ellie and I just want to reassure him. “Joel,” I grab his attention before he gets too far away from me.

He turns around to face me. “Yes, sweetheart?” Joel asks so kindly, I could melt butter on his words.

“You’re a really great dad. I mean, you’d have to be blind not to see that. She’s smart, beautiful, and healthy. I don’t know about happy but, what teenage girl is?” I sincerely express to him what I’ve observed already.

I can tell Joel’s trying his best when he gives me a half smile. “That’s sweet of you, darlin’,” he husks.

Shrugging, I try to push away the flush creeping into my cheeks. “It’s just the truth. And she loves you too, Joel,” I add.

Joel chuckles, shaking his head. His head hangs and he stares at the ground for a moment until a customer needs to pass his large frame to get out of the store.

Joel moves to the side, seemingly regaining his focus. “Thank you, fuck. I needed that,” he swears.

Smiling, I reach out and caress his arm. “I know. I’ll see you tonight,” I wink, spinning on my toes and floating away from the door.

“See you later, Ginny,” he returns the farewell, pulling open the door to my shop and exiting. The lingering smell of his cologne dances in my brain as I try to refocus on the current customers.

“Happy Halloween!” I cheer, scooping the last of the candy into small bags.

It’s always been my favorite holiday and this year, I’m dressed head to toe in pink as Baker Barbie. Once the rush of kids passes, I turn to join Dina in the booth next to the window. My heels click across the floors as I strut towards her.

We opted out for pizza pickup after school and I let the closers handle shutting the store. She made quick work of packing her back at her sisters when we stopped by, having already picked out her Tinkerbell costume.

Just as I make it to the booth, I hear the doorbell jingle. “Hey, Ginny,” I hear a familiar voice.

Turning around, I face the short brunette girl dressed as Wednesday. “Oh! Hi, Ellie. I love your costume. Where’s your—“ I start to ask when my thoughts are cut short. Joel Miller grudgingly saunters into my bakery dressed in a black t-shirt that tightly hugs his body.

Just like the first day we met, I felt my body start to heat up. “Look! I made him dress up as Ken since you don’t have one today,” Ellie proudly points to the pink ‘Ken’ lettering in the middle of Joel’s chest.

Blood rushes to my cheeks when I think about the possibility of us being together. Of him being my Ken. But I know it’s just my delusional thoughts.

My feet involuntarily move forward towards them so I’m not shouting across the bakery. “Oh that’s, well,” I stammer over my words trying to ease myself out of a bootleg Parent Trap. “You did a fantastic job with his costume,” I compliment her smoothly.

My legs almost give out when the corners of Joel’s mouth curve into a small smile. Ellie’s face lights up and she hits Joel in the chest lightly with the back of her hand. “See, Joel. She said you’re Kenough,” she jokes with him.

His brows knit together and he turns towards her, placing his hands on his hips. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” he questions her.

Standing next to him, my hands slide under his arm, tugging him towards the booth in the back. “Don’t think about it too much,” I giggle, trying to ignore the electricity I feel beneath my palms.

His bicep is so muscular, that I find myself wondering if he could pick me up. I make a mental note to charge both vibrators so I can fantasize about him later tonight. “Cupcake?” I offer pointing to the case, trying to dust the dirty thoughts out of my head.

Joel relaxes under my touch and I use him to stabilize myself in the tall heels. “I’ve had ‘nough sugar for today,” he grunts.

Tutting, I smile up at him. “Joel Miller, you can’t expect to come into a bakery and not get any sweetness in your life,” I challenge him. I can’t be upset though, he did try my brownie and my croissant earlier.

A small smirk creeps onto his lips. “Don’t think I have to eat anythin’ for that,” he flirts and my eyes nearly pop out of my head.

Shifting my attention to the teenagers awkwardly standing within a mile distance of each other, I try to form introductions. Dropping my grip on Joel’s arm, I cross the space to the booth. “Ellie, meet Dina. Dina, meet Ellie,” I babble, pointing back and forth between the girls.

“Dina is my neighbor,” I say for the two of them, but mostly for Joel's sake. The likelihood of the teenagers caring about our relationship is none. Sliding into the booth, I wave my hand inviting them to join us. Ellie softly smiles and she lifts her hand, awkwardly waving. “Hey. You look familiar,” she greets Dina.

Dina blushes, seemingly wanting to hide behind me. “Hi,” she mumbles.

A small girl dressed as a gymnast does a back walkover outside the window and my face twists. The city sidewalk is fucking disgusting. “Shit, shit, shit,” I hear Ellie start to panic.

My face is plastered with confusion as Dina scoots over toward me. “What’s her problem?” she whispers.

My face turns towards her and I shrug with my eyes wandering back to Ellie. She looks as though she’s about to crawl out of her skin.

Joel leans across the table and puts up his hand to cover his mouth from Ellie’s view. “She has an irrational fear of gymnasts,” he rasps lowly.

Nodding, I try to think of a way to peel Ellie away from the window. “Okay well. Dina, why don’t you and Ellie go grab some cider while Joel and I catch up,” I suggest.

Dina’s face turns red and she nods. My hands make contact with the cold table as I use it to slide out of the small booth.

Ellie looks unsure of what to do. “Joel?” she looks up at him with nervousness and asks.

“You’ll be fine,” Joel reassures her, following suit across from me and the girls disappear into the kitchen.

A smile creeps onto my face as I watch Joel awkwardly readjust his t-shirt. “So…” I start, pausing to awkwardly gnaw on my lip.

Joel seemingly notices how awkward I feel, leaning forward towards me. “How long have you owned this place?” he asks, tongue laced with curiosity.

Slouching a bit, I remember the reason why I started this career path. “A couple of years now. I opened it after my parents passed away,” I let him know.

His eyes dart down towards the table. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I didn’t mean to offend you,” he apologizes.

I reach across the table and grab his calloused hands. “It’s okay. I wanted to do something I loved and so I found and bought this space a couple of months after,” I explain.

He doesn’t flinch and the heat radiates in my palms. “So it’s just you running things? No partner?” he inquires.

The realization that I just grabbed his hands hits me, and I drop them like they’re a hot potato. His nose crinkles and I think I catch a grimace from him. “No partner,” I answer.

He leans back into the pink pleather booth and the seat beneath him crinkles. “Wow, that’s impressive. The Austin would probably crumble,” he acknowledges.

A giggle slips my lips. “Well, Daylight Bakery is not gunning for a Michelin Star,” I point out.

He tilts his head to the right and raises his eyebrow slightly. “You could do it,” he muses.

My left hand waves him off. “You flatter me. But can we stop talking about me? I’m getting embarrassed,” I express, feeling particularly vulnerable when talking about the success of my business.

Joel lifts a brow, looking at me with a surprised expression. “I thought Barbie doesn’t get embarrassed,” he points out.

Shaking my head, I smile at him. “She doesn’t… wait. You’ve seen The Barbie Movie?” I ask him. Honestly, I’m astonished.

He nods, brushing his hair back with his hand. “Mmmhm. I do have a daughter,” he elaborates.

The urge to ask him about his situation with Ellie creeps up my back. I want to know how Chef Joel ended up adopting a teenager who swears like a sailor. “About that. I hate to be nosey but, I can’t help it. How did you end up adopting Ellie?” I blurt out the compulsive thought.

He grunts and my eyes wander down to his shoulders. His whole upper body looks tight and uncomfortable. “Long story. Had a daughter, Sarah. She passed a couple of years ago,” he starts, voice laced with sadness.

My face softens and I fight the urge to cry again for the millionth time today. I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose a child. Worse than any pain known to man. “Oh, Joel. I’m so sorry,” I apologize.

Sadness glows in his eyes and I feel the desire to jump across the table and embrace him. “It’s okay, I was able to grieve. Still grievin’,” he adds.

My head bobs up and down, processing the information. “Yeah. I totally get that,” I voice quietly.

I try to stay silent to allow him to continue if he feels like it. The air between us feels solum. “After she passed, I put all my energy into the restaurant. Ellie’s birth mother died givin’ birth to her, and her mom’s partner worked at The Austin,” he notes.

“Worked?” I question him. I assumed she was still working there.

He rubs the scruff on his jaw and lets out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, she uh. She has an addiction. She was doing well for Ellie's whole life and then, somethin' happened and she relapsed. Asked if Ellie could stay with me for a while. Never came back,” he expands.

Shaking my head, I feel like a house is sitting on my heart. No one deserves to be left like that by someone they love. “That’s, wow. Poor girl,” I express sympathy for Ellie.

Joel shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Yeah. What was I supposed to do? Say no?” he chuckles, running his hands over his face.

My lips press together and my eyes capture his bloodshot ones. “No,” I murmur.

“Right. After a while, she just became mine I guess. She still reminds me I’m not her dad every once in a while,” he vents.

Tucking a stray curl behind my ear, I shift a bit in my seat. “Is it when you fight?” I query.

Joel looks away, staring off into space behind me in deep thought. “Mmmhm,” he recalls.

My body relaxes when he confirms my suspicions. “She’s just a regular teenager with teenage angst. She nearly said ‘my dad’ this morning,” I try to appeal to him.

His ears perk up and his eyebrows raise. “Really?” he nearly gasps.

My face twists and I look at him with confusion. Why would that be such a surprise to him? “Yeah,” I confirm.

His eyes gradually widen while he stares a hole through my soul. “Woah,” he breathes.

My head moves slightly to the right to make sure he’s still looking at me and not just processing. His gaze follows mine, so I continue, “Has she never said that before?”

Joel rubs the back of his neck. “No, not to me,” he grunts.

Nodding, I blink slowly. “Give her time,” I advise him.

A loud bang interrupts us and when I turn my head, I see Ellie scrambling out of the kitchen with Dina attached to her hip. “Joel, can we go watch a movie?” She asks pointing up towards the ceiling.

Joel’s brows furrow as his eyes follow her finger. “Why are you pointing up, kiddo?” He asks.

I lean across the table so I’m a little closer to Joel. “They’re asking if we can go watch it in my living room,” I elaborate to clear any confusion he may have.

Joel’s head turns in my direction. “You live above the bakery?” he digs.

“I do,” I reveal. It was easier for me to buy the whole building and split it into half residential than to buy two separate properties. Dina and her sister rent a condo in the building next door, so all 4 floors are mine.

“That’s convenient,” he comments toward me before turning his attention back to Ellie. “I don’t care, but it’s not my TV or my place. You’ll have to ask Ms. Scott,” he gives her permission, gesturing to me.

Ellie rocks back on her heels, rotating her body in my direction. “Ginny, can we watch the movie now?” she stammers, excitedly.

“Ms. Scott, Ellie. Mind your manners,” Joel corrects Ellie.

I reach out, putting my hand on Joel’s forearm. “It’s fine, Joel. I told her to call me Ginny,” I state, hoping it’ll save Ellie from a lashing.

Before he can say anything, I remove my hand from his arm to grab my keys from the table. “Here, catch,” I chime, tossing Dina the keys.

She successfully catches it, tugging Ellie towards the back with her free arm. “We’ll be up there in a second. No tequila, no weed, and no wine, Dina. I mean it,” I warn Dina.

“Buzzkill,” Dina grunts as they reach the pink double doors.

“Thanks, Gin– I mean, Ms. Scott,” Ellie beams over her shoulder.

“For fucks sake. Drop the Ms. Scott, Ellie,” I call back to her just as the doors close behind them, leaving me and Joel alone once again.

Fidgeting in my seat, I swallow my impulse to confess my crush to the southern gentleman. “Happy Halloween,” I cheer.

The stairs creek with each step we take down them as Ellie and I creep downstairs. Dina left a few minutes ago when Talia picked her up from work. The only ones left in the bakery are Joel, me, and Ellie. “Hey, Ginny. Can I ask you a favor?” Ellie breaks the comfortable silence.

I nod sleepy, praying my feet carry me back up the steps. I am not above sleeping in a bakery booth as opposed to climbing 3 flights of steps. “Mmm,” I hum for Ellie to continue.

Just a couple more steps, Imogen. “Can I come to the bakery after school, you know, just to hang out and sketch? Joel doesn’t get home till 11 pm most nights,” I hear her practically beg.

“Of course. Dina’s sister, Talia, is the same. That’s why she works the afternoon shifts,” I tell her.

I have no problem with her hanging out here in the afternoons. And besides, Dina and Ellie found out they go to the same school today. Why would I want to separate the budding friendship?

Ellie clears her throat, stopping once we get to the bottom of the steps. “Yeah…” she murmurs.

Suddenly, I’m wide awake. “Oh, you…” I start, searching her eyes unsure of how to phrase my words. “That's great, Ellie,” I attempt to telepathically communicate with her that as a queer child, she’s always safe with me.

Ellie’s eyes flicker with fear. “Please don’t tell Joel,” she quickly begs.

As if we spoke him into existence, Joel comes from around the corner at that moment. “Tell Joel what?” he interrogates us.

My breathing quickens and I feel sweat start to collect above my brow. There’s no fucking way I’m going to out Ellie to her dad, or anyone to anyone for that matter. “That she hates your steaks too,” I say as convincingly as possible.

Joel shrugs on his jacket, not bothering to adjust the fit. “Is that so?” he smirks.

Ellie shifts from one foot to the other. “Um, yeah. It’s shit, Joel. Sorry. I didn’t want to tell you,” Ellie rambles and I nudge her to stop talking. The more she talks, the more details we have to remember about this lie going forward. Fucking tiny humans.

Joel chuckles and I glide past Ellie to adjust his jacket for him. The air between us is electric when I tug his jacket up slightly. Ellie snickers, and I assume it's because I'm practically fluffing her father. Once I deem my styling of Chef Ken perfect, I flick on the lights in the bakery. “Maybe that’s what’s keepin’ me away from a star,” I hear Joel complain behind me.

When I turn around, Ellie is shrugging. “Maybe. Let’s go home,” she blurts, anxiously pulling her dad towards the door.

My feet shuffle across the floor in my slippers behind them. “Oh, Joel. Wait,” I call after them, attempting to catch up. “Ellie’s gonna hang at the bakery after school days and do homework. I can hire her next year if you want me to," I huff out of breath.

Joel’s smirk melts away and he turns towards the mini version of him. “Ellie,” he scolds her.

Ellie puts her hands up in defense. “What?” she asks.

Joel shakes his head with disapproval. “Ms. Scott’s very busy. I don’t think she’d appreciate havin' you here 5 out of the 7 days in a week,” he paints a picture of Ellie overstaying her welcome.

I don’t want her to ever feel like she can’t come here, especially after she was so vulnerable with me in the stairwell. “Actually, it’s fine. We have an empty wall right there,” I point to the blank canvas, ready to be explored. "Maybe you can paint something on that. Like a mural," I suggest.

Ellie’s jaw drops and she bounces slightly on her toes. “Holy shit! Really?” she buzzes.

Joel shifts, crossing his arms. “Ellie,” he repeats.

Ellie scoffs, looking at Joel as if she’s saying are you fucking kidding me? “I’m sorry. Holy fuck, really?!” she regurgitates with a worse swear word.

I smile at her excitement. “Really,” I whisper as if it’s the best-kept secret.

“Can it be space-themed?” Ellie counters.

Nodding, I try to imagine what a space-themed wall would look like. Maybe she can incorporate cupcakes. “It can be anything you want. Call it ‘Ellie’s Wall’ or something,” I encourage her.

Ellie nods, finally calming down a bit. “That’s awesome,” she marvels.

Ellie looks up at Joel with the worst puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen. Not that it matters, because he’s crumbling by the second. “You can do it. Long as you’re on top of your schoolwork,” he permits her to spend time here.

Ellie smiles, moving closer to the door. “Okay, okay. I’m going before you take it back. Bye, Ginny,” she boasts confidently while yanking open the door.

I chuckle at her antics. “Bye, Ellie. See you tomorrow,” I bid her goodbye.

The door shuts behind us and a faint jingling sound enters the room. Joel steps closer to me, slightly trapping me in the small doorway. “So,” he starts, cutting himself off.

My eyes snap away from his to the floor. I can’t fucking look at him. Not when he’s this close looking good enough to eat. “So,” I murmur.

Joel bends down a little bit, forcing me to look back into his coffee-colored irises. “Thank you. For everything today,” he smiles, putting a hand over his chest.

God, I’m probably as red as a tomato. I want to sprint as far as I can away from this conversation. “You’re welcome,” I voice so low, it’s almost a whisper.

Joel reaches for the door handle right next to me. So he wasn’t trying to kiss me. “Guess, I’ll be seein’ you tomorrow when I pick up Ellie,” he smiles, opening up the door.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed but I try to push it to the back of my mind. We’re just acquaintances, Ginny. “Thanks for coming. I had a great holiday,” I squeek.

His mouth curves up into a smile. “So did I,” he chuckles, stepping out of the door.

My delusional brain grabs the door behind him before he pulls it shut. Maybe this is it. Maybe he has a crush too. “Goodnight, Joel,” I melodically bid him goodbye.

Joel smiles, awkwardly waving. “Goodnight,” he murmurs, pulling the door shut.

Joel stands directly outside and peers through the window, pointing down at the lock. “Now,” he mouths, and I click the metal switch.

Shaking my head at his antics, I spin around to trek back upstairs. Once I’m in my living room, my feet drag across the floor to shut the window facing the street. I scratch my head when I hear two voices screaming at each other below. “You didn’t kiss her? What the hell, dude?” Ellie chews out Joel and my cheeks burn.

“Ellie, no questions,” I hear Joel snip at his daughter.

Curiosity killed the cat and Ellie, apparently. “Why didn’t you kiss h–”

“Damn it, Ellie. Shut up and get in the car,” I hear Joel grumble before a car door slams. I giggle, shutting my window and thanking the gods above for such a great Hallows Eve.

sweetest pie series

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a-998h · 1 year

Text

This Is Real

Creator's POV

A knock wakes me up and I notice that I'm in a soft bed. Thinking back to yesterday events it clicks that Venti took me to someone's house or an inn. Remembering Venti has no money for his bar tab let alone a room in an inn. So now I have to play a game of Guess Who to find out who let Venti dump me in their house. I get out of bed and walk out of the room to get a better sense of where I am. The exploring leads me down a stair case where I notice a fake owl on a small table at the end of the stairs. I look at it and unknowingly start petting it. I keep doing that till I hear something behind me.

"Hello,it is nice to see you awake your grace," a deep voices says.

I jump at throw my fist back. It hits something,hear a grunt,and I look to see the poor soul I hit and is met with the sight of red hair. Diluc,I hit Diluc.

"Oh my god,I'm sorry Diluc I didn't meet too!" I say in a panicked tone with a nervous laugh.

"It's okay your grace,I should not have startled you," Diluc says. Apologies are still spilling form me cause I like Diluc and I don't ever want to hurt him or any of the others. I ask how Venti got me hear and I'm told he showed up with me asleep and gave me to Diluc who brought me to a guest room. I stare at Diluc and thank him for not turning me away.

"I would not be foolish enough to turn you away your grace," Diluc answered.

"Why are you calling me 'your grace' just use my name!" I tell him.

"I'm sorry but it would be disrespectful to not call you by your title."

I get annoyed,knowing there is nothing I can do but go with it. I thank Diluc for his kindness and ask if there's a way I can pay him back. Diluc starts laughing,it was weird cause Diluc rarely smiles let alone laughs. I guess he noticed me being scared cause he stopped as quickly as he started.

"It was an honor to have you in my home,so there is no need to repay me," he explained.

I was going to insist that I owe him something when we hear my stomach makes noises that mean feed me.

Diluc's POV

Hearing a sound come from the Creator's stomach their face turns red and they rush out. I have a feeling of excitement at getting to met them along with sadness that they left so soon. I wrote a letter to Jean, informing her about the Creator. It was sent and I went to do my work.

Timeskip

Creator's POV

I was walking around Mondstadt and everyone was as friendly as they were in game. When walking near the cathedral I saw Barbara standing in front of it an her bright smile got brighter when she saw me.

"Welcome your grace! I would like to show you the offerings the people of Mondstadt have given you!" Barbara said.

I tried to pull away but she seemed to have an iron grip n my arm. I was pulled into the cathedral and saw a statue similar to the one in Liyue. Near the bottom of the statue was a large table full of Snapdragons,like in Liyue, but this time there were Calla Lilies. Barbara asked what I thought. I couldn't say anything,I felt like this was a dream. Dreams can feel like days at times and it felt nice to have people care about me,or at least a dream version of me. Turning around I ignore Barbara and leave. The voices of people blend together as a crushing feeling washes over me. I don't know what happened,I just know I was walking before hearing a few gasps and feeling a stinging on my hand.

"Your grace,you are bleeding!" Noelle yells.

I look at my stinging hand and see that its bleeding.

"Wait, if this is a dream I wouldn't feel the stinging so that means it real," I told myself.

The blood oozing out of the cut was a golden color. My mind was all over the place as Noelle was bringing me somewhere. I couldn't focus on anything. I was scared,scared that I would never be able to go home. I was now paranoid about everything,like if I ate something from here would I be stuck,or was there a way home at all! I was patched up and thanked Noelle but told her I had to be somewhere. She tried to stop me but I got past her. I walked in the direction of Dawn Winery cause that was the best way to get to Wangshu Inn. I made it there by nightfall. I felt like I would face plant on the floor any second. I found the elevator and got on. Getting off I went to find the front desk,forgetting that I was broke. Finding the desk and talking to the woman behind it was easy, the problem was finding a room. She apologized that she couldn't give me a room for free. I walked off,tired,hungry,and home sick. I sat down on the balcony and started to cry. I wanted to go home but I didn't know how I got her in the first place. The wind picked up,like it was trying to dry my tears. My cries went on for who knows how long till I had to move and leave. I decided to go find Xiangling and ask if I could stay with her. I searched for the chef and found her ask her dad and her were leaving Wanmin Restaurant.

"Xiangling! Xiangling!" I called out.

She looked over at me and waved back. I asked it I could stay the night with her. She was confused and said I could stay I Wangshu Inn. I didn't bother pointing out that I wouldn't be asking her if I could stay at Wangshu Inn. She asked her dad if it was okay and he said I could. I thanked them both and said I would pay them back. That night I slept in a warm house and not outside next to a statue. When my head hit the pillow I passed out with a thud.

Venti's POV

I was in Liyue catching up with Zhongli and I let it slip about the Creator being in Teyvat. He almost choked on his tea and asked me to explain. I told him everything I knew and he got a look on his face. He said I should check to see if they were still in Mondstadt and he would check if they came back to Liyue. I agreed and started making my way towards Monstadt. A feeling in my gut telling me that something happened while I was gone.

#SAGAU #Cult au #Genshin Impact #creator!reader

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fantasy-mixtapes · 1 month

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Fig Faeth Junior Year Playlist: Side A

It's no surprise that Fig Faeth's playlist is the one that I actually listen to the most. It's just a very good vibe and I love her. Took extra time to Song descriptions and thoughts down below. Spoilers for Episodes 1-10.

Genres included: Pop-punk, Punk, Alternative

1. hair out, Stand Atlantic

Am I fuckin' up my life? I'm just tryna make improvements Slowly givin' up the fight But I gotta cover up the bruise That I get from all the Expectations give me vertigo Wasting away to the pressure The pressure, The pressure, oh

This song is such an earworm, scratching a specific itch in my brain. Love the fact that both Kristen and Fig (the failing girlies) start with a Stand Atlantic song, and it works with the way that Fig is coming at this season. From the jump, she is one of the most visibly and audibly burnt out, specifically from the pressure of the "sophomore album" that was supposed to come out months ago. This song is definitely about the pressures of a songwriter as well as the pressures of life in general so it fits sooooo perfectly. Especially with the "I can already here people hating the song" outro *chefs kiss*

2. Who The Hell Am I?, NOBRO

God, I'm tired of being like this I can change, but in a minute Always looking for the back door, on the run Always at the party, never quite having fun Play with fire, and you're gonna get burned I'm on fire, and you know it hurts I was always on the outside looking in Maybe it's me 'cause I never wanna fit in

Fig's class struggles, her conversation with Mazey, I can't take it. I feel like we've all been there. I really love how the narrative with her has progressed, like last season was deconstructing her need to mold herself into other people (or into an idealized version of herself) now she's trying to figure out who she is at her core without all the disguises.

3. 7 Years Bad Luck, Glasseater

Something strange seems to be plaguing me Everything I touch falls apart I've lost it all, losing all my luck Suffering 7 years bad luck

I don't particularly love this song, a little too unintentionally underproduced, but it deserves a spot on this playlist. I feel like I would be Fig in the curse situation. It took me a literal year to deal with debilitating stomach problems, and I, too, waited until my friends noticed to actually do something about it. Either way, can't wait to learn more about the weird Galier Pride curse, love the representation for my stomach problem girlies

4. Where the Heart Is, Sweet Pill

Get this My mind's been in a million places but my body hasn't moved an inch And I feel like I'm missing out again Ignoring my plans Wondering how they went Feeling bad about it If I could just take a chance I wouldn't feel so bad To see past myself I wouldn't feel so bad

This is Fig's final decision to try Paladin after doing so well with Warlock. She knows the priorities in her gut don't match with what anyone else says, but she's discovering her loyalty. She's figuring out her actual drive... following her heart <3

5. Impostor Syndrome, Sidney Gish

Unfortunately, I am My own dog, my own fur companion My own old lady on a forum Who types in glittery decorum Unfortunately, I take Myself out walking every day and I had my legs to the feet and I give my head to the leash

Making Fantasy High playlists is like making a ven diagram of which dog-themed songs are Tracker-coded and which are Fig-coded. This one, to me at least, is Fig-coded. (yes, I do have a tracker playlist, and yes, every song in it is dog/wolf specific, BUT THEY'RE GOOD OK). We love our Oath/Pact of the German Shepard.

6. You Owe Me Nothing In Return, Alanis Morissette

I'll give you countless amounts of outright Acceptance if you want it I will give you encouragement to chose The path you want if you need it You can speak of anger and doubts Your fears and freak outs And I'll hold it

So I know that we're gearing up for Fig's Warlock/Paladin agreement post "mooner yulenear," but this is my interpretation of what it's going to look like. She cares about her friends, and she would do anything for them! And though I know this song came out in 2002, Alanis Morissette is a 90's icon and perfect for the grungy riot grrrl vibe I see for her

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #d20 #d20 fhsy #spotify #fantasy mixtapes #fig faeth #d20 fig #fhjy spoilers #d20 spoilers #emily axford #Spotify

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darehearts · 4 days

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being mains & exclusives with darehearts : a guide.

hello beloved crew ! i wanted to make a little psa on how these two concepts work on my blog and to inform you all that i am always open to discussing either option. i intend to have lower activity for the rest of the year, so my mains & exclusives will receive more emphasis as if they weren’t already.

being exclusives : this means we’re the only versions of our respective characters that we interact with. of course this doesn’t exactly work for ocs as they’re unique, but it could still be practiced from my partner’s end ( and my end by me pampering you 24/7 ). i bump up my exclusives’ replies on a daily basis monday through friday. every, single, day. if i have a reply completed for you and it’s in the queue, i check and bump up my exclusives for the following day ( or days if there are multiple replies present ). you’re guaranteed to get multiple replies a week as long as i have something completed in the queue for you. bear in mind that i don’t write romantic ships with anyone besides my gf, and i had bad experiences in the past when people wanted to be exclusives with me but then ditched me immediately when another version of my muse joined the rpc that they could ship with. for me to consider exclusives, we need to have interacted ooc and be friends, and have a certain amount of trust and writing done already. i’m open to consider exclusivity after being mains for a few months.

being mains : you are my go to version of your muse if there is any plot i want to explore or i want to interact with them, but of course it doesn’t limit me from interacting with other versions of your character. again, this works for ocs only in the sense you get priority when it comes to interactions and i’ll be going to you if i want to explore a plot. i do bump up my mains in my queue monday through friday as well, but after my exclusives. my replies typically won’t be almost daily, but i make sure that my mains get bumped up a few days a week even if not every single day. if i owe you something, you’re likely to get it back in a few days or week(s) depending on the traffic with my exclusives.

i reserve weekends for new interactions only. i no longer post mains or exclusive calls so if you have interest in either, you’ll need to directly reach out to me. to put it bluntly, if the idea of reaching out to me is uncomfortable, then that means we shouldn’t be mains or exclusives anyway. i’m hoping to reach out to a few people myself in the following days and see if they’re interested. if we become mains or exclusives, i will expect you to prioritize my replies for you in a similar way although if it doesn't have to be the same way. i’d like to add 4-5 more beloveds on there ! people sometimes have different interpretations of what it means to be mains or exclusives and that’s fine too ! it doesn’t mean i’ll hate you if we’re not compatible or that i won’t write with you ! i practice mains and exclusives because i’m a full time working adult with a lot going on and i can only spare limited time and energy. i want to make sure i use that for people who are equally interested in interactions.

#| ★ PSA #this is my good morning post apparently!#is this me getting my blog ready for rl changes in the horizon #yes. yes it is. love you all~

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powderblueblood · 13 days

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BEAUTIFUL!

ronnie ecker recounts the last first day of the worst of her life or i wanted to rewrite beautiful from heathers the musical, hellfire and ice version. warnings: first person narrative (ronnie's pov), swearing, era-typical misogyny, bullying and slurs, mention of eating disorders, everyone's a dick, everyone's kind of gay for lacy doevski. wc: 3.8k

September 1st, 1984.

First day of the end of your life. It’s hard not to get a little intro-outrospective.

If I was a diary keeping person, which I’m not because I don’t like to leave a paper trail outside my own goddamn academic brilliance, I’d write something like this.

Dear diary, I believe that I’m a good person–y’know, relatively speaking, if you don’t count that one time I bit that one kid for catcalling me. But, here we are! First day of senior year! And I look around at these kids I’ve known all my life and I ask myself–what happened?

We’re in the hallway, bottlenecking toward the cafeteria. It’s right around lunchtime, so everyone’s getting a real good look at everybody else, categorizing who they hate, who they hate more, who got boobs over the summer. God, do we ever stop slinging shit at each other, even when we think no one’s listening? There’s a constant cacophony in the hallways of Hawkins High.

Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-eyes! Poser! Lard-ass!

And no one does anything about it.

It’s pretty sad, considering where we came from.

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased.

Freak! Slut! Loser! Shortbus!

Singing and clapping, laughing and napping, baking cookies, eating paste. Especially me. I was crazy for that shit.

Bull-dyke! Stuck-up! Hunchback!

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger, like the Huns invading Rome. “Shit, my bad!” That underclassman I just walked straight into looked terrified. And for good reason.

Welcome to my school, this ain’t no high school. This is the Thunderdome.

Trailer trash!

For the very first very last time, I crane my head around the swamped hall and try to recall where my new locker is. First star on the right, and I wiggle in my combination and dump my books inside. I take a second, shoving my head inside the cool metal darkness (voluntarily, for once) and mutter, “Hold your breath and count the days, we’re graduating soon–”

“–Christ. College will be paradise, if I’m not dead by June.”

I crane my neck out. Two lockers up from me, elegant fingers pull open an identical door to mine except hers, of course, already has a vanity mirror hung up inside. She checks her reflection, not like it ever needs checking. One of her faithful little redheads stands beside her, smacking bubblegum so loud it makes my ears pop.

“You are so melodramatic, it’s crazy.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing…”

It sucks how the chrysalis of adolescence has made most of us completely obnoxious. I try not to be a sucker for nostalgia, but I can’t help but remember how much easier this was in middle school. Waking up on a weekday didn’t have to be like living in a segment of Creepshow.

I know, I know, I know, life can be beautiful. No plastic Jesus on my dashboard (or… handlebars, I guess) but I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again…

Then I get a whole shoulder of dork, right to the face. Bubblegum snaps between snorts, I can see that he’s been shoved my way. Yeah, we could be beautiful…

“Ow!”

Just not today. “Hey, are you okay?”

This Jansport sporting asshole twists his face up right in mine. “Get away, nerd!” Jesus Christ.

The choir of angels go on–I’m just trying to make it to the cafeteria and grab a fucking chicken pot pie. I’m starving, and I could use a little less soundtrack.

Freak! Slut! Cripple! Homo! Homo! Homo!

But, listen. It’s not a total nightmare. There’s light at the end of the tunnel. Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke or Brown–

–or, NYU, if we’re being really serious.

“Wake from this coma, take my diploma–” God. This chick’s voice seems to cut through the din of the hallway like a bell, “Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy covered walls and smoky French cafes…”

“Sooo uber pretentious!”

“Watch it, freak!” I don’t even need to turn around to figure out who that’s directed at. But, I’m a little preoccupied with singing my own tune, here! Muscling through to the lunch line, grabbing a tray while I–

“–fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze. Hey, Ronnie!”

Dude, shut up! I swing around, trying to spot the owner of that very different, very familiar dulcet tone when some duckbill hat wearing dickwad upends my lunch tray. Dressed in Hawkins Tiger green and gold, this is one of many prize dickwads.

Bear with me, I’m trying to place him.

“Ooops.”

Andy Sweeney. Indiana’s worst point guard… “whose true talent lies in being a huge dick.”

Did I mention before about that lack of filter between my brain and my mouth? I patch it up pretty good most of the time, but sometimes…

“What did you say to me, skank?” Andy demands of me all darkly and shit. It’s scary. Even if I’ve got a foot and a half on him.

“Aaah!” I recoil, looking at his flexing fists, “Nothing.”

I back up from him, way way up, leaving my mess of a lunch tray on the ground. Even though that makes me feel shitty–when did I become the guy who left stuff for the already harangued janitorial staff to clean up?

We were kind before; we can be kind once more…

Head down. Stalk through. Find the Hellfire table. But, not before someone chucks me lightly on the arm.

“Agh!” I holler before I register him. I am totally on edge. “Hey, Eddie.”

“Hey,” he grins in a sardonic way that says I cannot believe we’re putting ourselves through this again.

Eddie Munson. My best friend since pre-pube. The closest thing I’ll ever have to a brother, unless Granny finally lets me get that gecko I’ve always wanted. I’m almost eighteen, for Chrissake, I should be allowed.

Anyway, Eddie rocks. We know this. Look at him.

“We still on for movie night?” he asks.

I beam. Our first day of school comedown tradition. “Shit yeah, you’re on Jiffy Pop detail.”

Eddie’s got a little pep in his step and it jangles his wallet chain. Dude can’t help but attract attention– almost all of it unwanted. “I rented Evil Dead.”

“Hohoho, again? Wait, don’t you have it memorized by now?”

“What can I say?” Before I can even warn him, Eddie’s backstepping straight into– “I’m a sucker for a gory ending.”

“Eddie Munson, king of the trailer park! What, you didn’t qualify for free lunches this year?”

A hand comes down hard on the age-old tin lunchbox Eddie’s carrying. The clatter it makes against the lino makes me want to cover my ears and hide, especially when I see Eddie’s face. Total resignation. It’s humiliating.

This guy?

Tommy Hagan. He’s the smartest guy on the basketball team, which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“Too goddamn easy, man!” he guffaws, and I would try to figure out what farm animal he most resembles, but apparently I’m too busy–

“Hey! Pick that up! Right now!” –being the hero.

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” Tommy also tries to tower over me, but I’ve got a decent number of inches on him too.

My cheeks blaze.

“Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You’re a high school has-been waiting to happen. Tell me, Tommy, do you actually have a personality outside of sticking your nose right up Steve Harrington’s ass?”

Tommy gets closer and closer. So close that I can see the nose hair move as he huffs through his freckly nostrils. His finger points right between my eyebrows.

“… you have a zit right there.”

Cue rapturous laughter from the peanut gallery.

Dear diary…

Why do they hate me? Why don’t I fight back? Why do I act like such a creep? Why won’t he date me? Why did I hit him? Why do I cry myself to sleep?

Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope here! Something to live for!

The doors of the cafeteria burst open and Tommy’s attention is thankfully wrenched away from me. Everyone’s attention is wrenched away from me. Because we’ve all been waiting for this.

They enter the caf in a solid formation, so solid that people part for them. Some gazing, some gawping, some glaring. The name calling ceases, the bullying pauses.

This is the royal court. They float above it all.

Tina Burton, head cheerleader. Her dad is loaded. He sells engagement rings.

Heather Holloway, runs the yearbook. Badly. No discernible personality, but her mom did pay for implants.

Even the lessers are notorious. Carol Perkins has been having sex since, like, seventh grade. Cass Finnigan’s been pretending to save it for Jesus but giving a backdoor key to whoever buys her peach schnapps. Nicole Summers invented three new slurs last year alone.

And finally, Lacy Doevski.

The Almighty.

She is a mythic bitch.

These girls, they’re solid Teflon. Never bothered. Never harassed–

“I would give anything to be like that.”

And I know I don’t sit in that thought alone. Glancing around the tables, the coagulation of cliques, I can hear the desire coming from my classmates.

I’d like to be their boyfriend. If I sat at their table, guys would notice me. I’d like them to be nicer.

“What’s the over-under on one of those harpies getting kidnapped, taken to some abandoned warehouse to be photographed naked and left for the rats?” Eddie mutters into my ear as we slam ourselves down at our regular table.

I roll my freakin’ eyes. “I told you that your Barb Holland theory was insane.”

Eddie shrugs, flipping open his recovered lunchbox. “Just sayin’... They never found a body. Anyway, my money's on the ice queen. If everything they're sayin' about her dad is true, she is prime ransom material.”

“You are so unnecessarily twisted.” But my eyes are still following the crown jewels. I notice that Lacy, Tina and Heather all rise to the girl’s room immediately after they finish their minimal lunch.

I interrupt Eddie and Gareth’s too-intense-for-lunchtime debate about the morality of posthumously publishing The Silmarillion. “I have to take a leak.”

As I gently push the door of the bathroom open, I can see Tina standing nervously at an open stall door. Heather is ralphing like her life depends on it. The reptilian arch of Lacy Doevski is bent towards the mirror, touching up her lipstick.

“Grow up, Heather,” Lacy says in this voice that could weirdly be misconstrued as concerned, “Bulimia is so sophmoronic.”

Tina grimaces. “Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather.”

From inside the stall, Heather’s voice echos. “Yeah, Heather– I mean, Tina. Maybe I should.”

I’m about to open my mouth, say something about ginger ale or peppermint tea, but Mrs O’Donnell enters behind me. I dive into a nearby stall, pretty confident I haven’t been spotted. But, I leave just enough of a crack in the door to watch everything that unfolds out there.

“Ah, I should have known–”

Heather vomits again. Damn, how can she pull trig so much on so little?

“–the witches from Macbeth always travel in a trio.” Her heels click over the cracked, yellowing tile, but the way Lacy turns from the mirror gives even O’Donnell pause. “Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell over all the vomiting. You’re late for class.”

Hey. Idea. I dig around in my backpack and scribble on a piece of paper, leaning against the bathroom door.

“Heather wasn’t feeling well.” Lacy says. Again, confusing enough to sound kind! “We’re helping her.”

O’Donnell chuckles all airly. Like she’s any match for her. “Not without a hall pass, you’re not. Week’s detention.”

That’s my cue. I scurry out of the stall, presenting O’Donnell with–

“Um, actually, Mrs O’Donnell, all four of us are out on a hall pass.” I gulp and glance at Heather, who’s finally hauled herself off her knees. “Yearbook committee.”

It’s super hard to breathe as O’Donnell inspects my handiwork. It hits me that this could go horribly, horribly wrong, and I can feel Lacy’s eyes boring into a hot spot on the back of my head.

O’Donnell arches her eyebrow. “I see you’re all listed. Hurry up and get where you’re going.”

She goes to hand the note back to me, but Lacy intercepts. Once the coast is clear, she takes her time looking it over.

“This is an excellent forgery,” she tells me. A drop of freezing sweat runs down my back. “Who are you?”

“Uh, Ronnie– Veronica Ecker,” I stumble. “We were lab partners last year?”

Lacy’s eyes narrow. She doesn’t remember taking the lead on coolly dissecting a frog in front of me, it seems.

“Doesn’t matter. I crave a boon.”

She holds her glare on me. Jesus, why do I feel like I’m about to have my throat slit? “What boon?”

“Um. Let me sit at your lunch table. Just once. No talking necessary. If people think that you guys tolerate me, then they’ll leave me alone…”

What? It worked for Nancy Wheeler. Even if she had to boink Steve Harrington to do it, but I can't quite stretch that far.

The girls all chorus in laughter at me. Oof.

“Before you answer, I can also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes.” Dude, I cannot tell you where this boost of bravery (or foolhardiness) is coming from.

“How about prescriptions?” Heather asks.

“Shut up, Heather,” Lacy cuts.

“Sorry, Lacy.”

Then, she zeroes in on me. Takes slow steps toward me, just like Tommy Hagan did. But her stare is tearing strips right through me. I even freaking hunch as she gets closer.

“For a greasy little nobody,” Lacy says, her voice dropping low so I have to strain to hear her, “you do have good bone structure.”

Tina and Heather must already be tuned into this Lacy-only frequency.

“And a proportional body,” Tina adds. “If someone didn’t catch you during a basket toss, you’d probably only kind of fracture your spine. That’s very important.

“Of course, you could stand to de-hobo your wardrobe.” Heather goes so far as to flick the flappy pocket on the front of my overalls. “Salvation Army much?”

“And ya know, ya know, ya know…” the shiniest jewel in the crown hums, tapping her lipstick tube against her cheek, “This could be beautiful.” Her painted fingers pinch my chin and turn it down toward her–because I’m fucking tall. “Mascara, maybe some lipgloss and we’re on our way. Get this girl some blush– and Heather, I need your brush. Let’s make her beautiful.”

A manic looking Tina produces a vanity bag out of absolutely nowhere. “Let’s make her beautiful…”

“Let’s make her beautiful?” Heather snarks, but Lacy shoves a hand in her face.

Her eyes turn on me again. Dark and sparkly and… and… smiling. At me. “Okay?”

“Okay!”

Then, whaddaya know, smash cut, it’s the next freaking day. I don’t know how that works, but I don’t see another goddamn narrator so pipe down.

The halls are their usual shitshow– Billy Hargrove shoves the new Hellfire freshman, Gareth, into a locker. Eddie hauls him up by the collar and they run headlong into a gaggle of girls, who all scream because every nerd that plays a fantasy game is contagious.

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Get away, pervert!”

“What did I ever do to them?” Gareth yelps, exasperated. Hard not to feel bad for the kid.

But Eddie’s sage about it, even though he knows it’s as unfair as I do. “You’ll get used to it, freshman.”

“No, dude!” Gareth pushes back, verging on a panic attack, “Who could survive this! I can’t escape this–I think I’m dying!”

O’Donnell, hot on the tardy check, appears behind the both of ‘em. “Who’s that with Lacy?”

“Damn. Someone got a welfare increase,” Nicole Summers hatefully snarls.

“Who’s the babe?” says Andy Sweeney.

But Eddie Munson, oh-ho, Eddie Munson settles his eyes into slits. Anytime, any place, he’d know–

“Veronica?!”

“Veronica?” Cass and Carol caw.

“Veronica?” Steve and Tommy mimic.

And Lacy Doevski… she looks to her dutiful right, and smirks. “Veronica?”

And you know, you know, you know, life can be beautiful!

My whole life, I haven’t had a choice but to be one of the boys. My best friend’s a boy. I’m in a band with all boys. I’m surrounded by boys all the time who make gross boy jokes and do stupid boy shit. Nobody, not even my Granny, even though she fucking rules, ever asked me if… if I wanted to put on a skirt and get my goddamned nails painted. And it’s not as if I mind being on the more masculine side of things but, shit, is it so wrong to want something? Even if I believed what I was pretty much dragged up to believe, by all my friends and the world at large around me–that being a chick was totally dumb. Couldn’t I try it on?

You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way!

Lacy beckoned me into her walk-in closet, which was about as big as my bedroom and smelled of gardenia, and put me in a pleated skirt set that she said didn’t fit her temperament anymore. ‘But it’d work for a novice.’

Ask me how it feels, lookin’ like hell on wheels–

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Eddie seethes as I pass, carried on the cloud of Lacy’s perfume.

‘My god, it’s beautiful!’ I’d said, spinning around in the stupid, flippy skirt.

“Those bobbleheads totally morphed her!”

‘I might be beautiful!’ I mumbled, fingering the diamond studs she put in my ears that she made Heather pierce.

“She looks like–like–” Gareth chokes.

And when you’re beautiful…

“A girl!”

… it’s a beautiful fuckin’ day!

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Now, at first, I think I’m fucking flatlining, expecting to wake up with goddamn tubes down my throat and shit– but I’m not. I’m in my regular old bed, with my regular old alarm clock screaming at me. I smash my hand down on it and jerk up, out of the covers.

First place I go is my wardrobe.

I feel the physical sensation of my heart dropping like a lead kite when I flick through my old thrift store samesies and Granny Ecker hand-me-downs to find no such minty plaid skirt set.

Just a dream.

Which is such a bullshit conceit. Sorry to break it to you.

I admit defeat and pull on my overalls, scrunching my ballcap over my head and muscle out the door. I’m already late, for me.

But–then, there’s an apparition hovering at my mailbox.

Someone who excitedly takes notice and waves when she catches me staring, arm stretching out of her fur-trimmed peacoat–which is looking a tiny touch shabbier than it used to these days.

“Happy early acceptance day, asshole!” Lacy Doevski sing-songs. Sing-songs. Which is… something I have to readjust to, given the liminal version of her I just experienced.

“Oh.. jeez,” I mutter, feeling dazed still, “I forgot that was today.”

Lacy’s brow gets all pinchy. “You okay? You look like steamed dogshit.”

“Thank you so much,” I drawl sarcastically, “It’s nothing, I slept funky. Where’s Eddie?”

Lacy shifts in herself a little, tucking hair behind her ears and avoiding my eyes. “How should I know?” Right. That. The daylight version of this little tryst they pretend they’re not having. Honestly, if the two of them would just bang it out– well, maybe things might be worse off and this weird little platonic ménage à trois of ours would be totally ruined forever, but at least I’d have to stop tiptoeing around them. “Come on, are you gonna open it or what?”

Oh, right. There’s a whole gravity of a situation supposed to be happening here.

I kind of feel the saliva gathering at the hinges in my jaw, you know the way you do when you’re about to puke your guts up? But then, I remember. Bulimia is so sophmoronic.

I yank open that rusty mailbox and a thick, thick envelope with a New York University imprint sits inside. I yank it out.

Lacy stares at me like I’m the dude holding the thing the Ten Commandments were written on.

I’m not drawing this shit out. I am not teasing myself, dude, you couldn’t pay me to–savagely, I rip the envelope open, which makes Lacy cringe. She probably has a little knife for these sorts of things, knowing her.

Dear Veronica,

Congratulations! I am delighted to inform you…

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Well…?”

I thrust that hot, heavy paper right into that pretty girl’s face. “Full. Goddamned. Ride.”

Lacy gasps, grasping the letter so hard it leaves claw marks. Her eyes shake back and forth, reading and re-reading the whole acceptance ream. It’s weird, and I know it’s weird, but I’m standing there, looking at her and trying to make her make sense with the Lacy that showed up in my dream. That girl existed, and she was mystifying, in a horrifying way. A total reign of ice cold terror. But now, I’m staring at Lacy, who’s all short, weird angles and specific enthusiasm and… it’s hard to see how those two girls ever lived in the same body.

She’s a little Whitman. She’s got those multitudes. And, actually, so do I.

“I knew it!” Lacy hisses, “And I want you to know that I’m not at all bitter. While I should be celebrating early acceptance with you, I’m glad–”

I grin at her. “You’re a little bitter.”

“Fine, I’m a little bitter, but I’m mostly excited. New York City, Ron! That’s transformative!”

“Yeah… speaking of. Lacy?”

“Yes?”

Dreams are meant to be prophetic and shit, right?

“Doyouwannagivemeamakeover?”

She cocks her head at me. She still hasn’t let go of that acceptance letter yet. “What?”

“Do you.” I take the envelope from her hands. I know she’s capable of identity theft. “Want to give me. A makeover.”

“Huh?” Her fingers stay curled around imaginary paper. Oh, my god.

“You heard me! And I hate repeating myself!” I flail a little. I get like that, quick to bug sometimes. “Look, you said it, New York is gonna be… transformative. I’m going to be a freaking lawyer, dude, fingers crossed, all going well.”

Lacy nods, not a hair out of place, with perfect confidence,“You are.”

“And when was the last time you saw a lawyer wearing fuckin’ overalls?! Huh? The people vs Howdy Doody?”

“I like your overalls.” I know she’s saying this because it’s the right thing to say, and she’s been practicing doing that really hard. She also might like them now, after repeated exposure, in a Stockholm syndrome sort of way.

“But they don’t scream esquire,” I impress upon her. And it’s true. I truly do believe that I can’t set foot in New York fucking City looking like I just fell off the back of a turnip truck–nor do I want to.

It takes a big fat beat, but her face changes. Lacy looks almost dastardly–dark, sparkling eyes like Lacy from the dream. She looks me right over, making the calculations of how to reupholster tragically unfashionable me in her mind. And then she arches her eyebrow.

“Well, remember… you asked, Veronica.”

#published by powder #r. ecker by powder #hai brainrot #ronnie ecker #stranger things fic #l. doevski by powder #this is really just wish fulfillment for me it's been stuck in my maladaptive head for weeks

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