#point is. there is Something about the becoming of an eleven year old girl

[kafkazboyfriend]

liddy, the first to fly from lesser known monsters of the twenty-first century, kim fu

#kim fu im in love with u #omg that rhymed #this is the queerest story in the collection to me #and one of them is a free use lesbian sex scene #so #yeah yeah i had a queer (strange/gay) obsession with a girl for five years of primary school whatever #point is. there is Something about the becoming of an eleven year old girl #and the becoming of the eleven year old girls around you #the temporal heterotopia of it. or whatever. #words

[inklessletter]

Since I can't draw tonight, here's a steddie prompt for you:

Steve runs away from home once he becomes eighteen because his home environment is absolutely toxic. It's all yelling, and spitting insults, and constantly hearing that he is such a disappointment, so he decides to hit the road and go some city away from everyone he knows and just start over. His trauma response to loud, aggressive spaces leads him to accept a job managing a school library.

And he finds out it is his dream job.

He sees all these teens studying, sharing glances, romances beginning, stress increasing as midterms come closer, annoyed faces, giggling girls gossiping, kids vandalizing his tables... And he feels an observant. A watcher.

And he imagines. He imagines their lives, the tall jock with the widest smile going soft for the sarcastic redhead. The quiet thing blossoming between tose two boys who give longing glances when the other is not looking. The oddest friendship between the meanest eleven year old he's ever met and the most cynical kid to ever set foot in that school. He sees and he imagines, but he's silent.

Because silence is a precious shield that protects his imagination. Silence will never hurt him.

His first real friendship begins in silence. This girl, Robin, passes him a note with a poor drawing of him falling asleep on his desk. It made him laugh. She laughed too. That was enough.

They play this game together in which they both exchanged the craziest theories they could think of about other people's lives.

That one is a Russian spy.

That one runs a secret lab.

That one has mind powers (okay, that was maybe too crazy).

That one is an former cop.

"That one is a rockstar," Robin said pointing an absurdly good looking guy that was checking out a couple of books.

"He does looks like one, though..."

Robin was going to reply when she noticed Steve's rosy cheeks. She just smiled. She noticed the guy looking briefly at them, and then he grinned.

"Metal is more my scene, but close enough," he said.

Shit.

The guy approached them and Robin, the traitor, bolted away. The guy, all dimples and soft hair lent Steve two books and his library card (Munson, Eddie), that he registered and gave back to him.

Steve tried hard not to be an awkward mess, he barely managed to.

"I do actually play in a band, uh, on Tuesdays," Eddie said. Steve looked at him with a twist in his stomach. "And today is Tuesday. So if you want to come, I would gladly buy you a drink."

Steve felt a lump in his throat, and looked down.

"Uh, I—I don't—"

"Oh, sorry, I just—"

"I don't do well with loud noises," Steve said quickly. "I'm sorry."

Eddie nodded.

"Good luck tonight," Steve said, not wanting to leave the conversation in a rejection. He pointed the book. "This one is really good."

"Have you read The Lord of the Rings?"

"Yeah," Steve smiled. "I've got time and silence here."

Eddie looked at him with something hidden in his pupils meant to be discovered by Steve.

Eddie left the library.

There were a few days and a lot of conversations with Robin about that Eddie guy. Steve let himself imagine again, about him. About Eddie. He fantasized a lot, ignoring deliberately the sting in his guts knowing that he blew up his chance.

Two weeks passed and Eddie was there to return the books again, with a small guitar case hanging in his back, and Steve tried his best not to look like a kicked puppy.

"I can do soft noises," Eddie said, out of the blue. It earned him a look from both Robin and Steve. "When do you, uh, have a break?"

"Right now," Robin chimed in, quickly. "He's having a break right now."

A few minutes later they were in the rooftop. They found a comfortable spot with the best views and Eddie took out an old and battered ukulele. Then he looked at Steve.

"I am not a silent person. I exist in noise, and busy environments, and awful high pitched laughs," he said with a smile. "I can't change that, but I can change the noise."

Eddie caressed the tiny guitar strings, and the sound sent goosebumps through all Steve's skin.

"I can change the noise for you," Eddie said, low and soft, and he started playing a song. "If you let me."

His first real love began with music.

#steddie #fic #steddie fic #ficlet #prompt #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #fluff

[wileys-russo]

childhood sweethearts (13) II a.russo x reader

playlist one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve

childhood sweethearts (13) II a.russo x reader

the next few weeks seemed to pass by in a blur and before you knew it you'd blinked and it was the end of the month already.

you and alessia went from only texting when you needed something to texting every day, and then calling most nights if you weren't together, speaking about everything and nothing for hours, stomachs often aching from how hard you'd make one another laugh.

you appreciated the way she seemed genuinely interested in your job, asking questions and listening along intently as you recounted your days.

it surprised you to learn that if she wasn't a footballer she might have pursued teaching, though some of the horror stories you'd spun her about your time at uni and on placement steered her well away from that.

your heart warmed seeing how good she was with the kids when she did the friday football program, well all of the arsenal girls were, and with the program a raging success an agreement had been made between the arsenal academy and the school to offer discounted holiday programs for during the break.

you'd gone to see every single one of her games since the last, alessia's heart bursting to see you sat up with her family every weekend with her jersey on and her last name across your shoulders cheering her on just like old times.

and you were even learning to actually enjoy the game, though thats not to say you still wouldn't groan and complain when alessia would flick on a premier league game to watch after dinner occasionally.

her brothers had relentlessly teased her for it but she brushed them off, trying not to take to heart the jokes that if she didn't lock you down soon someone else might beat her to it.

neither of you had dared to broach that conversation just yet.

her mum was thrilled to see how close the two of you had become again, her parents picking you up most games or taking you out for a drink with them all beforehand, and always inviting you to family dinners afterwards.

and in turn your own mum insisted on both of your families coming together again like old times, and it filled you with joy to see how much time she spent with carol once more.

with the short distance between both of your apartments it seemed to become a routine of sorts that every couple of days one of you would drop by to see the other.

nights were spent taking turns cooking for one another, watching movies or sometimes just talking for hours until you'd both realise the time and need to hurry back home.

alessia had been wanting to ask you to stay the night for a little while now, but not wanting to push things too early on and just enjoying your company in anyway she could she'd hold her tongue every time you'd start to pack your things back up to leave.

but you'd always be sure to walk one another home which inevitably ended in the two of you kissing goodnight, and unbeknownst to alessia every single time you did you had to hold your own tongue not to ask her to stay.

you were yet to put a label on anything, and most of your 'dates' seemed to consist of cosy nights in, nothing super fancy or high maintenance.

you'd not clocked any sort of issue with it either, having known the girl for years it seemed almost silly to even feel the need to go out, much preferring how comfortable the two of you were around one another now you were both clearly trying to get things back on track.

well you didn't see an issue, not until rory opened her mouth one afternoon.

"wait you've not gone out? watching movies together or cooking dinner isn't a date!" your best friend rolled her eyes from where she lounged on your bed, having come over to help you with your quarterly closet clean out.

"anything can be a date if its with the right person!" you argued, holding up a dress to your body as her eyes narrowed and she pointed to the keep pile. "maybe once you're actually dating, but last time i checked the two of you were still dancing around that big question!" you blushed a little at her words and threw a cardigan at her.

"oh this is cute! can i have this?" you chuckled but nodded as she dropped it into the 'rory' pile which you knew was mainly the only reason she'd offered her 'help'.

"but anyway. if its classed as a 'date' it needs to be a bit more than just the two of you lounging about one of your apartments, thats just hanging out and one could argue that would be something strictly platonic!" rory pointed as you sighed at her dramatics.

"we make out, thats not platonic." you shot back with a glare as she ooohed. "and do you braid each others hair and swap secrets too?" the girl cooed as you threw a heel at her head causing her to shriek.

"sorry ro and how many relationships have you been in? oh just one? shut up!" you flipped her off and turned back to your clothes. "okay if anything its because i am in a long term committed happy and healthy relationship i can call this behavior out." rory started, pushing herself to sit up more.

"the two of you are acting like a) just best friends hanging out, or b) an old married couple. neither of which i know you want to be! you're both in your early twenties you should be going out and spending time together doing fun stuff! not curled up watching the same movies you've loved since you were teenagers. at least go to the cinema and see something so you leave the house!" rory tossed a pillow at you which you side stepped.

"so what i should ask her out to do something then?" you asked with a small frown, playing with the sleeves of your hoodie, which was actually alessia's hoodie. "yes! do exactly that. not that i can really blame you for not wanting to go anywhere super public with her but theres loads of stuff you can do to get around that." rory shrugged.

"what do you mean you can't blame me for not wanting to go anywhere super public with her?" you questioned with an air of confusion. "well because she's a fucking celebrity you head case!" rory laughed at you.

that took you off guard as you paused your sorting, moving to take a seat on the edge of the bed with a frown. "well shes not really a celebrity, shes not like an actor or anything." you challenged more so for your own sake.

"please! elite athletes can be just as famous as actors or singers or whatever, if anything even more so because they're more relatable to the general public. for god sakes she's won the euros and made the finals of a world cup you idiot!" another pillow smacked you in the side of the head as you shot the girl a glare.

"she also does sponsorships, ads, she's a branded athlete with adidas, she has a management agency, she's on a professional contract with a huge salary no doubt, and she plays on a global stage for fucking england!" rory ticked off on her fingers with a scoff.

"well yeah but-" you fell quiet at that, head ticking over as it dawned on you that rory was right. "come on just look at her instagram! as if you don't notice the thousands of people obsessing over her." rory chuckled pulling out her phone.

"i hardly use it! case in point you have to text me to like your posts." you rolled your eyes as rory moved to lay down shoving her phone in your face.

"see? she's got like nearly a million followers and look at how many people interact with her posts. she probably gets like a hundrd dm's a day of randoms asking her out, maybe even from other celebrities!" rory laughed nudging her shoulder into you.

"see she met david fucking beckham and it looks like he's the fan in the picture!" rory gasped clicking into one of alessia's more recent posts.

you knew rory didn't mean anything bad by all of this but as you scrolled through the hundreds on hundreds of comments on alessia's posts you chest tightened with an uncomfortable anxiety you'd not felt before.

"god and then theres tiktok and twitter and whatever else. i liked one video about less and it took me days to get rid of the edits of her on my feed." rory shook her head with a grin, grabbing back her phone off you and switching apps.

"see?" she searched up alessias name on tiktok and your eyes widened even further as she scrolled through the hundreds of edits. "jesus christ she is a celebrity." you exhaled, pushing rorys phone away and collapsing onto your back, moving so your head rested on your best friends thigh.

"well duh, what did you think? she's that same little ten year old playing for the school team with all the boys?" "no! i hadn't really thought about it is all. to me she's just...well she's just alessia."

"and that is very sweet of you but also very naive. i don't know how i'd cope if jack was getting that many girls in his comments, thank god he's just a measly banker." rory joked but at her teasing words you felt a stabbing sensation at your chest.

"but hey what have you got to worry about? all they can do is wish, you've already got the girl." rory shrugged tapping on your forehead as you simply hummed, caught up in your head.

did you have nothing to worry about?

~

you looked up from the pan of vegetables you were frying off hearing a knock at your door, lowering the heat and quickly washing your hands.

"hi lessi." you greeted the blonde as you pulled open the door, stepping aside as she hurried in, the weather below zero this week as she shivered.

"hello, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." alessia sighed happily, your lips meeting sweetly as she pulled your body into hers. "mm no one more." the blonde grinned pecking your lips a few more times making you smile.

"dinners almost done. how was training?" you left her to unravel herself from her many layers as you returned to the kitchen, hearing her join you shortly after.

"this morning? yeah it was good! nutmegged leah like ten times, she was fuming." alessia grinned taking a seat at the bench. "thats when you kick it through someones legs right?" you asked, moving the sauce off the heat.

"sure is, look whose learning. maybe we can get you into a sunday league team next!" alessia winked teasingly as you playfully rolled your eyes. "yeah you'd love that wouldn't you." you grabbed her out a bottle of water from the fridge.

"then i had a shoot this afternoon for adidas, that was fun. i just get awkward in front of the camera but the photographer was really nice!" alessia shrugged casually, taking a long swig of water as you hummed, that weird feeling from yesterday returning as you tried to push it away.

"one to ten, how hungry?" you questioned, two bowls in front of you as you grabbed the rice, having made a stir fry.

"mmm like a six? had a late lunch, some meeting with some magazine about some article. luca said we probably won't go forward with it, they've got a reputation for twisting peoples words to create drama that isn't there." alessia recounted as you again only hummed, a slight frown on your face as you dished up.

"thank you gorgeous." the taller girl leaned in to kiss you in appreciation as you handed her the bowl, eyebrows furrowing a little as you turned your head so her lips met your cheek instead.

brushing it off assuming you were probably just tired after a long week she followed after you into the living room. "no!" you warned as she went to sit on the lounge, lowering herself instead to the floor with a roll of her eyes.

"it was one time." the blonde huffed with a pout as you handed her a small handful of napkins, having knocked over a bowl of soup all over your lounge last week. "one time was enough." you smiled taking a seat beside her.

"get a dining table then and we wouldn't have this problem." alessia pinched your cheek as you mocked her and flicked on the tv. "less!" you complained as she plucked the remote from your fingers, flipping channels.

"nooo." you groaned in realization as she put on a mens game, manchester united playing against some other team you didn't know, only recognising the familiar uniform of the russo's childhood team.

"yesss." alessia mocked happily, sighing as she placed a mouthful of stir fry in. "this is really really good, thank you baby." the girl kissed your cheek again as a comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you ate.

it was during this time that alessia picked up maybe there was something going on with you. normally you'd spend the entire game either making comments, asking questions, complaining about how long halves were or teasing her for 'yelling at the players like they can hear you'.

but long after the two of you had finished eating you were still quiet, eyes not even on the tv as you seemed a little lost in your own world. "hey." you snapped out of it as a warm hand squeezed your knee, looking up into a pair of concerned bright blue orbs.

"you alright?" alessia asked, hand still on your knee as you nodded. "i'm fine babe." you forced a tight lipped smile, gently pushing off her hand and grabbing your empty bowls. alessia watched you go with a frown, now almost certain something was going on for you.

initially she didn't want to force it out of you, but as you both sat up on the sofa now and you subtly shuffled a little further away from her alessia couldn't hold her tongue any longer.

"you don't want to finish it? they're up by two!" you frowned at her as she turned the tv off, turning her body to face you. "i know you said you're fine, but i can tell somethings up." alessia started, reaching out for you as you flinched away.

"see! have i done something?" the girl asked as worry flashed across her face and you shook your head. "no no its just-" you struggled to get out your words, groaning and dragging your hands down your face.

"fucking rory." you muttered cursing out your best friend for causing this swirling sea of doubt in your mind. "you're fucking rory?" alessia misunderstood, pulling her hands back with a frown as again you shook your head.

"no! god no, disgusting." you pulled a face of disgust as alessia breathed out in relief. "its not something you've done, well not...directly?" you winced as the frown returned to the strikers face. "i don't understand."

"okay, well can i ask you something?" "of course." "do you consider yourself a celebrity?"

"thats...a loaded question." alessia exhaled as she thought it over. "i don't personally think about myself in that way but i can see why i'd be perceived that way." alessia answered after a moment to contemplate.

"but why do you ask?" alessia asked both concerned and curious as to where this was coming from. "its stupid." you huffed, falling down onto your back as alessia grabbed your ankles, pulling your legs to rest over your lap, relaxing when you made no move to pull away.

"if its bothering you its not stupid, please." the striker requested softly as you sighed. "well rory was talking to me about how its weird we don't ever go out on dates, and then she made some comment about understanding why i wouldn't want to because you're a celebrity." you paused as alessia nodded for you to continue.

"then she showed me your instagram and tiktok and there was just so many comments and i promise i don't dismiss any of your achievements but i guess i never really took a moment to realise just how many other people appreciated them too." you frowned as everything rolled through your mind.

"see! its stupid. of course you're going to get thousands of comments and fans and edits, you're an international football superstar." you threw your hands up, cheeks burning up a little.

"you jealous of all the fangirls love?" alessia teased as insecurity flashed across your face and she quickly realised that was the wrong thing to say.

"hey no i'm sorry, look at me." soft hands grabbed yours and tugged you to sit up. "first of all, its not stupid." alessia promised sincerely, eyes not leaving yours.

"but it is something we have to speak about, and probably should have already spoken about." alessia sighed in realisation, taking your hands into hers again. "social media is...complicated. people think they know me or i owe them something just because im a public figure." alessia started with a frown.

"every little thing i post gets picked apart whether its of me, a holiday, a place, a friend, my family, anything. people find out which cafes i go to for coffee and show up there hoping to see me, follow me to restaurants when i post im out eating with friends, take sneaky videos when im out in public and post them. it can get very invasive and a lot of people have no concept of privacy or boundaries!" alessia warned as you nodded slowly.

"so i guess if we..." alessia gestured between the two of you with a wince as you nodded to show you understood what she was saying. "...then thats something you'll have to know is there. its not going away, if anything the more tournaments i play in, ads i do, sponsors i get, interviews, articles, club trophies, the attention and the fans and the eyes will grow." alessia spoke firmly, still keeping a hold on your hands.

"but i'm not trying to scare you, i just need you to know that its there. i would always do my best to protect you but some things are out of my hands and out of my control, i can't stop what people think, post, say, much as i wish i could." alessia sighed, bringing your hand up to her mouth to kiss your palm.

"please say something." alessia laughed but it was clearly full of nerves, her face falling as you gently pulled your hands out of hers. "its just, this is all very new. i know you're still you, but i guess the thought of having thousands of people all watching everything you do and picking it apart or obsessing over you and wanting you in comments is overwhelming." you admitted, biting your bottom lip as alessia nodded.

"i know. it overwhelms me too but i promise like you said i'm still me, none of this changes that. and if anything ever bothers you like this please just come talk to me about it, i will always listen." alessia promised, relief flooding her body as took her hands again.

"thank you. i'm sorry for being a downer!" you smiled apologetically as the blonde hurriedly shook her head. "never. but you also did raise another very good point!" alessia started as you tilted your head curiously.

"as much as i love our dinners and movies, we've not really been out on a proper date. so can i please take you out on friday night? i'll be at the school for the program anyway so we could go out right after or we could come back and get ready or we could-" you cut her off as you pressed your lips to hers, silencing her worried rambles.

"i'd love to go out on friday lessi."

~

"someones popular today." you bumped your shoulder into alessias as she broke away from your students who'd been clinging to her all afternoon, leah now running a game as she started to break them up into smaller groups.

"i like kids but i do not know how you deal with all the questions! an angel of patience." alessia sighed bumping you back with a smile. "just an angel in general." you teased, catching the girls eyes quickly flicker down to your lips momentarily.

"excuse me miss russo we are in a professional environment, behave yourself." you warned, kissing her cheek quickly when no one was looking and walking off to calm a small argument which had broken out over team names.

"saw that russo." the smile couldn't even be wiped off alessia's face at katies teasing, the irishwoman standing where you previously had as she poked and prodded at the younger girl.

"so when are you bringing your girlfriend to a team night out then?" katie sung out with a grin. "she's not my girlfriend." alessia sighed, smile dropping as katie frowned. "oh, well no one to blame but yourself there. i see the way she looks at you! smitten." the girl clapped her on the back.

"i want to its just, we've got a complicated history." alessia mumbled with a frown. "ah! who doesn't. all ya can do is not repeat past mistakes. i know none of my exes would turn up to a bar to come pick me up wasted out of nowhere!" katie reminded as alessia winced recalling that night.

"god don't remind me, never again." alessia exhaled with a shake of her head. "well then get your girl russo! you'll never know until ya ask." katie shrugged.

"we're going out tonight, i'm gonna take her to that little darts bar its pretty quiet and i think i freaked her out the other day with the whole thousands of fans thing." alessia then explained the conversation you'd had.

"mm yeah, not something i can offer ya any advice on there less. i've always dated the famous ones!" katie winked jokingly, jogging off as the whistle blew.

"did i hear darts bar tonight? i'll tell the girls!" alessia's head whipped around as beth stood behind her, racing off toward leah before alessia could say another word, the girl throwing her head back with a groan.

"alessia! you're on our team!" she was snapped out of it by small hands gripping at her shorts and shirt, tugging her onto the field as she met your eyes on the other side of the oval, a smile sent her way before you returned to your conversation with your coworker.

it wasn't for another hour that alessia was finally able to track you down alone again, and by this time beth had spread the word and the plan was made, far too late for alessia to say a word as katie gave her a sympathetic look.

"hey! can we talk for a second?" you looked up from speaking with chloe, wishing her a good weekend as she walked off and you nodded, gesturing for her to follow after you back into your classroom.

"did you drive here?" you asked as alessia took a seat on top of one of the desks as you started to pack up yours. "no leah gave me a lift."

"perfect, i'll drop you home and then we can get ready separately. i assume you'll want to drive tonight though?" you smiled teasingly, it being no surprise that alessia preferred to be the driver of the two of you.

"look about tonight-" alessia started, watching as you paused, worry flashing across your face for a moment. "i'm not cancelling." the blonde was quick to assure you as you visibly relaxed a litte.

"we just might need to change the plan? beth kind of overheard me talking to katie about it and then assumed it was a group thing and invited a bunch of the girls and its hardly a date if my entire team is there too and-" alessia started to ramble.

"less!" you cut her off as her face blushed red. "i don't mind if the others are there, really. i know you were excited to show me this place, maybe we could just get dinner somewhere else together and then meet them there later?" you suggested as her face lit up.

"yes! god your mind is brilliant." the striker pushed herself up off the desk, her body suddenly pressing yours against your own desk. "well they don't just pay me for my good looks here." you teased, again catching her eyes flicker down to your lips.

"we're still in a professional environment." alessia stated as if to remind herself more than you. "mm i guess i'm off the clock now, its after four." you grinned, hands falling to clasp either side of her face.

"you know i never thought i'd be kissing a teacher in a classroom." alessia tutted, lips curling into a smile as you let out a laugh. "didn't realise this was something you were into? didn't peg you as someone with a teacher kink." you teased, closing the gap between the two of you.

"only if the teacher is you." alessia mumbled against your lips, hands squeezing your hips as you let out a small laugh, pulling away and hugging her tightly, chin resting on her shoulder.

"i'm gonna miss when this program is over. next term its dancing instead of football!" you groaned quietly, feeling her body vibrate with laughter against yours.

"are you trying to dance with me right now?" you laughed as she started to sway the two of you back and forth. "yeah can't you hear the music? would be rude not to." alessia accused sarcastically, pulling you forward a little and taking your hand.

"i seem to remember you used to be a terrible dancer, two left feet." you grinned as she adjusted your hands, one interlocking with hers as the other rested on your hip, yours on the small of her back.

"hey thats not true!" alessia huffed, eyebrows furrowing in offence. "yes it was, remember when you tried to learn the tango to win a bet and-" you were cut off as her lips pressed against yours again. "we promised never to speak of that again." the girl warned mid kiss, starting to dance with you again.

"oh less!" you winced as suddenly she stepped on your foot, eyes widening as she let go of you and stepped back, but her foot catching on the desk she went flying to the ground.

like a domino effect as her body smacked into one of the desks it toppled over, taking down the entire row as alessia winced each time one hit the ground. a moment of silence passed before your body dropped down to the floor, clutching your stomach as waves of laughter ran through you.

"its not funny!" alessia groaned, though after a moment even she couldn't hold back her laughter, the two of you eventually laid down on the floor unable to stop, wiping away small tears which formed as you tried to calm down.

"oh wow, did your students do that?" alessia gasped as she looked up and saw the galaxy of stars all over the roof once the two of you finally calmed a little.

"no i did, makes it way easier to get them to calm down after lunch sometimes. i turn all the lights off and draw the blinds, then i get them all to pick a star and stand under it, close their eyes count to ten and make a wish for the future. works nearly every time!" you smiled fondly, alessia stealing a glance at you.

"its cool the school lets you decorate like this, i wish our classrooms were this colourful and lively. i might have actually paid attention!" alessia shrugged as you kicked her gently. "you did pay attention, just to my work so you could copy off of it." you poked her with a smirk.

"they give us some freedom just no budget, almost all of this is self funded." you explained as alessia's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "wait really?"

"yeah, a lot of the stuff needed to actually run a cohesive program isn't deemed as so. like name tags, the reading books, plants, most of the stationary, the posters, all bought by me. then activities like when we have snacks on movie days, end of term pizza parties, none of thats covered by the department either." you shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"wait so you personally buy all that stuff?" alessia asked in disbelief as you nodded. "well yeah, just because the department doesn't think these kids need this stuff doesn't mean they don't deserve it. a public school education shouldn't set them back on resources and opportunities compared to a private one just because of money, i like to think im doing my bit to mend the gap when i can." you looked back up to the ceiling with a smile.

"what was that for?" you laughed as alessia quickly pecked your lips. "because teachers deserve more money. but i can't help that so i figured a kiss was the next best thing!" alessia grinned cheekily as you grabbed her shirt, pulling her mouth back to meet yours again.

though as she pushed herself up and moved to hover over you, you leapt away from one another at the sound of someone clearing their throat.

but both of you sighed in relief as you realised it was only leah who stood with a smirk and a bunch of flowers in her hand. "sorry to interrupt. but less left these in my car and i wouldn't want to steal them from their rightful recipient." leah spoke as the striker hurried to her feet.

a silent conversation seeming to be had between the two blondes through a series of facial expressions alessia accepted the flowers and leah sent you a smile before leaving, closing the door after her.

"for you." alessia blushed bright red as you stood, accepting them with your own cheeks tinted rosy pink. "they're beautiful." you swooned, placing them on your desk and pulling her into a tight hug.

"well beautiful girls deserve beautiful things."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

fourteen

#alessia russo x reader #engwnt #alessia russo #woso community #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso fanfics #woso #woso x reader

[hotchfiles]

hiii, saw your prompt post!!!! 13 + 16 with remus please (if you don’t do both at the same time just 13, but i thought it’d be a good combo)

send me one of my boys + a prompt

remus + reader ⋆ 13 + 16

the touching starts early, first year early. your friends from home wouldn't call you particularly shy, but none of them were there when you got off the hogwarts express, after spending the whole trip not exchanging more than a few words with the people who sat with you, you desperately needed to find anyone who looked remotely nice, but still approachable enough. and remus was there, quiet, shy beautiful smile, a book in hand you've read before, so you stand by his side, not saying anything at first, but feeling the brush of his hand on yours due to the agitation before the house sorting. you didn't even know him, still, it helped you feel calmer, if you needed to talk to someone, he was there, you could talk about the book. it was a plan.

and it works, when you both get sorted into the same house, you quickly found your way to his side, and into his group of friends, into his routine and into his heart. you tell him how being by his side brought you comfort that first day, and being needed, bringing something good to someone's life like that... it was almost too much for an eleven year old to bear, he makes it a point for himself from then on, to be by your side, whenever possible.

when you're eleven you stand side by side, fingers barely touching, he offers his hand to help you when you trip and fall down, your arms touch in class because you're desk mates, your hands touch during lunch because both of you are always going for the same dishes.

at twelve, he flicks your forehead for the first time to tease you, beginning an never ending war, whenever one or the other does something a little bit stupid, or goes a bit too far on the banter, two fingers and a click are coming, begins on the forehead, by the end of the year, the shoulder, the back of the head, arms, hands, cheeks, all fall victim to the awfully irritating war tactic.

at thirteen, hogsmeade weekends are chiseled by the way remus takes your arms in his everytime you're all about to leave, side by side, arms tangled as his hand went right to his pocket. you try not to feel anxious for it, but you silently count the days for when it's time to go there again.

at fourteen he's already gotten so much taller, and he loves when you rest your head on his shoulder, he's also gotten the habit to almost hug you from behind when you're all standing up and talking, putting his arms on both of your shoulders, crouching down just enough so his chin is on the top of your head.

when you're both fifteen, all these little touches begin to make your stomach twirl around, and when girls look at him you feel like you're going to either throw up or punch them in a rage fit. you start tracing remus' scars with your fingers when its healed, and patching it up when its not.

getting off the train for your sixth year, remus offers his hand to help you hop off, he doesn't let go when you do, holding hands becomes the norm. reaching for each other's hand when something good is happening, or something terrible. he often places his arm around your neck, and you intertwine your fingers with his hand there. you lay on his lap on the common room, facing the fire place, and he reads to you while his fingers go from rubbing your arm to putting your hair behind your ear. he gives you good morning kisses, one cheek only, but it always lingers, and good night kisses, on your forehead, and it also lingers and always ends in a tight hug, your hands on his waist, his around your shoulders and on your head, pulling you close to him. you dance drunkenly during parties and it always feels like something is about to happen. but it doesn't.

he almost doesn't let you go at king's cross, enjoying every tiny bit of the last touch of the year, only pulling his arm back when even the tip of his fingers can't feel yours.

it's seventeen and he helps you out of the train, and it's the first day of your last year, and his heart feels like it's going to burst if he doesn't do anything about it. it's not the most romantic place, or the most romantic time, but he knows if he waits too long he's gonna miss too precious of moments with you, so when curfew hits and the few people in the common room begin to leave, he holds you in place and you wait.

it's silent for a while as you both just admire each other, remus shakes his head a chuckles for a good second, not believing he took so long to actually do this, you laugh along with him. and it could be awkward. but it isn't, because it's him.

you notice his hair still has that bit of light from the summer, making him almost blonde, but not so much, and he notices how your teeth are nibbling on your lower lip, anxiously waiting for something to happen.

and it does, he takes your face with his hands and scooches closer to you, "can i kiss you?" if it was anyone else, you might feel childish by how hard your heart beat after he finally, finally asks it. you feel like you've been waiting for this moment from the second you saw him years ago, but you're sure you've been dreaming of being even closer to him for at least three years, you want to kiss him since you were fifteen. you nod in a hurry, afraid he might give up.

"took you so long to ask." he barely gets the yes and his hands drop to your waist, lips hungrily touching yours, you kissed back with just as much passion, landing your arms around his neck, his lips are chapped, but soft, yours taste like strawberries from your chapstick and he's going to remember that. he barely has to try to deepen the kiss himself, you're more than willingly giving him entrance and as your tongues brushed against each other you can feel his breath and yours almost synchronize and think to yourself that might be the most romantic thing you've ever lived through.

but then you part ways for air and he looks into your eyes and you see the same sweet, supportive, caring eyes that have been looking back at you since you were eleven, and realize the mere existence of remus was the most romantic thing to ever happen to you.

#lari writes blurbs #uh #i just love him so much sorry #i-- #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin scenario #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus x you #remus x reader #remus x y/n

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Twenty-Four

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty, Part Twenty-One, Part Twenty-Two, Twenty-Three

A/N: We are getting close to the Day of the Black Sun people! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!!! THINGS WILL START HAPPENING NOW SO HANG ON TO YOUR HATS! And I know Orora's part is all over the place but only because that's how she feels right now? I dunno? Hope you enjoy!

The wind blew softly through her hair as she sat with her arms resting atop the saddle, staring out towards the wide open sky and ocean that flew by beneath them. The sun had almost set, the last rays of sunshine peaking over the horizon, turning the sky a beautiful hue of orange, pink and purple. Behind her, she could hear her friends but she hadn't really felt like adding anything to the conversation, so instead she opted to admire the view.

And though it painted the perfect picture of serenity, her mind was anything but.

Orora was still a little disconcerted about the dream she had had a few nights ago. It seemed strange, that after so long she would dream about Zuko, one that did not involve a nightmare.

She'd stopped having nightmares weeks ago, and her mind had simply opted to not dream at all. Well, that wasn't really a conscious choice on her part, but it seemed her sub-consciousness was giving her a break by letting her sleep peacefully through the night.

Until a few nights ago that is.

When Zuko had appeared in her dreams.

Held her.

Kissed her forehead.

Touched her.

Comforted her.

And though it was a dream, it had all seemed so real.

Which was utterly ridiculous because how could she feel everything physically that had happened in her dream?

And yet Orora could actually recall the feeling of the wind in her hair, the smell of the sea, the sensation of the sandy beach under her bare feet. If she closed her eyes, she could hear his voice in her mind, promising her what she dared not repeat to herself lest a fickle thing known as hope grow in her heart and just set her up for future disappointment.

Not to mention that when she awoke, her string had been glowing red. And it had stayed that way for quite sometime even after she woke up.

Glancing at her string, which certainly wasn't glowing right then, she wandered if perhaps the closer they got to the Fire Nation capital, would Zuko be able to feel her near?

And that made her nervous.

Was what he said to her in her dream a figment of her imagination, or had it been real?

She wanted to ask someone else's opinion about everything so badly. Maybe Aang? He would know something about it. But she didn't want to worry him. With the Invasion coming up the poor kid already had so much on his mind.

Katara wasn't an option either. The poor girl was only just starting to recover from her ordeal with Hama. Orora felt a shiver run down her spine as she thought of that old crone. No, no point in making Katara worry over her when she had her own demons to fight.

Sokka would be a good choice, but his mind was preoccupied with the Invasion plans and going over each and very detail over and over again. He would be the last one to go to sleep sometimes, and the first to wake up, pouring over maps. Not Sokka then.

Toph? Maybe? The girl did give good advice for a thirteen year old. Not to mention, out of all four of them, Toph knew the most about her situation with Zuko and the conflicted feelings she still had for the Prince.

Talking to Toph sounded good then, she mused, chin resting atop her arms, her eyes closing as she slowly began to doze off.

That is, until she caught sight of something from the corner of her eyes just as she closed them.

Or rather someone.

Instantly, her blue eyes snapped open, head whipping to the side as she stared at the empty spot next to her.

She blinked. There was no one there.

But she could've sworn.....

"Ice Princess? You okay? Your heartbeat is going crazy?" Once more her head whipped around to look at her friends, who were all staring at her a little confused at her sudden reaction. Toph was staring at her, eyes narrowed, and for the first time she felt how fast her heart was beating.

Shaking her head, Orora smiled in a reassuring manner. "Nothing. I just nodded off and had that weird feeling like I was falling or something." Aang, who sat upfront nodded. "I get it! It's happened to me too! And its weird since I can't even use airbending to stop myself from falling in my dreams." He added with a laugh. Orora responded with a smile, thankful that she could always count on Aang to distract her with his cheerful disposition.

Though, as she moved to sit next to him to avoid Toph's observant unseeing gaze, the fact what she had seen remained at the back of her mind.

Not a what, rather a who.

A who with very distinct scar on his face, and amber eyes that had haunted her dreams a few days ago.

"You alright there Orora?" Aang spoke up from beside her. Pursing her lips, and deciding to be truthful, the girl gave a shrug. "Honestly? I don't know. The closer we get to the Fire Nation Capital the nervous I get." She revealed, despite having decided just a few moments ago that she wouldn't burden Aang with her thoughts.

Giving her a look of understanding and a sympathetic smile, Aang reached out to rest a reassuring hand on her forearm. "Is it because we're gonna be storming the Capital, or because you're nervous about seeing Zuko again?"

Orora chewed on her bottom lip as she averted her gaze to the calm ocean flying by beneath her. "Does it make me selfish if I say the latter?" She finally asked after a moment of silence, raising her gaze to look at Aang once again. The young airbender shook his head. "Not at all. But maybe you should ask yourself, are you feeling nervous because you're going to see him again? Or are you feeling nervous because you think you won't be able to face him if the situation calls for it?"

And that was what worried her.

Would her past feelings allow her to face him one on one? Whatever anger and anguish she had felt over his betrayal lay dormant within her. Maybe she should reawaken it be reliving the moment under Ba Sing Se again?

"There it is!" Sokka's voice suddenly cut through her thoughts as he stood pointing towards an island that grew larger in size as they approached. "Argh! Finally! I feel like we've been flying forever." Toph groaned, eager to feel the earth under her feet again. Pulling on the reins, Aang was able to guide Appa into a smooth landing just beyond a clump of bushes.

Everyone quickly dismounted, making their way through the bush. Orora smiled at the sight of the koala sheep that were sleeping peacefully in the clearing. The sun had set about half an hour ago, and though it was still early in the evening, she was tired. Rubbing her eyes, the girl stifled a yawn as Sokka walked around, looking at his map.

They all waited patiently, albeit sleepily, for him to give the all-clear.

"This is it!" He finally exclaimed, prompting Toph to jerk awake where she'd been dozing off on her feet. "The official rendezvous point for the invasion force." Well it was rather peaceful, Orora mused to herself, moving to help Katara and Aang get their bed rolls from atop Appa. "How did you pick this place?" Toph asked, turning to Sokka who grinned proudly.

"Before we split up, my dad and I found this island on the map." He explained. "It's uninhabited, and the harbors surrounded by the cliffs seemed like the perfect secluded place."

As she spread her bed roll on the floor, Orora hummed. "Thank Spirits no one lives here. We can really relax and sleep without having to stay on guard all the time." Picking up another bed roll, she frowned at it before throwing it in Sokka's direction.

The lump of clothing hit him in the face with a soft thump. He pushed it off, glaring at Orora but she was too busy undoing her hair to pay him any mind.

"Nice choice, Sokka." Katara praised her brother, as she too untied her hair. Having seen Orora's little prank and wanting to avoid a scuffle between them both she continued. "And we're here four days ahead of schedule."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say.

Aang who had only just laid down, suddenly scrambled to his feet. "Wait! Four days?" He cried out, his voice anxious, his face panicked. "The invasion's in four days?" Orora glanced at him, before she yawned hugely once more, her eyes tearing up as she did. Sokka, having unrolled the bed roll Orora had thrown at him, yawned.

"Whatever. That's like four days from now. Let's just calm down and-" He didn't even finish his sentence before he was snoring away. A little ways away Toph was beginning to snooze as well, her feet elevated so she wouldn't have to see during the night.

"For once I agree with Sokka." Orora muttered sleepily, her mind exhausted from over thinking throughout the day. She hoped tonight would be one of those nights where she didn't dream.

Katara nodded. "Sokka's got the right idea, Aang. We're here. We're ready." Orora barely heard the rest of Katara's sentence as she began to drift off, her eyes closing. "The best thing we can do now is get plenty of rest." So saying the waterbender laid down, falling asleep almost instantly. Aang looked around at his now sleeping companions.

"I guess."

Silence settled over the small clearing, broken every now and then when one of the sleeping children would turn over in their sleep, or in Sokka's case, would let out an occasional snore.

And though in the beginning she slept soundly, as the night crept on, a frown creased Orora's forehead and she tossed and turned, as she began to dream.

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She was being led through and open space. Her wrists and ankles were bound, her clothes were in tatters. The sky above her glowed an ominous red. Her gaze flitted around, trying to find any means of escape, yet nothing rose to mind. There were Fire Nation soldiers all around and not a single familiar face in sight. A hand at her back pushed her forward, prompting her to stumble and fall to her knees.

Somehow she caught herself before her face hit the dirt. Shrugging off the hands that gripped her arms, Orora rose to her knees, her gaze tilting up to the sight before her.

There was Ozai, standing over her with a look of contempt on his face. He cut an extremely imposing figure dressed in his royal robes, and his face was just as cruel as she had seen in the village statue of him. Azula stood next to her father, her features settled into a look of utter glee as she regarded the waterbender. Somehow they both appeared even more fierce and powerful looking then they probably were in real life.

"So, you are the one." Ozai spoke, and though he didn't give any further information, she knew what he was talking about. Orora didn't speak though, she continued to look back at them both. Her face was devoid of emotion and that seemed to annoy Azula.

"May I get rid of her father?" The younger girl all but cooed gleefully, as if she would delight in ending the other girl's life.

And she probably would.

Orora watched as Ozai opened his mouth, to agree with his daughter, to.........what? End her? Torture her? Make her bleed?

Whatever it would be, Orora closed her eyes as she sighed, she could not fight the inevitable. Funnily enough, she wasn't scared.

A shadow fell over her. Probably Azula coming to play with her. To have her fun.

"You'll have to go through me."

Her eyes shot open as her entire body went rigid with utter shock.

No!

It couldn't be!

Despite her disbelief, she managed to tilt her head back and look up to the person standing over her.

His back was to her, but there was no denying that all too familiar head of hair, the stance not to mention the swords he gripped in his hands.

Zuko.

It was Zuko.

Zuko was standing over her.

He was protecting her from his family.

Saving her.

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Her gaze flitted from his back, to his shoulders, to his hands, to his finger.

The finger that held his string.

That glowed a bright blue.

Perhaps she whispered his name? Or maybe she called out to him out loud?

Whatever it was, it compelled him to shift his head slightly so he could look over his shoulder at her.

Orora barely managed to catch a glimpse of his scar, barely saw his lips as he called back to her.

Before her eyes snapped open and she sat up fully awake.

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His life was beginning to get rather tedious. Sure he had enjoyed all the luxuries he had been denied during his banishment and then his subsequent life as a refugee, but since his arrival at the Capital he had slowly begun to realize that he kind of missed that life.

Over the three years he had spent searching for Aang, Zuko had seen the entire world and it had amazed him just how powerful and yet beautiful nature could be.

Rather like his soulmate, he figured.

It wasn't until he began to interact with the people who lived in the world, did he realize that they contributed to the beauty of the world.

Unlike the Fire Nation.

He frowned as he looked at the hot towel that had been offered to him, before he closed his eyes in resignation and dabbed his face with it. Orora would hate all the fuss, he realized. She had told him that one of the other reasons for her leaving the North Pole, other then her family, had been because she wanted freedom to do whatever she wanted. Sure that meant giving up some things she liked, but in the long run, it had all been worth it.

Maybe the luxuries were unexciting because there was no one else to share them with.

As he walked out of the Palace, his gaze flitted from one side to the next, as if he were waiting for someone to suddenly appear.

But no one did.

And he frowned.

It had been several days since he had last seen Orora, in his dreams or otherwise. And while he did think of her everyday, it was nothing compared to the comfort her presence had had.

Though the constant glow of his string did serve to remind him just how deep his affections for her ran, despite her not being there with him.

He needed to speak with someone, he mused to himself as he reached the gates of the Palace and looked to the mansion just across the street.

Thank the Spirits he had someone he could trust and who trusted him.

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Pulling out the fabric she had bought so long ago, Orora smiled at the color.

"Hey! When do you get that?" Katara asked, reaching out to feel the texture of the fabric. Her smile turning sheepish, Orora gave a nervous laugh. "I got it from the hustle money." She admitted, to which Katara gave a disapproving glare, but shook her head. "Well, what're you gonna do with it?" She asked, as Orora moved to get the small sewing kit she had also bought.

"Well I don't want to face the Fire Nation is their colors." She gestured to the clothes she had on. "I want to fight them wearing the colors of my tribe." The other girl nodded in understanding. "But isn't it a little darker then what you would usually wear?"

Orora nodded as she looked over all the rough sketching she had done over the past few weeks. "Well I figured warriors wear dark blue when they go into battle." She admitted, to which Katara gave a small laugh. "Trust you to go against tradition." She said, playfully nudging Orora to which the older girl grinned at her. "Oh? And which one of us beat up Pakku so he would teach her how to fight?"

Giggling Katara peered at the sketches Orora had done, smiling as she picked up one. "Maybe you should do this one?" She suggested, holding it out for the older girl. Orora nodded. "I needed a second opinion. Thanks Katara!" So saying the girl moved to pick up a pair of scissors.

Grabbing the corner of the fabric, she lifted it in the air to shake it out.

But then her gaze caught sight of someone standing just at the other end of the cloth. Her mouth fell open in a sudden gasp, and the corners slipped from her fingers as the fabric dropped. Behind her Katara continued to go through the sketches, leaving Orora to stare in disbelief at Zuko.

Their eyes met, ice blue on warm amber. He looked just as she had seen him on that final day in Ba Sing Se, only before what had happened in the catacombs. He smiled at her, that soft happy smile that only she managed to get out of him, and her heart physically ached at the sight.

The dream she had had last night suddenly came back to her. And how, despite the obvious danger of her dream she had not been afraid.

Almost as if she had known.

Known that he would come and save her.

Her string glowed a bright red, prompting her to raise her hand and inspect it briefly. Zuko mirrored her action, so that she could see the blue of his string.

"-ra? Orora?"

The young waterbender was jilted out of her entrancement when Katara's hand landed on her shoulder. She let out a startled cry, tensing up and dropping the scissors she had been holding as she pivoted on her feet.

Her heart beat fast in her chest, and she panted, prompting Katara to frown at her in worry. "You alright? I've been calling your name for awhile now?" She asked, as the older girl turned to look over her shoulder where Zuko had been standing a few moments ago.

The space was empty.

"S-sorry, I was.....lost in thought." The girl finally admitted, reaching up to brush her hand back from her face where it hung around her shoulders in soft waves. Katara's worry did not dissipate as she continued to frown. "How about I help you with cutting the fabric?" She offered, picking up the scissors as she did.

Giving a small nod, Orora turned her attention back to her little project, hoping to push away the sight of her soulmate standing just across from her from her mind.

It helped.

But only a little since her string glowed red throughout the day, serving as a constant reminder of the depth of her feelings for Zuko.

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"So have you given any thought to what I said?" Mai asked as she set down the teapot and held out the cup of tea she had just poured. Accepting the cup, he took a small sip from it, his eyes darting to the open doorway. Mai seemed to catch his silent question and quickly reassured him with a nod.

No one was out there to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"I have." He finally revealed. "But I'm still working on all of it, it'll take me some time to go over everything. Make sure I'm ready." He revealed, keeping his response as vague as he could. Mai nodded.

"I get it, though I figured you would want to prepare after the all-day war meeting coming up?" She revealed, taking a sip from her own cup as she did. Zuko frowned.

"War meeting? What are you talking about?" He asked, his voice sharp. Mai looked surprised before continuing. "Azula mentioned something. I-I assumed you were going, too." She said, as she too frowned at his confusion. He was the Prince wasn't he? Shouldn't he be aware of the meeting like Azula had been?

Zuko tried not to let that disappointed feeling settle in his heart. He had thought that perhaps his father would actually treat him like a son, but that hope had sailed out the window. But not even treating him as Prince of the Fire Nation?

That truly gutted him. "I guess I wasn't invited." He finally said, ending the conversation with a sip from his teacup. The both of them sat in silence for the rest of his stay. A simple goodbye was all they offered one another as he departed, leaving him with his thoughts as he rode the palanquin back across the road.

Why did he keep setting himself up for disappointment one moment after the other?

It was actually starting to get pathetic, even in his eyes. Orora would surely have his head for allowing himself such false hope. Honestly, he liked to think he had more chance of Orora actually forgiving him then his father treating him as his own son.

Though he doubted it would be easy.

As he walked back to his room, his string glowing an ever constant blue. Once ready for bed, he dropped onto the soft mattress, reaching under his pillow to retrieve the blue dragon comb. He set it at his side, where he could see it and just relive the memories of the owner.

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Her fingers were beginning to cramp by the time she was done cutting the desired shapes and outlines. There was no point in actually starting her sewing till the next day since the sun had set awhile ago.

She hadn't spent the entire day cutting. Somewhere inbetween she had taken a lunch break as well as a bending break with Katara. The Master waterbender had taught her some new moves that would help her in the upcoming battle. In turn, Orora had gone through some basic leg movements to teach Katara how to waterbend with her feet and legs.

All in all, it had been a productive day.

Aside from the fact that she kept seeing Zuko here and there throughout the day at the most random of moments.

Now that everyone was finally asleep, including Aang, who had come rather late to where they were all sleeping, Orora sneaked away to the small river outlet she and Katara had been practicing in the entire day.

Looking around, she removed her shoes, before stepping into the water. Inhaling deeply she closed her eyes, concentrating with all that she had.

And when she finally opened her eyes, he was standing right in front of her, just a few feet away.

"What're you doing here?" She demanded, ignoring the way her heart leapt at the sight of him. He shrugged in response, crossing his arms over his chest. "You called me just now, didn't you?"

The sound of his voice had every single memory of him rising to the front of her mind. Slightly overwhelmed by the emotions, Orora did her best to not let them overtake her completely.

"You alright?" He asked, obvious concern lacing his tone as he peered at her from under the fringe of his black hair that covered his forehead.

"Why should you care?" She spat out, allowing her anger to rule her tongue for once as she glared at him. The water responded to her shift in emotions, rising in a small wave around her. He didn't seem at all perturbed by her sudden outburst. Instead he sighed, suddenly looking really really sad.

"You know why." He finally responded as he raised his finger, the string glowing blue. She exhaled angrily. "That is not a reason. It shouldn't be. Not after what you did."

It was stupid. She was talking to someone who wasn't even there.

And yet.......she couldn't help it. Couldn't help show the hurt and anger that had laid dormant for so many weeks. Though this was only a small trickle of it. Most of what she felt was still behind a wall she had built within herself.

Doing her best to calm herself, she turned her head so she wouldn't have to look at him. "Please, just go away."

She didn't have to look up to know he was gone. Though she did in the end.

Just so she wouldn't have to see her string flicker with color.

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"Sokka, get up! I needa know what day it is!"

The startled, panicked cry of Aang was what had her sitting up even before she had opened her eyes. The night had been restless for her, and she'd only managed to catch a few hours of sleep.

And now there was Aang screaming at the top of his lungs, first thing in the morning. She forced her eyes open, only to be greeted with the sight of Sokka jumping up and hitting his head on a nearby rock. Despite the fright she had gotten, Orora couldn't help but snigger at the boy's expense. Beside her Katara and Toph sat up as well.

"Relax! It's still two days before the invasion!" Toph reminded, as Aang began to pull on Sokka's limbs to try and get him to stand up. Now that the sleep was out of her eyes, Orora was finally able to see the state Aang was in.

His hair was in disarray, there were bags under his eyes, and he looked frantic and panicked as he insisted that Sokka perfect his rock climbing skills, because of a dream he had.

"But that was just a dream." Sokka reminded before insisting. "I'm a great climber!"

The young Avatar was having none of it as he pointed towards a nearby cliff. "Then climb that cliff! Climb it fast!" They all turned to the take in the sheer size of the cliff. Sokka returned his gaze back to Aang who simply pointed even more adamantly, if that were possible. Sighing the Water Tribe boy reluctantly began to climb the cliff, grumbling under his breath as he did.

Shaking her head, Orora moved to put on her shoes.

"Don't drink that!" Aang suddenly shouted, pointing at Toph who had just taken a gulp from a water skin. She spat the water out, straight onto Katara who grimaced in disgust. Orora muffled her sudden giggle as Katara glared at her in annoyance.

"Why? Is it poisoned?" Toph exclaimed, as Katara waterbended the water off her.

"In my dream, we were right in the middle of the invasion, and you had to stop to use the bathroom!" Though she was listening to what Aang said, Orora stood to start preparing breakfast. "We died because of your tiny bladder." Seeing movement out of the corner of his eyes, Aang's gaze suddenly shifted to Orora where she was fathering ingredients for breakfast. "And you!" He shouted, pointing towards the older girl, startling her into dropping her ingredients. "In one of my dreams you made something to eat and we all got sick and none of us could fight in the invasion."

Orora blinked at him. Alright, now she was starting to get a little worried about his state of mind. But Aang didn't stop there, he pivoted on his feet, turning to Katara and pointing at her. "And you need to start wearing your hair up. In my dream, your hair got caught in a train, and-"

But he didn't complete his dream. Katara's hand on the side of his face had him pausing. "Aang!" She spoke loudly and firmly over his panicked gushing. "I know you're just trying to help, but you really need to get a grip." She tried to reassure him. "You're unraveling."

Aang blinked, taking a deep breath as he shook his head. "You're right. I'm losing my mind." He groaned softly. Reaching out Orora patted his head gently. "How about we all have some nice breakfast. Maybe that will calm you down?" She offered, smiling kindly at the younger boy. "I promise I'll be careful with my cooking." She joked, winking at him playfully. Somehow he managed to smile back at her.

However, an hour later, Orora realized that there was no helping Aang. He was still pacing around, his eye twitching, his fingers rotating and fumbling as he fretted over what was to come on the day of invasion.

"It's like every time I think about how stressed I am, I just end up more stressed. I'm like a big growing snowball of nerves." As he paced some more, she found her eyes flitting to Katara who looked back at her. They both exchanged a look of concern.

Sokka who had been hammering away at a piece of armor for Appa turned to look at Aang. "Of course you are. That's 'cause you gotta fight the Fire Lord, the baddest man on the planet. And you better win or we're all done for."

Orora slapped her forehead while Toph sighed at Sokka's lack of attempt to calm Aang down. Katara stood up and approached her brother.

"Sokka! You're not helping!" She stated in an annoyed tone, to which Sokka stood up and shrugged. "What? It's true. That's the deal. He knows it." Before Katara could respond to her brother's lack of tact, a flash of blue flew through the air, catching Sokka around the mouth and freezing there in place, effectively shutting him up. As Sokka began to struggle with the ice mask, courtesy of an annoyed waterbender from the North Pole, Katara walked towards an even more nervous looking Aang and touched his shoulders.

"You know what, I've got just the thing! Get ready to be de-stressified!" She said, smiling and leading Aang away. "If your trick doesn't work, I'm next!" Orora called out to their retreating backs as a shadow loomed over her. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of Sokka who made several muffled angry sounds before pointing to his mouth.

She rolled her eyes. "Next time, be more tactful." She warned, waving her hand and allowing the ice to melt away from his mouth. In response, the boy stomped back to his personal project, grumbling under his breath.

Orora turned her attention to the half sewn shirt she had dropped in her lap, picking it up and resuming her task. She was so engrossed in what she was doing, that she barely noticed when Toph and Sokka walked away with Appa, to mold the shape of the armor that would be using metal to his size.

"What're you making?"

Her hands stilled, but she didn't look up.

"I am making a new outfit to wear for when we defeat the Fire Nation." She heard herself say. Why she spoke to him though was beyond her. She should just ignore him and he would disappear.

And yet, some small part of her, the one that still held that soft spot for him, that missed him, wanted to speak to him, to hear his opinion.

Even if, in a way, she would be speaking to herself.

"So, not a new outfit because you're meeting me then?" His voice was teasing. She still didn't look up.

"Don't flatter yourself. I'll be busy fighting to take down your nation to even think about you." Lies, her inner voice told her, but she ignored it.

He was silent for a few moments. "You know, I always wandered how you would look in blue. I mean I did see you at the North Pole, but you were kind of covered in blood then." She could feel the smile in his voice as he continued. "I bet you'll look beautiful."

His compliment, threw her off guard.

Her eyes widened, and despite her initial promise to ignore him and just focus on her fingers as the needle and thread flew through the fabric, she looked up.

Only to see that he was gone.

Leaving her with a hollow feeling in her chest, and a flickering string.

Luckily distraction came in the form of a disgruntled looking Avatar. "Well Katara's sauna method didn't work." He grumbled turning his heavy lidded gaze towards Orora who set her sewing aside. "In that case, lets see if I can help you relax."

So saying, the girl led him away to a location that was partially covered by a big outcropping of a cliff side. It provided enough shade that their ice sculptures wouldn't melt.

"Making sculptures always helped me." Orora explained, as she led Aang to stand in front of his block of ice. "It helps keep my mind focused on one task and helps me relax." She explained further, gesturing for him to start whenever he was ready.

"What should I make though?" He asked, looking back at her curiously to which she shrugged. "Whatever comes to mind."

Aang stood still for a few moments, probably contemplating on who or what to mold from the ice. Finally his arms and hands began to move and Orora watched, in growing horror at what he created.

It was an ice sculpture in the likeness of Ozai. However, he appeared more like a demon spirit then his real self. Aang had even given him horns, a forked tongue and about six eyes. She winced as Aang stepped back, clear fear and shock written across his features as he took in what he had created.

"Erm....maybe, you shouldn't have let your nightmares guide you so much?" Orora suggested, to which Aang let out a groan of frustration. "What am I going to do?" He lamented, as Orora waved a hand and his sculpture melted away. "You're had nightmares before Orora." He suddenly recalled, turning to her, his face desperate.

"How did you get rid of them?" Orora blinked, frowning slightly in thought. "I don't know if my nightmares were at the same intensity as yours Aang. I mean the emotions behind them were very different. I just had to let out all that I was feeling for the nightmares to stop."

She looked at him, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I should think for your nightmares to stop, you just need to face your fear." Her suggestion had Aang's eyes widening in panic once more and his entire body to tremble. "But that doesn't mean you have to do it alone." She reassured him quickly. He was so much shorter then her, and it only made her feel all the more protective over him.

"I promise, when you face the Fire Lord on the day of the invasion, I'll be there with you." She promised. So saying, she wrapped her arms around his slight frame, enveloping him in what could only be described a soothing embrace. It took him a few seconds before he returned the gesture, and for a few moments, Aang was able to feel safe and secure rather then the crippling fear ad anxiety that had hounded him for the past two days.

Once he had pulled back from the embrace, she smiled at him. "Maybe you should talk to someone about what you're feeling? Talking always helps, maybe Sokka can be the perfect candidate for that?" She added to which Aang nodded.

"You're right! I'm gonna go find him! Thanks Orora!" So saying, the young Avatar raced away on an air scooter. Once the air had settled, Orora turned her gaze towards the ice sculpture that she had created for her own purpose.

And that purpose was quickly realized fifteen minutes later when she stood in front of an ice sculpture of her soulmate.

"Why do you have to be on my mind so often?" She whispered as she put the final touches to the sculpture before stepping away. "You should mean nothing to me after what you did, and yet I still find myself thinking about you. And it feels like I'm betraying our cause when I do."

Silence.

Her only companion was the glow of her string and an ice sculpture that melted away with a wave of her hand.

                                           ————————–

The meeting had just adjourned.

And he had been invited to it. his father hadn't wanted to start the meeting until he arrived. He had sat beside his father, in the seat of honor, had been the perfect son, the ideal prince.

But then, as he walked down the corridor towards his room, why did he feel so alone?

For so long he had wanted nothing more then love and acknowledgment from his father, from the man who should be there to guide him and help him should he stumble.

But that meeting, what his father had decided, helped get rid of that notion once and for all.

He was never going to change, Zuko realized. That man was going to remain hard-hearted and unforgiving. He would destroy the entire world for his gain. For glory.

During the entire duration of the plan his father had told so gleefully, all Zuko could think of was all the lives that would be lost because of that plan.

All the plan who would loose their homes, their loves ones.

Everything.

Zuko had lived among those people. They had shown him kindness when no one else could ever have. They had helped him, his Uncle and Orora as well.

How could his father be so cruel and unfeeling?

Orora had been right.

Try as he might, he would never gain his father's approval the way Azula had.

And his Uncle had been right too.

He had to forge his own path, his own destiny.

While his initial drive had been to find Orora and maybe stop the Fire Nation from damaging the world too much. Now? It was completely different.

Now his destiny included helping the Avatar end the war and defeat the Fire Nation.

Once and for all.

                                           ————————–

The whole day she had worked on her outfit. It was almost finished and just needed a few embellishments. Orora hoped she had gotten the proportions right.

"Its turning out great."

If only the mirage of her soulmate would leave her alone.

She looked up from her task, glaring at Zuko as he sat opposite her. He met her gaze with a small hesitant smile. "You know, if you want to say something to me, about what I did, you can." He suggested after a brief moment of tense silence. Orora shook her head, returning her attention to her clothing, her needle flying.

"What would be the use?! You're not here so I would be yelling at nothing and my friends already have Aang's spiral to deal with. I have no desire to burden them with my troubles." She responded, wincing as she accidentally pierced her thumb with the tip of the needle. Wiping away the drop of blood, she continued.

"No, I am going to yell at you when you're actually here in front of me. Because that is what you deserve for what you did to me. To your Uncle." Her hands trembled as that anger that had festered within her for so long in the darkness began to reach a boiling point.

"And I look forward to it." She blinked, her gaze once more finding his. Her brow creased in a confused frown. "To my yelling at you?" She asked, thinking that maybe her mind was really spiraling like Aang's.

Zuko shook his head. "No. To see you."

Her eyes widened at the absolute honesty on his face as well as the smile of utter happiness that played about his lips.

She shook her head, closing her eyes. "This is all in your head." She whispered. "This is all in your head."

Orora couldn't afford to get her hopes up. But it seemed fate was just setting her up to be disappointed all over again. Starting from the dream where he had promised he would come back to her, and now, his mirage appearing to her and saying things like that.

Tears of frustration pricked her eyes as she finally opened them and saw that he was gone. Trying not to let that sinking feeling in her chest make her feel anymore hollow then she already was, she returned to the final stitches of her pants.

Only to glance up when a gust of wind blew by her. Or rather an airbender with his arms in the air and a cry of complete panic echoing as he went by. Orora blinked at his retreated back, wandering what had scared him like that.

A moment later Toph followed his path and she had her explanation.

"What did you do?" She asked, prompting the blind girl to scowl at her. "How'd you know I did something?" Se asked sounding a little offended to which Orora rolled her eyes. "You're always doing something sinister or planning it Toph."

A beat of silence before Toph grinned and nodded. "That's true." Kicking up dirt she walked to sit beside Orora, using her knitting basket as a footstool to keep her feet elevated.

"So, mind telling me why your heart is racing like you just ran as fast as Twinkletoes?"

Blue eyes blinked at Toph for a few brief moments before the older girl sighed, her shoulders drooping. "I'm just thinking about tomorrow and how I might.....run into Zuko." She finally revealed to the younger girl.

Toph hummed. "You know I've been wandering the same thing. I mean we're gonna be taking down the Fire Nation and he is the Prince of the Fire Nation. How're you gonna handle it?" Setting aside her sewing in favor of pulling her legs to her chest, Orora sighed. "I honestly have no idea." She admitted, allowing her fear and uncertainty of the situation to leak into her tone.

Toph was silent next to her for a few moments. "Well, whatever happens, and no matter what the outcome, we'll all face it together." The waterbender glanced at the earthbender from the corner of her eyes. Slowly a small smile pulled at her lips as she nodded. "Yeah, I suppose we will."

Grinning Toph pulled her hand back and punched Orora in the shoulder, prompting the girl to let out a grunt of pain. "I see your method of showing affection has not changed." The girl said, rubbing the sore spot as Toph grinned. "Nope, and it ain't happening either Ice Princess. So get over it!"

"Hey guys!" Katara's voice cut through their moment of silence, prompting them both to look towards the source as she raced towards them. "What you want Sugar Queen?" Toph asked. Ignoring the nickname, she simply grinned. "I think I found a way for Aang to sleep." Behind her, her brother was racing to catch a koala sheep, prompting Orora to raise an eyebrow at his antics.

"Has Sokka started to loose it too?" She asked, to which Toph added. "More so then he already had." The both of them laughed at their own jokes, prompting Katara to huff and grab their wrists, pulling them up.

"Come on! This is brilliant."

She spent the rest of the day catching koala sheeps and creating the world's softest bed for Aang. And not for the first time, Orora was grateful for the friends she had accepted as her surrogate family.

Because honestly?

They were all worth the pain and sacrifice.

                                           ————————–

And as Orora laid down to sleep that night, her string colorless, she knew what tomorrow would bring.

                                           ————————–

And as Zuko laid down to sleep that night, his string a bright glowing blue, he knew what tomorrow would bring.

                                           ————————–

Tomorrow would be the day she would face the Fire Nation. And with her family, friends and allies at her side, there was no way they would loose.

                                           ————————–

Tomorrow would be the day he would finally leave the Fire Nation for good, free his Uncle and join Aang on his journey to restore balance to the world.

And beg Orora to forgive him for what he had done.

He had a long journey ahead of him, but for once, Zuko wasn't scared.

He was at peace with what fate had decided for him.

And he would see it through this time.

                                           ————————–

Tag List - @wavesofchaos​ @violet-potter​ @rennysketch​ @emma-andrea1 @lovesammikinzz @fuzzyfestcat @msrawog @notsaelty @lust-for-pan @aces-tattooartist @jinxxangel13 @lotr-got @bitterspoons @realrintaro @gatorgirl151 @inutheangel @heartfully10 @lucaaahhh @juniper-july19 @anuttellaa @gfksz @bussyvussy @punksnotdeadbutiam @ablofftoneverland-blog-blog @slut-for-menn @vyliie @army-moa75 @juwhls @aqlodun @lovelybaka

#zuko x reader #zuko x oc #zuko imagine #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender fanfiction #prince zuko #avatar the last airbender imagine #aang #sokka #katara #avatar: the last airbender #avatar #avatar aang #the thread of fate

[somefanficrecomendations]

December Monthly Roundup

Here's December's fic round up!

DC/BATMAN

Worlds Saddest Breakfast Club by motleyfam   (gen)7k, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd-Centric Following a couple of Very Bad Weeks™ (which may or may not have involved being kidnapped and mildly tortured), Jason decides the best way to cheer himself up is to break into the Manor for a 3 a.m. snack. Turns out he isn’t the only one awake.

Batstream by RandomReader13 (gen), 6k, Bats on social media, Humor   “I want it on record that I think this is a terrible idea and I’m only doing this to mitigate the damage." AKA Red Robin decides it's a great idea to livestream patrol while Batman's off-world. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

cards on the table by wesslan (gen) 67k, WIP, Fortune Teller AU, Tim Drake-Centric  Tim's parents faked their deaths and fled the country years ago, but neglected to take him with them. He spent some time on the streets, and now at 16, he makes a living as a fortune teller, stalking and hustling the shit out of Gotham's elite by telling them eerily accurate fortunes based on the information he gathers about them.  His life is peculiar but he wouldn't change a thing. When he gets booked for the big Wayne Halloween party, however, he finds himself getting all tangled up with the Waynes, and the more fortunes he tells, the tighter the snare becomes.  or: Tim just wanted to scam Gotham's elite, not end up on the Batfamily's watchlist. But it seems they just won't leave him alone..

(a not so) lonesome town by wesslan   (gen), 10k, 2-part series, Sentient Gotham, Jazz music. Two works in which Gotham City is sentient and adopts enough kids to rival Batman himself (Batman is one of them).

Banshee in a Well by liverobinreaction (bugbee) (gen), 43k, Meta Tim, Resurrection Powers   Tim is five years old when he drowns in his parents' pool. He dies quietly, waiting for parents who love him, but will never be there, to realise that something is wrong. They never show up, and he sinks into oblivion.  When he wakes up and claws his way out of the water, the sun has set, and the lights of his house are on. He is cold and wet and his lungs burn.  But most of all, Tim is alone.  (If you die and no-one is there to see it, were you ever alive in the first place?)

HUNGER GAMES

right here in the old therebefore by californianNostalgia (Katniss/Peeta) 14k, Canon Divergence, Ghosts There’s a ghost at the Hanging Tree. Katniss sees him first when she’s six, her hair in braids, the song about the growing gallows fresh in her mind. This changes nothing. This changes some things. (In which Lucy Gray killed Coriolanus at the lake.)

How Rue Became the Mockingjay by aimmyarrowshigh (multi) 5k, Different 74th Victors AU Katniss Everdeen and the girl from Eleven are ruining their best-laid plans – the Capitol’s and the Rebels’. So Caesar, they say. Announce the change. An alternate chronology for The Hunger Games.

CROSSOVERS

Annabeth and the Nine Step Career Plan by feeling_the_aster_9145 (Annabeth/Percy), 76k, PJO x DCU, Annabeth gets Lex Luthor arrested, BAMF Annabeth. Annabeth Chase does not accept limitations. Everyone knows that. If she wants something, no matter how impossible, she will find a way to make it happen. Though, perhaps she will allow Bruce Wayne and his ridiculous paranoia-induced company restrictions a small portion of the credit. Actually… now that she thinks about it, the man may have had a point in his worries. Wayne Technologies does not accept college interns. Annabeth always has a plan B.

A Lesson in Superiority by Nation-Ustria (gen), 96k, WIP, Batfam x Harry Potter, Damian Wayne is Harry Potter, Wizarding Politics “The good news is, he’s not cursed,” Constantine says. “And the bad news?” Dick asks sharply. Constantine squints. “I wouldn’t call it bad news so much as, er, news.” He turns to Damian with something like a grimace. “You’re a wizard, kid.” “...I’m a what?”

#batfam fic rec #hunger games fic #percy jackson fic rec #harry potter fic recs #fanfiction #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #katniss everdeen #batfamily #damian wayne #Batman #monthly roundup

[deepouterspacecandy]

If you thought I was a mush-heart before, hold my soggy Kleenex. I'm calling this one "A Mother's Heirloom" and while I definitely teared up while writing it, I hope this glimpse into what Abby's life could've been makes you smile. Hot damn, does she ever love you.

Now I can get serious about answering the many amazing messages and asks you guys have sent me. You incredible humans make me smile so big. Thank you so much for the love.

Your heart has belonged to Abby Anderson ever since that momentous night at eleven years old when the two of you boldly stole a Humvee from the motor pool. With Abby in control of the pedals and you at the wheel, the two of you found yourselves in deep trouble with her dad.

After the dust settled, and once you had toiled away, sweating off every last ounce of your debt, he pledged to never let either of you live it down.

True to his word, he has remained steadfast for over a decade.  

It is clear as day where Abby gets her discipline from.

“Well, if it isn’t the Steering Savant and the Pedal Prodigy, blessing me with their presence!” Jerry exclaims.

“Seriously, Dad, that happened so long ago,” Abby groans. “Will you ever quit?”

“Nope,” he beams, his wild grey hair sticking out in all directions. “You girls are lucky I’m around, otherwise you’d be out on your butts.”

“You say that every time,” Abby says, chuckling. “The Fireflies don’t boot people out for stuff like that.”

“Abs, engaging in grand theft auto is a significant criminal offense,” he says, combing back the greasy strands of his disheveled hair with his hands. “I totally had to play the doctor card to keep a roof over your heads.”

“Boy, you’re really nailing the whole mad scientist thing!” you interrupt.  

As Abby collapses onto the worn leather couch in his office, she helps you double down on her father.

“You totally look like you stepped out of a movie,” Abby giggles.

His fingers continually get snagged in the frizzy tangles, so he opts to leave it alone. But not before affectionately teasing his daughter for her unabashed nerdiness.

“What do you know about movies, huh?” Jerry asks. “You’ve been a bookworm since you were three.”

“Whoa, I’m a huge movie buff,” Abby says. As she defends herself, her hands become animated, punctuating her words with sharp gestures. “Caught one last night for your information, and I didn’t even nod off!”

“She’s so full of it,” you say. In response to her playful and piercing glare, you sarcastically raise your hands in surrender. “Seriously, she asked me what just happened like a million times.”

Jerry’s fond smile between you and Abby is so heartwarming that it feels like a tender hug for your soul.

From the moment you arrived at the gates, alone and shivering, with dirt caking your body and grime under your nails, he has consistently shown you kindness.

When you started having nightmares and had some trouble sleeping, it was he who proposed that you share a room with Abby to ease your fears, making the two of you inseparable.

A pair of bookends holding each other up.

When you turned thirteen and started feeling anxious about your sexuality, he was there pouring tea and lending a supportive ear, patiently guiding you through the process of self-acceptance and discovering the importance of embracing your identity.

Despite his extensive medical knowledge, he never treated you like a patient during the many calamities he helped you navigate over the years; to him, you were always family.

And he never missed a beat when something was going on with his family.

Although he’d been thoroughly exploring the realms of science, leaving no stone unturned in his pursuit of a cure for Cordyceps for as long as you can remember, nothing got by him. Despite the visible stress reflected in the deep lines on his forehead, he never complained or took either of you for granted.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he asks, raising a tired eyebrow. “You are way past the point of needing my permission to stay up late.”

From the wastebasket, Abby playfully tosses a crumpled piece of paper at his head, aiming with impressive precision. Her words hang trembling in the air, laden with weight.

“There’s something you need to know,” Abby says.

With a sigh of relief, Jerry shuts the massive medical textbook and pushes it aside.

“You both good?” he asks, his natural inclination to assess for any harm emerging. “What’s up?”

“Well, it’s just that we wanted to tell you ourselves instead of you finding out through the grapevine,” you explain.

“The gossip can get a bit crazy,” Abby says with a nod. “And we’ve put a ton of thought into this, just so you know.”

Before you can spiral further into your worries, Jerry signals for everyone to stop by holding up a gracious hand.

“Are you finally spilling the beans about what’s going on between the two of you?” he asks.

Beginning at her freckled forehead and travelling down to her neck, Abby’s face becomes a vivid shade of red under her father’s knowing gaze. With a smirk on his face, Jerry long-sufferingly waits for her brain to catch up, amusement dancing across his weathered features.

There is a quiver in her voice as she speaks, filled with a powerful undercurrent of conviction.

“We’ve been more than friends for a while now,” Abby confesses. The moment her glossy blue eyes connect with yours across the room, time comes to a standstill. “I really love her dad—I’m in love with her.”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” he says.

After you both exit his office, emotions running high from diving into nostalgia over the many joyful years you’ve spent together, he reaches into his desk drawer and retrieves a small wooden box.

Nestled within is a handwritten note, delicately wrapped around the wedding ring that Jerry had custom designed and placed on the finger of Abby’s late mother.

She wore it until the day she quietly slipped into her soft white wings and well before he was ready to say goodbye.

For our little girl when she meets the one who makes her as happy as you made me.

With a careful hand, he holds the ring closer to the tarnished lamp on his desk, marvelling at how the diamond still catches the light.

“Won’t be long, now, Darling,” Jerry murmurs.

A soothing presence envelops him, reminiscent of a gentle, familiar kiss on his shoulder.  

#abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby x you #tlou abby #lesbian

[livwritesstuff]

this is an edited repost of something I wrote last year for the 10-year anniversary of the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School (now 11 years today). to say the least, it’s a difficult day for a lot of people, including me. i wrote this all in one go just as a positive outlet for the things this day evokes and i went back and forth on if i would post it, but i know i’m not the only one who has been affected by these events. if you’re someone who finds this day to be a hard one, this one is for you.

tw: references to gun violence and school shootings

It’s late morning in December 2012 and Steve is watching the news. He isn’t really paying attention to the current segment about opiate use, too busy being completely annihilated in Words with Friends by his eleven-year-old, who just played the word ‘jinxes’ for 23 points, the bastard.

He’s mid-way through sending Moe a text (“get off your ipod you’re in class”) when the channel’s Breaking News intro interrupts the interview that he’d been ignoring. He looks up to see that the headline has changed.

Steve sees shooting, and then elementary school and feels his heart jump into his throat the way it does any time he hears sirens when his daughters or his husband aren’t home – not because he really believes it’s for them, but because it could be. There’s always a chance it could be.

And he’s got two kids in elementary school right now.

He makes himself read the headline in full – it clarifies that the school is in Connecticut, nowhere near him and his house and his children’s schools in the Massachusetts suburbs, but it does little to remedy the panic that has his heart going a mile a minute.

Steve sits for a while, eyes glued to the TV as the anchor slowly ad-libs, clearly waiting for any new scrap of information.

On the first commercial break, Steve checks his phone. He’s got one text – from Moe telling him to play another word in their game. He responds back with the message he’d written before he’d become fixated on the news.

On the second one, he texts Eddie, tells him he loves him and asks if he’s heard what’s going on (he knows he probably won’t get a response for a while – Eddie is notoriously bad at checking his phone and that’s when he’s not in a meeting he’s been looking forward to for weeks, as is the case today).

By the third, they’ve learned the school is on lock-down, but not much more.

Everything he hears after that is nothing short of harrowing, and leaves Steve feeling sick to his stomach.

Eddie finally texts him a couple hours later, after the news anchor has been switched out for another, to say his meeting ran late (an actual director had reached out to him saying she was interested in adapting one of Ed’s books into a movie – today was the day they got to talk in person) and he hadn’t known any of this was going on, but he’s on his way to pick up Hazel from her AM kindergarten session.

Steve’s day continues. He makes lunch, he finishes some laundry, he responds to emails, always with one eye on the news. His shock at what was occurring mere hours south of his home, subsides, slowly replaced with a dull horror because he’s seen a lot of things in his forty-six years of life, but nothing like this. One by one, his three girls return home from school and he hugs each of them like he always does, but today it’s a little tighter.

It’s a Friday, and Friday night is movie night in the Harrington house. It’s Robbie’s night to choose (she picks Spy Kids, like she does every time she gets to pick the movie since it came out last year). Before they start, Steve and Eddie tell their kids what happened. They do their best to find an explanation that is sufficient for ever-precocious Moe, but not too much for Hazel, their sweet kindergartner who only just turned six. Once the movie starts, they all pile under the same blanket, and where there’s usually fidgeting and arguing and occasionally having to pause the movie altogether to wipe tears and wait on a time-out because someone weaponized a foot or an elbow after they weren’t given the big bowl of popcorn fast enough, tonight there is quiet and stillness.

The next day, the girls are back to their normal, bickering selves, but Steve still can’t shake the aching feeling in his chest every time he thinks about what happened the day before. He starts to get that itch in his brain, the same itch he'd felt after he ran out of the Byers’s house in 1983, after he turned back and saw those Christmas lights flickering, the itch where he’s gearing up for a fight.

As the months go on, Steve finds himself reading into gun control laws, finds himself with multiple non-profits fighting for them bookmarked on his computer, finds himself following politics for the first time in his life as he watches bill after bill get shut down by both sides of the debate.

Honestly, Steve isn’t sure why he cares so deeply about this – and not just what happened in Connecticut, but the issue of guns and gun safety in general. It’s not like he hasn’t fired a gun before. It’s not like he’s never seen their value (he still remembers that drive to the War Zone so many years ago). It’s not like he hasn’t ever felt safer with someone nearby wielding one, even if that someone was Nancy Wheeler.

Maybe he’s a little too familiar with children being the casualties in a war they didn’t choose to start, didn’t choose to fight in, and if that had made him angry at nineteen, he’s irate now, now that he has a six-year-old like the students in that classroom in Connecticut, now that he has an eleven-year-old like El when she escaped that lab in Hawkins.

It wouldn’t be the first time Steve threw himself into a battle that had nothing to do with him, that he knew very little about, because he knows what happens when children get caught in the crossfire of a battle that has nothing to do with them, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he sat idly by and watched it happen again.

#i’m NERVOUS posting this one idk #they can’t all be fun times folks #idk if el was eleven years old in season 1 i'm pulling the artistic license for that one #i am definitely projecting here but whatever that’s what fandom is for i’m pretty sure #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #tw: school shooting #tw: gun violence

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Any thoughts on Nanami and Wakaba? (not as a pairing, unless you see it, then I'm very interested)

I've been watching Utena with friends and we had constant fights about those two, because "She literally kills kittens, what's wrong with you" for Nanami (I am witch apologist) and "Why is she even here" for Wakaba (I am girl enjoyer)

Pfft.

I don't see it as a pairing though in the world of Utena anything's possible.

But I certainly have thoughts on the characters as well as the world of Utena itself that's perhaps worth bearing in mind.

Utena as a Show

Utena is one of my favorite shows to have ever been created. However, it's something I also sometimes hesitate to recommend. It not only deals with extremely dark themes (albeit in a non-graphic manner) from murder, sexual assault, grooming, to rampant incest but also doesn't do so in a way that the modern internet can in any way handle.

What do I mean?

Every character has something seriously wrong with them and makes awful and sometimes outright malicious decisions.

Utena, our heroine, the prince, we learn later has forgotten the reason she wished to become a prince as an adolescent and at first pursues the goal simply out of a desire to be noble and embody this idea of chivalry and nobility without actually knowing what these things are. Miki is alright enough save that he has that thing going on with his twin sister and covets Anthy without ever truly wishing to know her.

That's not even getting to Anthy who I can only state is very complicated.

It's not a show that people can watch if they're not comfortable with the idea that there is something horribly wrong with everyone. The good characters aren't always good, the bad characters sometimes have reason to be bad (and sometimes are just pure evil), and you might not even know who the fuck the good and bad characters are because it turns out breaking the world's shell was probably a good thing.

Compared to say Good Omens which has the complexity of a thimble and people are still upset that Aziraphale made the wrong choice at the end of series 2 there.

But back to your question.

Nanami

I love all the characters in Utena, but Nanami might just be one of my favorites in that she's the beautifully executed dark horse of the series.

Because it turns out she's the only one who's fucking sane.

We start out and Nanami is presented as Anime Mean Girl. Oh, she's that type, the pretty rich girl who's going to bully our romantic lead. Okay, Nanami, I will suffer through you. But then almost immediately this goes awry when nothing every goes Nanami's way. She's crushed by elephants, stalked by an eleven year old, and she... really really really likes her big brother.

And as we go on we see her at first as someone who's truly a villain, she murders kittens as you note, and that is fucked up but then by the end we find out that despite all prior indications she is the only person who does not want to sleep with her brother and thinks this is a madhouse.

She's fascinating and I love her.

But more on the kitten--I think Nanami is excellently portrayed as a little girl who is severely fucked up (in part by Ohtori and in part by life itself). She has an unnatural devotion to her brother, which he also enables throughout the series, and... something weird is going on with the parents (in other versions, namely the movie, it's worth noting that Touga turns out to have been abused by his father).

I don't know if I'd condemn or laud her but she's the character who's at first presented as the worst but then it turns out everyone is just as bad/worse than Nanami is and actually she lives in a madhouse.

Wakaba

I mean.

"Why is she even here?" is the point of Wakaba's whole character arc, which I'd argue is very vital to the storyline of the anime. That's why she's great.

Wakaba's that girl who is normal, she's just normal, and she wants to be special without there being anything special about her. She's nice and kind, but only to a certain degree, and she wants to be like Utena and all these shining brilliant people in her life.

She serves as the catalyst of the plot, in Utena first engaging in a duel, and yet is never involved further in the events. She desperately wants Saionji, to be special herself, and we see her rejecting a very kind boy who genuinely cares for her because of this. We learn that she's not as nice as we, e.g. Utena, had previously thought and that Utena has this quality that Utena herself doesn't understand and that others envy without her realizing it.

Wakaba's descent is when Utena first begins to realize she's failed as a friend, despite all her attempts to do right by Wakaba, and that she doesn't understand those around her as she's trapped in her own world/idea of chivalry (a foreshadowing for what happens with Anthy).

Wakaba helps act as a foil for Utena and is vital to help slowly reveal why Utena struggles and has to grow as a person in order to free Anthy (and why Utena is betrayed by Anthy without ever seeing a hint of it coming).

#the revolutionary girl utena #the revolutionary girl utena meta #wakaba shinohara #nanami kiryuu #utena tenjou #meta #opinion

[will80sbyers]

why do i feel like when byler becomes canon in s5 the hetero dudebro redditors and the 12-year-old mlvns are gonna turn on the duffers, accuse them of bad writing bc they're mad they were proven wrong and act like the season isn't canon?

some of them already do something similar — i saw a toxic mlvn on twt hating on max and calling elmax a "forced, fake friendship" because they were angry that max was mean to mike in s3 and basically implied that max manipulated el into breaking up with mike.

one of them even said that "it feels like the duffers write mlvn terribly on purpose sometimes". they're so close to getting it, yet so far.

No you don't understand how much it pisses me off when they accuse Max of not being a good friend to El only because she didn't like El to be completely dependent from Mike!!! It's one of the things I can't stand of reddit they are so fixated on throwing shit over a 13 year old girl only because she was a GREAT friend and told El that she didn't have to stay in a relationship with Mike if he wasn't telling her the truth about things!!! She NEVER forced El to do anything and most of the bad things they did like spy on the boys were things Eleven wanted to do first, she literally decided and found it fun BECAUSE THEY ARE CHILDREN OF COURSE THEY ARE NOT GOING TO DO EVERYTHING PERFECTLY THEY ARE LITERALLY KIDS PLAYING AT THEIR FIRST RELATIONSHIP!!!!!

Even recently if you go on the stranger things reddit you can find a post F U L L of people saying this "Max manipulated El" BULLSHIT

I can't stand them and I really hope byler happens and they stay sour about it for the rest of their lives because it's exactly what they would deserve for being so openly homophobic to even ONLY the idea of it happening in the show to the point they don't allow any normal discussion about byler in that place that should instead be a place for the WHOLE fandom and not just their Melvin obsessed asses

#will byers #mike wheeler #byler #el hopper byers #max mayfield #ask #anti mileven

[prettyboybuckley]

wip wednesday

i know i never do any of these things despite all the wonderful people tagging me (i'm always tired and never know what to post) and then i suddenly come out of nowhere with a snippet this size but shhhh For part 3 of the ace kink fic 💕 Buck is on a trip and Christopher came with the "are you and Buck dating" question 😅😂 He had a valid reason, which you can read in the whole scene when it's posted 🤭 Wordcount for this installment is already at 13.3k and i am Not Done yet 😅 (It also focuses a lot on Eddie's sexuality like the first part since this is the first time it's from Eddie's pov)

"Because you don't like boys? It'd be okay if you liked boys. Buck likes boys." 

The question, surprisingly, startles a laugh out of Eddie, mostly because of how matter-of-factly his son says it. 

For a moment, Eddie considers his answer. He's admitted his sexuality to himself, has admitted it to Buck, but that is where it ends. No one else knows that he, Eddie Diaz, is asexual.

Eddie wants to be open with his son, though, so he's trying to figure out the right words to explain this to an eleven-year-old.

That, and-

"I don't know if I like boys," he says, and that's true. At this point, he doesn't think he can outright write it off as impossible, because he still hasn't figured out all of his feelings. "I, uhm- do you know how when adults like someone, it's usually also important to them if they want to... do adult stuff with them?"

"You mean sex?" Christopher asks him in a deadpan tone.

Ah, yeah, Eddie forgot again for a moment that his son is growing up, and he actually knows what sex is. Which Eddie had a hand in, since he had a thorough age-appropriate conversations with his kid about that as well.

"Yeah, yeah, exactly. But- but sometimes people don't want that with anyone. They may like boys or girls or both, but only romantically, so to date and to marry and maybe to kiss, but nothing more. And a little while ago, I realized that's how I feel. So when I like someone, it's only romantically, but it can be hard to figure out where the line is between wanting to date someone and wanting to be friends with them."

He knows that it's more complicated that how he explains it right now, he's been over that with Buck. Being asexual doesn't always equal not wanting sex, but he thinks that explaining sexual attraction itself to his eleven-year-old might be a bit too ambitious when he still has a hard time wrapping his head around it himself.

Eddie waits with his heart in his throat for his son to process his words and say something. Or ask something, which is more likely.

This is not how he thought this morning would go.

"So how do you know, then?"

"Well," Eddie says, letting out a sigh. "Your mom, I think she was maybe kind of the exception? With her, I think I maybe did like her that way, but I don't know for sure. But I do know that I loved her very much. With Ms. Flores, I got the butterflies, you know, the ones you told me about yesterday? But then the butterflies didn't become anything more, and that happens sometimes. So I guess I'll just have to follow the butterflies."

"And you've only had butterflies for girls?"

Eddie chuckles, and he takes a moment to think about it.

"I think so, yeah. And hey, I may not be dating Buck, but I'm also not planning on dating anyone else, and Buck isn't going anywhere, okay?"

"Good," Christopher says with a pleased nod. "You're grumpy when he's not here."

tagging @rogerzsteven @holdmygum @honestlydarkprincess @monsterrae1 @buddierights @heartbeatdiaz @alyxmastershipper @littlebitofdiaz @princessfbi @bigfootsmom @elvensorceress @mooshkat ♥️

#wip wednesday #buddie wip #buddie #gary writes the ace kink fic #gary writes #i just really love how it turned out and needed to share 😭

[ashlingiswriting]

do i know you? chapter seven

[ 5.4k words ] [ masterlist ] [ prev chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six ] you figure you can be good and still take it a little easier. that’s all you’ve done today, take it a little easier, and it feels really fucking good. richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn

after an eleven-hour stretch of sleep, a three-egg breakfast, and cautious self-reflection, you come to the conclusion that something has to change. and fast. yesterday, richie fucking jerimovich—constant leather jacket tracksuit combo, stab wound, aggravated assault charge, and anxiety and depression diagnoses, that richie—asked you if you were okay. it was a reasonable question for him to ask, and giving him the truthful answer felt like peeling off your own skin.

usually you’d cut and run—you’re not big on torture—but richie’s become as much a fixture in your life as cigarettes themselves. whatever you go through with him, you have a feeling that things would be worse without. so you do the reasonable thing. 

you go to the library and google ‘how to stay mentally healthy.’

sure, it makes you feel like an idiot, but it’s not like you have other options. your health and benefits package consists of stolen medications, a grizzled retired doctor named beth, and weirdly extravagant christmas presents in years when the carusos are doing well. none of these qualify as conducive to mental health.

thus, doctor google. most of the listed mental health tips seem either impossible—you’re not about to make new social connections, you’re not that self destructive—or plain old stupid, as in a stress ball. like a little rubber ball to squeeze. great stuff.

there’s a few things that you think you can tolerate, though. you end up working out every day in your apartment, volunteer stocking the shelves of a food pantry every tuesday morning right before bed, and tackle the miserably unorganized state of your post-michael finances. occasionally you’ll eat a salad, but you’ll curse richie as you do it. 

cultivating mental health for its own sake is not something you’d usually engage in, but mental health as a one-sided competition that you are determined not to lose? it’s a tolerable game.

as for richie, he seems to be holding steady. the new and horrifyingly fancy specter of the bear does seem to freak him out, but at least the bear’s got a future. the beef, as far as you remember, only ever had a past.

though this winter’s turned bitter cold, you never invite him inside, not even past the double doors into the pathetic excuse of a lobby with its single fake potted plant. you had your one little breakdown and that’s fine. but the rules stay strong, and you get a little stronger. he tells you that eva liked the girl who loved horses the best, and you tell him she’s got good taste. there’s still bad nights, but there’s less fear. you haven’t fucked it up, that’s the point. you’re being good.

and then one day he doesn’t come back.

.

.

.

you’re not a fool. you wait for three days before letting yourself go. 

on the third day, you have to wake up to administer alessandera’s iud at the stupidly early hour of eleven in the morning. afterwards, too caffeinated to rest, you decide that you might as well head to the library to check his instagram. 

the most recent picture is from eight days ago, so that’s no help. his two pinned posts catch your attention anyway. in the first picture, eva’s got two blonde ponytails sticking out of opposite sides of her head, and her ponytail holders have huge round sky blue plastic beads on them. the smears of chocolate on her fingers match the ones on richie’s cheek, and they’re both giving the camera a goofy thumbs up. 

in the second picture, it’s him and michael. they’re both grinning, squinting against the evening sun, and staring at something or someone just out of frame. lake michigan spreads out glorious behind their shoulders. it was probably a fishing trip. it’s got to be an old ass photo, cause they’re both wearing shirts that say the original berf of chicago and you stole michael’s in the summer of 2020. you needed to have something of his during quarantine, and you kept it even after quarantine ended. it’s still folded away in your dresser, protected by mothballs. 

michael disappeared on you too. after you broke up, you kept texting him about meeting to give him back some of his things, but he wouldn’t answer. to be fair, all you had to do was ride the elevator up a couple floors and drop off a box by his door. but you kept texting him anyways, texting on into the silence, until finally it occurred to you: he was punishing you. two could play at that game. you stopped texting altogether, and that’s when it happened.

this is no number of push-ups or good deeds or leafy greens in the world that can defend against an experience like that. the silence was supposed to only last a week, a month at most, and then it became forever. 

so yeah, you go to the beef. the bear. whatever.

so much for being good.

.

.

.

the restaurant is closed for renovations, so you go around to the back and find an unusual pair sitting, eating sandwiches off paper plates, and arguing about greta gerwig’s little women. you recognize both of them from richie’s instagram. 

fak breaks off mid-rant and peers up at you from under his baseball hat, as bright-eyed as a squirrel spotting a potential nut. syd, on the other hand, looks neat and cool in an apron, kerchief, and cautious expression. she’s by far the more intimidating of the two to you, though maybe that’s just richie’s influence coming through. she’s on another level and you know it. 

can i help you? syd says.

yeah, you say. where’s richie?

he’s out sick. 

out sick, that makes sense. relief warms you like the first sip of hot coffee on an icy morning, and then you clock the expression on syd’s face. she’s shifted from suspicious to outright dubious.

why, she adds, does he owe you money? 

ah, fuck. you were so worried that you forgot that when you’re wearing your big coat and your stoic face, you look like trouble. 

nah, you say. he doesn’t owe me anything. is he okay?

from the way she stares, syd must think you bizarre, but she humors you. i mean, two days ago he texted me a video of three chimpanzees attacking a gorilla. is that okay? she shrugs. you tell me.

he’s such a fucking weirdo. why?

i don’t know, i told him that one of the restaurants i used worked at was a vegan place and he’s been sending me shit like that ever since. am i vegan? no, i’m not, but why should that make any difference, you know? who knows why richie does what he does.

who knows, you say. it’s fun to grumble about richie, but you don’t actually find him mysterious. one or two scares aside, he’s the easiest person to understand in the whole city. 

i should probably call him, you say. can i borrow your phone? 

sydney looks even more weirded out than before for a second, and then she seems to have a lightbulb moment, just as you see the back door opening. 

he does owe you money, doesn’t he? syd says, exasperated, but not surprised.

quién le debe dinero a quién? says somebody in an undertone, and then tina appears, her curly hair a little shorter than the last time you saw her, but otherwise unchanged. when she sees you, her expression breaks into a smile of welcome while her eyes get complicated. 

hey, julie, she says. how you doing?

usually, you hate it when people ask you that. but with her, you just don’t.

doing okay, tina. you?

oh, we’re doing good, right, chef? she says, with a fond glance at syd that seems to invite her in. 

still fighting for our lives with an auditor, but yeah, syd says. we’re on track.

you want to walk with me? tina says to you, and you nod, grateful that she seems to have instinctively guessed what you need. 

while you’re strolling out of earshot of the others, syd heads inside, which puts you on a ticking clock. the chances of carmy knowing your actual name are slim, but the chances of him coming out into the alley to investigate? those are dangerously high.

tina interrupts your train of thought, stopping by the chain link fence and turning to face you. 

so what’s wrong? she says, and though she’s as warm and genuine as before, you are reminded by the glint in her eyes that she’s perceptive and tough and not to be fucked with. no wonder michael loved her so much. she was one of the few people who knew how to love him back without drowning.

does there have to be something wrong? you say. 

not necessarily. but historically speaking? she says it almost apologetically.

yeah. 

you only ever met her two times, both in his apartment, once in the dead of night and once in the middle of the day. you remember meeting her, but that’s all. in your mind, each emergency blends into the nexxt, and you don’t probe them for details. all you remember is that one time she was there, you called for an ambulance even though he ordered you not to, and he hated that. tina stood firm and carried on amidst all the shouting, even when you lost it.

it’s a wonder she’s being kind to you now, actually.  

i still carry the narcan in my purse, tina says. 

the nasal spray? you say. the stuff that you gave her after the scare in october ‘21. that’s good. gonna find somebody savable eventually, right? and that comes out way more bitter than you meant it to, but you can’t figure out a way to take it back fast enough.

there’s a hint of steel to tina’s voice, a reminder that she’s deliberately granting you her patience and could revoke it at any time, when she repeats, so what’s wrong?

you take out your burner phone, your sad little nokia, and show it to her.

i busted my old phone, lost all my contacts, and i don’t have the money for a new one right now, so this artifact is all i got. do you have richie’s number? you say meekly.

sure, she says, pulling it up and handing it over so easy that you’re startled. you’re not used to being given something that you need simply because you asked for it.

you take her phone with a quiet thanks and start typing his number and address into your own.

i looked for you at the funeral, she says. it stings, whether she meant it to or not.

well, you say, still typing and glad of the excuse to not look up at tina’s face, i figured i’d spare his mom the fun of having multiple women show up. 

that’s not a fair hit, not the full story, but you don’t bother to clarify. 

to your surprise, she doesn’t give you what you deserve. instead, she says, you still mad at him? 

why even ask. aren’t you?

i was never mad at him.

you have to look up, and not just because you’ve run out of stuff to type. 

never? that’s impossible.

not after, tina says, her brown honest. he was just a kid, you know?

he was a thief and an addict and older than you. but yeah, you know. you really do. he was just a kid.

you want to tell tina that she’s a better woman than you are, that to love and forgive at the same time is a trick that you can only envy. but you don’t know how to say that. 

there’s another version, too, a simpler one, one that doesn’t compare the two of you. she’s sunlight and she’s concrete, the type of kindness that defies the laws of physics, and you can’t figure out how to say that to her either. 

how are you doing? you say instead. you already asked her, but you didn’t really ask her in the way she had asked you. this time you try to do it right.

from the way she smiles, you know you got close.

i’m good, she says. really. all the stuff they’ve got us up to out here? herbs and shit, fucking french. i don’t know, it’s working. and they’re gonna send me to the cia. 

delight looks good on her, and it’s infectious. you say, why not the fbi?

the culinary institute of america, dummy.

oh shit, the level up machine. you’ve heard of it before, of course, because it seems to have turned carmy into a rock star, so that’s gotta be a good thing, right? you gonna come back, kick his ass, and take over?

she grins. girl, you know i could already do that if i felt like it.

true, true. you’re grinning too, and god, it feels good.

and then, glancing over her shoulder at the sudden sound, you can see the back door open.

thank you, tina. you hand her the phone back, quick. if she notices the sudden change in you, she doesn’t let on.

anytime, she says, and presses her wrapped sandwich in your hand. here. 

i can’t take your lunch.

she waves you off. nah, there’s more where that came from.

hey tina, a voice calls. it’s carmy’s, so you keep your eyes trained on tina and hope he doesn't recognize you at that distance.

thanks again, you say, and then you flee, clutching your sandwich.

.

.

.

richie doesn’t pick up and your first call goes to voicemail. you’re wound too tight to enjoy the bill murray of it all, so you just hang up and call again.

he picks up after the third ring. 

what? he growls. 

hey asshole, where are you, you say, just as abruptly, but so pleased to hear his voice. 

richie barely skips a beat. you dont have to kill me, i’m already fucking dying, he says, which is his idea of reassurance.

yeah?

i mean, i’m alive, he says, like it’s a great concession. but for how long?

not much longer. where are you. 

dead silence. this, you did not expect and have no idea what to do with. you snap, richie, where the fuck are you? in a voice that makes a passing woman give you a wide berth on the sidewalk. 

calm your tits, secret agent. i’m on my fucking deathbed with saltines and espn, jesus christ. everything’s fine.

you’d really like to strangle him, but you don’t miss his hint. that’s his way of letting you out of this, secret agent, everything’s fine, so don’t cross a line and then regret it. thoughtful of him, but you’re already a world expert in regret. you’ve weighed your odds, you’ll take your chances.

i’ll be there in twenty, you say, unless you tell me to fuck off.

there’s a split second of hesitation before he says, will you bring me a popsicle? 

no. 

you hang up. then you go and buy some popsicles.

.

.

.

you dig out the ring of keys from your pocket, another inheritance. the gold key is for michael’s old place, the silver is for the beef, and the square-headed one is for richie’s. when you turn it in the lock, the door to his apartment swings open, easy as pie. 

his apartment is a mess. worse, it’s dead dull, with only a few old movie posters hung up over the off-white walls for decoration. at least it doesn’t smell. there’s a kitchenette to your left, one huge and incongruously new ikea wardrobe to your right, and across from you, his bed. it’s shoved up right next to the far window, so the deep windowsill serves as a side table to a tiny succulent and a laptop streaming espn. 

richie’s sprawled out sans blanket and sheets, which are all huddled in a lump at the foot of the bed. he’s not bothering to watch espn and he doesn’t bother to get up at the sound the door opening, either. just looks over and watches you. 

you lock the door behind you and take your shoes off out of habit, even though you know you might have to get out fast. as you walk over to him, you encounter some dirty laundry along the way and kick it into the corner. then you’re at hit bedside, looking down at richie.

he’s lying there in a worn out grey t-shirt, looking up at you muzzy-eyed, sweating, and unsurprised. 

come to finish me off? he says.

after a second, you say, open your mouth. 

he gives you a look that says, i could argue if i fucking felt like it, but then he does open wide with a little aah like a kid getting his tonsils checked. 

you take a quick glance inside, then close your hand to imitate a mouth closing, fingers meeting thumb. 

he does as instructed, but you can tell by the glint in his eye that he’s got a joke locked and loaded, so you lean over and put the back of your hand to his forehead before he can say a thing. 

as you expected, he goes quiet. his skin is hot and damp with sweat. 

after a second, you withdraw and straighten up, touch still echoing on the on the back of your hand.

yeah, you’re fine, you say. dehydrated, low fever, but you’re fine. 

and here i thought i was dying, richie says. he’s not usually subtle, but for once you can’t tell if he’s mocking you or not. is that for me?

he reaches for the plastic bag hanging from your shoulder, and you yank it back out of reach just in time. 

business first. when did you take your last tylenol?

richie slumps sulkily back onto his pillow with a petulant look. you’re no fun when you’re in doctor mode.

then don’t get sick, asshole. tylenol? 

this morning, he says, and then before you can volley a follow-up, he skips ahead. bathroom, behind the mirror. 

as a reward, you sling the plastic grocery bag onto his bed before you go investigate. 

sure enough, there’s a miniature pharmacy on the two small shelves behind the foldable mirror. at first glance, the only prescription stuff is xanax and pravastatin. you grab the tylenol and you’re just about to go when you notice, down at the bottom left corner, a small familiar white box edged in magenta. four milligrams of narcan, nasal spray, your old friend. you gave tina way more of it than she needed and told her to pass it on to anyone at the beef that she trusted, just in case. narcan’s not a cure, it just buys you a little time. that’s all you were doing by then, buying yourselves a little time.

looking at the box now, you suddenly feel sorry for richie. it’s been bad enough for you, and you’ve been living like a fucking vampire, no daylight, barely leaving your lair. richie’s had to go into the outside world, and the outside world fucking sucks. michael’s everywhere out there.

.

.

.

when you get back with the tylenol, richie has a grape popsicle already stuck in his mouth, the extra package of saltines on the windowsill by his side, and your sandwich in his hands. he’s trying to unwrap it when you snatch it away and deposit a tylenol in his palm instead.

with a shrug, he takes the popsicle out of his mouth and swallows the tylenol dry. 

trying not to think too hard about that, you turn away and head to the kitchen.

cups? you say.

upper left. he’s watching you make your way through his space, you can feel it. so you went to the beef, huh.

yup. in the upper cabinet, there’s an assortment of cups, none of them matching. you pick the plastic one with dora the explorer on it, then go fill that with water.

richie says, you talk to carmy? 

no, you say, with just enough edge on it to warn him off the subject. on your way back to his bedside, you pause to peek in his fridge and freezer. fuck me, did nobody ever teach you that man cannot live on microwave burritos alone?

news to me. what are you, some kind of fuckin gourmet?

you complete your circuit, come perch on the edge of his bed with the cup in your hand, and wait for him to sit up. 

woman can live on frozen pizzas alone, that’s a whole different thing, you say.

uh huh. he slumps back against the headboard, then accepts the cup from you and drinks. in the silence, you watch him. the small movements of his throat, the glint of gold slipping out over the nape of his neck. he wears that cross even in his sleep. hopefully it protects him. something should. 

you could sit here for a long time. 

but the cup runs out of water fast, and there goes your excuse. you take it back from him and say, just for the sake of saying something, your interior design is severely lacking.

he scrunches up his nose when he smiles, a wry little smile interrupted by a sniff. thanks.

go back to sleep.

but he doesn’t. instead, he reaches for the remaining half of his grape popsicle, so you go for your sandwich, unwrap, and take a bite. this is as good as the middle of the night to your body clock, so you’re not one bit hungry. but food works just as well as a cigarette, permission for silence. 

you get a sando and i get saltines? he says. talk about a raw deal, man.

mouth full, you say, these are actually pretty good, you know?

what, you didn’t think they would be? he scoffs. c’mon, i know you were never a regular, but the thing with the gun, that wasn’t your first time in. 

so he remembered you. even before he knew you had any kind of connection to the beef, he remembered you. 

you pretend not to notice.

i’ve just never had it with the peppers before, you say.

you’ve never had it with the peppers? his voice rises with each word.

i’m not normally a huge peppers girl, you say nonchalantly. 

you’re a fucking heathen is what you are.

for that, you take an extra big bite and chew as loudly and disgustingly as you can. 

it backfires immediately. he gags and presses his fist to his mouth, and you bolt to the sink to grab the trash can from under it, nearly tripping and hoping like hell he doesn’t throw up all over himself because you do not have it in you to do that kind of laundry. trash can in hand, you turn around to find that he’s giving you the thumbs up and grinning. not gagging at all, perfectly fine. 

oh, fuck you. you put the trash can back, stalk over, and drop down onto the bed beside him again, petulantly this time, making the bedsprings squeak. 

he’s still chuckling. you should’ve seen your face.

you know what my problem is? you say.

you think you have only one problem, j? i got news for you. 

that’s not the first time anyone’s used that nickname for you, but you still like it. 

my problem is that you’re not scared of me, you say. i need to make you more scared of me, and then you’ll treat me with the respect i deserve.

okay, well, fyi: you are already the third scariest person in the world to me, richie says.

the third? you echo with mock offense.

third is good, man. there’s stiff competition. like, you realize isis is still out there? his eyebrows raise and he gestures emphatically. and there’s a lot of them?

you snort. isis is not still out there.

i think they are. he tries to tick them off on his fingers. isis, al qaeda. and the other one. what’s the other one?

i think you need to stay well away from middle eastern politics when you’re running a fever, you say, getting up to go.

you said my fever was low! 

and yet you’re fuckin addled. go back to sleep. with that, you head back towards the kitchenette to see what you can do. 

his pantry turns out to be not quite as empty as his fridge, so you pick up a couple things and get to cooking him something basic and nourishing. no sense in trying anything impressive. you’ll be lucky if the result is passably tasty. 

sunlight comes in through the window, throwing a rectangle of warmth on your shoulder. you retrieve a pot, a cutting board, a large knife.

eva’s his number one scariest person in the world, obviously. number two’s probably tiff? donna’s scary, but you get the sense that she’d be worse to her kids, or at least that it’d feel worse to be her kids. richie’s never directly talked about her, though he did made a couple bitter remarks early on about what he did for ‘the family’, and given that sugar hates his ass and carmy wasn’t around, it has to be donna he was trying to take care of. wait, maybe carmy’s number two. no, it’s tiff. it’s definitely tiff.

yo, richie says, what the fuck are you doing? stop.

you look up, bewildered. what? 

he’s sitting at the edge of the bed with his feet flat on the floor, like he’s prepared to stand up and stop you. with the light coming in through the window at his back and the hanging lamp of the kitchenette throwing gold on his front, he really does look like he’s coated in sweat. 

put the knife down, he says. commands from his mouth are usually fruitless protests issued for comedic effect, but not this time. you put the knife down. 

you okay? you say it like a gentle person would, only to have your gesture immediately spoiled.

who taught you to cut onions like that? he says, like you’re physically hurting him. you do not cut onions like that! 

oh my god, fucking stop me. you roll your eyes and pick up the knife again, only to hear a tell-tale grunt from richie. no, that was a joke. don’t—you throw down the knife with an annoyed clatter. i’ll be fine. just watch your baseball or something, okay? sorry i’m not fucking carmy and i can’t go all human food processor on it, but let me do my thing.

after a second, richie says, ‘s gonna taste like shit, isn’t it.

you want me to go? you say, stung.

no, richie says immediately. i just want to know what you’re gonna do with those onions.

you shrug, a touch defensively. i was gonna brown it, add a couple cans of campbell’s beef and barley. something like that. it’s really sad when you say it out loud, just two ingredients: onions and canned soup. 

i don’t hate that, richie says. 

you look at him warily, unsure of whether that’s meant as an insult or the world’s most pathetic compliment. 

just curl your fingers when you cut, right? fuckin—he imitates, to show you how your left hand is supposed to be positioned, while he mimes chopping with his right. it really should not be charming. unfortunately, it kinda is.

yeah, yeah, you mutter, and then you go back to your cutting board and try to practice what he just taught you. 

usually, you have protein bars for snacks, frozen pizzas for meals, takeaway for variety, and pre-bagged salads for your recent attempts at health, so it really has been ages since you cooked like this. 

kind of feels like you’ve been missing out. there’s a peaceful feeling to this simple concentration, a bit like your work but without any of the stress. you take little breaks every now and again to prevent the onion from making you cry. with each break, you take a look at something new: the drawings from eva that he has pinned to the fridge, the poster for the movie white squall, the stack of books that look like somebody’s actually read them. 

when you start shoveling slices of onion into the pot, richie calls over, don’t turn the heat up too high.

i won’t, you say, unbothered.

you get about thirty seconds of peace, stirring your onions as you add some oil, and then richie pipes up again.

seriously, he says, if it doesn’t brown fast enough, don’t turn the heat up, just—

the heat’s at four out of ten, fuck’s sake. your swearing is just for show, because you’re feeling nearly mellow. there’s something so soothing about the crackling sound of the onions in the hot oil. are you drinking your water?

i already drank it all!

not believing him, you walk over, only to find that the cup is indeed empty. you refill it, then linger for a second, trying to make sense of the baseball he’s streaming on his laptop. 

look at this guy, richie says, referring to some player that you’ve never seen before in your life and probably never will again. the guy’s winding up to take a swing. you both watch. the guy hits a foul, and richie shakes his head in disgust. you grunt, noncommittal and happy, and return to your caramelizing onions.

by the time you’re done cooking, he’s asleep. 

.

.

.

you pour out two bowls of soup and put the rest of it in the fridge. that plus the saltines are enough to get him through the night and another day. you doubt the fever will last much longer than that. 

as you do the washing up, you make sure to scrub off every last bit of onion from the bottom of the pot, and then you leave all the clean dishes on the rack to dry.

between soup and saltines, richie should have enough for tonight and tomorrow, and you doubt the fever will last much longer than that. with the cooking and washing up is done, you walk over, sit on the bed beside him, and set down two bowls of soup on the deep windowsill that serves as his side table. his laptop has gone to sleep, and the silence in the absence of baseball is pretty much perfect. so is the sunlight.

you take off your hoodie, finally—you were starting to sweat yourself near the end there, thank goodness he was too sick to notice—and tug down your original berf shirt. it’s safe enough. richie’s out cold, snoring a little. with the tylenol doing its work, he’s not as sweaty as before, so you drag the sheets up from the foot of the bed and make sure they’re tucked over his shoulders.

taking out a sharpie from your coat pocket, you root around in the pile of assorted mail by his bedside until you come up with a pizza flier you can write on. you leave him the phone number of the burner you kept for michael. reason being, it’s the only number you know by heart, and you’re too tired to deal with any more unexplained absences. 

after all, you figure, you can be good and still take it a little easier. that’s all you’ve done today, take it a little easier, and it feels really fucking good.

settling down, you reach over richie again to get your bowl and your spoon. the bowl is warm in your lap, and even though you weren’t hungry before, the act of cooking has worked up your appetite. the soup smells good to you: sweet, savory, a bit like childhood. 

your father used to say grace at the table, and though you never do that anymore, there’s something still left to be said.

you know, you say, you’re the number three scariest person in the world to me too. you sit with that for a moment, and then you add, number two once told me he would shoot me in the face, so. there’s that. 

richie looks completely harmless like this, slumped on his side under the sheets, turned a little towards you with his eyes closed. he’s way easier to talk to when he’s unconscious, go figure. you can't touch him, though.

drink your fucking water, you say quietly. 

and then, still looking at him like he’s a photo to remember, you begin to eat your soup.

.

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[ next chapter ] [ masterlist ]

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@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @beingalive1, @eternallyvenus, @cerial-junkie, @jackierose902109 — if anyone else wants to be tagged, let me know.

#richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #the bear fanfic #mine #readerfic #do i know you? #the bear imagine #diky #fluffy h/c in MY readerfic? it's more likely than you think!

[poetslore]

Things I noticed on my most recent “Coraline” rewatch: part 1

1. THE COMPUTERS: at the beginning of the movie we see that Coraline’s parents are ignoring her for their work, more specifically a gardening catalog they have been working on. That’s when I notified the computers. Coraline’s mother has a lap top, it appears to be brand new mostly because around the time this movie was made laptops were just becoming popular, while Coraline’s father has a 90s style box computer, he even appears to be using an older program to write his section of the catalog. How I interpreted this is that Coraline’s mother seems to be more sophisticated or materialistic. We see that she dresses far nicer than her husband and of course the Lap top. Coraline’s father is far more laid back, his clothes are messier and he seems to enjoy Coraline’s presence far more than her mother.

2. THE DOLL: the first night at the house, Coraline lies down in bed (the dinner transition) glanced at her poison ivy rash and then talks to the picture of the friends she left behind in Michigan, when the camera pans over we see that the doll is looking at Coraline as she lays on the bed, later, when Coraline wakes up at the sound of mouse, the doll is no longer looking at her, this is because the other mother is using the mouse to spy on Coraline and guide her, not the doll like she does during the day.

3. ONE NOTE PIANO: when Coraline first enters the other world she meets the other mother and she is then told to go fetch her other father who is in his study, for dinner. When Coraline enters the study we can see that the other father is tapping on a singular piano key, almost as if he’s in a trance, he had no purpose because Coraline isn’t around him, then about two or three seconds later he notices Coraline’s presence and acts giddy and excited and plays the “making up a song about Coraline” piece. I took this as the other mother “activating” the other father the second Coraline was near him.

4. NO FOOD?: the iconic dinner scene. On Coraline’s first night in the other world, the other mother cooks her an elaborate welcome dinner. During this dinner Coraline piles the food onto her plate (it’s appearance and likely taste is far better than her fathers tragic cooking in the real world) and then we see the other father, who also piles food onto his plate, but there’s one outlier here, the other mother. The other mother doesn’t pile food onto her plate, despite spending time on an elaborate dinner, which you’d then expect she’d want to feast on her labors, she sits there, her porcelain plate empty as she watches the others eat. I interpreted this in two way. First, the other mother is ancient, she doesn’t need to eat to survive. At least, she doesn’t eat food to survive, she eats the souls of children. Secondly, she is far more focused on Coraline, pleasing the blue-haired eleven year old girl and manipulating her rather than the food, and eating it like a regular “human being”

5. SMART COOKIE: once again this takes place during the dinner scene. Coraline has just received her welcome home cake when the other mother offers for them to play a game. At this point Coraline is growing a little suspicious for a number of reasons. She likely got a gut feeling that something a little malicious and uncanny was happening, the other mother and the other father knew she was coming based off of what the cake said (there’s no way they should’ve known she was coming, without magic of course), then the other mother asks to okay a game Coraline’s mother in the real world hate games. But we really see her first grow truly uncomfortable when the other mother taps her fingers against the table, something that Coraline’s real mother does quite frequently. It is clear that the other mother made this movement in an attempt to make Coraline feel comfortable, to make her feel like she was around her actual mother, but the girl doesn’t fall for it. She actually finds it strange and it just tacks into the pile of strangeness that has taken over the dinner. Then the lightning strikes after Coraline says there is no rain and at this point Coraline is deeply unsettled. She’s one smart cookie if you ask me.

6. “SEE YOU SOON”: despite the fact that Coraline showed extreme discomfort at dinner and on the way up to her bedroom the other mother and the other father say “see you soon” as she falls asleep. I interpreted this as: The other mother knew that the talking stuffed octopus and the chomping turtle wouldn’t convince Coraline something weird wasn’t going on there or wouldn’t ease that discomfort, but she did know that creating false versions (Coraline doesn’t know this) of Coraline’s “best trolls” aka her best friends from Michigan would comfort her and make her more open to coming back. She knew that Coraline would come back, she knew that she won this round simply based off of bringing Coraline’s “best trolls” to life.

This is where I stopped. I got tired lol. I will continue watching and update more on what I notice

#coraline #movie analysis #movies #film #other mother #laika studios #claymation #coraline jones #other father #movie review #movie aesthetic

[jokrrouttfynn]

Dance until the stars fade ☆☆ a Joker Out fanfiction, chapter ONE

The earliest memories related to ballet Kris Guštin could recall were when he had just started taking lessons, sometime when he was 4 or 5, and all of a sudden, he was different than the “other kids”, because boys his age didn’t dance, they didn’t like all the “girly stuff” Kris enjoyed, and so he would hang out with girls, because they shared interests and whatnot, and now he was 11, and he was “the gay kid”, even if he wasn’t really gay, but he liked ballet, and was only friends with girls, so he must have been at least bi. And so he was abandoned by the few boys he hung out with, because god forbid that eleven year old boys hang out with “gay” boys.

That was, of course, until he met Bojan.

He was different than the boys Kris knew, and not in a cliché way, but because he didn’t care what Kris’ interests were, and he didn’t care if Kris’ friend group consisted of only girls, because they were friends, and that’s that mattered

The way that Kris and Bojan met immediately showed Kris what kind of person the other boy was: fun, cheerful and extroverted. 

At the time they were roughly thirteen, and Bojan had recently moved to the town Kris lived in. Bojan was knocking on all of the doors in the neighborhood to find other kids he could be friends with. He eventually knocked on Kris’ door, when his father answered the door

-Hello, my family just moved here, and I was wondering if you had a kid around my age? I’m fourteen- Bojan had immediately asked mr Guštin

-Um, yes, we have a thirteen year old son. Do you want me to call him for you?

-Yes, thank you so much

So, Kris’ father called him downstairs, and the two teen boys spent hours in Kris’ green talking about the most random stuff

-D’you think you could introduce me to the guys you hang out with?- Bojan had asked at one point as he was stuffing his mouth with the crisps Kris’ mum had gave them

-I would, but I only have friends that are girls…- Kris had said, a slight tint of sadness in his voice

-Why?

-I do ballet, so boys pick on me and tell me I’m gay and stuff like that

-You know, my mum told me there’s nothing wrong with being gay

-I know, but I’m just.. not 

-Whatever, then I’ll be your first guy friend. Boy friend, if you will- Bojan chuckled, making Kris laugh at the horrible pun

Now Kris was eighteen, and Bojan was nineteen, and Bojan played the clarinet professionally in an orchestra, and Kris.. Well, he hadn’t been so lucky. Sure, he had gotten some parts in his school’s ballet performances, but it had never been more than that. Bojan played professionally, meeting some of the most famous musicians in the world, and Kris was stuck dancing to ‘the nutcracker’ for the past thirteen Christmases. Bojan always told him that ‘they were both young and Kris had all of the capabilities to become great’, but Kris didn’t buy it. He simply couldn’t. The things people told him since he was young had stuck with him and had impacted him too much to believe that he could truly amount to something.

In the meanwhile, their friend group had expanded. Well, if meeting another boy and becoming the ‘trio’ of the school counts as expanding your friendship pool, that is. 

Jan Peteh had always caught Kirs’ attention, he was so laid back and positive and chill, everything Kris aspired to become.

Jan wasn’t bothered by what other kids said, Jan kept his hair long no matter how picked on he was, Jan laughed with those who made fun of him, Jan was what a ‘perfect person’ was, in Kris’ mind.

They had became friends in high school, when Kris had cut his hair because people called him a ‘girl’ or a ‘fag’. Kris knew he looked ridiculous with his hair cut short, but people wouldn’t make fun of his appearance anymore, and that was what mattered.

Jan had walked up to him, and he had complimented Kris’ new haircut, saying that “the long hair looked better, but you look good with short hair too”. Once again, Jan had proven Kris’ idea that he was the utopian model of what a human being should be like: kind, nice, positive and cheerful. Kris had thanked him, and asked him if he wanted to sit with him and Bojan at lunch. Jan had agreed, and from that moment on, Jan had become part of their small friend group. Kris kind of felt bad for dragging Jan in their group, since Kris and Bojan were both, well, pretty bullied, and it surely didn’t elevate Jan’s reputation.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

A/N: Chapter one is here people! @beeoftheanxieties please do read this, i need affirmation that this isn’t shit

And @merlilica that asked to be tagged too

#joker out #joker out fanfiction #jan peteh #kris gustin #kris guštin #bojan cvjeticanin #bojan cvjetićanin #joker out kris #joker out bojan #joker out jan #no beta we die like my eyesight after proofreading this 300 times #Next chapter i will introduce hopefully both Nace and Jure #Or maybe just Jure #Not sure yet we’ll see

[theangrybooknook]

Convenience Store Woman

Do you ever pick up a book, expecting story XYZ, only to end up flipping through the pages, saying loudly "What the fuck?!" to yourself?

That was my experience with Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata.

Synopsis: Keiko is 36 years old and has worked at the same convenience store as a part-timer for 18 years. It is where she feels home, where she thrives, where she knows what to do. This is where she has set patterns to follow, giving her safety. Everyone else around her cannot understand why on earth she would not look for a "proper job" or, since she is a woman allegedly past her prime, look into getting married. Is there something wrong with Keiko? Or is there something wrong with the rest of the world?

Reading Murata's novel as someone who has lived in Japan for a bit is a wild experience. The setting is mainly a convenience store, of which there are THOUSANDS all across Japan, by several chains and some individual ones. My personal favourite is 7-Eleven. And Seicomart, because it is exclusive to Hokkaido and has the best Hokkaido milk pastries on this planet. Keiko works in one that remains unnamed, but it is her personal heaven. She knows what to do, how to react, how to speak. The typical konbini speech is her personal stradivarius. So far, so good, right?

Right.

Keiko, who is also the narrator of the book, is a woman with problems. Said problems are not what she would describe as a problem - it is her surroundings, her friends and family, who describe her behaviour as a problem and "not normal". When Keiko tells us about her childhood and how her parents and sister struggled with her, e.g. how she hit a classmate with a shovel to make him "stop" something, she does not understand how this behaviour might be problematic. When she pulls down her crying teacher's skirt to expose her underwear, copying what she has seen on TV, she does not understand why this behaviour is inappropriate. Unsure of how to talk and behave, she learns to mimic the speech and gestures of her peers, putting on individual "masks". It is how she behaves at home, how she behaves at the store, and even around her friends.

I think I was about five pages into the novel when I said to myself: "Yep, ma girl Keiko is autistic."

The word is never explicitly used in the novel, but her behaviour and her description of her own thought process definitely gives reason to assume that Keiko is on the autism spectrum. She seems to mask it incredibly well: her colleagues adore her as the most hardworking store worker they have ever met, her managers know they can rely on her, and her friends seem to accept her with her oddities as they come. Her family is mainly worried: when will Keiko finally become normal? Her only ally in her family seems to be her sister, who offers her "human" explanations she can use for situations when she is asked about her dead-end job. After all, why should she not work there? What is there to complain or worry about?

In Japan, a convenience store is mainly staffed by part-timers who have a part-time job for good reason: they are housewives, trying to earn a small side living. Students, foreigners, elderly who are a little bored from sitting at home. It is badly paid. Then why on earth, one cannot help but ask, would a woman with a university degree choose to work in what is deemed a dead-end job?

It is the question Keiko has to answer almost every single day. Something must be wrong with her, the world concludes, if she works in a job like that. Keiko gives the same answer to everyone: "I am not very strong." Her physical condition does not allow much more. The excuse is usually accepted, but not by everyone. And why is she not married? Surely, she must be desperate at this point, going on forty and with no man in sight!

Keiko cares not for it, and therein lies the great scandal.

As a new co-worker starts at the konbini, Keiko comes to face a reality entirely foreign to her. Shihara, a man roughly her age and seemingly little confidence, declares loudly that all people working at konbinis are losers and that he is there to look for a wife only anyway. When he is fired for stalking a female customer, Keiko runs into him outside the store a while later, and finds herself in a heated conversation with him. It is in moments like these where it becomes clear that Keiko, despite masking a lot, is perfectly capable of holding conversations without masking in the first place. Shihara tells her of his theory that human society has not changed since the Stone Age, and that men ought to hunt and women ought to bear children - and that he has been fucked over by a cruel society in which women allegedly only ever aim for the attractive, muscular men, and leave the "good ones" like him, to the side. He hates that he is, as he puts it, always pressured into having a perfect job, a wife and children, whilst not being allowed to do any of it, because he is far too brilliant to have a simple job, and no woman wants him because he has no money.

Dear reader, it was at this point where I loudly exclaimed "What the fuck?!" and almost threw the book across the room. I had not expected to find fully-fledged incel rhetoric in this book.

The glorious turn, however, is Keiko's reaction to it. She plays along at first and allows him to live with her in her tiny apartment, keeping him "in the bathroom" and giving him food when it is "feeding time". Her reason for doing so and for playing along is not that Shihara has convinced her of his ways: in fact, she is merely curious to see how her surroundings will react to the knowledge that she is living with a man - after all, that must mean something! The reactions of her friends and family are immense: despite not knowing him, they are so incredibly happy for Keiko that they finally declare her "normal". When her sister comes to visit and is appalled at the state she finds Keiko and Shihara in, only to be told the lie that Shihara had been cheating on Keiko, her sister is relieved - after all, better a cheating man than no man. It is a disgusting mindset that made me shake my head several times.

Convincing Keiko to go through with his plan - marrying, him living off her money that she will from now on earn in a "proper" job, but no sex because clearly, Keiko is "below his standards" - Keiko quits her job at the convenience store. Everyone there is happy for her - after all, there is nothing greater in a woman's life than to get married. Even if it is Shihara, the man they all found incredibly creepy and disgusting. "It does not matter who it is, really, when you are a woman" - such is the way Keiko's friends argue, as long as you end up married and thus, respectable and normal. But on her way to her job interview, they stop at another convenience store, and Keiko realises that this is where she belongs. When Shihara explodes on her and insults her as not being human, she agrees: "I am a convenience store worker."

And she would not have it any other way.

I am not sure what the moral of the story is - if there is one at all. But what Sayaka Murata has created is a masterful, poignant tale of the role of women in society. I am not even sure if it is limited to Japanese society. A woman's worth is bound to her usefulness, specifically to the usefulness of her womb. If it is not used, she is worthless to the "village". I believe we have all heard this sort of talk before. In the novel, Shihara screams it into our faces, whilst not realising that he is failing not because of his looks or lack of a job, but for his uselessness for the people around him. Everyone else is at fault, but he never is - after all, he is a man with intelligence, and should be thus a catch for the ladies. They, however, reject him. And thus, they are pure evil to him.

Keiko can follow the arguments the people around her make: she knows that it is typical for women her age to be married with children, or to have a well-paying job instead. She knows that her otherness is why she is singled out and excluded. But she does not understand the reasoning behind it, and for that alone, the reader has to love her. Her naiveté about it exposes the arguments of her friends and family as what they are: insecurity about things they do not know or understand.

As someone who is on the autism spectrum herself, and asexual, I felt that deep in my bones.

In the end, Keiko triumphs nevertheless: for she recreates her own system that has served her so perfectly well. She returns to a life as a convenience store woman, and has no need for Shihara anymore. In her system, he is of no use.

The only person she needs is herself.

#bookblr #books #literature #review #sayaka murata #convenience store woman #japan #japanese #japanese literature #japanese books #konbini

[sheltershock]

Today I saw the Barbie Movie after seeing multiple advertisements marketing it as “hot pink existentialism,” and I think it’s the best film I’ll ever see this year. If you are a woman, please see this movie. If you are a mother, please see this movie. If you have anxiety or depression, please see this movie. If you are autistic, please see this movie. If you have doubts about life in general, please see this movie. The movie currently has a reputation of being an edgy children’s film, but I assure you, it’s the most adult film I’ve ever watched.

I initially saw this film while going through a bout of anxiety. I was fine that morning when I booked the tickets, but an hour and half before I went I was having doubts about what I was doing in my free time. I was wondering if I should quit something because it is hard, even if it once brought me joy. I sat there, holding myself, as the movie began and in the first ten minutes  I knew it would make me cry. I ended up shedding a few tears throughout, but when they hit the ending, I was bawling. And I had crying fits on the drive back home. I had gone with my eleven year old sister who showed interest in seeing it, and she was confused about my reaction. She just wasn’t experienced enough to understand the underlying themes and messages about the film. 

Beyond the Barbie brand, the hot pink, the nice outfits, and the hilarious “two worlds cross” storyline, Barbie is a film about life. It is similar to Pixar’s Soul, in that sense. There are plenty of laughs, but it hits you with the hard “why are we here” question. Barbie is presented in the beginning to live a perfect life, and I do mean perfect, except when one morning existentialism comes knocking on her plastic skull. She has thoughts of death and panics when she discovers the start of cellulite, fearing her loss of beauty. She is then tasked to go find the little girl who is playing with her in the real world, the one that’s putting these thoughts in her head. But she is told that it’s not entirely the little girl’s fault, Barbie is responsible as well, though she denies it. 

When Barbie goes into the real world one of the impactful scenes is her sitting on a bench, and enjoying life in the real world. The wind rustling the trees, mothers spending time with their children, two men enjoying each other’s companionship, and an old woman sitting next to her, who’s representative of everything she was afraid of in the “Call of Adventure” scene. And Barbie thinks for a moment, turns to the woman and tells her that she’s beautiful. And the old woman responds back with “I know.” This scene is called back in the ending, when the woman returns and, spoiler, she’s Ruth Handler, the creator of Barbie. That’s right. The Barbie movie has a talk-with-god sequence. Though, in the film, Ruth is not presented as a deity, but as a human. Her tax evasion along with her own mortality is brought up to show her flaws, but Ruth is really portrayed more as Barbie’s mother than her deity. Ruth literally points out that she named her human daughter “Barbara.” 

There are two scenes where Ruth talks about her creation, and both acknowledge that Ruth is extremely human. She is Barbie’s creator, yet does not know what form she will inevitably take. Her first scene is at her own kitchen table, where she invites Barbie to sit and drink tea. She says to her “you’re different…you look great.” And the second scene is at the end of the film where Ruth describes that Barbie is an idea, and unlike humans, ideas don’t have “endings.” And Barbie asks her if she can be human, asking her own creator if she’s okay with that. Ruth says that ideas last longer than any individual, and an idea can be anything. But before Barbie becomes human, she asks Barbie to take her hands and show her what it means to be “human,” and the scene where Barbie admires life plays along with other footage, presumably from Ruth’s own life. It’s all good memories. Because that’s what being human is about, enjoying life despite all the bad things surrounding you. 

Barbie largely portrays these “bad things” as the patriarchy, which go on to infect Barbie Land. The patriarchy is shown in direct opposition that Barbie Land stands for, women’s empowerment, women’s freedom, and women’s leadership. Nobel Prize winners go on to become lesser to men, to serve them beer, massage their feet and be objects to ogle at. Even the female President of Barbie Land is diminished under the patriarchy. All of this is presented as brainwashing, as programming. There is current criticism that Barbie is anti-men. But the patriarchy is only part of the driving force of bad things, the other half are intrusive thoughts, anxiety and depression, portrayed most prominently after patriarchy has taken hold in Barbie Land. But even before that happened, when everything was great in Barbie’s life she still thought about death. Before she knew that the real world was primarily controlled by men, she still had thoughts about existentialism.

When Barbie says at the end of the film, “I want to be human,” she, at that point, had experienced anxiety. Barbie describes it as “feelings that aren’t about or towards anything.” And despite that, she still wanted reality. She even described tears as feeling good. When I say this movie is about living, I mean it’s about how we chose to live even though it's hard. Everyday we chose to wake up and continue our lives. Barbie portrays fear and sadness as necessary to feel truly happy, that you need both to have fulfillment, to be alive, to be human. Barbie is about a lot of things, patriarchy, existentialism, feminism, motherhood, living and being human. 

Additional:

I thought about Greta Gerwing’s comment throughout the viewing, “the creation of Barbie is the opposite to the story of Genesis.” Instead of women being created to help men, Barbie was made first, and Ken was made as her boyfriend. Barbie Land is accurately described as “opposite to our world.” The entire senate is made up of women, the workforce is all women, all women live in harmony and friendship, but men are almost secondary citizens to women. Their relationship is described by “Barbie has a great day every day, but Ken only has a great day when Barbie looks at him.” Barbie Land depicts men how Hollywood depicts women, as objects for the fe/male leads. The big climatic scene for the Kens is a war against themselves for the attention of the Barbies, which happens all the time in films and TV… between women. There’s always a scene where two women fight for the man’s affection. Ken’s resolution at the end of the story is to find an identity on his own, one that’s not dependent on his job, or his girlfriend, or any particular thing he does. It’s the traditional “woman moves on to not need no man” but flipped for the men. Any critic who claims that Barbie is anti-men, should also be claiming that a majority of films and TV are anti-women. 

The “patriarchy” in Barbie Land is portrayed as stupid men being in power, ogling women and liking horses because the doll world is inherently a heightened sense of our world, but backwards. Women in TV and film have long been stereotyped into liking shopping and clothes, being obsessed with our looks and waiting for a guy to notice us. So in Gerwing’s screenplay, she gave that stereotype to the men in the film. It’s satirical to show how stupid the gendered stereotyping on the screen is. The aim of the film was to be about women and their issues, so Gerwing brilliantly switches the gendered roles and the agency assigned to them. 

The movie ends the Ken storyline saying that “Kens will one day work their way up in Barbie Land to be at the level of women in our world.” The reason they aren’t placed as equals at the end of the Barbie Movie is because it’s a real world criticism and call to action for the audience. Telling everyone in the theater that If you were invested in the men of this world to be equal in Barbie Land, then you should be equally invested in women being equal in the real world. All of this was Gerwing’s way of trying to explain the stupidity of gendered roles and expectations. 

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