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tammythompson-singslikea-muppet · 3 years

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Reconciliation (Stan Uris x reader x Richie Tozier, Reddie)

I'm finally back! It's probably been a year since I posted Betrayal and shit has really hit the fan since then, but here I am a year later with part 2!

Here is a link to part 1

Warning: swearing

Aged up: 18/19

You tried to catch up with Stan as he power-walked out of the house. He stopped short when he realized his car wasn't there. "Stan" You catch his attention and he turns around. His chest rising and falling at a quick pace, "You heard everything in there?" Stan's voice was quiet, much quieter than just a minute ago. You nod and he sighs. "I'm sor-" You cut him off "Don't be" You take a step forward and bring your hand up to push some curls out of his face. He leans into your hand, not stopping himself for once. No yearning, no shouting in his head over his actions. Just the feel of your soft palm against his cheek. Stan takes a deep breath, feeling himself calm down in the wake of your touch. "Can we go somewhere?" Stan's voice barely above a whisper. "Of course."

Richie leaned back against the wall and slid down to the floor. He brushed his hands through his hair 'God I fucked up' "Man you really fucked up." Richie looked up. "Thanks, Bill your a real help." Bill put his hands up in defense. "I gotta say I really didn't see that one coming," Eddie spoke up. Bill and Mike nodded in agreement. "I mean I knew *something* was going on but holy shit I didn't think they were in love with each other," Beverly added. "We know Stanley's in love with her but is she in love with Stan? I mean she was just in a serious relationship like a week ago" "Yeah I wonder what happened to that relationship?" Ben's eyes sharp at Eddie, voice stiff and slightly viscous, "Alright! Alright!! None of that!" Mike's authoritative voice made it known he was seriously done with all the fighting. "She loves him" The group turned their heads at Richie's small voice, Ha stared down at the floor and spoke softly. "She may not be in love with him right now, but I could see it. She's falling for Stan."

Eddie looked over at Richie. A mix of emotions reached throughout the boy. He hated seeing Richie like this, but he also hated that it was about you. Mostly he hated that it was about you. He couldn't control it, no matter how much he wished that he could. What is it exactly that Richie is so mad at? Is he upset that he potentially ruined his relationship with Stan? Is he upset that Stan is in love with (Y/N) or that Stan claimed he neither loved nor cared about (Y/N)? Is Richie still in love with (Y/N)? If so is he mad that (Y/N) could be in love with Stan or that she is moving on so quickly? Eddie couldn't help but feel like he was still second to you. It's not like Richie chose to tell you. He kept telling Eddie that he would for at least 2 weeks, but then she found out in her own way. Eddie feared that maybe he was never gonna tell you. Or now that you found out does Richie regret it? 'Alright, Alright Eddie calm the fuck down! Just go talk to Richie.' "Eds?" "Yeah Rich." "I'm gonna go." Richie's tone sounded soft, defeated. It broke Eddie's heart to see him like this. "Yeah sure I'll go grab my keys-" Richie cut him off politely. "I'm just gonna walk. I think I wanna be alone right now. I'll call you later." Richie placed a hand on the back of Eddie's head pulling him close and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "OK. Be safe please."

"Where are we going?" You ask Stan who is driving and keeping silent. "You'll see. Um, go into the glove compartment a find the clear tape." You scrunch your eyebrows together. "You been stashing things in my glove compartment, Uris?" You found a clear tape and put it into the radio. Temptation by New Order flooded in through the speakers. A smile grew on your face as you turned the volume nob up. Stan looked over at you for a second just to see your growing smile. "I made you a tape and left it in here for the next time you complain that there's nothing good on the radio." A fit of giggles came from your mouth. "Stanley Uris made me a fucking mix-tape." You continued to laugh. It brought a smile, growing wider by the second, to see you so happy and blissful listening to your favorite music, a song he loved as well.

And I've never seen anyone quite like you before. No, I've never met anyone quite like you before.

Richie's emotions were confusing him now more than ever. He loved (Y/N). He truly did, but he just wasn't in love with her. Guilt consumes him every night before sleep and every time he sees you. He never wanted to hurt you. But when it comes to Eddie he's impulsive even a little reckless. Richie knew that he fucked up massively. Not only with you but with Stan and he even feels so with Eddie. He felt that if he just would have been honest with you before jumping into things with Eds maybe Eddie wouldn't have lost his best friend. He still couldn't wrap his head around how much of an idiot and a dick he was about Stanley. What in the fucking hell would lead him to believe that Stanley Uris of all people would fuck around with someone's feelings like that? He had already caused (Y/N) enough pain maybe he was trying to be a hero or something. Do something right for once, but of course, it was just another gigantic fuck up! Executed wonderfully by your very own Richie Tozier. Richie had noticed that he walked straight to the quarry. He picked up a stone and skipped it across the water.

Stan pulled the car over along where the road stopped and the tree's started. "Come on." Stan walked over to your side of the car and opened the door for you and held out his hand. You took his hand and walked beside him into the woods. "You trying to get me to some secret secondary location?" "What, you don't recognize where we're going?" You looked around a bit and shook your head. "Well, then I guess it will be a surprise." "I guess this is the day I get murder in the woods. Goodbye world you were never all that good to me but at least my murder is hot as hell." You almost couldn't see Stan's blush from how much he was laughing. You're hands brush as you walked close together. Stan felt a little nervous to take it, it's not like he hasn't held your hand before but right now he feels it holds so much more. 'Good' he thought to himself. 'It does mean more. Let it mean more.' He took your hand in his and warmth spread throughout the both of you. Just the two of you holding hands walking through the trees with Stan pointing out some birds to you, felt so blissful. At this moment you realized you had never felt this way with Richie. The two of you had a lot in common and play off each other well jokes and conversation-wise. But maybe that wasn't all a relationship needed. You had felt that's why Richie and you were so perfect together. Maybe this was finally the start to forgiving Richie and regaining some normalcy, realizing that maybe we weren't perfect or meant to be after all. If this is how Richie felt with Eddie you felt that you could somewhat understand why he was so in a rush to have it. It was scary how new this thing with Stan was yet how important it felt to you. You would go to the ends of the earth to protect what you had with Stan, no one in the world made you feel as safe and comforted as Stanley Uris. What Richie did, going behind your back, was in no way how he should've handled the situation. You let him into some of the most vulnerable spaces in your mind and life, entrusting him with your heart and your deepest thoughts, that you were his only person. That wasn't something easy to forgive, not something to easily recover from, especially having that trust broken with someone else with who you were very close. You may be happy and blissful at this moment, but you definitely knew the consequences of Richie's actions would come back to rear its ugly head sooner or later. But you believed that understanding was one of the first steps toward forgiveness. The more you walked the louder the sound of running water became. Soon you could even see the running water. You realized Stan had brought you to the barrens.'But why the barrens?' you thought to yourself. You reached the edge of the water and looked over to Stan. "C'mon" he grabbed your hand and stepped out onto a rock in the water. You did your best to follow, it finally dawns on you that you were headed toward the clubhouse.

When you got to the small clearing Stan went ahead and lifted the hatch to the small underground area where the losers used to hang out. "I've only been here a couple of times." You said as you climbed down the ladder. "Yeah, I guess we started hanging out other places more." Stan walked over to the hammock getting in. He smiled and reached his arms out like a little kid asking for a hug. You raised an eyebrow at him. "I know. I always feel like I'm gonna fall out of this thing, but it's safe I promise." "Okay," You say drawing out the word in a skeptical tone. You yelped as it wobbled and Stan gripped his arms around your waist as the hammock swung a little. "See, safe." You let out an amused huff and relaxed into Stan. Your back was pressed against his chest, both of your heads finding slightly uncomfortable spots in the crooks of the other's neck. "I remember one of the first times Eddie ever brought you to hang around with us was down here." Stan played with your hands in your lap. "I remember looking over and seeing you smiling, talking to Beverly. It was really hot out, your cheeks were pink. Richie gave you his shower cap and you, him, and Bill talked about comic books." You closed your eyes just listening to Stan talk softly into your hair. "Beverly came over to me when she noticed. She was joking around told me to stop staring, that it was rude. I hadn't even noticed that I was staring. I got nervous cuz, -hoping you didn't notice. You were so beautiful I couldn't help but stare." You blushed and let out a chuckle, your stomach filling up with butterflies. "I don't expect you to say back any time soon, and I in no means want to rush you, but I-" Stan paused, thinking about the impact of his words. He started to think maybe he should give you a little time, but then you leaned your head up to look at him. And when he looked down into your eyes there was no way stopping the words from falling out of his mouth. "I love you." The look in Stan's eyes was intoxicating, you could have stared in his eyes for the rest of both your lives, but instead, you brought your hand up to his jaw and tilted your head bringing yours and Stan's lips together. Equally as intoxicating as the look in his eyes. The two of you felt as if you were floating on clouds. Like you two were the only two people in the world. You pulled away and smiled, Stan pressed his forehead against yours. "I know" You and Stan laughed.

"Ok Rich. You just need to apologize. I'm sure they'll forgive you. They're your friends, basically your family." Richie walked back into town talking to himself. "And you hurt them and accused them of shitty things and now all your friends will hate you forever cuz you were a total dick and even their grandchildren will hate the name, Richie Tozier." Richie stopped for a second and groaned, rubbing his hands up and down his face under his glasses. He took a deep breath and continued walking.

Mike opened the door to Richie. "Hey man, come in." "Is Eds still here." "Yeah, he's in the living room. Rich," Mike put a hand on his shoulder. "He's worried about you. We all kinda are. There's been a lot going on with you four I just want to remind you that if you need someone to talk to we're all here for you buddy." "Thanks, man." Richie continues into the living room and sees Ben and Eddie talking. He breathes a sigh of relief, knowing how much it hurt Eddie that Ben wouldn't talk to him. They hugged and Ben got up off the couch and saw Richie. "I'm really sorry Richie. It was really rude to treat you like that-" Richie cut him off. "It's ok man really, I get it. She's your friend, I was a dick." "Yeah but you and Eddie are my friends too." "Well then what do you say Haystack," Richie extended out a hand. "Back to buds." Ben agreed and shook Richie's hand. Richie took a seat next to Eddie on the couch. "Hey, I'm glad your back I wanted to-" Richie leaned in and kissed Eddie. "As much as I love you and your adorable rambling I wanted to apologize." Eddie was suddenly very nervous. He thought to himself 'Shit this is it. He still loves Kassidy.' "Sure, Sure yeah. Umm a-about what Rich?" Richie took Eddie's hands in his fiddling with them out of nerves. "About everything. About not telling Kassidy. About not even being decent enough to break it off first so neither of you would get hurt. All of this would have been so much easier and nobody would've had to lose any friends. I'm just so sorry Eddie, I love you and I never wanted to hurt you like that." Eddie was so relieved to hear those words come out of Richie's mouth. He put a hand up to Richie's cheek and leaned to kiss him. "I love you too Richie." Richie chuckled in relief "Thank fuck."

You and Stan walked back to the car hand in hand. "So what do you wanna do now? " You leaned your back up against the car door "Oh I don't know maybe some more of this." Stan leaned himself against the car by his forearm and with his other hand lifted your chin, leaning down connecting your lips. You hummed against his lips. "Well, I do love doing that." "Do you want to go back to your place-" Stan pressed a small kiss on your neck "Watch a movie." "Shit!" Stan's head shot up. "I left my house keys at Bens." "We can sneak through your bedroom window." You push yourself off of the car, past Stan, and walked to the other side pulling your door open. "I don't wanna go back there either but with any luck, Richie won't be there." Stan groaned and got into the car.

You wrapped your knuckles on the door and Mike opened it with a smile. "I just forgot my keys." Mike let you in past him to the table where the keys sat. You quickly walked over to the table and grabbed your keys. Turning around back towards the door you catch Richie staring from the couch next to Eddie. For once you didn't feel the wind knocked out of you. But you couldn't say that the feeling of wanting to punch him had dulled any. You carried on toward the door when Richie called out your name. You sighed and banged your head on Mike's front door and contemplated for a second whether or not you should pretend you didn't hear him and keep walking. Apparently, you had stayed there a bit too long. Richie tapped two fingers on your shoulder. "I was just wondering if you would let me talk at you for a second. You don't need to say anything, or react in any way really-" You turned around and put your hands on his shoulders. He froze silent as you drew a deep breath. "I forgive you." It wasn't easy to say, you weren't even sure it was true. A part of you wanted to keep him dangling in wonder and guilt but you knew that you would eventually fully forgive him and the more you saw him moping around the more you would most likely enjoy watching him suffer for what he did. But if he just thought that you had forgiven him then maybe he would go back to his old trashmouth self and you all could move on.

Richie was taken by surprise, to say the least. He felt relief for a fleeting moment until he remembers Stan. "He's out in the car" He heard him speak softly. She somehow always knew what was going on inside his head, that's what made him think that she was so great, that they would be so great together. Against your better judgment, you grimaced and said, "I can give you five minutes. But he has the car keys so I can't promise he won't dive off on you." Richie threw his arms around you and squeezed you, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" "Yeah, sure get off me" He smiled at you, "Sorry." As Richie walked out the door he turned back to you, "He wouldn't drive off without his best girl." Richie started making trumpets sound in the tune of 'A Long Long Time' by Kitty Kallen and closed the door. You rolled your eyes as you and Mike laughed

Richie fell silent as he walked up to your car with Stan in the front seat. He raised his hand and tapped on the window. Stan kept his stare forward and locked the car door. Richie sighed. "Stan please." Richie heard the click of the car doors unlock and walked around to the other side and got in. "I'm so sorry. I was being a complete shit of a person and totally overreacted. I do care about her, I do! That's why I got so angry and it totally fucked up my judgment." Stan wasn't saying anything and it started to make Richie even more nervous. "I was angry and confused and I honestly don't know where all of that came from. That's not what I think of you at all, you gotta know that, Stan. You're one of my best friends and the best dude I know and I'm so sorry I said all of those things. I know I really fucked up." The two of them sat and stared out the windshield, Richie's leg bounced up and down from nerves until Stanley broke the silence. "I'm sorry too. That I turned my back on you. I couldn't understand how you had the most perfect girl right in front of you and seeing you hurt her made me angry too. I mean we all saw you and Eddie happening eventually, but I didn't think you two would go and do that. I love her and I guess I let that get in the way of our friendship." "I mean dude I don't really think I could blame you. I've seen the way she looks at you. It can make someone do stupid and crazy things." "Well then I guess that explains why you are so stupid and crazy," Stan laughed, "Eddie looks at you like that 24\7." Richie turned away laughing and hoped it hid the bright red flush on his cheeks. "I can't believe she actually forgave me." "Yeah me neither, to be honest." Stanley dead-panned. "Buuut," Stan took a calming deep breath, "If she can forgive you, then I guess I should too."

Eddie walked up to (Y\N) hesitantly as she was laughing with Mike. Mike saw Eddie and took that as his cue to leave, or rather to eavesdrop from the kitchen with Beverly, Ben, and Bill.

"Thanks for uh.. for forgiving Richie, he's been a wreck," Eddie said. "N-not that I've been fine! I-I feel completely terrible for what I did. But I mean I-I-I'm not trying to make you feel bad for me or anything. O-or for Richie. I just mean that we're both really sorry. I'm so, so very sorry (Y/N)." Eddie stammered through quickly. Man, do your shoes look mighty interesting at that moment. 'You forgave Richie why is it so hard to forgive Eddie. Maybe because we only gave Richie a premature apology so we could all get back to normal? Should I have to do that with Eddie too? Fuck that neither of them deserves it!' You fought back and forth with yourself in your head before finally looking up at Eddie. You took a deep breath, "I know...I-" Eddie cut you off "You don't have to." "I feel like I should." "You already kinda forgave Richie I know that's a big thing so you can hate me for as long as you need I deserve it." You smiled at Eddie and walked out of the house. Richie saw you walking towards the car and stepped out leaving the door open for you. You got in and leaned over to Stanley cupping the side of his face to bring him closer and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Stan started the car as you buckled. You tucked your legs up onto the seat and curled up to get comfy. Stan rests his hand over on one of your legs as you closed your eye

taglist: @elisaa-shelby @trashxqueen @igotahammer @pillowjj @screechinglawyer @campcampie

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devotedwaywardangel1 · 4 years

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Of Treaties and Nervous Rekindling

Leon x Male!Reader

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Word count: 1667

Warnings: Nightmares

A/N: This is a third try of writing this as they kept turning to multi chapter stories, if I turn the original into a multi chapter fic I’ll post it on AO3. See if you can find the small film reference.

Tagged: @fandom-star

~~~~~~~

Being in the great hall has got to be the stupidest thing that you have ever done and there is a long list. If Constantine, your idiotic King, got us killed out of good intentions you swear to Furies that you’ll kill him in the after life. A black domino mask covers your face as you kneel at King Arthur’s fury. He is yet to know who you all are yet and boy he is going to have a heart attack, fun times. Sloane has her raven black hair covering her face as she is shoved to her knees, making you growl at the cocky knight who thought he could be boastful. Zathrian’s auburn hair has been un-neatened by an almost comically large man. King Arthur’s voice booms across the hall. “Who are you and what is your business in Camelot?”

“I am Constantine, King of Dumnonia.” He speaks in an authoritative tone.

“What?” The King seems shocked

“A letter was sent informing you of our arrival a month ago, we are here to simply renew a treaty.”

“Merlin! Get the documents on my desk now.” He growls.

A scrawny servant runs from the King’s side past you. Minutes later he and other knights enter and you see Leon. It had been over a decade since you last saw him and damn he grew up, probably taller than you now, hair hasn’t changed one bit. You’re now thankful for the mask you were wearing otherwise he would have known it’s you straight away. The serving boy hands the king the letter and you can see the embarrassment on his face as it proves your innocence.

“I apologise for the misunderstanding, we thought-” The King started

“That we were here to kill you, don’t flatter yourself.” Sloane snaps.

“Slo, play nice.” Constantine tells her sternly before standing up.

You follow suit. “It was an honest mistake, do you want to try again on the first impressions.” Constantine rensures.

The King looks shocked, but having Uther as a parent would make him think he was going to be punished for a mistake such as this. You brush yourself off, in an attempt to be somewhat presentable. “That would be appreciated, your Majesty.” Arthur nods.

They made their introductions but you were busy scowling at the now apologetic looking knight, Gwaine, who shoved Slo on the ground. Until she elbows you in the ribs causing you to grunt and childishly stick your tongue at her. She flicks your nose and laughs as it scrunches up. Zathrian is smiling. “Behave.” Constantine turns around after shaking the King’s hand to scold us.

“But…” Zath tries.

“No buts or ifs. My apologies, they are children I swear.”

“What are your names?” Gwen asks, you didn’t even sense her coming in the room.

“Zathrian, m'lady.” He bows down respectfully.

“Sloane.” She nods.

“Ulrich Von Liechtenstein.” you smile coyly, why you said that you don’t know.

Zath and Slo double over laughing and Constantine gives you a glare but you just shrug it off. “That’s not his name, he just thinks he’s funny.”

“(Y/n), at your service sir and on the contrary I’m hilarious.” You smile, removing your mask stuffing it into a trouser pocket.

You look at Leon and he is smiling, oh gods that smile it felt like everything good in this world smacks you in the face. You smile back. “(Y/n)? Your name sounds familiar.” Arthur asks.

“It should, your father did torture me after all.” I raise my eyebrow, where is my damn filter you think. All traces of happiness dissipate from your face with all fairness. You do look scary when you appear monotonous.

“What do you mean?” He asks, you turn to get Constantine’s approval he nods.

“I used magic to save a child’s life.”

“You have magic.” He looks at you with anger and disgust.

“Yes, sire.” You remain stoic with your jaw tensing.

The knights of Camelot tense up, Leon eyes them before looking at you. That's when you know he doesn’t hate you. He’s worried. You shake it off and bow down at the King’s feet and mercy. If he were to kill you a war may start but it would be against a dishonorable man, if he shows mercy and a willingness to learn there is hope for Albion yet. “Rise, I wish to understand not to do harm.”

“Oh thank Clementia, really I thought I was going to die.” Shit that was out loud.

“One condition, it's not to be used to harm any one.” He adds.

“I can't, my magic lies in the art of healing, transformation and a few other things.” You explain.

“What do you mean?” The king asks

“Everyone’s magic is different, I can’t use spells that purposely inflict harm unless threatened.” You shrug.

“Good to know.” He seems to relax.

“That’s why I stab people instead.” You smile.

“(Y/n)! Stop trying to be funny. It will get you killed!” Constantine nearly shouts.

The knight with shoulder length hair starts to laugh hysterically. You just smile and look down holding in your laugh, looking at Leon he’s smiling. Constantine looks ready to cry, out of frustration probably. The King is unable to respond. Zath grabs my shoulder and pulls you out. “Us two are leaving before the wanna be Menander kills himself.” He drags you out without another word.

You sigh in relief as the doors of the great hall close behind you. “Thanks I couldn’t stop.” You rub that back of your neck awkwardly.

“No problem, tavern?” He suggests.

“Are we allowed to go without Slo?” You ask seriously.

“It gives an opportunity for Constaloane to happen.” Zath justifies.

“Fair lets go.” You agree.

~~~~

Both of you came back after a couple of tankards and Zath is drunk off his ass, lightweight. While you’re a little fuzzy. You spot the serving boy from the hall. “Kid!” You catch his attention.

He turns around smiling as he walks up to you. “Hi can I help you, Sirs.” He asks.

“Don’t worry about titles, but could you show us to our rooms if we have them.”

“Of course, follow me.” He whispers seeing Zath close to asleep on you.

You drag Zath to his room, and put him on the bed. “Thank you…”

“Merlin, Sir (Y/n).” He smiles and nods.

“Thank you Merlin.” You return the smile.

You enter the guest room and collapse onto the bed and sleep overcomes you in a matter of seconds.

A crack of a whip resonates through a dark cell a pained groan follows, another crack and another. Chains rattle as a boy pulls on them in an attempt to break free. High pitch whistling signaled trouble brewing under the surface. The boy’s skin started to crack golden light seeping from the cracks turning pure black. (E/c) eyes started to well up with tears as he felt himself being torn apart. Screams erupt from his throat and the boy is replaced with a mass of hissing black smoke.

You bolt up sweating and panting. You groan and stretch, the sun is peeking over the horizon so you decide to change into your armour and head over to the training field that you had spotted the previous day. There is a training dummy already set up, you draw your sword and begin hacking into it aggressively and it takes mere minutes for you to destroy it, yet you feel no better. You look around desperately for something to take out your rage, fear and sorrow on. You hear a cough, your head snaps at the direction of the noise. It's Leon. He walks up to you slowly as if you were a scared animal. “(Y/n), we didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday.”

“Sorry.” You look to your feet.

He backtracks quickly “No it’s not an issue, obviously you were nervous being back here.”

“Eh you know, son of Uther kinda scary.”

“Arthur has grown.”

“I know.”

“But I’m not here to talk about Arthur.”

You smile and shake your head. “I suppose not.”

“You left without me, why?”

Well that escalated from a trot to a full on gallop. But you manage to get words out. “I couldn’t uproot you from your home and family.”

“That should have been my choice to make.”

“You know what, I don’t feel bad if that’s what you want. I was tortured, I got literally torn apart. You would have got killed, and that would have been on me!” You defend.

He looks taken aback. “What?”

“Slave traders, I suppressed my magic then boom… a lot of people died.”

He touches your face and you want to lean into the touch but you can’t seem to. So he initiates the hug instead keeping you in a tight hold, you hesitate to return it seeing it has been a while since you’ve been held. You both stay like that for a while, before Leon breaks the hug with a heartbroken expression. You dread what he is about to say. ”Do you think we could ever be possible?”

“I don’t know… I’m not the same man you loved all those years ago.”

“Then let’s get to know each other again, let me fall for you all over again.”

“Sounds like you already started.”

“I started as soon as I saw you smile.”

You smile up at him. But inside you are conflicted, if this were to work out how will it work. You love your new life, Constantine is more than just your King he is your friend he gave you a chance when no one else would. Sloane was the one who pulled you out of rubble after you exploded. Zathrian forge your nobility papers to get your foot through the door of knighthood. But you guess you’ll cross that bridge later and pray it goes well for the both of you.

“Come on we have a treaty to deal with.” You start walking.

#bbc merlin #leon #ocs #reader #arthur #gwen #merlin #gwaine #percival #male reader #sir leon #arthur pendragon #sir gwaine #sir percival #leon x reader #leon x male reader #night terrors #nightmares #x reader

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blondecarfucker · 5 years

Text

Bed of Roses (Chapter 16)

Roger Taylor x Reader

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER OF THE STORY. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: So we're closer to the end! I can't believe there's only five more chapters to go. But yeah, this chapter was nice - I'm not gonna say it's a happy chapter, but it's happier than the last few ones lol. It's a chapter that has a bit more of me in it - but it's still a Reader fic, so don't worry lol. Please tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages!

Words: 2800ish

ACT 3 - DAWN

"It's the moment night time seems weaker and everything seems easier to figure out"

Chapter 16

1977, New York

The bench under your bum made you uncomfortable, but you were still too lazy to care - you always left the beach like this.

You were on the long, one hour way back to your loft in Greene Street, SoHo, through the good old F train, every inch of the train filled with graffiti. But you could still smell the salt in the air coming from the New York Aquarium Station - the best station to access the Coney Island sidewalk and beach.

There was better, cleaner beaches in the Hamptons, but they were full of annoyingly rich people that think they're better than the rest. Also, Coney Island held a special place in your heart - when you were a kid, your grandma would take you there, so you could enjoy the sun and the not-so-safe attractions, and your parents would always freak out when they found out that you took the unsafe subway through the unsafe neighbourhood of Brooklyn to get to a dirty beach.

But it was always fun. The sun would almost certainly burn your shoulders, and you could never wear any jewelry, but the feeling of being involved by the sea, floating in the water, holding your breath, after spending a couple hours on carousels and wooden roller coasters, would always make it worth it - your grandma always taught you to be brave, that things could be scary at first, but usually worked out. "If it doesn't make you happier, it makes you wiser", she'd tell you, and you'd nod, the taste of cheap ice cream on your mouth, the sun warming up your skin.

It was your grandma who figured out that something was wrong with you and made you seek help.

She came by to visit as soon as you called her, right after getting home from Cleopatra's Needle and breaking up with Roger. She came to your parent's apartment, complaining about the traffic - she lived in Paramus, New Jersey, now. She moved there in 1973, saying that it was ludicrous she couldn't grow old with a nice garden on the back of her house, just because Manhattan didn't have houses with gardens anymore.

Now, once you came back from London, in 1975, she looked at you and immediately knew something was wrong. "Sweetpea, what's wrong?" she asked, a frown on her face as she got closer to you.

You were lying on the couch in your pajamas, trying to see if you could find a Doctor Who re-run - probably not a good idea, all things considered, but you didn't just miss Roger, now that he's away. You missed England, you missed their accents, you missed the way you felt when you first got there. "What, grandma?", you asked, and she got you to get up, putting her hand against your forehead.

"You're different", she said, and you shrugged, "Yeah, I'm older", and she laughed. "So am I, Sweetpea. And it hasn't been so long since I last saw you - last year, right? You came here with your hairy boyfriend", she said, and you tensed up, which didn't go unnoticed. "Oh. I see. Something happened between the two of you, right?" she asked, and you nodded.

"That's it. You look sadder. You didn't look like that before. But… Maybe that's not it. No, I don't think that's it at all", she said, and you looked at her, confused. "No, Grandma. That's what happened. I'm sad - I had to breakup with Roger, my boyf - ex-boyfriend", you interrupted yourself, taking a deep breath before continuing, "Roger, my ex-boyfriend, so I could get back here", you said, a cold pain spreading through your chest as the impact of these words hit you.

"But that's just a symptom. There's something else wrong there, Sweetpea. Something deeper within", she said, pointing to your heart. "And that's what made you sad, what made you break up with that boy. I liked him, you know. He made you happy - I could see it. You were always brave, and that always made me proud. But with him, you were happy - when you came into the room with him by your side, everything got brighter. Your love was like the sun", she said, fixing a painting on the wall, not noticing how your eyes were tearing up.

"That's how I last saw you. Brave and happy", she looked at the painting, satisfied with it now that it was not crooked anymore, and turned to you. "Now you're neither. What happened, Sweetpea?", and you choked up. "I don't know", you whispered, and she hugged you as you started to cry - she smelled like plums and apples, the things she grew on her garden in Paramus.

You couldn't stop thinking about the last time she saw you - it was in 1974, and the boys came to America, specifically to New York for a few dates, and you had to come with them - they wanted you to do so. Also, you were dating Roger for two years, and it was time for him to meet your parents.

You came from a small gig in Boston, Roger holding your hand the entire plane ride to New York - he was nervous. You were travelling right after their show, an extra night before the rest of the boys, so you could take Roger to have dinner with your parents.

None of you knew your parents actually organized a dinner party, and invited part of your family - your uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents. Your uncle opened the door to your apartments, surprising both you and Roger. "Hm, hey, uncle Marcus. Where are my parents?", you asked, and you felt Roger's grip on your hand tighten as he noticed there would be many more family members for him to meet.

As you walked inside, you whispered to Roger "Relax, Rog", and he started looking more confident - but you could still feel his tight grip on your hand. He was still nervous.

But everything worked out just fine, actually. Your parents didn't really approve his looks - Roger was wearing a suit that he bought in Japan, with colorful birds and trees in silk shining against the dining room lights - but your cousins loved it. They loved him, actually, since they knew exactly who he was.

He got more comfortable as dinner went by, joking with your family, and you carefully changed topics once you realized one of your parents was about to ask a question about delicate stuff - money, marriage, kids.

You two always thought about marriage and kids as something distant - you felt too young, too irresponsible to take care of a child. So you took your birth control pills religiously, and everything worked out fine - the promise of children and marriage always there, in the distant future.

After the dinner party, Roger followed you to your room - you'd be spending the night there, since the band's hotel was booked for the next day.

"Well, this is an interesting look into a younger Y/N", Roger said, going through your bookshelf. "Frankenstein, Romeo and Juliet, Don Quixote, that's all pretty smart… 1984, I remember you talked about this book before our first kiss...", he said, and kneeled down, where your bookshelf was messier. "What's this? Flash Gordon?" he asks, picking up one of the comic books and going through it, and you could see he was trying not to laugh.

"What?", you said, getting the comics out of his hands. "I used to think Flash was hot. And Dale was pretty cool, too", you said, and he laughed, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

"It's fine by me", he said, and looked out of your window. "It's just funny for me to imagine you, a teenager, sitting by your window in this preppy, quite soulless neighbourhood, reading Flash Gordon and thinking of a way out", he said, and you laughed.

"Hey, I didn't only do that. I also had sleepovers with girls I never spoke to since we graduated from high school, and went on a bunch of dates with guys I didn't really like", you answered, and it was his turn to laugh.

"Hm, doesn't seem like a very satisfying life to me", he whispered, moving his lips to your neck, and you nodded lightly. "Did you ever bring them here? To your room?", he asked, and you laughed. "No, my parents would die. They were quite liberal, but not like that. When I went on a date as a teenager, I had to go to their place later if I wanted some action, you know", you answered, and he started to move his kisses to your jaw. You knew what he was about to suggest.

"I know, Y/N... So, I'm just wondering, am I the first guy your parents are allowing inside your room?", he said, his breath on your jaw giving you goosebumps. "Yeah", you answered, and he kissed under your earlobe. "The first guy to sleep on your bed?", he asked, and you said "Yes".

"How are your parents allowing this, miss Y/L/N? Such a nice girl from such a nice family, locked inside her room with a british drummer", he said, his voice low and husky, moving you closer to your bed. But you wanted to take it slow - it was a special event, indeed.

"Not that I'm trying to break your roleplay, Roger, but we literally share a flat. It would be silly for them to get the guest bedroom ready for you", you said, and he scoffed, breaking away from your neck and looking at you.

"Yeah, but it would be hotter", he said, going back to kissing your jaw. "Imagine how hot it would be if I had to wait until your parents slept so I could leave the guest bedroom", he said, getting you to sit on the bed, "And then I would've to walk, very carefully, through the hallway, trying not to wake them up", he continued, laying you down on your back and moving on top of you, then going back to kissing your neck and cleavage as he completed, "Just to open your bedroom door and find you touching yourself, moaning my name".

"That would be pretty hot", you agreed. "Maybe I should get them to move you to the guest room", you shrugged, teasing him, and he stopped kissing your cleavage just to look at you and say "Don't you dare", before kissing your lips.

That night was a bad memory to have running over your head again and again as you laid on your bed every night to go to sleep, alone, a year later, after breaking up with Roger, in 1975.

Your grandma convinced you to seek help, and you tried everything: therapy - your parents looking at you weirdly because getting a therapist was still associated with severe mental illness, meditation, mediums, aromatherapy.

You didn't knew exactly what worked, but a year after you arrived, now in 1976, you were already in your new SoHo flat, having moved out of the Upper East Side, the neighbourhood you - and Roger - knew that didn't really have much to do with you, even though it was closer to the Met, where the work was interesting - and where you barely ever saw Will, uncomfortable looks exchanged between the two of you every time you had to see each other.

It was a cold winter day in December 1976 when you got up, your loft nicely illuminated, spacious, the soft light from the snowy day making everything seem more magical. The building was quiet, your artistic neighbours still asleep this early in the morning, and you made yourself some tea - with milk - and opened the window so you could sit on the emergency exit.

The street was also quiet, the only sound being a muffled free jazz, that was probably being played live in a grand piano inside one of the many lofts on Greene Street. It was then, the cold wind making your skin burn under the layers of sweaters, the tea getting rapidly cold, the jazz caressing your ears, when you realized you were not sad anymore.

You didn't feel that weight on your chest now, when you breathed in, filling your lungs with fresh, cold air, and you didn't feel like you had no control over your life. You were present, in the moment, and you felt happy. Happy with your life. Happy with yourself.

And you enjoyed this feeling, without thinking much, for as long as you stayed outside on the emergency exit; until you finished the tea, until the jazz player stopped, wherever he or she was.

Once you got inside, thinking about preparing a nice, warm bath, you walked by the phone, and you wanted to call Roger.

You wanted to call him many times before, but you were always desperate, regretting breaking up with him, or sad, just trying to know how he's doing, how the boys are doing.

But now, you didn't feel anything negative make you want to call him - you just wanted to let him know that you're happy again.

But that doesn't seem like a good enough reason to call him in the middle of the day for him - he probably wasn't even up yet.

So you went inside the bathtub and just felt grateful for meeting him, for having the opportunity to have him in your life. Now, it was peaceful.

Now, back at the F train to your house from Coney Island in 1977, you're taken out of your thoughts when you see a blonde head pass in front of you, but you don't feel nervous anymore - you knew it wasn't Roger.

You always thought you saw him, especially in 1975, your first year back in New York - always nervous, always imagining that he was just trying to see you, to talk to you, maybe to try to take you back to England with him.

You saw him everywhere, in those first weeks, still in your parents apartment, thinking he might be on you M86 bus to work, or maybe in this fancy cocktail party you attended.

But one time, in 1976, you could swear you saw him on the stairs at the Met as you bought a hot dog from the stands in front of the museum - the guy's hair was shorter and bleached, just like you saw in the pictures of Roger that appeared on magazines, and he looked confused. But you didn't really investigate it, though - it was probably just another guy, maybe even inspiring his own look in Roger's.

Your train reached your station and you finally got back to Greene Street, walking slowly to your building, taking in the view of your street. Now that you're far from Queen, you can see their importance, their impact on the world.

You watched as songs you saw get written and sung and produced right in front of you became huge hits - Deacy's song to Veronica reached #1 on the american charts. A song you saw get recorded in a weekend visiting your boyfriend as he worked - that's how you saw it.

You bought their new album in the end of last year, 1976, A Day at the Races. You loved it - it was probably your favourite, and you didn't knew if it was because their music was getting better or if it was because this was their first album you could enjoy as a fan, not being involved in how it was made. You liked to watch their TV specials and interviews, feeling grateful that you ever got to be around them, even though life - and your own, unconscious choices, you now realized - took you away from them. From Roger.

You loved You Take My Breath Away and Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy, but Drowse truly held a special spot in your heart - maybe you only loved it so much because it was Roger's, and it sounded like talking to him about his childhood, something you've done many times before, but maybe you didn't love it just because you were biased by your story with Roger. The song sounded more american, and it even made you feel like you felt when you listened to Fleetwood Mac. You smiled at that thought.

Once you got home, you picked your mail and started going through it.

You weren't really paying attention to it - you were thinking about the Fleetwood Mac show you would attend next week for the Rumours tour, in the Madison Square Garden, when a heavier letter caught your eye.

The paper was soft, creamy beige, and sealed with wax. And then you read what was written over the envelope.

It was a letter sent by the Curator of Palaeolithic and Mesolithic collections from The British Museum.

---

Chapter 17

Masterlist

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @brianandthemays @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife @notevenlxvely @discodeakyy @x1975sos

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happyhollow-mellowmarsh · 3 years

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“Hey, everyone! We’re back with another interview with my friends! This time we’re hanging out at Whimsy’s sky castle, and lemme just say this place is cool as heck!” This YouTube video doesn’t have any intro at all, cold opening with the camera panning around a regal-looking white room.

Completing its 360, the camera alights upon a young woman with short teal hair, futuristic gray clothing, and a witch’s hat. A microphone levitates near her, picking up her words. “As always, I’m Erika Ljunggren, psychic YouTuber and Trouble’s apprentice. Introduce yourselves, you two!”

With a gesture from Erika L’s skinny metal wand, the camera pans over and back to reveal two other women sitting on the couch behind her. The microphone darts over to them as well. A tall brunette with a spiky crown and a shorter woman with a big hat, a scarf, and an apron, both wearing glasses.

The former gets up from her seat, poses, teleports a few feet in the air and then lands in another pose, loudly announcing in her monotone "I'm the magical girl of the cosmos, Kimoto Erika, apprentice of Whimsy."

The latter, on the other hand, remains in her seat and watches. After giggling quietly at Erika K's antics, she looks back to the camera. "H-Hello... My name is... R-Rada Orlov... I'm... Beacon's apprentice..." She gives a little wave.

Erika L welcomes them both with a grin.

Then, turning to Erika K, the YouTuber asks, “What’s it like apprenticing under Whimsy?”

"It’s lots of fun, and I’m learning lots. I like it here,” she responds “I’m very grateful to Miss Trick, Mr Treat, and Miss Trouble for everything they’ve done for me to be here. And I’m extremely grateful to Boss for giving me this opportunity. The castle is really cool."

She pauses for a moment, leaning her head back slightly before tipping it forwards once more. "Boss is a really skilled witch, so I've been able to cover a lot of ground under them. I think that I made the best choice for me." The corners of her lips quirk upwards into a slight smile.

Erika L then turns to Rada, the microphone moving gently over with her gaze. “What’s it like apprenticing under Beacon?”

"It's been... r-really nice... Granny Beacon is... a-amazing..." Rada fidgets with end of her scarf, drawing the long material up into her lap. "I, um... u-used to be... m-more nervous... than I am now and... s-scared of a lot... of different things... b-but... sh-she's been... very patient with me... a-and she's taught me... a lot... b-both as an apprentice... a-and as a person..."

“What have the two of you been up to lately, magic-wise? Any fun projects in the works?” asks Erika L.

Erika K hums, holding her hands up, index fingers and thumbs pointing outwards towards the ceiling far corners. "I’ve been experimenting with combo-ing my elements. Trying to get them working together can be a bit tricky, depending on which ones I'm trying with. I’ll get there eventually though."

Flicking her wrists, her hands now spread fully chop down diagonally. "Also, with Mr Elliot’s help, I’ve forged a holy blade that shimmers with stardust." She leans forwards and holds a hand up beside her mouth dropping her voice just slightly. "When the goddesses approve of a strike it deals extra secret damage."

"I've also been... practicing with... combining elements..." Rada adds, nodding along with what Erika K says. "It can... b-be difficult... but also fun... seeing what kind... of different effects... are possible... i-if you just... put your mind to it..."

"A-As for, um, projects... I don't think... a-anything I'm doing is... a-as exciting as Miss Kimoto, but..." Rada bites her bottom lip for a moment in hesitation before continuing. "I've, um... I've been working on... a spell that... m-makes it easier for... spirits to communicate with... a-and interact with... th-their loved ones... s-so that a ghost... a-and their family or friends... h-have a chance... to grieve together... Th-Then they can... pass on peacefully... a-and the people still living... h-have closure..."

“I mean, that’s pretty cool too! Just, y’know, in a different way!” Erika L nods approvingly. “Speaking of elements and combos thereof, what are your favorites that you've learned so far?”

Erika K steeples her fingers and places her elbows on her knees, resting her chin on her hands as she leans forwards. "Mh.... I think I still like Celestial best. I think it’s always going to be my favourite, there's so much you can do with it. But teleporting has been really handy too. Trying to combine both with Space for Special Warping is a bit trickier, but I’m failing good so I can figure it out. I like all the magic I've learnt though, Earth makes me feel like a strong bender from the western eastern based anime. I'm hoping to try and see if sand and metal still fall under its belt or if I'll need to expand my roster first."

The mic darts back to Rada. "I, um... r-really like working with Emotion magic... a-and I'm having a lot of fun with Music magic as well... Combining the two together... c-can be powerful... e-emotionally, that is, um... s-since music can... affect people... so much... A-Although Music and... L-Life magic is... a-also fun... l-like in, um... th-the cartoon with... th-the magic mouse... a-and the mops..." She tugs up the edge of her scarf, looking embarrassed. Way to out yourself for recreating The Sorcerer's Apprentice, Rada.

Erika K murmurs a little "I know that western anime," nodding along with Rada's words. She leans back into her seat, her lips quirking into a smile. "Death magic is still just a bud, but thanks to Rada I'd already started thinking of the sort of expanded uses for it. I even know some I wouldn't have thought of beforehand. I think learning a magic that one of us has already learnt is extra fun because it means we get to work together, and with peer reviews and sessions we can learn faster and better. And we get to hang out at the same time."

Although Rada’s mouth is covered, the corners of her eyes crinkle with a smile as Erika K talks about Death magic. "Y-Yes... I like... h-having magic... w-we can both do... I-It's a lot... easier to learn things... wh-when we're working together... a-and think of things... th-that I wouldn't consider... o-on my own..." Rada shifts in place before continuing. "I have a... b-better understanding of it... s-since starting to learn... Life magic... I-It's not as... s-scary or violent... It's... natural..." She adds, feeling like she needs to defend it.

Another nod from the interviewer. “Nice, nice! There’s so many elements out there, and each one is so versatile! And that’s not even everything a witch has at their disposal, either. Tell me about your wands!”

Shifting her posture into something more alert, Erika K claps once, a big smile on her face. She opens her purse and pulls her wand out. The act itself is comical, with the contrast in the size of the wand versus the purse itself. Thank you Space Magic. She balances the wand on her flat palms above her head, smiling brightly.

"Last Laugh is super cool. I can fly on it, it has a detachable strap for easy carrying, and it makes a really good prop for physical comedy. It's got really good range as a prop, and it's nice and sturdy. Plus I can do this with it-" Hopping out of her seat she begins to twirl the gun shaped wand around, although for only a short while. Once done she drops back down resting her wand on her lap. "Also I can use it to fire off magic easier then-" She flexes, "these guns."

"It s-suits you..." Rada mumbles, the curve of her cheeks still visible above the edge of her scarf tinged with pink, which only deepens when Erika K flexes.

"M-Mine is, um... m-more specialized, I th-think... th-than Miss Kimoto's..." Rada squeaks as she pulls out her wand from a pocket beneath her apron.

In comparison to the rifle-wand, the one Rada holds up is tiny and thin, only a foot in length. The white porcelain lily-of-the-valley plant is fragile-looking, with blood red enamel filling in the gaps where the vase-like handle is cracked, and tiny red gemstones lining the rims of the bell flowers as well as the veins of its skeletal silver leaves.

"It helps me... protect myself o-or... other people... i-if things are going badly... a-and I've been hurt..." She explains, bringing it closer to her chest as she nibbles on her bottom lip. "I was nervous at first... th-that it would break but... i-it's stronger than it looks..."

“Wow, they’re both so cool, huh? Thanks again for agreeing to come out here today, you two.” Erika L brings the camera in close, beaming at the viewer. “Remember, folks, we can only do so much with magic alone. Think about what you can do to help the environment. What your government can do. We’re making progress, with everyone’s help!”

Special thanks to Saga, Cherry, and Mel for writing this post!

Happy Hollow: Mellow Marsh is a tumblr submission trials game with Discord ooc and a Discord thread server, and the sequel game to Happy Hollow. This game is 18+ with the exception of returning players. We will be accepting a cast of 16-18 people including mod ocs, and characters should be aged 16-24. The events of the previous game are not public knowledge to characters, so catching up on the last game is not necessary!

Apps close on April 12th. That’s only two weeks away!! A three day extension is available if you ask a mod through dm.

About || How to play || Application || FAQ || Hopefuls || Hopefuls chat

#fanganronpa #mkg rp #dr oc group #danganronpa oc #dr oc rp #promo post

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sithlordintraining · 7 years

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Knight of the Night (Modern Superhero/Vigilante Au!Matt)

A/N: Let's talk about how lazy I am; I scrolled through all my post just so I didn’t have to type out the title. Anyways I’m thinking about coming up with a title for each part like comics, so bear with me, they’re going to be hella corny.

Summary: Matt Organa-Solo, a 21-year old psychology student at Academia: University of First Order. He was the only child of Senator Leia Organa-Solo and Retired Chief of Police Han Organa-Solo. It was a problematic community, but not as terrible as some other towns and colleges. But somehow, he always found himself always somehow saving one someone, literally. After a crazy night, will Matt dare venture to become the hero this place needs?

Vol. #1- Who the fuck is Kylo Ren?

Vol. #2- His Mary Jane, Lois Lane

It was a new dawn, it was a new day, and Matt had a new mindset. If he was to become this man “Kylo Ren”, he would have to change himself. Not only physically, but mentally. Matt knew he would have to heavily rely on his comics that he memorized like the back of his hands. He would have to religious follow his heroes and their confidentiality. “Uh, hey Hux.” Matt scratched his head, as he looked around. “I’m not going to be at the dorm for the weekend. My mom’s in town. So, yeah, have fun.” He ended the call and shakily walked up to the gate. He hadn’t been here in almost two years. Not much has changed. He walked along the gates until he started to see where the thick stone wall met the greenery. With a firm grip, Matt began to hoist himself over the wall into the yard of his childhood home landing ungracefully in the tall grass. Stalking his way over to the front door, he began pulling out his key. He looked down at the key. It was the last thing his mother ever gave to him before the divorce finalized. It hurt so much to watch his mother, with an aching-heart. It was the last time he’s seen her.

Unlocking the door, he made his way into the dusty foyer. He walked around the mini-mansion, collecting memories of the past. Both good and bad. As he descended down from the second story, Matt made his way to the den. His long pale fingers brushed against the thick spines of the dust covered books. He halted when one of the books protruded out. Bending at the height of the book, his curious brown eyes examined it. Gripping the spine he roughly pulled at the cemented book. With a ghostly groan the bookcase opened to reveal a secret passageway. He toggled with the switch; he remembered all the times they would all sneak out this passage so many times. He barely ever remembered using the front door. Always this back entrance. For a brief moment, he reminisced of the wild stories his mother and father would tell him to get him to go through the, then “scary long basement.” He chuckled at the thought of his young self. Sighing as he turned on the flashlight on his phone, he walked along the gritty pathway. He was pleased to find that the it was less than a five minute walk to the exit. With a lot of force Matt began to push at the tightly sealed door. His pale hands strained, veins popping and fingertips red until he finally broke loose feeling the wind run through his blond curls. Examining his surroundings, he recognized that he was just a little bit off the perimeter of the town. Nodding his head to no one in particular, he agreed that this would be the perfect place for his new identity. Sometimes being the son of a wealthy Senator and former Chief of Police did pay off in the long run.

The weekend was over and walked across the grassy knoll on-campus. “MATT!” He turned at the call on his name. Squinting through his glasses he was able to make out the tall, upright Ginger in his signature monotonous color range of black, white, and gray. Matt began to move his way over to his roommate. “Hey Hux, what’s going on?” Matt’s head moved around to the fact that all the students were filing out of the Gloria M. Steinem building. “I-I don’t know.” Hux stuttered out. He pushed up the sleeve to his light gray cable knit sweater, running his mildly shaky hands through his illuminated red hair. No one else would notice, but it was one of the things his father taught him about reading body languages. “You okay?” Matt stepped closer to his friend. “What are you doing here?” A voice interrupted the two men. Hux immediately turned to the person with wide yet calming eyes. Of course, this was why he was so nervous, Phasma had class in the building. “Hey Phasma, everything alright?” Matt asked.

“I-I don’t know. We were in the building and soon was told to evacuate.” She answered. “Evacuate! Christ, for what?” Hux thick accent carried out. She fixed the metallic strap on her tote before rolling her eyes and him. “I just said I don’t know Hux!” She turned to watch more of the students rush out. Her blue eyes shifted back and forth through the sea of faces. Hux's lips fell in a straight line, crossing his arms. Hux was clearly upset that Phasma didn’t want to take in consideration of his ‘feelings’ or whatever he was trying to do. Matt chuckled as he bent down to tie his shoe. Hux's eyes cast down the folded man on the ground. Hux then looked over to Phasma who was now tiptoeing and waving; her color-block pink and red t-shirt dress lifted a little exposing too much for Hux. Quickly Hux went to pull the dress down, only to receive a swat and scolding words from Phasma. Matt chuckled returning his focus on his dirty Converse laces. Soon, he heard a new voice, a few exchanges in conversation, and a laugh.

“And this is my roommate Matt.” Hux poked the top of his head through the blond locks. Matt looked up, scrunching his face to push his glasses back up; his eyes fell on the exposed skin between the young woman’s jeans and striped top. His plump lips parted slightly as he looked at the soft skin. It is so smooth, he thought, plushy and kissable. An immediate blush covered his face as the thought over covering the area in fervent kisses entered his mind, he looked down only to lose balance on his footing. “Woah, are you okay?” A hand glimmered in the sunlight as Matt shakily engulfed hers. A small strained slipped through her lips as Matt began to rise to his full height, his stature easily towering over her. “Hi, I’m Matt.” Hux stifled a laugh at his awkwardness. “Hi, I’m Y/N.” Her voice was as cheery as her smile. A pink tint crept up from his neck all the way up to his rather large ears. Thankfully, Y/N didn’t notice as Phasma began to converse with her.

“Man, I’m so glad you made it out,” Phasma asked, biting her hangnail. It was a habit of hers that she did when she was scared. “Do you girls know what happened?” Hux asked. Both shook their head no. “I was in the bathroom when they began evacuating. They said it was something with the computer lab in the basement, one of the computer's short-circuited and all the computers began overheating.” Y/N responded. “Well, that does explain the smell.” Phasma shook her head in agreement as her thumb still remained close to her lips. “Well, all of this must’ve worked up an appetite for you guys. How about lunch? Our treat.” Hux slender cold fingers gripped Matt’s shoulder causing him to jump out of his trance. Matt had just been staring at the poor girl as she accidentally ignored him. Before the girls could object to the offer, Y/N stomach began to grumble. “She can always eat.” Phasma laughed teasingly at her roommate.

The walk to the campus’ dining hall was just a little bit over five minutes. Phasma and Y/N walked closely talking about whatever incident happened in their dormitory the night before, as Hux tried to pull Matt of his creepiness. “Staring doesn’t help.” Hux nudged the man next to him. The blush on Matt’s face was still very much there as he turned to look at Hux. “I-I’m not, I’m walking.” Matt quipped. Hux let out a scoff before he ran to hold the door out for the girls. “Ladies.” He sent Phasma a small smirk, only to be reciprocated with a gentle pat from her hand on his pale cheek. Matt couldn’t help but stifle a laugh before receiving a scowl from Hux. “I’d like to see you do better.” Hux closed the door, but Matt’s large hand caught it before it slammed his hand in the door.

The dining hall was set up 50’s style and even had waitresses. As much as the tuition was, it made sense to go all out. Phasma slid in the booth, quickly followed by a sly redhead who gently pushed her roommate out the way. By the time Matt made his way to the table. Phasma’s eyes already on the menu, while Hux slinky arm dangled from her shoulder and he wore that ridiculous diabolical toothy smile that only appeared when he got his revenge, aka his way. He rolled eyes only for it to fall onto the only available spot, which was next to her. She was nestled closely into the corner of the booth engrossed on what to order. He slides into the booth gently, not to disturb her. He slowly grabbed the lonely menu on the drying table and hide behind the extremely large menu.

“So Y/N, this is your first year here, correct?” Hux spoke up and from the tone of his voice, you could feel his lips purse up. “Yeah, first year. But, I’m a junior.” She replied. “Oh okay, I was going to say, how’d you and Phasma end up dorming.” Matt couldn’t help his ears turning a darker shade of pink then they already were at the sound of your melodic laugh. “Yeah, I mean even though I know her, if I was younger they wouldn’t let me dorm with her.” “Oh, how’d you guys meet?” Hux perked up and so did Matt. Appearance wise, they just didn’t look like they would be friends, better yet talk. Nothing was wrong with Phasma nor Y/N, but Phasma was very sharp and polished and snarky; Y/N just seemed like a bright sunflower. Her hair was big and curly and from what she was wearing she didn’t have a color coded uniform like Hux or Phasma’s that consisted of reds, pinks, blacks, and silvers. Y/N wore a yellow and brown striped tank top that was tied in the front, destroyed jeans the softly held onto her hips and had slightly cleaner white converses than the ones he was wearing right now.

“Uh, well,” Y/N paused before looking at Phasma. “Do you want to tell?” Phasma shook her head and urged Y/N to continue. “Well, I attended RCC and Phasma had a mutual friend and we just kind of hit it off from there.” She smiled and turned back to face the menu. Meanwhile, Matt stayed hidden behind the menu as Hux face molded into confusion. “Wait, you went to RCC? How are you here? And why were you at RCC?” “Hux.” Phasma sat up straighter with her stern whisper. “Babe, I just want to know, you have to complete a full four years before-” Matt saw Y/N’s had slid into her lap interlocking her fingers and squeezing. She was trying to calm herself down. “Well, if you must know, I’m here on scholarship. I had one of the highest GPA's overall and I also won the nationwide debate competition.” She said rather politely. Hux's mouth fell slightly agape.

“Wait, that was you?” He pointed, his other arm unwrapped his arm from Phasma. “I just, wow, I didn’t even recognize you. You were amazing in Nevada! I mean you literally crushed Al Forrester. You made him cry, it was amazing! And I used to play football with him and watch him throw a tantrum, but you destroyed him.” Hux’s accent became thicker and his expression of joy for a rather boring subject seem to catch everyone off guard. Matt removed himself from the menu with thick brown brows furrowed. “You played football?” He asked horrified. “Football, soccer, whatever you yanks call it. Wow.” He turned his happy-but-scary expression back to the girl. “Well, the reason why he’s fangirling over her is that he’s the President of UFO’s debate team and we always win.” Phasma grinned proudly as she raked her chrome nails through his straight red hair. “Except last year.” Matt interrupted. “Last year, Bobby got us all sick and we had to forfeit.” Hux kicked Matt under the table.

With his agile reflexes, Matt’s knee jumped up hitting the table knocking over the glass of water that stood between him and Y/N. “Oh, shit I’m sorry.” His long limbs fumbled over her to reach for the napkins at her end of the table. He began patting her legs and the exposed skin from the rips in her jeans. She sucked in a breath as her eyes widened at this embarrassing situation. “Matt! Matt!” Everyone called out. “Matt!” Her fingers gently wrapped around his large wrist and gave them a little squeeze, urging him to stop. “Matt, I’m dry.” She said. He finally bought his brown eyes up to her shining ones. He gulped as another blush covered his skin, he was well aware that she was touching him. And was she moving closer? “Matt,” Her glossed covered lips were just a few inches from his cheeks. He refused to shudder at her breath hitting his cheek. “It spilled on you.” When she came back into his focus, she sent him an apologetic look and he looked down horrified as a dark stain set into his khaki pants. And right on his crotch, great.

P.S: Next part most definitely would be a corny shopping montage. But, if you read this, I’m thinking about taking a break from some of the works, like I did with SNA and pick them up when Chapter Two is done. So one of them is obviously is SNA, but I haven't decided if I want to save Sugar and KoTN for later and continue with SNA and Aquarius, but your opinion is welcomed <3

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funnythingshere0-blog · 6 years

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The #MeToo Movement Has a Place in Comedy: Just Ask Cameron Esposito

New Post has been published on http://funnythingshere.xyz/the-metoo-movement-has-a-place-in-comedy-just-ask-cameron-esposito/

The #MeToo Movement Has a Place in Comedy: Just Ask Cameron Esposito

Cameron Esposito has been a stand-up, an actor, and a TV show-runner (on Take My Wife, a semi-autobiographical sitcom saved by Starz after the collapse of streaming-service Seeso)—but once upon a time, what she wanted more than anything was to be a priest. Onstage, she sort of gets to live that dream: she modulates her voice as she shouts and murmurs jokes about her upbringing, her life as a gay woman, and—in her headline-grabbing latest set, which she’s calling “Rape Jokes”—her own college #MeToo experience.

She begins by disarming the crowd with hilarious stories about an awkward medical emergency—don’t worry, everything works out fine—and a few sharp beats on Donald Trump. Then Esposito eases the room into the story of her own trauma, which, like so many stories of sexual assault, involved a late night, drinking, and a familiar face. It’s an unapologetically hard-hitting, bracingly timely hour that finds humor in tough topics—and it’s also something of a first for a professional comic in our brave new post-Time’s Up world. (The Daily Beast has gone so far as to call it the first great stand-up set of the #MeToo era.)

Though she’s quieter in person than her lively Twitter presence or onstage persona would lead you to believe, Esposito is comfortable pushing boundaries no matter where she is. I recently met with her in a popular Los Feliz bistro, where we sat in a “nook-y” booth that theoretically would afford us privacy to dive into sensitive subjects like sexual assault and gay identity in 2018. After loudly bringing up the topic of “women’s bodies and fuckability,“ I apologized—only for Esposito to reply, “No, you should say it louder. Just make these people feel very strange.”

With her latest hour, Esposito is encouraging everyone else to speak louder, too. And though she said she’s “much more nervous about this than I’ve ever been about a stand-up thing,“ you wouldn’t know it from her confident air. Over the course of our chat, we touched on everything from how scary it is to be, in her words, “a small woman with a fucked-up haircut” to writing rape jokes that work—and we didn’t do it quietly.

Vanity Fair: Workshopping this material dozens of times is either a genius comedy move or the most self-punishing form of therapy.

Cameron Esposito: For me, when I do something risky, it usually comes from a place of frustration with everyone else. I waited a long time. When did the #MeToo movement start, a year ago?

But this is something you had already started to tackle in Season 1 of Take My Wife. There was that arresting “I am too” montage, in which both your character and your wife’s said matter-of-factly that they had been victims of sexual assault—then several other people, men, and women, turned to the camera and said the same thing.

In 2016, we released an episode about rape jokes. But in 2014, I wrote a whole column about [rape jokes] in the A.V. Club. This is something I’ve been talking about my whole career. An audience wants good jokes on every topic. Talk about every topic—but be good at it if you’re dealing with something that’s super taboo and painful. A comic hearing that and being like, “Oh, am I too real for you?” It’s like, no, you actually just didn’t pull it off. You didn’t pull off the joke.

A comedian friend of mine talks about certain kinds of jokes as the pill in the peanut butter—like, how you get dogs to take their medicine. They’re a way to get audiences to swallow something they otherwise might not.

That’s a very good way of looking at it. Isn’t that what all humor is? A lot of people who have an overdeveloped sense of humor are people who’ve felt unsafe, because it’s a way of disarming your victimizer. A lot of adult comics are kids who, you name it—were larger-than-average size, gay, black and lived in a white neighborhood, whatever it is. I think that’s what we use [humor] for, to take pain out of our own lives so everything doesn’t feel so harsh.

I wanted to talk about the structure of the set a little, and when you decide the audience is ready for you to transition from telling jokes to sharing your own experience with sexual assault.

The “this is what really happened” [part] comes about 50 minutes in and is a very weird experience for me. You don’t think it should be funny, but as a comic, even 10 seconds of silence, 30 seconds of silence, 2 minutes of silence—I’m trying to build that out. I’m just very laid bare there, and it’s usually a place I’m so in change. I’m working on it because I don’t think people should be laughing there, and I think that’s actually kind of cool if they aren’t.

You do this kind of modulated, friendly yelling . . .

I think that’s one of my strengths as a comic. I’m tiny and smiley. I think a lot of it comes from creating safety for myself because as a queer person, I was just very unsafe. Then as a survivor, I feel really unsafe all the time. I think something that I did without knowing it was about introducing myself to people, to be like, “Please don’t kill me.”

A lot of folks, I suppose, don’t hear very often how scary it is to be gay. How scary it is to be a small woman with a fucked-up haircut. How scary it is to just be out in the world and not know what you have to offer, and if you are protected.

One great thing you do in this set is joke about your own incomplete sexual education growing up in the Catholic school system. It’s one of many moments you seem to take your audience by the hand and say, “I get it. I also had to learn so much about this on my own.”

Nobody in this country gets good sex ed, and the Trump administration wants to go back to abstinence-only education—which by the way, is what I got. I can relate to the cis straight dude in the audience, not just because I had no good information, but also because I’ve slept with a lot of cis women, so we have this in common.

I can’t totally put what happened to me on one man, because I don’t think he had better information. I don’t think he was a good person, the way that he was treating me long-term . . . but last night’s the first time on the stage I really used the word “rape” to apply to myself. I feel weird even using that word, because I was raised in the same culture, too. So this happened to me. I was barely conscious; I have had a very hard time understanding what that was. I used to tell that story at parties, as a funny story about my life. “One time I was completely passed out and I woke up in the morning and I was nude, and my door was open, and my roommates saw . . .” I know that it came from a place of vulnerability, and I know that it did a lot of damage.

So you’ve taken on this job of educating people about why certain rape jokes don’t land, and the nature of consent in a really divisive time when people are retreating to their ideological corners.

I’m not saying this to be an ass to other people in my field—[but] I don’t see someone else saying this. It’s like when gay marriage was the topic that every comic was talking about, but many comics were straight folks being like, “Here’s my view on gay marriage.” And I was just on the bill being like, “I guess I have to go talk about marriage equity.” Otherwise, the audience is never hearing from somebody who was actually affected.

So, what’s the eventual plan for this show?

I’m going to go and, I think, do it as a full tour in larger venues. . . . Do I put it out as an album? Ideally, it would be a special because it has the largest number of people seeing it. There’s a timeliness that I find stressful, because—you’ve been seeing the news just like I have—we’re at the beginning the redemption tour for some folks. . . . I see survivors being left out of that conversation.

I guess I thought we were trying to expand the platform of who got to talk and who got to be taken seriously. Think about that Uma Thurman story, her coming out and saying what she said about her experience . . . So, are we just done with that? I just can’t tell.

You talk in your set about how being a lesbian automatically puts you in a sphere outside the “standard” way of talking about sex. But I almost wonder if being a lesbian means it’s actually easier for you to be heard on this particular subject. Or conversely, if you feel like men will have reason to shut your point of view out.

It is actually harder to stand on stage and tell a joke about rape when you’re a woman who’s being judged on her body. The audience is thinking about where you fall on the fuckability scale, because for some reason, we apply that to sexual assault. If I’m a lesbian, I am outside of the scale of male protection. . . . You and I are not even sure that men are capable of having a reason to see a show if they don’t want to fuck the performer? God, we have a terrible opinion of dudes. God, we are cultured to have a terrible opinion of dudes. That’s what I feel would be a thing that it would be positive to work on, is our collective opinion of men.

How to be good humans in this regard, around sexuality, is just something we are so ashamed about, so isolated about, literally don’t talk to our best friends about, literally don’t talk to our siblings about, get no medical information about. We talk about Planned Parenthood as if it’s a terrorist organization, like the government does. Meanwhile, the government doesn’t do the work Planned Parenthood does, so Planned Parenthood has to exist—because otherwise, there is no option. I just mean, there’s so much pressure. It’s such a pressure. Could we just laugh, so that we can release some of that pressure?

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thingsireflecaut · 3 years

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Post Six, Part One

For the first page, I played around with the idea of what my protagonist might look like and what their room would look like. I though setting up a portion of their room would be a great way to introduce the character and the story as this is their special place where they keep their collected items. I started off with a sketch of a part of my own childhood bedroom, as this is where I drew inspiration for the story. I knew I wanted to exaggerate this image and my belongings of the time though; I had more books than in the drawing, but not all of them were on the floor in my room, instead I had a collection of my favourites and the next to be read on my drawers, and the rest in the garage/ I put the pile of books on the floor because I thought it would add nice symmetry to the illustration; I liked the idea of the protagonist in the middle of the world of their things welcoming the reader, and being excited to share with the reader the things that were special to them. this is also why I drew the protagonist with their arms out wide as if in such excitement that they have to spread their arms out to express all the glory of their world.

My first sketch was me trying to just get the idea out of my head and have a starting point; once I was done I knew that I had relied too heavily on Quentin Blakes technique for the kid. I decided on the blob character, let’s call them Cass, because this is something I have doodled for years. I thought it would be a nice idea for Cass to be someone I was already familiar with; I’ve drawn them for years and have always enjoyed their flexibility to be whatever I needed or wanted them to be. This was always a release for me, something that never had to be perfect, and that is what I want the kid to stand for; they are fluid, they make their own rules.

I played with the idea of them having hair but it felt unnatural and a little creepy. I also played with different expressions.

I also made sure that I was exploring different routes and going out of my comfort zone, I wanted to play more with the idea of “They are all me & I am all them”, so I decided to take that literally; what if the protagonist was actually made out of one of their favourite things?

So, I started with the outline of Cass and then drew them so they were made out of books, as you can see in the top left-hand corner of the first image. I did like this effect but it felt a little forced and on the nose, I also wanted to make sure that the reader could still identify in some way with Cass, and didn’t want to make them too far from human form.

Instead, I created a mini Cass as a secret easter egg on their shelf in the first image.

In the next image, I explored another protagonist. I wanted a relatable girl character; I think selfishly because this is what could have helped me a little as a kid. I am definitely lucky to grow up in a world where my light skin color was portrayed as the more ‘beautiful’ in media, but all of the cool girls that I wanted to be like had straight blonde hair, and I was ashamed to have curly hair – obviously this is very shallow and such a small thing to be upset about, but all the same with my narrow world view, I was. So I wanted to create a cool girl that readers might want to be that had curly hair, and I love this character, but I liked Cass better; they portray an empty canvas, and aren’t something a kid would get upset about not looking like.

For the second page, I explored ideas of what each item on the list might look like. I started with the idea for the first sentence with Cass holding a huge $2 coin, as a visual representation of the epicness and importance of something as small as a $2 coin to a child. I rubbed this out as it felt that it didn’t fit the book; it was a little too comic book-y and out of place as it wasn’t fully in my style, but also wasn’t fully in comic book style. I then decided it could be interesting to have the comic book element but do it my way, so I created a vintage comic book to include in the book as a representation of the $2 element. I also liked the idea of a simple drawing with a big jar full of coins and a hand reaching in.

I wasn’t sure what I wanted the “In the middle of a tree” illustration to look like so I played around with a few ideas. The first idea was the one I had imagined when writing the story; Cass wrestling something from a squirrel’s mouth in the top of a tree. I thought this had an element of silliness that I was keen to include, but after drawing the scene, I thought it would be worthwhile to explore other routes as well. I remembered how much I loved the unreal reality that Sendak created in Where The Wild Things Are, and wanted to make something magical, so came up with the idea of Cass being privy to a secret door in the middle of trees where they could explore a whole new world, and come back with gifts. So I drew a doorway leading to this other dimension in a huge old tree.

I also imagined that another way I could portray this is in the middle on a cut down tree trunk; I thought this could be a good way to keep the drawing small so that I could have multiple drawings on the page as the verse I wrote lists multiple things I so could almost have a montage of Cass’s expeditions. I liked the drawing but felt that having a cut down tree was too much of a cynical metaphor; although it could be a metaphor for finding beauty out of destruction, the truth is that the tree is still cut down; it felt like an ending, instead of the beginning of the endless world that the doorway creates.

I thought I could include my idea from the first page “They are all me, and I am all them” and the object expressing that that’s on Cass’s drawers of a mini Cass, and illustrate Cass finding this version of themself as what they find on the bench. I mulled over the idea of them finding a good stick, or someone’s lost pocket watch, but I found the mini Cass linking to the first page to have the most meaning, and I liked the slight awkwardness and comfortable uncertainty that the drawing had between Cass and mini Cass.

For “This one was drenched” I took a toy car of mine and placed it in the rain. I was nervous that it was unclear that the car was tiny, so I added the curbside with grass to hopefully make sure that the viewer gages the proportions.

For “This one is French”, I tried to think of different classic French things that weren’t cliché or a negative / one dimensional stereotype. One of my favorite books ever is the children’s book Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, and an iconic illustration from the book is the boa constructor that swallowed an elephant; the meaning behind it is that there is always more than meets the eye, and the beauty of the world is in the eye of those with an imagination. This has stayed with me since I first read it, and wanted to reference it.

I looked around my house for inspiration for this page and realized that one pile of my already read books was sitting quietly on my dresser collecting dust. Sometimes I lend one out to someone, but generally they don’t move, so this is what I drew for that stanza.

I was experimenting with different points of view for Cass to be looking at them from, but then as I looked at the page as a whole, I realized that it looked really fun as a little montage; it had movement to it and came alive a little bit.

It made sense to follow the abstract cartoonish style of Cass and draw their friends in that style as well. It also gave me freedom to create different, unique characters that didn’t have to look like anything in particular.

I also made sure to investigate different routes. So I drew a less abstract and more detailed version, but it didn’t have the same energy, and didn’t feel as cohesive.

I thought the jewels for “These are my jewels, I collect them on my walks” could be colorful autumn leaves, so drew a mockup and colored it with watercolor pencil.

The floral pages are some of my favorite planning pages, I especially like the one for “flowers are my favourites...”. The concept was easy to imagine because I could envision it when I was writing the story. I definitely took inspiration from Quentin Blakes style of watercolor and the style of the flowers, but I don’t think it was too derivative because my protagonist is quite different from his style, and the flowers were done without reference.

I wanted to make sure that I explored a few different routes and ideas with this, so I tried ideas that I didn’t necessarily think would work; some did, for example the top right drawing, and some didn’t, for example the bottom left drawing of the ink bottle and spotted flower.

The images for “This one I made, it hangs on my wall...” felt relatively obvious to me; I knew what I wanted, and it was relatively easy to execute. I wanted it to be understated that Cass could move objects with their mind; I didn’t want it to be a big scene, or dramatic, I wanted it to seem cool and underplayed, because that felt more realistic; as a child, you feel like maybe you can do these supernatural things, so you try alone in your room. You don’t expect a huge freak accident to happen, you kind of expect just a slight shudder that you notice. This is what I wanted to convey in the drawing; a sense of normality that the readers could relate to, but the undertone of magic about to happen.

“Sometimes I lose my things, in fact I do a lot... It’s usually those silly Grimbles. This is a Grimble hotspot.” I found this stanza hard to imagine, and in turn hard to illustrate. It felt like there had to be a lot of information conveyed in the image; the creature itself, the action of stealing something, and the room. I wanted the room to have a sleepy kind of atmosphere and I think I did that well through the use of color.

I was very lost on how to illustrate the Grimble; I wanted it to be strange but not intimidating, and not scary for the reader. I explored different ideas of what it might look like at the bottom of the page.

I wanted this bed to be the most comfy bed in the world; I loved the idea of someone remembering this book years after reading it and having a nostalgic love for the warmth and coziness of bed because of it.

This meant that I had to make the bed look fluffy and soft, and make Cass look relaxed. I made sure to round out the edges of the drawing for a soft feel, and to have Cass tucked in nicely, with a big fluffy pillow.

I didn’t want it to be extravagant because that seemed unattainable to a lot of children; I wanted it to be the bed that everybody has; underrated but warm, small but soft, fluffy and cozy.

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ireflectaut · 3 years

Text

Post Six

My first sketch was me trying to just get the idea out of my head and have a starting point; once I was done I knew that I had relied too heavily on Quentin Blakes technique for the kid. I decided on the blob character, let's call them Cass, because this is something I have doodled for years. I thought it would be a nice idea for Cass to be someone I was already familiar with; I’ve drawn them for years and have always enjoyed their flexibility to be whatever I needed or wanted them to be. This was always a release for me, something that never had to be perfect, and that is what I want the kid to stand for; they are fluid, they make their own rules.

I played with the idea of them having hair but it felt unnatural and a little creepy. I also played with different expressions.

Instead, I created a mini Cass as a secret easter egg on their shelf in the first image.

I thought I could include my idea from the first page “They are all me, and I am all them” and the object expressing that that’s on Cass’s drawers of a mini Cass, and illustrate Cass finding this version of themself as what they find on the bench. I mulled over the idea of them finding a good stick, or someone's lost pocket watch, but I found the mini Cass linking to the first page to have the most meaning, and I liked the slight awkwardness and comfortable uncertainty that the drawing had between Cass and mini Cass.

For “This one is French”, I tried to think of different classic French things that weren't cliché or a negative / one dimensional stereotype. One of my favorite books ever is the children's book Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, and an iconic illustration from the book is the boa constructor that swallowed an elephant; the meaning behind it is that there is always more than meets the eye, and the beauty of the world is in the eye of those with an imagination. This has stayed with me since I first read it, and wanted to reference it.

I also made sure to investigate different routes. So I drew a less abstract and more detailed version, but it didn’t have the same energy, and didn’t feel as cohesive.

I thought the gems could be colorful autumn leaves, so drew a mockup and colored it with watercolor pencil.

These are some of my favorite planning pages. The concept was easy to imagine because I could envision it when I was writing the story. I definitely took inspiration from Quentin Blakes style of watercolor and the style of the flowers, but I don’t think it was too derivative because my protagonist is quite different from his style, and the flowers were done without reference.

This felt relatively obvious to me; I knew what I wanted, and it was relatively easy to execute. I wanted it to be understated that Cass could move objects with their mind; I didn’t want it to be a big scene, or dramatic, I wanted it to seem cool and underplayed, because that felt more realistic; as a child, you feel like maybe you can do these supernatural things, so you try alone in your room. You don’t expect a huge freak accident to happen, you kind of expect just a slight shudder that you notice. This is what I wanted to convey in the drawing; a sense of normality that the readers could relate to, but the undertone of magic about to happen.

I found this stanza hard to imagine, and in turn hard to illustrate. It felt like there had to be a lot of information conveyed in the image; the creature itself, the action of stealing something, and the room. I wanted the room to have a sleepy kind of atmosphere and I think I did that well through the use of color.

0 notes