#Is it hard to pass coding interview?

[codingclassestipsandtricks]

Is it hard to pass coding interview?

Coding interviews can be challenging, but whether they are "hard" or not depends on various factors, including your level of preparation, the specific interview format, the company's expectations, and your prior coding experience. Here are some factors to consider:

1. Preparation: The Foundation of Success

Adequate preparation is crucial for success in coding interviews. If you've invested time in learning and practicing data structures, algorithms, and problem-solving techniques, you'll be better equipped to tackle interview questions. Regularly practicing coding challenges on platforms like LeetCode, HackerRank, and CodeSignal can enhance your problem-solving skills and prepare you for technical interviews.

It's also beneficial to recognize common problem-solving patterns, such as two pointers, sliding window, depth-first search (DFS), and breadth-first search (BFS). Familiarity with these patterns can help you approach problems more efficiently and effectively.

2. Experience: The Role of Familiarity

Your level of experience in coding and problem-solving plays a significant role in determining how challenging coding interviews feel. If you're already proficient in coding and have experience with algorithms and data structures, coding interviews may be less daunting. Conversely, if you're relatively new to these concepts, the learning curve can make interviews seem more difficult.

Building a strong foundation in computer science fundamentals and gaining practical experience through projects can boost your confidence and performance in interviews. Additionally, participating in coding challenges and hackathons can provide valuable exposure and opportunities to showcase your skills.

3. Interview Format: Varies by Company

The difficulty of coding interviews can vary based on the format. Some companies focus on algorithmic questions, while others emphasize system design, behavioral questions, or coding exercises related to the role. Understanding the specific interview format of the company you're applying to can help you tailor your preparation accordingly.

For instance, companies like Google and Facebook often prioritize algorithmic problem-solving, while companies like Amazon may place more emphasis on system design and behavioral interviews. Researching the company's interview process and reviewing common interview questions can give you a clearer idea of what to expect.

4. Company Expectations: Aligning with Standards

The expectations of the company you're interviewing with can affect the perceived difficulty of the interview. Some companies have rigorous technical assessments, while others may have more lenient requirements. It's essential to align your preparation with the company's standards and expectations.

For example, top-tier tech companies often have high expectations and may require candidates to solve complex problems under time constraints. In contrast, startups may focus more on practical skills and cultural fit. Understanding the company's priorities can help you focus your preparation on the most relevant areas.

5. Nervousness: Managing Interview Anxiety

Interview nerves can make even simple coding questions seem challenging. The pressure to perform well, coupled with the fear of making mistakes, can hinder your ability to think clearly and solve problems effectively. Managing nervousness is a crucial aspect of performing well in coding interviews.

Practicing mock interviews can help alleviate nervousness and improve your performance. Mock interviews simulate real interview conditions, allowing you to become more comfortable with the interview process and receive constructive feedback. Platforms like Pramp and Interviewing.io offer free mock interview services, pairing you with experienced interviewers for practice sessions.

6. Specific Questions: Varying Complexity

The complexity of coding questions can vary widely. Some questions are straightforward and test basic concepts, while others are highly complex and require advanced problem-solving skills. The difficulty of a question can depend on various factors, including its topic, the constraints provided, and the approach required to solve it.

To prepare for a range of question complexities, it's beneficial to practice problems of varying difficulty levels. Start with easy problems to build your confidence, then gradually progress to medium and hard problems to challenge yourself and improve your problem-solving abilities.

7. Real-Time Pressure: Performing Under Constraints

Coding interviews typically have a time constraint, which can add to the pressure. Being able to think clearly and write code efficiently under time pressure is a skill that requires practice. Time management is crucial during coding interviews; allocating appropriate time to understand the problem, devise a solution, implement the code, and test it is essential.

Practicing coding problems under timed conditions can help you develop this skill. Many online platforms allow you to set timers while solving problems, simulating the time constraints of real interviews. Regular practice can help you become more efficient and confident in managing time during interviews.

8. Feedback and Adaptation: Learning from Experience

Some candidates may face initial challenges but learn from feedback and adapt their preparation strategies to improve over time. Constructive feedback from mock interviews or peers can provide valuable insights into areas of improvement and help you refine your problem-solving approach.

Adapting your preparation based on feedback ensures continuous improvement. Focus on areas where you struggle the most, whether it's understanding certain algorithms, optimizing solutions, or communicating your thought process clearly. Over time, consistent practice and adaptation can significantly enhance your performance in coding interviews.

Conclusion: Overcoming the Challenges

Coding interviews can be challenging, but with the right preparation, mindset, and strategies, they become manageable and even rewarding. Remember, the perceived difficulty of coding interviews is not an insurmountable barrier but a hurdle that can be overcome with dedication and practice.

Focus on building a strong foundation in computer science fundamentals, practicing regularly, managing your nerves, and learning from feedback. By doing so, you'll not only improve your chances of success in coding interviews but also gain valuable skills that will benefit you throughout your career.

[synity]

MOON-STRUCK

(Lee Jihoon x FemReader)

*Slow-burn Romantic Drama with Emotional Angst & Idol Slice of Life Tender Fluff Unspoken Longing*

Y/N had always been the type to pour her soul into her art. Three years into her solo career, she remained underrated by industry standards yet loved deeply by those who had discovered her. Her fans, mostly CARATs, admired her honesty, the way her lyrics cut straight into the heart, how her voice didn’t beg for attention but instead earned it.

Despite her quiet success, she never let the pressure mold her. She was vibrant behind the scenes teasing stylists, dancing with backup performers, laughing like she didn’t carry the weight of self-composed albums on her shoulders. SEVENTEEN knew her before she debuted. They had trained in the same building, shared ramen at 2 a.m., offered encouragement during late-night practice runs.

Over time, she became more than just an industry friend. She became one of them.

Among all the members, it was Woozi who surprised them the most.

Lee Jihoon, the man of quiet glances and endless hours behind the studio door, had taken a silent liking to her from the very beginning. It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was in the way he always saved her a seat. How he offered her drinks without asking. How he remembered her favorite chord progressions. The way his laughter came easier around her, how his smiles lingered longer when she was in the room.

And yet, Y/N never noticed.

She was always kind to him like she was to everyone. She never saw how he’d look at her when she’d run choreography barefoot just for fun, or when she giggled at her own offbeat counts, or when she lent her voice to harmonize with a demo she thought no one would ever hear.

He wrote songs about her dozens of them. Some released, most not. They sat in his hard drive labeled under vague codes like “Project M” or “Midnight Ver.” Lyrics about her eyes, her chaos, her calm, the way her voice cracked when she got emotional during studio runs. He never told anyone. He didn’t need to.

One day, he asked her to collaborate.

“I’ve been working on something,” he mumbled, handing her a USB. “You don’t have to say yes, but I think… you’d suit it.”

Y/N smiled, cheerful as always. “Of course, Woozi! I’d love to.”

She didn’t see the way his ears turned pink when she said his name.

They began working together immediately. Hours passed in studios where she danced across the room, lyrics in one hand, iced tea in the other. She hummed random melodies mid-conversation, always sparking some new idea. Jihoon was quiet, watching, always calculating but never cold. If anything, she made his presence warmer.

She never realized how careful he was with her.

He tuned her vocals more delicately than anyone else’s.

He brought snacks he knew she liked.

He adjusted his schedule just to match hers.

And he never said a word.

Dance practice was a mess but in the best way. Y/N teased the dancers, mimicked moves badly just to make the room laugh, often collapsing on the floor out of breath. Jihoon barely danced, but he always came to watch. He sat in the corner with a water bottle, hiding a smile whenever she did something ridiculous.

“She’s got something,” he murmured to Hoshi once after a practice. “She’s lightning in a bottle.”

The final product was a song called Moonstruck a moody, sparkling track that told the story of falling for someone when it’s already too late to back out. The lyrics were poetic, haunting. A little too real.

Y/N didn’t question them.

She loved the song. Said it felt “like being drunk on starlight.”

It racked up 94 million views in twenty-four hours. Both fandoms exploded with praise.

From that point on, variety shows and interviews swept them into the public eye together. But to Jihoon’s quiet dismay, she was often paired with Dokyeom. They were chaos personified bickering like siblings, laughing until they cried, bantering in a way that had fans convinced they were a couple.

Y/N, of course, didn’t mind. It was just work. Just friendship.

Jihoon… minded.

He watched from behind the camera. A soft frown on his lips. Never interfering. Never mentioning it.

Instead, he wrote.

Another unreleased file. Titled: Moonstruck (Alt Ver). An echo of the original track but rawer. Sadder. Full of things he could never say.

Woozi’s POV

She didn’t even know what she was doing to him.

Maybe that was what made it harder.

Watching her laugh with Seokmin during their latest variety taping, Jihoon tried to focus on his water bottle, on the call sheet in his hand anything but the way her fingers reached for Seokmin’s arm when she doubled over with laughter.

It wasn’t like she was flirting.

That’s what he kept telling himself.

She was just… Y/N.

Loud, radiant, carefree.

Exactly the same way she’d been since the day they met when she barged into the vocal practice room without knocking, asking if anyone had a charger for her phone and whether or not they were good at harmonies because she needed someone to sing with her.

She didn’t change. He did.

The feelings crept in slowly, uninvited. The admiration was innocent at first he liked the way her music sounded like a heartbeat. Raw, imperfect, real. Then it became the way she scribbled in her notebooks with her tongue slightly out in concentration. The way she challenged choreography counts like she was solving a math equation. The way she wore her pain quietly in lyrics and healed in front of the mic.

He saw all of her.

And now, it was too late.

Their collab, Moonstruck, had broken every expectation. A haunting duet about two people orbiting each other, never confessing, never quite reaching. Fans called it their “emotional love story.”

Jihoon called it the truth.

Every line he wrote, every harmony they layered, every glance he risked while she wasn’t looking it was all him. Her, too. She just didn’t realize it.

She never noticed the way he tuned her voice like glass, afraid to crack the emotion. She never realized he skipped meals just to match her late-night schedules. That when she asked “Want anything from the vending machine?” and he said no, he actually wanted her to come back safely more than he wanted food.

And she sure as hell didn’t realize how much it hurt when other people got to see the side of her he cherished most.

“Hyung,” Seungkwan nudged him gently backstage. “You okay? You’ve been staring at them for five minutes.”

Jihoon blinked.

Y/N and Seokmin were still on stage, dancing like fools for some silly game. She looked happy. Light. Like she belonged anywhere but in his arms.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Just tired.”

It was a lie, and everyone knew it.

Even Seungkwan gave him that look half sympathy, half “why don’t you just say something?”

But how could he?

Y/N didn’t see him that way. She smiled when he offered her a jacket. Said “thanks, Woozi, you’re the best” when he fixed her key without being asked. She trusted him like a friend. Admired him like a producer. Counted on him like family.

She never saw the way his hands trembled after she left the room. Or how he replayed her demo takes at night just to hear her voice in the quiet.

Later that evening, when the dorm lights were low and the others were asleep, he opened his laptop.

Moonstruck (Alt Ver) still sat in the folder. Unreleased. Unsent.

It had a different second verse. He’d written it after seeing her perform on stage with Seokmin when they both wore matching ear cuffs for the concept shoot, laughing like they shared a secret. It wasn’t their fault. Jihoon knew that.

Still, it bled out of him in lyrics:

saw your name on the screen, Paused for a sec, didn't know what it means. Ghost in the corner of my feed, Why does silence cut so deep?

His fingers hovered over the keyboard.

He could send it. Just a voice memo. Just say: “Thought of this for the deluxe version.”

But he didn’t.

Because if she knew… If she heard what he really felt—how deeply, how fully he might lose her altogether.

So instead, he saved it. Closed the lid.

Pretended it wasn’t real.

Pretended she wasn’t his moon, his muse, his reason for creating music that didn’t feel hollow anymore.

But fate, he was starting to realize, had a twisted sense of humor.

Because lately, every time he turned around, there she was.

Not just in the studio. Not just in dance practice.

But at the same café he stopped at for coffee. Two tables away, humming into her straw.

At the same bookstore he escaped to on Sundays. Laughing with her manager in the art aisle.

On his recommended feed, in his dreams, in the quiet moments where he thought he could finally breathe.

She was everywhere.

And Jihoon… he didn’t know how much longer he could stay silent.

Y/N’s POV

I wish I could lie and say it was just admiration.

I’ve told myself that lie a hundred times, repeated it in the mirror like a mantra. "You just look up to him. You respect him. That’s all."

But then I’d catch myself watching him when I shouldn’t. Not during recordings, but in between takes. When his brow furrows just before hitting playback. When he closes his eyes to feel the mix. When he laughs not the public kind, but the unguarded one, head tilted slightly back like he forgot the world existed.

That’s when I feel it most. Whatever this is.

It’s been three years. Three years since I entered SEVENTEEN’s circle, and it still feels like I’m tiptoeing across thin ice every time I stand too close to him. Woozi Jihoon is not like the others. He doesn’t flirt. Doesn’t compliment casually. Doesn’t say things just to be kind.

So when he does say something, it stays. Like when he told me, “That bridge you wrote? It hurts in the best way.” Or when he stayed late in the studio with me just because I was having a rough day, quietly handing me a hot drink without asking why I��d cried earlier.

He always notices. He always cares.

And that’s what makes it so hard.

Because I don’t think he sees how I look at him.

He doesn't see how nervous I get when our hands brush. Or how I save the messages he sends about music like they’re love notes. I’ve written dozens of songs I’ll never release. Lyrics filled with him. Questions I’m too afraid to ask.

If I fell, would you catch me? Even if it hurts, I’d still run to you. You faded out so quietly, But your echo still lives in me.

But I don’t say anything. Because it’s better to have Jihoon in my life even as just a friend than risk losing him to truth.

Still, there are moments I can’t ignore. Like today.

He was quieter than usual. His smile a little more reserved. His eyes lingered longer when I joked with Dokyeom. I thought I imagined it. But Seungkwan gave me a look later, that knowing one.

“You’re brave, hanging around Woozi hyung like that when he’s clearly losing it,” he teased.

“What do you mean?” I played dumb.

Seungkwan only raised a brow. “Nothing. Just don’t be surprised if he writes an album out of jealousy.”

If only he knew I’d do the same.

Woozi’s POV

I’ve written over two hundred songs in the last few years. Some never made it past the demo stage. Some debuted on stages before tens of thousands. And then there are the quiet ones tucked away in folders no one has heard. The ones I label under “Private.”

Most of those are about her.

I never planned for it to be this way. Y/N was supposed to be a friend. Just one of us. A ridiculously talented soloist who somehow managed to fit into our chaos like she’d been there from the beginning.

But over time, something changed. Not in her but in me.

I started watching her more often. Noticing things. Like the way she stretches her arms above her head during breaks. How she taps her pen against her lips when she’s lost in thought. The small frown she makes when she’s unsatisfied with her work but no one else would ever notice because she hides it behind a bright smile.

That smile. It kills me every time.

And yet... I don’t think she sees me that way.

She treats me just like the rest of the guys. She teases me when I get too serious. I’ve grown used to hearing her laughter echo across the studio, but sometimes, when she laughs at something DK says, something uncomfortable twists in my chest.

I hate the feeling.

Jealousy. That’s what it is. Not of Dokyeom, specifically. But of the way she looks at him. The way her eyes soften, how she leans into his shoulder when she laughs too hard. It’s innocent, I know. But it still stings.

Today was worse.

She wore that oversized hoodie she always paints in splattered in color, loose around the sleeves, a brush tucked behind her ear. We were working on our second collaboration track. I suggested we co-produce this time. She agreed immediately, eyes lighting up like I’d given her the world.

I couldn’t stop watching her as she hovered near the soundboard, bobbing her head to the demo.

“You’re staring,” Hoshi whispered behind me.

I jumped slightly. “No, I wasn’t.”

Hoshi didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “You do this every time she walks into a room.”

I didn’t answer. Because he wasn’t wrong.

Later, when we were taking a break, I walked into the practice room and saw her choreographing with one of the dancers. The music was playing softly from her phone, and she was humming along, sweat dripping down her temple, eyes alight with passion. She didn’t see me.

But I saw her.

And then something happened.

She turned, suddenly, laughing at something the dancer said—and her eyes met mine. For a split second, her laughter faltered. Just slightly. Like she hadn’t expected me to be there.

Then, she smiled.

It wasn’t different. Not really. But something in my gut twisted.

She walked over casually, tossed me a water bottle, and leaned her head against my shoulder for a moment. “Don’t judge the chaos yet. It’s going to be good, I promise.”

“I never doubt you,” I said before I could stop myself.

Her head turned. Her eyes searched mine for a second longer than necessary.

And then she smiled again, this time quieter. Like she was hiding something.

I should’ve asked. But I didn’t.

I’m Woozi. I don’t chase what I don’t understand. But lately… I think I’m starting to understand too much.

Because the way she looked at me it felt familiar. Like the way I’ve always looked at her.

But that can’t be, right?

Right?

I had rehearsed the song a thousand times.

Every lyric. Every chord. Every pause where her name echoed in the silence between the lines unspoken, but present.

The studio felt different tonight. We’d finished the second collab. It was a hit already trending on every platform, with millions of views in hours. The staff had celebrated, champagne was popped, people laughed, but I couldn’t feel it.

Because she was there. Smiling. Looking at me with eyes that knew nothing of the storm inside me.

I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep writing songs she didn’t know were for her. I couldn’t keep smiling every time she laughed at someone else’s joke, or pretend it didn’t sting when she called me “just a friend.”

So I stayed behind in the studio that night. Asked her to meet me again after hours.

Just us.

When she walked in, hair tied up loosely, hoodie half-zipped, a sleepy smile on her face I almost lost my nerve.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

“Sit,” I said gently, pointing to the couch. “I want to show you something.”

She blinked, confused, but obeyed. “Is this another demo?”

I shook my head. My fingers hovered above the keyboard, heart pounding like it never had before not even before a concert. “It’s… something I wrote. A while ago.”

I pressed play.

The piano poured through the speakers soft, hesitant, like footsteps into unknown territory. Then my voice followed.

Not producer Woozi. Not idol Lee Jihoon. Just me. Singing about her.

“You sit next to me like it’s nothin’, But my heart skips like it’s somethin’. You say “good morning” with sleepy eyes, And I’m already stuck in butterflies”

I heard her breath catch. But I kept going.

“You talk about dreams, about moving away, And I just hope I’m in them someday. Not asking for forever, just a chance To maybe hold your hand if we ever dance."

Silence.

When the last note faded, I finally turned.

She was sitting there, frozen. Eyes wide. Her hand was over her mouth, her chest rising and falling quickly.

“Y/N…” My voice was low. Raw. “That song every one of them… they were all about you. All this time.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She looked like she couldn’t breathe.

I walked closer, heart crashing in my chest. “I don’t know when it started. Maybe when you helped me rearrange that bridge at 2 a.m. Or when you laughed so hard at Seungkwan’s joke you snorted and didn’t even care. Maybe it was when you cried in the studio because your verse felt too vulnerable and you thought no one would understand but I did. I always do.”

She was crying now. Tears falling quietly, mouth trembling.

I knelt down in front of her, gently taking her hand. “I’ve loved you for so long, Y/N. And I’m scared to say it. I’m scared it’ll ruin everything. But I can’t keep pretending you’re just another friend. You’re not. You never were.”

And then finally she spoke.

“You idiot,” she whispered, a laugh breaking through her tears. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve loved you too?”

I froze. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything because I thought you didn’t feel the same. You were always so distant… so careful. But I saw it. The way you looked at me when you thought I wasn’t watching. The way your songs sounded like home.”

My breath hitched. “Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I was scared too,” she said softly, pulling me closer. “But I’m not anymore.”

She cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheek as I leaned into her palm. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed. For the first time, it felt like the song I’d been writing all my life finally had its chorus.

And then our foreheads touched, and she whispered, “You were always the one, Jihoon.”

My arms wrapped around her waist as hers wound around my neck, and we both sank to the floor on our knees, holding each other like the truth might shatter if we let go.

I buried my face in her shoulder, her scent grounding me, her presence finally finally mine.

“I’m still writing a hundred songs about you,” I mumbled against her skin.

She laughed through a sob. “Then I’ll listen to every one of them.”

[ovrgrwnivy]

Hello! I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if you could write a Spencer Reid x Reader fic based off “prison for life” by Olivia Rodrigo. Spencer has always been in the protector role so i believe it would fit him, please and thank you

PRISON FOR LIFE ; spencer reid

i know i can protect myself, but when you do it for me it’s hot as hell . . .

a/n: your brain is huge this song is so spencer coded

warnings: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, unsub / case entirely made up to avoid spoilers, protective!spencer, established relationship, secret relationship, mentions of guns, violence, blood, criminal minds in general

a team. the worst kind of conclusion to draw when you’re narrowing in on an unsub, or two in this case. two family annihilators that would stalk and learn the routines of their victims, the kills were usually quick and ruthless, in and out in a matter of minutes.

only this time, your team had gotten there right in time. derek dragged one unsub out the door while the other bolted down the stairs towards the basement. without thinking, you’re sprinting after him, unknowingly running straight into a trap.

you trip the moment you barrel through the door, flying head first down the flight of stairs and landing on the hard concrete with a hard thud.

dizzily, you get to your feet, clumsily reaching for your gun only to realise you dropped it on your way down. it’s dark, you’re disoriented, and most terrifyingly, you’re not alone down here.

a fact you’re abruptly reminded of when a cord is wrapped around your throat, pulling your back flush against the chest of the unsub you were hunting. the initial panic urges you to scramble, but your training kicks in and you manage the lodge your elbow right into his ribs making him drop the cable.

the same elbow connects with his jaw with a satisfying crack but he’s not going easily, using the hair at the back of your head as leverage to bash your head against a dust old desk.

the struggle goes on for what feels like hours, and you’re giving as good as you’re getting. with a successful knee to his groin you send the unsub tumbling to the ground, and right as he’s about to lunge at you a metallic click sounds from behind where you stand.

“one more step and i’ll empty my clip”

spencer reid, your favourite coworker who also happens to be your long time boyfriend, has his gun pointed at the unsub with one hand as the other reaches out to pull you behind him protectively.

in a matter of seconds tara is cuffing the dirtbag before you and hauling him up the stairs with the help of jj, leaving you and spencer in the dusty basement.

“I had it under control.”

“It was no problem, darling, honestly, no need to thank me” spencer teases, holstering his gun and taking your face in his hands to fully examine the extent of your injuries “you really think i was just gonna ignore the fact you ran after a killer and didn’t come back within sixty seconds?”

“i’m not some damsel in distress” you groan, letting him examine your face with no resistance “i can protect myself”

“i know.” spencer nods, using his thumb to swipe the blood away from your bottom lip “it’s not gonna stop me protecting you, though. sorry”

he can see through your faux annoyance. spencer knows just as much as you do that you like having him as your protector, it’s ‘his job’ as he put it.

though, his protectiveness has made hiding your relationship that bit trickier.

everyone on the team would take a bullet for each other, there was no doubt about it, but people hotch were beginning to notice that spencer often went above and beyond when it came to your safety.

like when the bau were being targeted, he never left your side, if you were sent to interview a suspect reid was right there with you. even if a joke was made at your expense, it wouldn’t be entertained by spencer.

sometimes you could pass it off as it being because you were a woman, because even though all the women on the team were more than capable, the men on the team had a fierce protective streak for them whether or not they knew.

“you’re so annoying..” you grumble, fighting a small smile.

“mhm” spencer chuckles, pressing a quick, light kiss to your head “i love you too, darling”

“oh!”

a squeak from tara has both of you whipping your heads in her direction, frozen in the mixture of fear and embarrassment that you’d just been caught out.

“well,” tara clears her throat and makes a poor attempt at concealing a grin “we’re all done here when you two are ready.”

[steviewashere]

Thinking about a fic idea right now where Steve comes out (maybe with a little Steddie...maybe; might be best to start them pre-relationship in this). Walk with me here.

Steve Harrington who has always been a huge Wham! fan. And then eventually a huge George Michael fan. He's got all their albums. Collects magazines with interviews in them (y'know, if there's a U.S. release). So, he's pretty much up to date with all news, music info; that kind of thing. He's always on the money about when interviews are.

George Michael who comes out publicly in 1998 after his arrest. Which, you can watch the clip from the interview here. He's thirty-four at the time, had been private about his sexuality and romantic life up until then.

Steve who's freshly in his thirties.

He's thirty-one. He's had some thoughts in regards to his sexuality for years now. Since Robin came out to him in 1985, he's thought about little things. The way certain guys walked that caught his attention, maybe the plushness of their lips, how they styled their hair. She's introduced him to queer culture at the time—pride parades & protests, some lingo, the handkerchief code, etc. So, he's well aware of a lot of things before the CNN interview airs. He hasn't made any hard connections between his sexuality and the thoughts in his head; maybe he's had a few, soft, questioning moments like: Am I gay? Am I bisexual? Is this what I really think or am I searching for something I don't actually want? Am I just being too observant?

(Okay, thinking about pre-Steddie now. And a lot of platonic soulmates Stobin. Also, I totally (accidentally) half-wrote a fic. Stay with me here.)

Eddie's been a part of Steve's life since 1986. Somehow he survives (don't ask me the fine details, I don't know). And Steve tries his hand at being Eddie's friend because he kind of—no, really—wants a guy friend who's around his age. Cue their shenanigans: the chaos they cause together, the pranks they pull on their other friends, the shit Eddie makes Steve get into (drag racing (cars), stealing scrap from the junkyard, throwing rocks over the quarry to guess the impact they made, other little town shit). Eddie who learns that Steve's a true ally to Robin, so he comes out to Steve, too. They all form a very great, deep bond of solidarity. Become roommates outside of Hawkins, somewhere a little more progressive. They protect each other. Listen to each other.

Cue the day in 1998 when the CNN interview is being aired live, unseen up until then. Steve's already ready to watch, having taken up the middle cushion on the couch. Robin's on his left, criss-cross and making a set of beaded bracelets for the three of them. Eddie's on Steve's right, uncapping a couple bottles of beer to pass over. And they're watching with Steve because Steve likes George Michael and, well, they like Steve and his interests. So they're all there when George Michael comes out. They're all there when the words are said live.

Robin and Eddie are wide-eyed, then laughing something a bit triumphant, high-fiving over Steve's head, maybe chanting something: "One of us! One of us!" Maybe becoming huge George Michael fans as they speak. But, Steve's silent. He's sitting on the edge of his cushion, palms down on his thighs, staring off into nothing. All the celebration stops as the interview continues, words being missed. And Robin and Eddie share an odd glance, a questioning one. Until, finally, Robin asks, "Steve-O? You OD over there?"

Steve blinks back into existence. Mutters, "Did George Michael just come out on live TV?" Eddie answers him truthfully, voice a bit soft and concerned. Steve licks his lips, doesn't move his eyes from his socked feet. "...He knew for a little while," he comments. "Right? He knew for a while."

"Sure, Steve," Eddie answers again. "He probably knew about himself for a long time. Probably...Honestly, probably while he was still in Wham."

Maybe Steve nods at that. Maybe he just stays kind of stoic, thinking too hard. "He's thirty-four," Steve points out.

"That he is," Robin answers this time. "Thirty-four and proudly out."

Steve hums some sort of acknowledgement and then goes back to watching the TV, moment drifting away. He sort of watches in a daze. Up until he turns in for the night. Well after Robin has slumped over on the couch and Eddie's gone to bed earlier—because he has work, or so Eddie's said. And Steve maybe sits in his bedroom, up at his headboard, looking down at his albums. At his Wham! and George Michael albums. Turning the tapes over in his hands, reading the track lists, maybe tracing the edges of the cases with his thumbs. Thinking about how George had said he was telling his life story, even through some of his earlier solo work. He's thinking about how successful George Michael has been. And then he thinks about how George Michael came out later in his life. In his thirties, not in his twenties, not in his teens. Sure, yes, it was definitely more negatively criticized to do so, but it means something to Steve. To be thirty-four and freshly out. And he thinks, too, about being thirty-one and things clicking into shiny clarity—he's into guys, too. He's into women, but he's into guys. That word, "bisexual" looking like the final jigsaw piece. To be thirty-one and proudly out, too.

And he's comforted in that thought, as he drifts off to sleep.

And when he wakes up in the morning, he bustles around Eddie and Robin in the kitchen. They make a shared breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage and toast with jam. They sit at the dining table, forks against plates, shooting the shit back and forth.

Steve cuts a slice of sausage, puts it in his mouth, eats as usual. And just as the conversation is beginning to drift again, he finally speaks what's on his mind. "I'm bisexual," he's able to proudly state.

Maybe Eddie and Robin cheer, too for that. They ask him for his taste in guys. Maybe they tease him a little. Maybe Eddie realizes he fits the bill a little; maybe he waits a little bit before taking a shot, but he still does eventually.

And right before they head off for their respective, regular lives outside of the comfortable space of their apartment, Robin knocks their shoulders together. "Proud of you," she states. "Thirty-one and proudly out. How does it feel?"

They're in the kitchen, washing and drying the dishes because Eddie left for work already with a promise to bring home pizza for dinner. They're in the kitchen, the lights a little fluorescent like the Starcourt bathroom. They're in the kitchen, in each other's orbits, two friends who've seen it all and will continue to see the world together.

"It feels...I feel good. Excited."

Robin smiles at him, something soft and understanding. And as his focus goes back to the plate he's about to hand off, she snorts. "So, Eddie, huh?" And he scoffs, rolling his eyes. She just laughs to herself. Then, when she's calmed a little bit, she states, "He kind of looks like Rowlf. You and I have a thing for Muppets, Stevie. Muppets."

And after their laughter dies down and they live out the rest of the day, Steve thinks about how he can send a letter of thanks to George Michael. And maybe he cherishes those albums a little closer. And he is confident in himself for the first time in a while, all because the representation he didn't know he was seeking, is finally right in his face.

Sorry that got long. But I'm just thinking about Steve who comes out later in his life. Maybe he couldn't make those connections because he didn't have the safe atmosphere to do so; feared the worst if his parents ever realized he didn't care too much about women sometimes, if his eyes drifted to men a little too much, fearing that they'd catch his contemplation. Maybe he found his safe space through Robin and Eddie, but needed a little more of a push and he just didn't find it yet. Up until now.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

The assistant

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this one shot of Lewis x assistant, ngl I was blushing so hard writing the last part. If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

The moment I stepped into Ferrari’s Maranello headquarters, I knew my life was about to change. The air buzzed with a mixture of history and ambition, the scent of oil and polished metal filling my lungs as I hurried down the halls, clutching my tablet and notepad close to my chest. Today was my first official day as Lewis Hamilton’s new assistant, and I was determined to make a good impression.

It still felt unreal. Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, the man whose posters had covered my childhood bedroom, was now my boss. I had been warned—he was meticulous, demanding, and didn’t suffer fools lightly. The fact that I was young, inexperienced, and admittedly not the brightest when it came to all things technical probably didn’t help my case. But I was dedicated, eager to learn, and I refused to let anyone down, least of all him.

I reached his office and knocked twice, heart hammering in my chest.

“Come in,” came his deep, smooth voice.

I stepped inside, nearly tripping over my own feet in the process. “Good morning, Mr. Hamilton!” I chirped, a bright smile plastered on my face.

His eyes flicked up from his laptop, sharp and assessing. Even seated, he radiated effortless charisma. The Ferrari red suited him, adding a new edge to his presence that was almost overwhelming.

“It’s just Lewis,” he corrected, leaning back in his chair. “And you are?”

“Oh! Right. I’m Y/N. Your new assistant.” I held out a hand, which he shook briefly, his grip warm and firm.

His lips twitched. “You seem… enthusiastic.”

“I am!” I nodded eagerly. “I won’t let you down. I have your schedule ready, your coffee order memorized, and I even took the liberty of organizing your inbox.”

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement crossing his features. “Organized my inbox? That’s ambitious.”

“I color-coded it,” I said proudly.

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Alright, Y/N. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The weeks passed in a blur of early mornings, frantic note-taking, and adjusting to the fast-paced world of Ferrari. Lewis was… intense. Every meeting, every training session, every interview had to be managed with absolute precision. But he was also patient in his own way, never raising his voice even when I fumbled through things or had to ask the same question twice.

What I hadn’t expected was how easy it was to be around him. Beneath his disciplined exterior, there was a warmth, a dry sense of humor that surfaced when we were alone. I found myself looking forward to our moments between obligations—the brief exchanges of banter, the way his lips curled when I made a silly mistake, his teasing remarks about my tendency to trip over my own feet.

And then there were the looks.

At first, I thought I was imagining it. The way his gaze lingered a second too long when I handed him his morning coffee. How his eyes darkened when I absentmindedly chewed on my pen during meetings. The barely-there smirk whenever he caught me flustered, which, unfortunately, was often.

I told myself it was nothing. He was Lewis Hamilton—he could have any woman he wanted. Why would he be interested in his clueless, bumbling assistant?

But then, one evening, he shattered all my illusions.

It was late. The Ferrari offices were nearly empty, the only sounds coming from the hum of overhead lights and the occasional rustle of papers as I went through the last of Lewis’s schedule for the following day.

He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher.

“You don’t have to stay this late, you know,” he murmured.

I glanced up, blinking. “Oh, I don’t mind! I just wanted to make sure everything is perfect for tomorrow.”

He exhaled, a hint of exasperation in his gaze. “You work too hard.”

I grinned. “So do you.”

For a long moment, he didn’t respond. The silence stretched between us, thick with something unspoken. Then, in a move that sent my pulse skyrocketing, he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered, tracing lightly along my jaw.

My breath caught. “L-Lewis?”

He let out a quiet chuckle, his eyes dark, unreadable. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?”

I swallowed hard, my thoughts a jumbled mess. “I—um—I don’t—”

His fingers ghosted down my arm, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Every time you walk into a room, all sweet and eager to please, I have to remind myself you’re off-limits.”

A shiver ran down my spine. My mouth was dry. “Am I?”

His jaw clenched, his grip tightening just slightly. “I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.”

“But?” I whispered, emboldened by the way his breath hitched at my voice.

His eyes flicked to my lips, then back up. “You make it very hard to be good.”

A flush spread down my neck. My heart pounded against my ribs as he took a step closer, the air between us crackling with tension. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of his cologne mixed with something unmistakably male.

He sighed, raking a hand through his curls before stepping back. “Go home, Y/N. Before I do something we both regret.”

I bit my lip, nodding as I gathered my things, but as I walked out, I knew one thing for certain: resisting this temptation was only getting harder for both of us.

Next part

[heliza24]

I want to talk a little bit about Daniel in the Interview with the Vampire show, because the new trailer material has me stuck thinking about him, and also I’ve never written about how meaningful he is as disabled character to me before.

I don’t see many people thinking about show!Daniel in these terms, but he’s a canon disabled character. And I think the way he is written is just SO good. The acerbic wit, his relationship to doctors and his medication, his rueful acceptance of the way his disability has changed him. It is all so correct!! It’s really incredibly rare to have not only a disabled character written this well but specifically a chronically ill character written this well. His illness is always present; it doesn’t get forgotten about by the story. It gives Daniel insight into the vampires (more on this in a min), but it also gives Louis and Armand leverage over him. When Louis triggers his Parkinson’s symptoms? Deeply not ok. But that’s what made it such a great scene, and really made Louis feel dangerous and threateningin that moment. Armand and Louis arranging Daniel’s meds is a sign of great care and also great power over Daniel. It’s the perfect way to communicate the complicated power dynamic in their relationship.

I also just fucking love that this show takes place in 2022 and doesn’t erase the pandemic. Covid is a very present concern for Daniel and I cannot describe how validating that is for me as someone who is clinically vulnerable to Covid and who has had to really limit my life and take a lot of precautions because everyone else has decided to stop caring whether they pass on Covid or not. The fact that Daniel gets on a plane to Dubai is a BIG DEAL. He’s risking his life to talk to Louis and Armand before he’s even in the room with them. He really wants to be there. I have to make a similar calculation every time I travel, and trust me, getting on that plane knowing getting sick could spiral you into even worse health or kill you is really hard.

I think making Daniel disabled and including the pandemic is kind of a genius level decision on a thematic level. Of course Daniel is now facing down his mortality, which gives him a whole new lens on the vampires and the fact that he once asked them to turn him. And the pandemic further highlights his fragility, and is also possibly being used as a cover for drama that’s happening in the vampire world. But I think it also really sets Daniel up as a foil to Louis.

There’s a lot of analysis of the vampire chronicles that reads vampirism as a metaphor for queerness. But I would actually propose that it’s a much neater parallel for disability and illness in a lot of ways. So many of Louis’s initial experiences after being turned resonated with me, as someone who became chronically ill in my 20s. My appetite and relationship to food completely changed, much like Louis. My relationship with the outdoors and the sun changed, because of dysautonomia and allergy reasons. I was very mad, and very depressed, and I too have missed out on birthday parties and big life events like Louis did because I was too sick to go. Hell, you can even say that the way that Louis is treated as evil by his family, that the way vampires literally can’t be a part of society during the day, is reminiscent of ableist exclusion and ugly laws. (Ugly laws were laws that forbid disabled people, especially those with visible differences, from being out in public, and they were on the books in many American municipalities until the 1970s.) You can look at Lestat being an out and proud vampire in the first few episodes on the season and imploring Louis to leave his shame behind as a queer thing, but you can also view it as a disabled thing. Disabled people are portrayed as monstrous so often (and in a way that has gone relatively unexamined compared to say, the queer coded villain trope) that sometimes it’s just easier to embrace that label: I’m the monstrous Crip, but at least I’m not ashamed of or disgusted by who I am anymore.

I do think the real strength of this adaptation is that while you can find parallels between queerness or disability or other forms of marginalization with vampirism, ultimately it’s not a one-to-one parallel. It speaks to the real world but ultimately it is a gothic horror story about supernatural monsters. So I don’t mean to say that vampirism directly equals disability, because it does not. But I do think that making Daniel disabled was an intentional choice to help draw out some of those parallels, and I think the text is richer for it.

So Louis and Daniel have had these kind of parallel experiences of uncontrollable and difficult things happening to their bodies. It sets them up perfectly as foils, and even, I would argue, as the A plot and B Plot protagonists. This is one of my favorite ways of kind of examining the structure of a TV show (or maybe it’s that most of my favorite shows seem to be structured this way?). When TV was all episodic, it would be common to refer to the A plot (mystery of the week), B plot (interpersonal drama happening as the mystery gets solved) and C plot (any overarching plot tying the season together) in an episode. Now that stuff is serialized, there’s often a main protagonist, who has the main dramatic question and the most agency, and then there is often a secondary B plot that explores similar themes and mirrors the A plot, or presents a second main character who is the ldifferent side of the same coin” to the main protagonist. (My favorite example of this is Flint and Max in Black Sails, and I’ve also made the argument that Wilhelm and Sara fit this pattern in Young Royals.) In IwtV, Louis is obviously the main protagonist of the show, especially in the A Plot, which is the stuff taking place in New Orleans/Paris. But I would argue that Daniel is the protagonist of the B Plot set in Dubai. At the very least they’re intentionally set up as mirrors of each other:

They are both unreliable narrators, who are struggling with the way memory contorts (through memory erasure, illness, deliberate obfuscations, and just the passage of time). The most recent teaser trailer, where we hear Louis saying “I don’t remember that”, with panic in his voice, further underlined this similarity between Louis and Daniel to me. I don’t know if it means that Louis has also had his memory tampered with, as I’m assuming Daniel has, but I do think it means that Louis is going to be struggling with feeling out of control of his own narrative more in season 2, a thing that was already starting for Daniel in season 1.

They are also both locked into power struggles with people more powerful than they are. The fact that Louis is under Lestat in the flashbacks and above Daniel in the Dubai scenes in terms of power/status makes it all the more interesting. And, if we want to go ahead and assume that the Devils Minion’s years have happened in the past by the time we get to Dubai— it’s possible that both Daniel and Louis are united in being the less powerful partner in their own respective fucked up gothic romances.

They’re also both the audience’s entry point into their respective stories. Louis’s narration guides us into the world of vampires. Daniel’s questioning satisfies our human curiosity in Dubai.

I think one of the things that makes the show so special is the way that these two protagonists interact. In a lot of shows the a plot and the b plot stay pretty separate. I love talking about Black Sails for this because I think it’s such a good example; Flint and Max never exchange dialogue the entire show, even though they’re so clearly affecting each other the whole time. But the way that Louis and Daniel clash in Dubai is so exciting. We see them both wrestling for control of the narrative. It’s thrilling to watch and it just hammers home the theme of how complicated and changeable stories can be.

I am SO excited to see how the Dubai scenes play out in season 2 because of it. I really can’t wait. I’m really hoping we’ll see Daniel and Louis’s relationship evolve in surprising ways, and I’m holding my breath that we’ll get a lot of Armandaniel material to work with. (I have a whole other post drafted that’s much less smart than this one and is just me waxing poetic about Devil Minion’s theories which I may post at some point. You have been warned.)

I do have two wishes for Daniel in the new season, and they’re 1: that he gets to have romance/sex, because disabled (and older!) characters are so often seen as unworthy of being desired, and I would like to see that challenged and 2: that he continues to refuse to be turned/is not offered a vampiric cure for Parkinson’s. The magic cure for a disability or chronic illness is probably my least favorite disability trope, because it serves to erase disabled characters and representation from the narrative, and I want to see my experiences continue to be reflected in Daniel’s. That means that whatever ending Daniel’s story has will probably have at least a bit of tragedy baked into it, but I’m ok with that.

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override (bonus chapter three) - In the Modern World

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I knew I wanted to do a fun bonus chapter after part seven, but I wasn't sure what about. Then came this music video, with this feral slimey cat, and the rest is history. Not to mention this brilliant anon further fueled the idea for the plot!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Seems so hard just to be If it matters You complete me 🦎

This is set between part two and part three of the story. Right after the rumours of the reader with Jacob surface and she clarifies to Ewan that it's all just PR, and before he gets boozy and sends the voicemail.

Ewan

Martin’s room is typical of any unemployed and aimless outcast in their late 20s. Particularly, one with a penchant for conspiracy theories, reptilian critters, diorama building, and surface-level anarchy. 

“So he’s just like a regular guy,” Ewan jokes, making the director Luna laugh. 

“Sure, I bet this is how your own room is like back in… Derby, was it?”

“Yeah,” Ewan nods. “I actually have a place here in London now, too. The room is the same. But I’ve got more than one lizard.”

“Good one, mate,” she claps him on the back, before walking further into the room. She stops in front of the craggly stands that Martin passes off a workstation. “Here is where he keeps his pets. As you know, he’s got spiders, iguanas, and the rogue chinchilla.”

“Look at that little guy,” Ewan stoops down to inspect the grey rodent. “You lost there, buddy?”

“That one is our cameraman Eddie’s,” she remarks. “The bugs - we borrowed from the local habitat. All under code, of course.”

“Mmm,” he looks around the room. Maroon sheets, used up art supplies like glue and various unclean brushes, pieces of silver wire, old cables, duct tape, painted figurines, a scattering of old tickets for an underground fighting ring. Propped up on the headboard of his bed is a stolen street sign. On the wall is an assortment of posters - some of bands, some of comic strips, but mainly just scraps of art Martin finds from the internet. A rabid dog with its teeth bared. Grotesque humanoid figures. 

Standard, regular pictures. 

“You like the posters?” Luna notices him perusing the wall. “You know, I had the idea of incorporating something you like here. Maybe a band or… you like Metallica, I heard?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I love them. So I get to choose a poster that would fit Martin?”

“Sure,” she shrugs. “Something that represents both yourself and Martin, why not? Make up a backstory for it. It can be anything you set your mind to, really. Let’s start with - what would you have on your wall?”

He considers just taking her up on her suggestion of Metallica, maybe a live image of the band in their 2009 Mexico show. But he didn’t want to settle on that idea just yet. What is he fixated on at the moment? What film, what song, what popular character…

Then it strikes him, causing the blood to rise to the surface of his pale cheeks. Of course. There is you. 

But if he props up a full-blown image of you, just you, maybe from a photoshoot or a candid photograph, would that be too much? Would he be crossing the line?

Last he heard from you, he found out that the supposed relationship you have with Jacob Elordi is but a ruse for the sake of publicity. Thank the gods, as Aegon screamed before Aemond set him ablaze. 

But in this instance, Ewan’s relief is not entirely unfounded. You aren’t with anyone. He knows he should make a move, a proper one, and not just drop hints of his admiration in interviews like the one he just did for Vanity Fair. But what can he do? You’re all the way across the Atlantic, far from his desperate reach. 

As selfish as it sounds, he couldn’t bear the thought of hearing you’re with someone else and knowing it’s true. The confession is yet to stumble out of him, but he knew he was already yours. 

He calls you whenever he can, whenever he misses you, which is quite often, as evidenced by the lengthy log of long-distance calls on his phone, from England to America. 

“What about something House of the Dragon related?” he asks. “Could serve as a nice easter egg for the fans, if they see this.” 

“I don’t see why not? If you can convince us of Martin’s motivation for it, of why he would put that poster on his wall, then we can add it right away.”

He smiles shyly, glancing down at his sneakers. He knows his own motivation for putting your image up on his wall, but what about Martin’s? He tests some ideas out, gauging Luna’s reaction, “What if he’s a sci-fi, fantasy fanatic? If he’s a devout follower of George RR Martin, and so… naturally, he had a look at House of the Dragon as well?”

She purses her lips, tilting her head in thought. “That’s something right there, yeah. But we kind of saw him as being against television, you know? Against popular media in general, and he's a guy with an affinity for obscure dark video games and comic books.”

“Hmm, yeah, yeah,” he does his best to form the proposition in his mind. How does he offer the suggestion without being too obvious? “So what if, you know, he happened to see this one character in the show, and he’s just enamoured with them for some reason? This makes it remarkable, because he does admire her, but as an act of rebellion, he still doesn’t watch the show and only bothers himself with her scenes and the art style to her character, and - ”

“Wait, her?” Luna smiles, her confusion dwindling. She’s heard the rumours. Or fan theories. Or whatever the kids call it nowadays. She hasn’t been living under a rock, and Ewan definitely hasn’t kept mum about his crush either. 

“Yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck, unable to look her directly in the eye, “I was thinking of having a poster for a character from the show.”

“I thought you wanted a poster of a dragon or something,” she jokes. “So, which character? Apologies, I’m not too familiar with a lot of them.” Ewan would recognise the knowing glint in her gaze, if he wasn’t too busy pretending to inspect a scrap of faux moldy wallpaper sticking out of the wall. Set design really outdid themselves in the details, all to give the impression that Martin is a negligent slob.

“Uhhm,” he dithers, a crooked smile breaking out despite him chewing on his bottom lip, “she’s, uhhh, one of the new characters this season.”

“Oh?” she plays along, nodding, “Which one? From what I saw, there’s two camps, right? And your camp is green, is she in that?”

“No, actually,” he shakes his head, “she’s in the opposing team, you could say.”

“That’s interesting,” she nods, slowly, trying to encourage him to simply spit it out. “You know, Ewan, mate, if you don’t actually tell me which character you want to put up, then this poster idea isn’t going to work out.”

His gaze snaps back to her, and he awkwardly titters under his breath. “Right, right. Uhhm, she’s called Alyna… Alyna Rivers.”

Luna’s mouth forms an O, as if she’s enjoying this little gotcha moment. She realises that Ewan, while reserved, wears his heart on his sleeve. What a lucky girl you are. 

“And… why would Martin want her specifically up on his wall?” 

The emphasis on Martin came off as superficial, her tone humorous, leading Ewan to believe that she actually pertains to him and not the character.

“He might see her as some sort of muse, you know… she’s a fighter, she’s got a fire in her…”

“And he’s got a crush on her.”

“Oh… well…”

“He likes her.”

“Uhhh… yeah I guess…”

“You guess?” she raises her eyebrows, grinning, “come on Ewan, what does Martin feel about her?”

“She’s his… his ray of light,” he decides. “His world is a mess. He’s lost. His one release entails getting beat up bloody every other day. But the idea of her is his beacon of hope. Untainted, you know. She’s… she’s perfect. She wouldn’t hurt him like the rest of the world already has.”

Luna nods in understanding, satisfied. She casually slings an arm over his shoulder, then says, “You know something, mate? That sounds a lot more than a crush to me.”

“Mmm,” he smiles, agreeing, the welcome image of you flooding his mind like always, “it sure does.”

The entire cast and crew for In the Modern World have the subsequent three days to accomplish filming.

Ewan sits in the makeup trailer, awaiting his cue, his vision now impaired by the unkempt strands of his long black wig. Spiky grunge cuffs decorate his wrists. He wears an ill-fitting pair of jeans and a t-shirt, the costume for the first scene to be filmed. 

He has already gone through the process of trying to get in Martin’s head, seeing what makes him tick, what drives his actions, priming himself to jump inside his skin. He’s ready. At this point during filming, he has the habit of eliminating any distraction to maintain focus, and his phone is tucked inside his backpack on airplane mode. 

Defying his routine, he retrieves his phone, nervous fingers clicking away until they land on your contact. He hovers over the voice call option, opting at the last second to do a video call instead. 

The front camera turns on, catching him off guard with how messy he appears. Maybe this was not the best idea, he falters, what am I doing? I’m gonna scare her off.

“Ewan?” It’s too late to change his mind when your cheerful voice answers, your expression curious and inviting. His ray of light. “Is that you?”

He timidly brushes his hair - his wig - away from his face. “Hello, darling. I thought I’d ring you for a second.”

You laugh openly, drawing your face closer to your phone to get a better look at him, “Are you shooting the music video right now? Oh my god, look at you!”

He smiles sheepishly, teeth clamping over his bottom lip. “What do you think?”

“Wow,” you shake your head, the sunlight reflecting on your face from wherever you are. Likely walking around outside the studio, as he spots the white buildings in the background. “You look so… cool. This is like Aemond in the modern world, rebelling against his mother with the help of cheap hair dye.”

He appreciates your clever assessment, feeling much better about himself. “Don’t I look shabby?”

“Ewan,” you click your tongue, “judging by what you told me about your character, I think you’re supposed to look shabby.”

You’re right. He shakes his head, mostly at himself, for being so concerned if you still find him attractive even in this get-up.

“I feel like Kirk Hammett. Very rock n’ roll.”

You smirk, “I’d say this is your hottest look yet.”

He blushes profusely. You think he looks hot. It may just be a passing quip, a casual thing to say, but it has him in a grip. His reaction would nearly rival that of Martin’s, who would probably jump right on to making a mini-figurine of Alyna. After just a single interaction with you, Martin would probably spend the next few weeks occupied with objectionable fantasies. You and him, rolling around in the car. Only, car jitsu wouldn’t be the physical activity at play. 

Ewan shifts in his seat, adjusting his trousers. In the end, he’s no better than Martin after all. 

“Ewan?”

“Oh sorry, darling, I was just - ”

“I said that I have to go back inside,” you say, “I do appreciate your call, though.”

His face falls, despite the fact that he has to be on set soon anyway. “Of course, darling, go ahead.”

“Kick some ass for me?”

For you? Anything. “You got it, baby.” The name jumps out of him before he can stop himself, and he justifies it as a ‘Martin’ reaction. He’s in character, isn’t he?

You roll your eyes. It is your turn to blush and fail at hiding it, and you do. “Okay, rockstar. Talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, then adds, “Wait!”

You raise your phone again. “Oh, what is it?”

“I, uhhh, I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you smile, and he commits the image to memory. This moment is his, just his; Martin can bloody wait. 

Martin

Martin throws himself down on his bed, limbs limp and flailing about. It must have been the hundredth time for that afternoon -  getting up, rolling back on the mattress, prodding his pets, jumping around the room to incoherent punk music, cigarettes burning out between his chapped lips. 

He has nothing to do today, not until it’s time. Just like every other day, every other week, in this drudgery of an existence. Everything means nothing, and the twisted truth of it is that he thinks himself free. 

Free of the cycle. Free of meaningless friendships. Free of love. Free of her.

The ghost of his ex-lover still haunts him, golden haired and rosy-cheeked, bundled up in her puffy coat like some cheap caricature of an angel. But she was no angel. Angels would not abandon someone they claim to love, with a mere snap of their manicured fingers. 

But she haunts him. What they had, and what they could have had. Was it even his? Would it have come out with a thin sprig of dark curls? He did not care to know now. 

She was his everything once. But isn’t that overrated? Falling in love is so overrated. 

His fingers clumsily mess with the controls for his toy helicopter as he lays down. The apparatus hovers above head, filling the room with a buzzing noise. His lit cigarette stumbles from his lips, and the noise is joined with his frantic, fuck, fuck, fuck, as he tries to shake it out of his hair. He succeeds, but the helicopter teeters in the air, until it slams against the poster of Alyna Rivers displayed over his headboard.

He lets it fall, becoming distracted with her image. It’s a promotional still of her in her complete hunting attire - a fitted leather jerkin over a dark red tunic, tight breeches tucked into knee-high boots, a dagger sheathed in her belt. But his favourite addition is the longbow she grips in her hand, her fierce expression making it known that she is prepared to draw it back at a moment’s notice. 

Martin gets on his knees on the bed. He kisses two fingers, then gently touches them to her poster in a gesture of reverence. 

If only…

“Good morrow, my lady,” he says in a sing-song voice, “always a pleasure to come upon your visage.”

He leans closer, tracing her figure with precision, “I bet you can fix me. I bet you can make me feel alive.” 

He chases after euphoria that night, over and over, fucked up and depraved and empty. But it hits different this time. It’s better.

As white spots flicker and dance in his vision, and the fog in his mind threatens to swallow everything, it’s not the vision of his ex that flashes before him - it’s Alyna he sees. 

Her face is sharp and real, cutting through the haze like a beacon. She holds him together as exhaustion takes over him and the oxygen is slowly cut off from his windpipe. She anchors him, even on the precipice of oblivion.

The opponent is alarmed by Martin’s eyes rolling back revealing the whites of his eyes. He loosens his hold, letting go even if Martin refuses to tap out. 

“Fuck, you alright?” he rasps. 

Martin doesn’t hear him. His bloodstained, cracked lips curl into a ghost of a smile as his hand trembles, reaching out to press against the fogged-up windshield. 

With a fragile sense of peace, he murmurs, “You fixed me.”

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

I know I said I would include the reader's reaction to the music video, but I decided to use the time to work on part eight... I still might get to writing this idea as a drabble though 🤷🏻‍♀️

Not Ewan having beef with his own character HAHAHA this lad I swear

Part eight out very, very soon! It'll be a wild ride. Oh, I'm not even kidding :)

[ppyopulii]

maestro’s muse 💿 interview no. 13

PREVIEW. Has HYBEHAX always been this… unserious?

FEATURING. lee jihoon x gn!reader, various non-idol!hybe groups & reader GENRE(S). coming of age, fluff, some angst LENGTH | WC. <10min | 2.2k words EXPLICITS. soonyoung is chaotic. & i guess one (1) curse word

JAY’S MUSINGS. prologue (part two) for maestro’s muse, the series. not every part will be written in screenplay, just like how not every part will be written in smau format, just like how not every part will be written in prose, etc etc... just havin’ fun writing (: enjoy!

www.hybehax.tech/interview

THE INTERVIEW FADE IN.

A cozy dorm room lined with comforting trinkets. The digital clock sitting on a neatly stacked shelf indicates it's almost half past seven o'clock. It’s quiet in the shared bedroom, and YOU (college freshman, music fanatic, prospective HYBEHAX organizer) sit at the desk, nervously tugging on your bottom lip with your teeth.

A monitor shows the join feature of a Zoom call. YOU stare back at yourself through the small camera screen displayed.

There’s a soft ping from a notification. A pause, and then YOU take a deep breath and click the join button.

On the screen, SEUNGCHEOL (college junior, President of HYBEHAX, mutual acquaintance of YOU) smiles at you from his impressive HD face-cam.

SEUNGCHEOL Hello, we’ll get started in just a minute. Soonyoung is having some difficulty logging on.

Shuffling noises sound from another screen. JIHOON (college sophomore, Internal Vice President of HYBEHAX, music theory classmate of YOU) grumbles under his breath.

JIHOON (irritated) You’d think with this being his thirteenth interview he’d have gotten the hang of it now.

SEUNGCHEOL (warning) Jihoon.

JIHOON mumbles a sorry and mutes. A minute passes and SOONYOUNG (college sophomore, External Vice President of HYBEHAX, friend of YOU) pops up on-screen, face grainy from bad internet.

SOONYOUNG Hi! Nice to see you!

YOU (warmly) Hey, Soonyoung. Still doing alright in your math classes?

SOONYOUNG (groaning) Not the same without you, man. You actually carried me through calculus.

YOU Aren’t you just in business statistics now? How hard can that be?

SOONYOUNG Don’t ask.

There’s a few coughs from SEUNGCHEOL. Conversation dies down and SEUNGCHEOL moves his camera to center himself on screen.

SEUNGCHEOL Alright, hello and welcome to your HYBEHAX organizer interview! Thank you for taking the time to apply; we were impressed by your application. Now that we’re here, think of this as a time for us to get to know each other, and for you to ask us any questions you have.

SOONYOUNG (interjecting) It’s really lowkey, don’t worry.

SEUNGCHEOL clicks his tongue. SOONYOUNG giggles and mutes.

SEUNGCHEOL We’ll start with a round of introductions. I’m Choi Seungcheol, a rising senior and double major in computer science and mathematics. I’m also the current President of HYBEHAX. I run pretty much… everything? Let’s see… uh, I’ve been an organizer of HYBEHAX since I was a sophomore, but I’ve been involved with hackathons since I was fifteen. I actually remember trying to code my first project in that 24-hour period. Even though I barely had any idea what I was doing, all the organizers and my teammates were so nice. Made me feel really welcomed.

YOU (smiling from ear-to-ear) Fifteen? That’s some serious dedication, I respect it. What drew you to want to be HYBEHAX’s President?

SEUNGCHEOL’s lips part in an ‘o’, like he’s surprised YOU asked a question.

SEUNGCHEOL Well… I guess you can say I’ve grown attached? The people that I’ve met and grown with through HYBEHAX have really made my college years worth it. That, and I want to be able to keep organizing a space that made me feel as safe as I did as a kid.

YOU Yeah, I understand. That’s really admirable, congratulations!

SEUNGCHEOL Thank you, that means a lot. I really hope I can continue to make this upcoming hackathon worthwhile to attend, especially since it’ll be my last year being an organizer.

SOONYOUNG unmutes.

SOONYOUNG And it’s our 10th year!

SEUNGCHEOL (laughing, albeit stressed) Yeah, that too. Ah… how could I forget?

A tense silence falls on the four. YOU shift your focus to SOONYOUNG to alleviate the tension.

YOU Wanna introduce yourself next?

SOONYOUNG Oh! Yeah, I can. You already know me, but I’m Soonyoung, EVP of HYBEHAX. I manage all the external affairs, like talking to building managers for renting and university officials for fundings of our hackathon. I’ve been organizing for awhile too, like Cheol-hyung, and I’m super excited for this year!

YOU (joking) You, trusted with money?

SOONYOUNG (mock offense) Yah, I’m literally a business major!

YOU Yeah yeah, whatever. What’s been your favorite part?

SOONYOUNG’s eyes light up.

SOONYOUNG Shopping!

YOU Shopping?

SOONYOUNG For the hackathon! I’m in charge of it.

SEUNGCHEOL (exasperated) With my card.

YOU watch JIHOON snort silently. He unmutes.

JIHOON You get reimbursed by the university, at least.

SEUNGCHEOL (sulking) But does he have to do it with my card?

SOONYOUNG You’re the president!

JIHOON rolls his eyes and scoffs good-naturedly.

JIHOON Hey, we’re in an interview right now.

SOONYOUNG (dismissively) So what? We all know them, and they know us. We worked with them last season when they were a volunteer.

YOU raise an eyebrow.

YOU Shouldn’t we at least try to maintain some formality though? Just for record’s sake?

SEUNGCHEOL …they have a point. Jihoon, go ahead and introduce yourself and we’ll actually start asking questions.

JIHOON Hi. My name is Lee Jihoon, I’ll be your Internal Vice President. Rising junior, computer science major. I work specifically on the inner-running logistics of HYBEHAX.

YOU nod and go silent at his lackluster introduction. SEUNGCHEOL chuckles.

SEUNGCHEOL Ah… Jihoon-ah is what keeps this club running. Think of him as the maestro conducting the orchestra—his back is to you but he’s secretly doing all the work.

SOONYOUNG (laughing) You’re making him sound like he does more than you.

JIHOON presses a palm to his face. His facecam slightly lags, blipping the view for a second.

SEUNGCHEOL (clearly enjoying the teasing) Well, at this point he basically does. Once I graduate he’ll be first runner up for President.

SOONYOUNG grins. His camera goes slightly out of focus as he rocks back and forth in his chair.

YOU Well, it’s nice to meet you Jihoon.

JIHOON Likewise.

There’s a beat of silence as YOU and JIHOON stare each other down via webcam. His gaze is sharp, meticulous. Yours is relaxed with a hint of a smile.

SOONYOUNG So formal. Why don’t you go next?

YOU Alright… hi everyone! Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I’m a computer science major with a focus in front-end development, but I hope career-wise to go into front-end regarding data science. I was a volunteer this past fall for HYBEHAX and I really loved helping with the event, so I want to try my hand at organizing this year.

SOONYOUNG You were running around like crazy during the event. I think I saw you like, twice?

YOU (laughing awkwardly) Yeah… the last Marketing Team lead kind of recruited me. I ran around with them a lot getting pictures.

SEUNGCHEOL (amused) I specifically remember you during the welcoming speech. The President and I were trying to talk into the mic and you kept telling us to move slightly to the left ‘cause it looked better on camera that way.

YOU Hey! Because of me we had great shots. We can use these for marketing this time around.

SOONYOUNG Oh? You sure you don’t wanna be a part of Marketing Team?

YOU Oh, hell no. 

SEUNGCHEOL and SOONYOUNG burst into laughter. The corner of JIHOON’s lips crack open to reveal a small smile.

SEUNGCHEOL Relax, the Marketing Team Lead from last year left. Our Lead this year will be a lot better.

YOU Glad to hear that.

SEUNGCHEOL Are there any questions you have for us before we get into the specifics of your role?

YOU No, not that I can think of.

SEUNGCHEOL Sounds good! If there are any questions you have along the way, feel free to ask.

SOONYOUNG (raising his hand, not unlike a too-excited kid in school) I have a question!

Metaphorical lights dim. YOU fidget with the hem of your shirt. JIHOON bites his lip to fight a smirk.

JIHOON Yah, you’re the EVP, not Pres.

SEUNGCHEOL (skeptically) No, go ahead Soonyoung.

SOONYOUNG What made you choose Design Team instead of Tech? You’re a CS major, aren’t you?

YOU smile, as if expecting this question.

YOU I did briefly mention this in my application, but I feel like the integration between the arts and technology is so important to cherish and understand these days. Bridging that gap between two worlds that are seemingly unrelated is what I want to do—technology can be used to create art, and art can be used to create technology. It’s all relative, I feel.

JIHOON nods along appreciatively to your words. SEUNGCHEOL is listening intently.

SEUNGCHEOL As an organizer, you’re expected to specialize in your team’s work. You, on the other hand, have experience in multiple aspects—marketing, tech, design. Like Soonyoung said, we all saw how hard-working you were last season as a volunteer. We’d love for you to join us as a proper organizer for our 10th year.

YOU Thank you, that's very sweet of you. I'd be honored!

SOONYOUNG Oh, right. You said you’d be interested in being a Team Lead, too—are you still interested in that?

YOU Yeah, I think it would be fun. What specifically does Design Team Lead do?

SOONYOUNG You’ll be in charge of designating tasks to the members. Last season we only had, um, one member on Design Team. It was a lot and incredibly overwhelming and they quit. Understandably. So having someone who oversees everything would be preferable.

SEUNGCHEOL Yep, things like the sponsorship packet that goes out to sponsors, merchandise for the organizers and participants—those tasks wouldn’t necessarily be completed by you, but you would be in charge of making sure they’re getting done on time and in a professional manner.

YOU That sounds doable. If I’m being honest, I’d feel better managing tasks. I feel like I’d be pressured a lot to go above and beyond if I was just a regular organizer.

JIHOON Do you have experience in leadership?

YOU Only a little bit, but I’m definitely open to learning more, of course. I lead an outreach organization for my scholarship program.

SEUNGCHEOL (nodding along) Impressive.

SOONYOUNG We can call it, right? They’ll be our new Design Team Lead?

YOU Hey, I’d be down if you guys are down. This interview is more relaxing than I thought; barely even one at this point too.

JIHOON (shrugging) Only because we know you from the previous season.

YOU smile at him and JIHOON breaks eye contact.

YOU Question.

SEUNGCHEOL Yeah, what's up?

YOU Has HYBEHAX always been this… unserious?

SOONYOUNG Yes—

SEUNGCHEOL, JIHOON (simultaneously) No.

YOU Well. Glad to join the team anyways.

SOONYOUNG excitedly claps his hands. His screen lags.

SOONYOUNG Does that mean it’s a yes?!

YOU ‘Course. Anything for my calc buddy.

The man pumps a fist into the air and his webcam freezes. JIHOON audibly sighs.

JIHOON We’ll send you the contract via email soon. It just goes over more generalized rules about being an organizer—attending weekly meetings, making sure you keep up with your team, the usual.

SEUNGCHEOL Happy to have you!

YOU Thank you guys so much. I’ll be sure to not disappoint!

SOONYOUNG’s frames cut back into view. He’s peering at the camera and making gibberish noises.

SOONYOUNG Hello? Hell-oo? Can you guys hear me?

JIHOON (mumbling to himself) …and this is why he’s the EVP and not on Tech Team.

SEUNGCHEOL (exasperated fondness) Yes, Soonyoung, we can hear you.

SOONYOUNG Awesome! We’ll send you the paperwork right away so you can officially become an organizer!

JIHOON I already said that.

SOONYOUNG pouts and begins to whine, to which JIHOON huffs at. SEUNGCHEOL forcibly mutes them both.

SEUNGCHEOL

Anyway, I’ll also send you the Discord link to the server with the contract. That’s our main way of communication. As for the contract, it’s a PDF—you can sign it by like, opening it up in Adobe and using the pen tool. No need for fancy formalities.

YOU (laughing) Alright, sounds good. Thank you guys again for this opportunity!

SOONYOUNG is making cringey aegyo hearts at his camera. Your laptop begins to whirr softly from overheating.

SEUNGCHEOL Thank you for being interested in joining us. Details about our first meeting will be out soon. See you then, okay?

YOU See you then! Have a good night!

SEUNGCHEOL beams at YOU. YOU note his barely there dimple and fight back a smile.

On the other hand, JIHOON types a ‘Have a good night, thank you’ before promptly leaving the call. SOONYOUNG waves goodbye for an eternity before being kicked off by SEUNGCHEOL.

YOU wave and press the leave button. The call drops and your laptop quiets down. It’s suddenly silent in the bedroom, and YOU let out a yawn as YOU stretch your arms above your head.

YOU Welp. Design Team Lead, here I come.

FADE OUT. END.

[cindol]

જ⁀➴. ✶ smtnn’ about cynthia and ariana is just so fem reader and pro player!tashi coded to me . (i’m literally using any excuse to write more fem reader and tashi . )

ू❀    — fluff, tashi is single, reader is married, marital issues, slight angst,

you and tashi are both respected women in the field of tennis, something that was hard to achieve yet with hardwork and years of practice you both achieved that goal.

with the life of being succesful female tennis pro players there still was the cons of the rich athlete life, the toxic media and the public.

separately at interviews or big sporting events some interviewer would ask you or tashi a slick question, trying to make either one of you try to say who’s better of the two of you.

for tashi, she gives the most neutral but respectful response for you. “me and y/n are both in our own leagues, i have some traits in tennis y/n doesn’t have and she has some i don’t have either, i could never compare us when we have different ways that the two of us play tennis.” it was the most PR response from her but she meant those words.

in sporting events for you and tashi would somehow run into each other as always, giving the nice paparazzi a lovely photo of you both and even at the events you’d both find each other sitting at the same table while tennis player award nominations were announced.

you both passed off easy as just close friends that knew each other way back from highschool. You were married and fans had such high beliefs that you would never cheat.

but tashi was single and she wasn’t a woman who cared much about cheating when it came to you. Really, she didn’t give two shits about your husband.

she met him a couple times at dinners and events, and at his own wedding and the guy didn’t seem all that. But if you were happy, she was happy.

but still more happy when you both were in a lovers quarrel with your husband in the dog house. It meant she always woke up in her lonesome two story house to you calling her, needing comfort going through this.

as usual she would always say, “i wouldn’t want you just suffering alone in that house, i know he’s probably off somewhere in a hotel. Come over.” her usual harsh strict tone more soft.

tashi was happy when she opened her front door to you, dried tears on your face, your arms crossed and you were dressed in only a cream white long knitted sweater and shorts.

her usual furrowed brown brows were upturned. “hey, you okay?” it was a stupid question, of course someone who just got done crying with a miserable expression was okay but she still always asked when you were upset.

you shook your head. “don’t think so, i’m fucking like, recked at the moment actually.” you chuckled to yourself, coping over how such a small argument turned into your husband at a hotel and you standing here at your best friends doorstep.

tashi knew it all too well when it came to you. She stepped out of her home. “well you wanna talk about it or… eat some ice cream and watch that new romcom?”

you smiled along, the second option of sharing ice cream with a friend sounded better than talking about marital issues.

[pollka1]

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

Summary - Sam catches Josh just in time

⚠️ WARNING - Mentions of suicide ⚠️

Characters - Sam Giddings, Josh Washington

Genre - angst

Character speech is colour coded:

Red = Sam

Blue = Josh

Snow fell like ash. Thick and slow, smothering the bridge in a silence that had become unbearable.

Josh stood at the edge of the bridge near his house, just beyond the safety rail his father had paid a crew to install two summers ago. A precaution, Bob had said. For insurance, maybe. For peace of mind. As if iron bars could stop the kind of fall that mattered.

The wind bit at his cheeks, turning them red, but he didn't move. He hadn't moved for what felt like hours.

Behind him, the house windows glowed dimly. His parents were gone again—movie shooting in L.A., or maybe something in New York this time. He hadn’t asked. They left him with money, a half-stocked alcohol cabinet, and a prescription bottle with fewer pills than he remembered taking.

A month. A month since the mountain swallowed his sisters whole. A month of search parties, press releases, interviews, and false hope. A month of no closure. No bodies. No answers.

Just silence.

He stared into the white. The drop was steep. Clean. The cars below moved quickly, even with the snow in the way, but they’d do the job if a car were to hit him as he fell. Probably. He wasn’t sure if he wanted pain. Maybe it would be fair.

He pressed his fingers against the cold metal of the railing and closed his eyes.

He should’ve done something that night. Anything.

Instead, he’d passed out, blacked out on alcohol. By the time he’d come to, it was daylight, and everyone was still at the lodge.

“Josh.”

The voice snapped him out of it.

He turned, blinking against the wind. Sam stood there, bundled in a heavy jacket, cheeks flushed. Her boots crunched over the snow as she approached.

“How the hell did you—”

“Chris told me where you might go.” Her voice was calm, but her eyes flicked toward the edge. “You weren’t answering your phone.”

He scoffed, rubbing at his face. “Didn’t know I had to check in.”

“You don’t.” She took another step closer. “But it’s freezing out here, and you’ve been gone since this morning.”

He didn’t respond.

“Josh.” Her voice was gentler now. “Let's go inside.”

He looked at her. Really looked. And something in his chest cracked—like ice breaking under pressure.

“I can’t keep doing this, Sam.”

“I know.” She reached out, hand hovering near his arm but not touching. “But don’t do this. Not this way.”

He almost laughed. “Why not? Maybe it’d make things easier. For everyone.”

“No,” she said sharply, stepping between him and the edge. “Not for your parents. Not for Chris. Not for me.”

He was quiet for a long time. The only sound was the wind moving through the trees.

“Every night,” he whispered, “I close my eyes and I see them out there. Cold. Alone. I can't stop imagining my sisters are still out there...”

Sam’s eyes welled. She reached out, gently this time, hand curling around his wrist.

“You don’t have to be alone like this.”

Josh didn’t pull away from her touch, but he didn’t move either.

The wind howled behind them, rising like a scream through the trees, then vanishing into stillness again. Sam didn’t rush him. She stood there, holding his wrist, eyes not leaving his.

He felt the shaking in his hands before he noticed it. It started small—barely a tremble. But then it spread through his arms, into his chest, until his whole body buzzed like the strings of a piano hit too hard.

“I keep thinking,” he said hoarsely, “what if she ran because of me?”

Sam frowned. “Josh—”

“No, just—listen. Hannah liked Mike. Everyone knew that. I knew that. I should’ve known something like that would happen. I should’ve stopped it. I should’ve stopped them.” His voice cracked. “They all laughed. And I just let it happen.”

“You didn’t let anything happen,” Sam said, voice firm but kind. “You were passed out, remember? You didn’t even know.”

He tore his wrist free—not violently, but like it hurt too much to be held. He turned away from her, running a hand through his hair.

“I should’ve known. That’s the thing. I should’ve been watching them. I should’ve been watching her.”

Sam moved beside him, not touching him this time. “You loved them. That’s what matters.”

“What does that even mean?” His voice lifted, bitter now. “I loved them, yeah. So fucking much it hurts to breathe. And they’re still gone. My love didn’t stop anything. It didn’t save anyone.”

He dropped to his knees in the snow suddenly, hands covering his face, breath coming fast.

Sam hesitated for only a second before kneeling beside him. The snow soaked through her jeans, but she didn’t care.

“Josh…”

“I’ve tried,” he gasped. “I’ve tried everything. Pills. Talking to Alan. Pretending I’m fine so Mom doesn’t cry when she sees me. But nothing changes. Nothing gets better.”

He lifted his head. His eyes were red-rimmed, glassy. The most broken she’d ever seen him.

“They aren’t coming back. And I don’t want to be here if they’re not.”

There it was. The truth, raw and bleeding.

Sam didn’t say anything for a moment. Just breathed beside him, trying not to fall apart herself.

“You’re right,” she finally said. “They’re gone. And it hurts like hell. But you don’t have to go with them, Josh.”

He laughed bitterly. “Why not? What’s left?”

“I’m left.”

Her voice cracked on the words.

Josh stared at her.

“Chris is. Ashley. Your parents, even if they suck at showing it. I’m here, and I’m scared out of my mind that I almost lost you just now.”

She grabbed his hand again and this time he didn’t pull away.

“You think it would make things easier,” she whispered. “But it won’t. You’ll just pass the pain onto someone else. And then it never ends.”

“I’m tired, Sam.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“You don’t have to do it alone.”

They sat there in the snow for a long time. No more words. Just silence and breathing.

Eventually, she helped him up. He stumbled a little, but didn’t resist.

“Let’s go inside,” she said gently.

Josh looked one last time toward the edge.

Then he nodded.

...

The fire was out. The living room felt cold, even with the heat technically on. Josh sank into the couch while Sam threw more logs into the fireplace, hands slightly trembling as she struck a match.

“I’m making tea,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen.

Josh stared at the flames.

When she came back, she handed him a mug with both hands. Her fingers brushed his. He didn’t say thank you, but she didn’t expect him to.

They sat in silence for a while. The tea steamed between them. He didn’t drink his.

“I used to think,” Josh muttered, “that I was the protector. You know? The big brother. I was supposed to keep them safe.”

“You did protect them. All the time. Just… not that night.”

He flinched.

“Sorry,” Sam said quickly. “I just mean…you couldn’t have known. No one knew it would go that far.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself,” he whispered.

“You might not. But you can still survive it.”

He finally looked at her. “What if I don’t want to?”

She hesitated.

“Then I’ll sit with you anyway.”

He let out a long breath. Something close to a sob, but softer. He leaned his head back against the couch, eyes shut.

“I miss them so much.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t know how to not miss them.”

Sam leaned against his shoulder. “You don’t have to. Just keep breathing.”

He didn’t respond. But after a while, his head tilted slightly toward hers. Not quite leaning, but enough.

The fire hissed and crackled, throwing soft gold onto the walls and floor. Snow still fell outside, thick and silent. The tea in Josh’s mug had gone cold, untouched, resting on the coffee table.

Sam hadn’t moved from his side.

Josh stared into the flames, hands folded tightly in his lap. The silence between them was quieter now—less suffocating, more like breathing room. He hadn’t spoken in nearly fifteen minutes, and Sam hadn’t pressed him. She was just there.

And that mattered more than anything else.

Finally, his voice came—low and dry. “You know something funny?”

Sam glanced up. “What?”

He kept staring ahead. “Out of all of them…you're the only one who understands me.”

She was quiet.

He rubbed his hands together absently, skin pale from the cold, knuckles scraped raw. “Chris is my best friend, yeah. But he always laughs things off. Always changes the subject when things get serious. Ashley barely talks to me unless it was about Chris or something geeky. Jess never looked past herself. Emily...well, she liked Beth more.”

He swallowed hard. “But you…you listen. Like actually listen. Even when I don’t make sense. Even when I'm rambling about stuff that doesn’t matter to anyone but me.”

He turned his head slightly. His eyes were soft now—tired, red, but genuine.

“You didn’t laugh when I said I didn’t feel real sometimes. You didn’t look at me weird when I talked about how everything felt…fake. Like I was just going through the motions, trying to be someone everyone else could stand.”

Sam felt her throat tighten.

“I never said anything because… I didn’t want it to be a burden. You had your own shit. Everyone does. But somehow, you never made me feel like I was too much.” He gave a bitter chuckle. “Even when I was.”

“You weren’t,” she said quietly. “You aren’t.”

Josh shook his head slowly. “You say that now. But you don’t know what it’s like in here.” He tapped his temple. “It’s everything. The noise in my head, the emptiness when it’s quiet. The guilt. It doesn’t stop. I'm just sad all the time.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands buried in his hair.

“I wake up and I forget for a second. Just a second. And then I remember—they’re gone. I let them go. And then it all crashes down again.”

He looked at her, eyes shimmering with something between anger and despair.

“I want to scream. I want to punch a wall. I want to drink until I pass out and forget again. But none of it helps. Nothing helps.”

Sam’s eyes burned. She wanted to hold him, but she knew he wasn’t ready for that yet.

So instead, she said, “I can’t fix it, Josh. I wish to God I could. But I can sit here with you. I can keep showing up.”

“I don’t know how to let anyone in anymore.”

“You don’t have to know. Just…don’t push me out.”

He blinked at her, and something in him cracked—again.

“I don’t know why it matters so much, but it does,” he whispered. “That it’s you. That you’re here. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. I didn’t think anyone could see me like this and still give a damn.”

Sam smiled weakly, blinking away her tears. “Well, sorry to disappoint.”

He huffed out a sound that might’ve been a laugh. “You never do.”

They sat together, firelight dancing across their faces. The weight of the world hadn’t lifted, not even close—but Josh didn’t feel like he was suffocating under it anymore.

“I think if you hadn’t come out there tonight,” he said after a long pause, “I'd already be dead.”

Sam’s heart stopped. She didn’t respond right away. Just stared at him, her face crumpling slightly.

“Then I’m glad I found you.”

Josh turned toward her fully now, his voice barely a breath. “I meant it, you know. What I said. You’re the only one who ever saw me for me. Just…Josh.”

She reached over, fingers brushing lightly against his wrist again. “I see you, Josh. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He looked at her hand. Then at her.

And for the first time in a while, he finally had a reason to stay a little while longer.

[ghnosis]

Ghost PhD data update

howdy y'all! happy Pride :)

I have been hard at work "coding" the data from the 113 interviews I conducted last year with queer Ghost fans on Tumblr.

this means I am reading the interviews and describing the patterns and themes I see emerging in the data. I've completed the first pass of coding, meaning I have gone through all 113 interviews line by line to look for these patterns and themes and use this program to link them together.

I want to start giving preliminary numbers really bad, but! I need to clean up this data. I'm a human being, coding all these took weeks, and it's possible I made mistakes as I learned NVIVO (the quantitative analysis software I'm using). this is why I'll do multiple passes of all the data - to make sure I didn't misclick or read something wrong or otherwise make a mistake in the data.

here are some specific examples of what I mean by cleaning up mistakes in data (under cut, for nerds)

WE GOT.

typos!

duplicates! look at all those accidental AFABs and bisexuals my god

misfiled codes!

any code with a plus/minus sign (like sexuality in the above screenshot) is a "parent code," meaning it's a wider topic that contains several "child codes." in the case of sexuality, children mean the codes beneath it, like abrosexual or agender. in several cases if I was coding quickly, I didn't put the child codes in the right place, or I accidentally made things parent codes that shouldn't be. again in the above screenshot we can see that I accidentally made AFAB its own parent code (the one with the plus sign), and accidentally made 2 duplicate AFAB codes (AFAB (2) and AFAB (3)).

in the above example, what I'd do here is tell NVIVO that AFAB is not a parent code, but a child under "sexuality," and then merge those 3 AFABs and 2 bisexuals into their own categories.

after the first pass, I decided that pronouns should be a separate parent category to sexuality, so "any pronouns" will also be moving to a new home under "pronouns."

other examples of parent/child codes are things like other fandoms, other bands, Ghost songs, Nameless Ghouls, or Papas.

related to parent/child codes, we have stragglers!

in the above screenshot, Shakespeare's Sister, Sisters of Mercy, and Skillet are all other bands, and they need to be moved into the "other bands" parent.

[that-small-quackson1704]

The Rookie: Y/n Bradford Tim Bradford's Daughter Part 6

Part 1 And Part 2 And Part 3 And Part 4 And Part 5

Summary : You are y/n bradford and you passed the academy with full marks as you should well cuz ur a bradford so when you my first time in roll call you are coincidentally paired with Tim Bradford AKA your father and trust me.......he does not go easy on you but then you get a call from dispatch of a domestic call and it's kinda emotional for you and tim...

It was 2 weeks later and everything was going normal. Today after roll call we put the war bags and stuff in the shop and we were out on the streets then while dad was driving i wanted to turn the AC on, so I did.

T - hold on did i say u could turn the AC on!

Y/n. - well it's hot

T - then roll ur windows down jesus christ

Y/n - jesus christ

T - that attitude could get you grounded

Y/n - sry didn't you say two weeks ago that we have to forget we're even related on this job

T - ......

Y/n. - mmhhh

T - whatever just roll ur windows down

I roll my eyes and do as he says.

Dispatch - "7-Adam-19, 415 family, 1189 Echo Lane. RP reports loud yelling, possibly physical. Code 2 response."

T - 7-Adam-19, en route, Code 2.

I looked at dad and he just had a cold hard expression at the road while he was driving.

T - you ever heard of GMBIT

Y/n - yea um G stands for get inside M stands for make it safe B stands for be observant I stands for investigate and T take appropriate action

T - i didn't even tell you-

Y/n. - dad-i mean Sargent Bradford- you taught me that when i was 13

T - oh.....

Y/n - yeaaaa

We arrived at the house.

Y/n - 7-Adam-19, Code 6 at 1189 Echo Lane.

Tim. - if the situation gets out of hand then get a taser first not a gun or else it'll anger the suspect more

Y/n - got it

He knocks on the door, I stand on one side of it he stands on the other.

Tim - LAPD open up

He knocks on the door 3 times and a young girl who looks 15 opens it her eyes swollen from how much she's been crying

The girl - .....,my dad-he's in the kitchen-he's been drinking too much and he broke all our plates and bowl and glasses I locked myself upstairs until I heard you.

Y/n. - well you're safe now just stay here ok

Tim - alr now step 2 make it safe

We make our way into the kitchen taser's still high in our hands. The father is pacing, bleeding slightly from his hand, red-eyed and furious.

Tim - sir we need you to put the bottle down and show me your hands where i can them

Father - This is my house! I didn’t touch her!

Y/n - yea well the bruises and cuts by glass on her wrist says otherwise

Y/n. - Broken glass… fresh cut. Table’s been flipped. No weapons in sight. Scene’s chaotic but not active threat.

I whisper quietly to dad.

Tim - alr that was step 3 now step 4 investigate

Father - Well, well. LAPD sends me a model now? You’re too pretty for a badge, sweetheart.

He says turning to me but I still keep a serious face and he doesn't put the bottle back on the counter

Y/n - sir i'm gonna need you to put that bottle on the counter no-one needs to get hurt

Father - alr whatever you say ma

Tim - get your eyes off of her

Father - the hell you tell me to do

Tim - back off now

Dad says while I grab hold of my taser but its still in my duty belt. The father lunges towards dad and I finally get my taser out and tase him with it and he falls to the ground.

Tim - thx you ok after what that jerk said to u

Y/n - im fine dad i promise

Tim - 100%

Y/n - DAD

Tim - ok okk

Backup arrives and we escort the girl in shop and the father in the other.

We're at the station now and I'm interviewing the daughter with dad by my side.

Y/n - I’m Officer Bradford. Can I ask you a few questions about what happened between you and your father

The girl - He got drunk after my mom called. He started yelling, smashing things. Then… he said I looked like her. He said… gross things.

Tim - what kind of things

The girl - like um he said that i shouldnt be alive and i dont deserve to live and that he should of broke things up with mom before they had me and stuff like that

I was writing down notes

Y/n - That’s okay. You’re safe now. You did the right thing by calling us. I’m just going to take some notes so we can help you long-term, okay?

She nods

Tim - You don’t have to talk about everything. But anything you do say helps us protect you.

She nods again

The girl - there's also some other things

Y/n - go on

The girl - He started saying things a few months ago. At first, it was just… creepy compliments. Then it got worse. The looks. The way he touched my arm. I stopped wearing anything tight.

Y/N - You changed your clothes because of how he looked at you?

The girl - I didn’t want him to notice me at all. I tried to stay in my room. But tonight he grabbed my wrist and told me I was ‘turning into mom.’ That’s when I ran upstairs and called you.

Tim - Did he ever say or do anything when others were around?

The girl - No. Only when we were alone. He always made it seem like a joke if someone overheard.

Y/n - you did everything right. You trusted your instincts. You got help. You’re not alone anymore

She turns to dad

The girl - You’re Sargent Bradford, right? That guy who arrested my dad

Tim - yep thats me

The girl - and if ur officer bradford....wait are u two father and daughter

Tim - and training officer and rookie

Y/n - yeah. He’s my training officer. And also my dad.

The girl - Bet he’d never let anyone talk to you the way mine did.

Y/n - No. He wouldn’t. That’s why we’re making sure your dad never even comes near you again

The girl - thx you

She leaves and the paper work i have to do without dad's help takes me the end of shift, I clock out and so does dad and we're dressed in our normal clothes

Y/n - damn today was something

Tim - welcome to being a cop

I roll my eyes

Y/n - you know thats not what i meant but i still feel bad for that girl dealing with her dads BS for 15 years

Tim - i know

Y/n - i just cant get the image out of my brain if we weren't there-

Tim - but we were and u saved her thats all that matters

Y/n - yea ig thx dad

I hug him

Y/n - you know after today it has definitely made me realise that ur not the WORSTTTT dad in the whole world even as a T.O

Tim - i'll take that as a kind of insult but ig still a compliment

I laugh

Tim - also congrats

Y/n - for?

Tim - your first puppy

Y/n - my first what

Tim - ask Chen abt it she's living with one anyway

Y/n - TAMARA!!!!!!!!!!

Tim - yes you'd be a great detective

He says rolling his eyes

[withwritersblock]

Dog Days Are Over

~Dog Days Are Over by Florence + the Machine~

Author's Note: saw @kaleforcale888 say something about how he'd react after the game. I could write a thousand different versions but this feels SO Cale coded to me. Summary: Cale scores his first hat trick Warnings: mentions of bo byram being traded lol Word Count: 1,250 Cale Makar x fm!reader

For the past few games, Cale has struggled with his confidence. His entire career, he’s been seen as a superstar. Suddenly, for the first time in his professional career he hasn’t had a great game. He’s had several average games, not up to his personal level of where he needs to be. People were starting to think he was nursing an injury because of how he was playing. He was frustrated and disappointed in himself for how he was playing.

Sure, he got rid of his pointless streak but they were only secondary assists. He wanted more, he needed more. He wanted to contribute to the team and build back his own confidence. 

He left his house, stoked for the game giving Y/N a thousand kisses before he left the house. He wore a new suit, for a new Cale. Or rather Vintage Cale. It was a suit that Y/N picked out and he gladly wore it. If he plays well with it, he’ll happily add it to his rotation.

It was a beautiful ceremony before the game with the celebration of Darren Helm. The ceremonial puck drop with Nathan Mackinnon and JT Compher brought tears to her eyes. 

“Cale’s flying,” Gabe muttered to Y/N as he leaned his arms against the small table. For the night, Gabe was sitting with the wives and girlfriends of the players. His wife and kids were also in the suit hanging out. 

Not long after the Red Wings get on the board, Cale wrists one to the net and scores. The suit erupts into cheers.

“He’s back,” Gabe mumbled before he wandered towards his wife in the center of the suit. Y/N smiled to herself as she watched him skate towards the bench. A simply group celebration is all it took and he was back in the zone. He was pumped and ready to win.

The second period started and for the first nine minutes of the game it was back and forth but the boys were playing well and something was going to happen. Artturi scored to give the boys their first lead of the game. 

This was the best game she’s seen them play in a long time. It was the best game she’s seen Cale play in a long time.

With only three and half minutes left in the period, Cale fought hard around the net and scored another goal. “Oh my god,” Y/N muttered as her mouth fell open as she watched him smile for the first time during a celebration. She leaned her body against the table as she smiled and felt a bit of tears filling her eyes. “He’s back,” she mumbled to herself, knowing that he was finally back to who he sees himself to be. He was confident. He was Cale Makar.

They were up by two and on the powerplay. She intently watched Cale pass the puck to Mikko and see him wait for the pucks return. Mikko sends it back as Cale holds for a few seconds before letting it rip towards the net. It was as if the puck went into the net in slow motion. She jumped up and cheered. At first she thought it was Artturi’s goal since he was near the net but hats starting flying onto the ice as Ball Arena was louder than it’s been in a long time.

“Was that Cale?” she found herself asking as her chest ached.

Gabe nodded with a huge smile on his face. She stared towards the ice as the hats continued to rain down and the jumbotron showed Cale smiling widely and talking with Mikko as they skated around the ice waiting for the hats to be collected. Her heart filled with so much admiration and joy as she watched him celebrate. Even if it was just a smile, it was more than he’s done in the past.

~~~

The boys ended up winning 7-2 and she was anxiously waiting outside the locker room for Cale to exit. It was a nightly routine for Cale to be the last one to emerge from the locker room but tonight was vastly different as he had more interviews and some social media obligations. 

She couldn’t wait to see him and was getting anxious as Nate walked out of the locker room wearing his warm up attire. He beamed towards Y/N, “He’s almost done,” he let out as he walked towards her giving her a hug. She gladly accepted it, “I knew he’d pull himself out of it,” he mumbled against her hair. He pulled away before he continued his walk out of the arena. 

After a few more anxious minutes, Cale emerged wearing a hoodie and sweatpants. She smiled when she saw him and quickly jogged towards him. He chuckled nervously as she wrapped her arms around her neck. He gladly wrapped his arms around her waist as he lifted her up into the air excitedly.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered into his ear. His cheeks were bright red as she pulled away, keeping her arms rested on his shoulders as his hands stayed looped around her waist. 

“The boys played really well,” he let out with his lips curled upward. She rolled her eyes playfully as she took a hold of his cheeks. 

“Stop being humble,” she muttered before she kissed him. He returned the kiss with urgency as he pulled her towards him. She pulled away, keeping her lips a mere inch away from his. “Be proud of yourself,” she let out before she kissed him again. 

“I guess it was pretty cool,” he mumbled as he pulled away, a toothy grin on his face. 

“You guess?” she teased as she ran her fingers through his hair. “It was incredible.” she let out.

His smile widened, the longer he looked into her eyes. He was trying to contain his excitement. “Yeah,” he mumbled, pressing his lips together. He pulled her against his chest again as he rocked her body back and forth. “It was a little unbelievable,” he muttered against her hair. He reluctantly released her from his grasp as they began walking towards the parking garage together.

“Comph came up to me after the game and gave me a hug,” he let out as they walked side by side, their hands interlocked. 

Her lips fell into a pout as it had been a difficult day filled with so many complex emotions. JT’s first game back at Ball Arena, Darren Helm ceremony, and Bo was traded away a few days prior. It was a bittersweet feeling.

“You’ve been overdue for a while now, Darling,” she mumbled as she knocked into him slightly. She began walking faster as she began dragging him towards their car, “We’ve got celebrating to do,” she mumbled. He raised his eyebrows, a shy smile forming to his lips. 

“Oh yeah?” he asked teasingly. She hummed as she pursed her lips forward.

His phone began to ring in his pocket and he pulled it out to see Bo was calling him. Cale smiled widely as he brought the phone to his ear.

“Caler congrats, man!” she heard Bo shout through the phone, she shook her head slightly a small chuckle leaving her lips. 

“Thank you,” he chuckled, “Have you met any of the guys over there yet?” Cale asked.

She rolled her eyes playfully. Cale always puts someone else first even on one of the best nights of his career.

[molsno]

I really do hope I get this job. I'm trying to be optimistic about the prospect for once. the interview went extremely well because for once, my chances weren't immediately dashed by some random white woman who thinks I'm too unprofessional for not wearing makeup and too autistic to get along with in an office. like, I actually got to talk with a programmer who works at the company! and I knew what I was talking about! he actually was similar to me in how we spoke, having a hard time organizing his thoughts and stuttering quite a bit, but when we were talking about code, all of that went away, and I felt like I was really able to demonstrate my understanding, and he was able to provide further insights. I walked away feeling like I'd earned the respect of another programmer and showcased my abilities, WHICH IS WHAT MATTERS MOST FOR A PROGRAMMING JOB! it's wild that I've so rarely even made it to this stage because I have to pass a Neurotypical Vibe Check with someone in the hr department

I really really really want this job. if I get it, so many things would fall into place. I wouldn't have to be so anxious and stressed anymore, and I could finally do a lot of the things I've had to put off for years. I'm really hoping to hear good news this week

[sickofthistoxicshit]

Ok what anon said about Oliver not sharing stuff with Tommy in it, that’s been driving me nuts! I’ve been trying so hard to look at it objectively and not through Buddie shipper glasses, but I just can’t figure out why he hasn’t shared even the official 911 promo shots with Buck and Tommy (unless I’m remembering incorrectly) but shares tons of stuff with Buck and Eddie, even the deleted party scenes. I feel like it means something but I’m trying to not get my hopes up 🥺

Yeah, I get you.

I am taking everything with a grain of salt for several seasons now.

But for crying out loud, Tim chose "What I like about you" as their song! That is so romantically coded, i am dying here! 😩👀

And yeah, the only thing that Oliver shared about his kiss with T was just connected to bi!Buck story progression and nothing more.

So whether it is a clue or not, what Oliver and Ryan and JLH even in her last interview are not hiding is their desire to see buddie take off, but not in a forced way, just a natural progression way.

And I am here to advocate with them.

BT are good for bi!Buck, it is a plot to get the ball rolling, where? Is anybody guess, but from what I gathered from interviews from Oliver and Lou and Tim, they are not here to last.

Oliver mentioned in passing a buddie wedding s10, but it wasn't like a spoiler, more like a maybe, it could be nice and feels possible now, way.

The signs are all there, but they were also there for several seasons lol so who knows?

All we can do is keep our fingers crossed and keep loving our actors for fighting for us and each other. 🤞❤️

[evaarade]

Murat'Ade Tsad

Or How Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore started a proper and centrelized Child Protective Services in the Mandalorian System.

A/N: Believe it or not, this started on a talk about Adanais Kryze (or Adonai Kryze, if you go with canon names TL;DR: I'm not going with it because of the cultural meaning of the name, apparently it shouldn't be used). Hope you enjoy it!

The Law to change how the Mandalorian adopts worked was one of Satine's most well crafted, most popular and supported laws.

At first, there was outrage of course, it's one thing to ask Mandalorians to try to resolve things peacefully before resorting to weapons or fighting in general, but to change a long standing tradition of adoption? Outrage! Protests on the streets! Threats of Civil War!

And that's when the media came in.

Carefully crafted and made to help Satine get her proposed law (though, technically not her law, as she had to give it to someone else to tweak with and put on the agenda, as her job Wasn't to make laws but to represent the War Clans) across all Mandalorian space and hopefully passed by the Ruling Council.

"The purpose of the law is not to ban adoptions," Duchess Satine clarified on the Ibic Ca Ti Bari Hait Be Eldar (or, in Basic, 'This Night With Bari Hait Of House Eldar'), "It's to make them both more efficient and to make sure that the children are being taken care of as they should be."

And thus she went of to explain and win the hearts of the Mandalorians so intensively watching.

The Reform, as it stood, sought to introduce a new organization - the Morut'ade Tsad (lit. Organization of Safe Children) - into the government: One whose whole job is to take care of children welfare.

They will be the ones who handle any child abuse, the ones who help children when they loose their current guardians and help them get settled into their new home, they re the ones who you go to when you wish to adopt any children.

This is when the graphics and recorded interviews from mando'ade and non-mando'ade came in.

It is well known in the Mandalorian space that they are The go to group of people children are to told to head to in case they are ever in danger, it is something every Mando'ade wears with Pride.

What is less known, is that usually with that advice there's the followup of 'leave as soon as you can, if they are distracted the better' for parents fear that Mando'ade would - gasp - Kidnap children.

Here comes the horror - The Horror! - as the Duchess Kryze sadly but patiently continued her explanation: As many Mando'ade didn't check to see if the children they took were actually orphans and couple it with the old war time tradition of adopting children from different cultures that you found the battlefield (often during wars that the Mando'ade started, often either orphas by the Mando'ade's hands or not orphan but whoever took them didn't bother to check), it lead to the idea that Mandalorians were a race of Children Stealing, Warmonging Warriors.

That's when the Organization would came in.

You could bring the children you wished to adopt into the Organization, they will house them and keep you informed as they go hunt down and check to see if the ade have any living relatives and if so, if they are worthy of being their caretakers.

If they don't, you get a go-ahead as long as the child wishes for you to be their Guardian or to even be adopted and be a Mandalorian at all.

If they do have family, you and a group of members of the Morut'ade, would go give the child back to their clan and would be allowed to give the comm code to the family and child for you to be able to keep in contact with them - after apologizing for the whole misunderstanding, of course.

And of course, as mentioned before, this wasn't the only job of the Murat'ade, they would ensure the safety of all children in Mandalorian space.

Stopping abuse - whatever form it may take, from parents training children too hard to parents manipulating children; from physical to sexual to emotional to mental - of children; helping new parents with raising children; helping parents settle things with children if it pops up during the checks; offering programs to make sure that the children were well taken care of and had help from the Community, from the Government.

They would also make sure that the transition from one guardian to another goes smoothly, that no clan member or random person who was Not fit for raising children would ever be put in charge of them.

Sure, it would be annoying to have check ups every once in a while, but wouldn’t it be better to know that children were being kept safe with the Murat’ade? They would even offer reports, numbers you could call to report people, to add them into a list to be investigated or to make sure that they would Never be alone with children, even from the same clan.

The Murat’ade Tsad would even deal with the issues from the Restrictions that late Mando’alor Adanais Kryze put in place: they would handle the paperwork and register the children in the government database, giving them the rights and benefits as any citizen (up until they were 25, had they decided Not to be a Mandalorian in the end) like free healthcare; leaving only the new guardians to handle Not renaming them (though, nicknames are acceptable and the child might choose to adopt that as a name when they were old enough to change their paperwork on their own) and to make sure that the children feel welcomed in their home.

And the Organization would have the bonus of hiring Beroya’s and help them turn into Ver’Verd by having them hunt down the childrens’ missing family - if they had any.

Children would have the support of everyone in the Mandalorian space with this Reform, no more children left to die because the clans were divided.

"This way, no child will have to save themselves, we will have no more tales of adopted children that turned on their families ‘like the day from night’ and ran back to their home planet, this way children will be Protected." Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore finished, “My Ada’Buir might never have met his birth parents, those who brought him to the world and named him, this way no parent will have to grieve children that are just with us, this? This Is The Way.”

(And thus, the Reform was passed with full support of the Ruling Council, with hundreds and thousands of volunteers.

The Murat’Ade Tsad lasted even with the fall of the New Mandalorian Government, only disappearing two years before the Empire was removed from Mandalore, and by then they had suffered budget cuts that left them a very different and more desperate Organization than the one so supported, so watched and kept in check during Duchess Satine Kryze’s rule.)