#because i am an adult who has the authority to decide that (and money to buy more)

[windwardstar]

anyway food has been procured and the fridge is now full

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (1) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board | ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: your parents are convinced that you will marry the king by the end of the social season. and so, too, it seems does coriolanus snow.  

word count: 2,764 

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later 

chapter warnings?: no use of y/n, you cannot stand coryo, not proofread

Coriolanus Snow’s rise to the throne was something you never expected to come to fruition. When you were younger, you remembered your peers talking about how Snow wanted to one day rule Panem. At the time, you thought it was just another wild dream of a child. Something a child would say when an adult asks what they wish to be when they grow up. “A pirate!” one might exclaim. Or, perhaps, “A painter!” The sort of thing that a sensible parent would shrug off and not dedicate anymore thought to. The Snow family, as it turned out, was not particularly sensible. 

When the Former King Ravinstill died without warning, the throne was left vacant. Everyone knew that the old man had little life left in him. Yet, despite his age, he had a tendency to power through. No one thought he would have lived as long as he did, but he had. So, the Electors had not yet begun considering his replacement. No one had been prepared enough to seek candidacy. No one, except Coriolanus Snow. A few other eligible persons put forth their names, but no one garnered support quite like the young man. From a prominent family, the son of a general, had served briefly himself, intelligent, and had the financial backing of the Plinth family? There was no version of history where Snow could lose. 

Within weeks of Ravinstill’s death, Snow was crowned King. 

You did not care for politics, so you knew little of his reign. But your father seemed pleased, talking often and loudly about how the young Snow would restore Panem to its former glory. You weren’t so sure of that. Though you did not interact with him often in your younger years, you remembered Snow as someone who was self-serving. Who would pretend to care if only it could further his own interests. He very well might let all of Panem burn if it meant he could gain from it. But your father was quite pleased with Snow as King and, when word began to spread that Snow would be seeking a bride this next social season, your father pushed hard for you to woo the King. 

“If you wish to serve your family well, my little dove, you will convince the King to marry you,” your father told you the moment he heard the news. 

You all but scoffed. “I hardly think I am the sort of woman he wishes to marry. A man like him would want someone meek, someone who would not challenge his authority. We hardly ever agreed on the schoolyard, and for that reason, he never considered me a friend. How could he ever see me as a wife?”

Your father’s eyes narrowed at you. “It is your responsibility, then, to make yourself small so that he may choose you.”

“I would rather die than sacrifice my ideals, Papa,” you said. “Why can I not vie for any other’s attention? I know Lord Plinth quite well. I’ve always enjoyed his company. It would be easy to win his heart and have our family set for life. Certainly easier than winning over the King.”

He sneered, “The only thing the Plinth family is good for is their money. I want to be respected. We would be little more than social pariahs if you wed the Plinth boy.”

“I shall not marry the King—”

Your mother stepped in before you could say something you might come to regret. She placed a hand on your arm, directing your attention to her. “Never mind that now. There is still time before the season begins for minds to be changed.”

“I shall not change my mind, Mama.”

She looked over at your father, who was the perfect picture of irate. She looked back to you. “Perhaps, but perhaps not. Let us go clear our minds, yes? We should go order new gowns at the modiste before everyone else floods her with demands.”

“You cannot distract me with fashion.”

“But you would do well to pretend that I have.”

Your efforts to convince your parents that you would not, under any circumstance whatsoever, marry Coriolanus Snow did not do anything for you. Despite your best efforts, you now stood in the palace for the King’s Ball, wearing the most beautiful powder blue gown fresh from the modiste, trying and failing to hide from your mother, so that you might delay her forcing you onto Snow. For now, though, she had been distracted by a conversation with Lady Dovecote about…whatever mothers talked about. Surely some scheme that would end with either you or Clemensia as Snow’s betrothed. You rolled your eyes at the thought. 

A familiar voice said your name. When you turned, you were greeted by the sight of Sejanus Plinth, holding two glasses of lemonade. He handed one to you, remarking, “I never knew you to be one to hide from the crowd.”

“I shall hide from the crowd when my mama is convinced I shall become Queen by the end of the season.”

“Ah.” Sejanus took a drink and laughed. “Strange, isn’t it? Seeing everyone we grew up with vying for Coryo’s attention.”

Coryo? Oh, yes. That was the nickname those close to Snow would call him. You had forgotten that the two were friends. Hmm, perhaps you could use that information the next time your parents try to force a connection with Snow. Something about how getting close to his friend might make him interested in you. “That it is. It seems as though everyone has lost their minds just for a glimpse of the crown.”

Sejanus laughed again. Then he looked at you a little more seriously, and said, “If I am honest, I am surprised you are not among those fighting for Coryo’s attention.”

Your brows pinched together. “You think I am interested in climbing the social ladder? Lord Plinth, you should know me well enough that I care more for a love match than gaining a title.”

“No, no. That is not what I meant. I remember in school that you and Coryo always had a sort of connection. Truthfully, I thought one of you might have acted on it sooner when you entered society.”

“The only connection we had was that of hatred. We despised each other.”

Sejanus shook his head, his curls bouncing. “I do not think that was true for Coryo. He liked that you challenged him. He has never been the sort of person who liked people who switch their position when the tide seems to turn. He likes people who are firm in their convictions.”

You laughed. “He’s told you this?”

“Not in so many words. But you have to wonder why he always sought you out.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps he is crueler than we all think.”

Sejanus moved to protest, but another beat him to it. “Or perhaps you judge without truly knowing.”

You froze. Oh, how you had hoped that you could have avoided him tonight! Damn Sejanus and his friendship with Snow. So much for him being your safe haven during these balls. You might as well have lit a beacon leading straight to you. Alas, you did not want Snow to see the hatred you had brewing for him. Even if you did not like the man, you would be a social pariah if you made such feelings known to him. So, you painted on a smile as you turned to look at Snow. “Or perhaps I made an educated guess supported by the evidence of past interactions.”

Snow snorted, turning his gaze to Sejanus. “Always so quick with a response, she is.”

Sejanus glanced at you, a knowing look in his eyes. If you were a mindreader, you could imagine him gloating in his mind about how he was right, that this was a sign that Snow cared for you in some way. But you only knew it to be yet another indicator that you and Snow could never, ever, get along. “Her wit has never dulled.”

“Should we see, then, if her dance skills are still equally sharp?”

Sejanus looked at you again, a brilliant smile on his face. Oh, how you wished to wipe that look off. This was not proof of anything. This did not prove his point. “I could not think of anything better.”

Damn you, Sejanus Plinth. Damn you. 

Snow held his arm out for you to take. You stared at it, not moving. “In order to dance with a lady, you must ask her. I do not recall you asking me anything.”

Snow glanced just beyond you. When you turned your head to follow his gaze, you saw your mother and Lady Dovecote watching the interaction carefully. As you looked back at Snow, he said, “Your mother would be disappointed if you did not dance with me.”

“It is amazing you became King when you are so lacking in manners.” But you knew your mother—the entirety of the ton, perhaps—would consider you insane to turn the King down so openly. So you took his arm and let him lead you onto the dance floor. 

He snorted. “You are the only person who speaks so freely to me.”

“Ah, so this is one last dance before my execution? How kind. Perhaps I was wrong about your cruelty.”

“There is much you are wrong about,” Snow said. You had reached the dance floor. The crowd parted around you, allowing you and Snow to take the middle of the floor. You faced him, allowing his hand to fall to you waist. You placed one hand on his shoulder, and let him take the other in his free hand. “It would be far too much of a shame to take your life.”

“Such a kind and gentle king.”

“Only for those who deserve it.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mother miming for you to smile. You fought the urge to sneer instead. Even if you would rather do anything else than be courted by Coriolanus Snow, acting out would not do you any favors. If you had any hope in finding a love match, you had to at least be cordial to him. So you smiled as prettily as you could. But you couldn’t help yourself from saying, “Then perhaps you should go see a physician. You seem to have lost your mind.”

To your surprise, Snow laughed. The sound almost scared you. When was the last time you heard Snow laugh? An actual laugh, at that. None of his snorts of derision or half-hearted chuckles when he was trying to charm someone. Had you ever heard him laugh before? You tried to wrack your brain, but you could not recall anything. In school, he had always been so serious—focused more on using the tools available to him to climb the social ladder rather than being a kid like everyone else. Though, you supposed, Snow was a far cry from everyone else. 

The music began to play, and Snow spun you around the dance floor. As you turned, you locked eyes with Sejanus. He wore a large grin on his face, seemingly sure that you and Snow were making nice. Why else would he have laughed at something you said? You wished you could yell out to Sejanus, tell him that he was dead wrong. 

“What is it that people say? Something about love driving people mad?”

This time, you did roll your eyes. “Oh, come off it. You and I both know perfectly well that you do not care for me. I hardly understand why you’re even entertaining this nonsense, if for no other reason than to torture me.”

Snow considered you. After a long moment of silence, he said, “I seek a bride who will produce me an heir. There are few women here who meet my standards. A woman of good breeding, from a respectable family, and intelligent enough to keep up with me. Someone who will be a good Queen and a good mother.”

“Someone that you can control.” You scoff. “You truly must see a physician, Your Majesty, if you think that I will fall in line with whatever you ask of me.”

His lips curled into a grin. Your stomach churned. “Not yet.”

The next morning, your mother promptly reported that you had danced with Coriolanus Snow not once, not twice, but three times to your father. To say he had been pleased was something of an understatement. He was certain that Snow would soon be reaching out to discuss a proposal. It did not matter how much you tried to downplay the situation—explain that he was only dancing with you for some other reason than him wishing to marry you. Your parents minds were made up. By the end of the season, you were to be Queen of Panem. 

“It’s just the nerves,” your mother dismissed as you sat in the drawing room, waiting for any suitor to call on you. “You will be more than confident once you are wed.”

You ground your teeth together. “I do not wish to marry Coriolanus Snow. I would marry anyone else. I would let you or Papa pick anyone else in the ton and I would not let out a single complaint. I cannot marry that man.”

Something just beyond you caught your mother’s attention. Your father, you supposed. “You should not say such things—” she began to say. Of course. Of course she would say that. 

“Why not? It is true. I would be miserable with him. I would rather die than be his bride, bear his children. Frankly, forcing me to marry him may as well be a death sentence.”

“Dear, you do not truly mean that—”

“And you must not know me at all if you think I am not being completely, and utterly, truthful right now. Coriolanus Snow is the last man I would ever wish to marry.”

Your mother leaned in close to you, hissing, “Stop talking right now, young lady.”

A frown settled on your face. Why was she so bothered about you speaking so freely? There was no one in the room but you, her, and a maid. Perhaps she was concerned about the maid spreading gossip with other maids and that slowly enveloping the ton. It wasn’t a non-possibility, to be sure. But why was she acting so…scandalized by your words? 

Unless…

You turned your head toward the entrance of the room. There should Coriolanus Snow, dressed in a dark red suit, holding a bouquet of white roses. Your mouth went dry. Oh, why does he keep showing up when you least expect it? “The butler typically announces when a guest has arrived,” you said. 

You couldn’t read his face. A part of you wondered if you had offended him. You didn’t particularly care about offending him, but you also knew that such an act could have dire consequences on you marrying anyone else. “He was going to, but I wanted my arrival to be a surprise.” He took a step closer to you, holding out the roses. “I just had these freshly picked from my garden.”

A part of you wanted to smack the roses out of his hands, but you had already embarrassed your mother enough in front of Snow. You took the roses, yet couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “I cannot believe a man like you could grow something so beautiful.”

Your mother let out a loud—obviously fake—laugh. “Oh, isn’t she just funny? She always says the silliest things.”

Snow chuckled. He smiled at your mother—the sort of smile that your stomach twist into knots. Like he knew something no one else did, and he was reveling in that. “It is one of her more…charming traits.” He turned his attention back to you. “As lovely as this is, I came to ask if you would like to promenade with me in the square.”

Oh, Snow. Why was he so good at backing you into corners? You took a breath and passed the bouquet to the maid so she could put them in a vase. “That would be nothing short of a delight.”

He held out his arm for you to take. You slipped your hand around his bicep, your nails digging in. If he felt any pain, he didn’t show it. Instead, he leaned down so that you could only hear him whisper, “It seems like you fall in line much easier than you would like to believe.”

[erodasfishtacos]

The Body Factory (sexclubowner!h)

+

Hellloooo!

It’s been a long while since I posted here. I am still going strong on patreon with 4-5 one shots a month with anywhere from 8 to 14k words usually (sometimes more) + blurbs. I decided to released one of my new tropes, just part one on here and if it sounds good maybe consider joining for $3USD a month to read more parts of this and many others coming up!!!

prompt: yn doesn’t feel fufilled in her relationship and so her fiancé, Arthur, comes up with an idea to help but it doesnt turn out as either of them expected aka sex club owner!h

word count: 8k

warnings: under-negotiation, power play, mean h, choking, safeword, cheating but not really yet

🛑 there is a scene that could potentially be triggering so i am going to put a brief summary at the end of the fic if you’d like to check whether it’s a appropriate read for yourself. 🛑

Author’s Note: I have had this idea on my mind for months and have been so extremely excited to share it with you. It has really really been inspiring to me as I don’t have a trope like this. I hope you enjoy.

++

Arthur was nice.

Arthur was a safe choice.

It’s why when YN’s father introduced them, it didn’t really seem like an option to turn down the invitation to go out to dinner at the swankiest restaurant in town.

The date had been so incredibly unexciting that YN had no doubt that he would not ask for a second one.

They had nothing in common, the space was often filled with an awkward silence, and averted gazes to the walls or out the window next to their seating.

Arthur was nice.

Arthur was polite, he held the door and paid for the bill before walking her to her car with the chaste kiss to her cheek.

It absolutely boggled her mind when her father informed her the next day that Arthur had told her that he had an amazing time and was going to ask her for a second date in the next upcoming days.

YN hated the mere idea of disappointing her parents, she had already let them down enough with her career choice not to join the family business

:readmore:

instead becoming neonatal nurse, despite that being a massive accomplishment, it wasn’t praised because she didn’t go to be a lawyer like both her mother and father.

It felt like most of the time she was on thin ice with her parents because of her education and career choice, even down to the car she drove (they thought it was too sporty and not practical enough) which left her in a precarious position.

She relied on them for help with her student loans.

YN was still trying to get her feet on the ground with her apartment landlord just bumping up her rent by nearly five-hundred pounds, her car note, among all the other things that came with being an adult that she wasn’t financially capable of managing yet.

Her parents agreed to pay for her school loans.

However, it came with silet threat of staying in their good gracious or they would cut her off at any moment, they had threatened it enough when she got into nursing school and informed them that she would be attending, she must have heard them threaten her inheritance half a million times.

Arthur was her ticket back into her parent’s limelight.

He was fresh out of law school but he was incredibly intelligent, good at what he did, and had multiple firms vying for him to join their legal council but he had chosen YN’s family’s business because of their well-known reputation.

Arthur came from old money, which had given him an extremely privileged life and a headstart into success as soon as he was born.

He was the great-grandson of an oil tycoon whom he had reaped the benefits ever since.

The second date happened, then the third, then the fourth.

No spark.

No chemistry.

Atleast on YN’s end because Arthur seemed happy as a clam in their relationship, he praised YN to anyone who would listen, and was consistently bragging about their life to anyone that would listen to him.

He was nice to her.

He remembered important dates, brought her flowers to work, and had dinner made when she walked in the door on nights that she worked late shifts and he got home before her.

Time passes and they celebrate their first year anniversary, then their second, then their third.

On the fourth was when he got down on one knee and professed his love to her in front of all their family and friends on Christmas Day at an extravagant party at his parent’s estate.

The diamond ring that he slid onto her finger was ridiculous, too big to not just be flaunting wealth, and it wasn’t a style that she liked but she lied and told him that she loved it.

There was an emptiness in her chest when he proposed, she was teary-eyed but she couldn’t determine whether it was from happiness or dread that she was going to spend the rest of her life with the man in front of her.

It wasn’t his fault in the slightest.

Arthur was just Arthur.

He lacked depth, there was nothing behind his twinkling brown eyes beside law, money, and judgement.

Arthur treated her nicely consistently, they barely ever fought, and he never raised his voice at her.

When he got frustrated, he just got an exasperated tone and took time to himself in his office until he had calmed down enough to talk.

But that was once in a blue moon.

They’ve never had a blow-out because he was so agreeable and accommodating.

That’s exactly what was missing from their relationship.

YN didn’t crave toxicity, not one bit, she wanted a healthy relationship with positive communication, understanding, and all the things that make that up.

YN did crave excitement, humor, sexual tension, and the type of relationship that kept her on her toes, got her adrenaline pumping and making her stomach turn in nervous knots because she didn’t always know what to expect out of her partner.

Arthur was as predictable as a clock, had no spontaneity up his sleeve, and his sense of humor was nonexistent.

YN had a partner that she’d been with in college named Klein.

He wasn’t the love of her life, not by a long shot, but he had been wild, on the edge of insane half-of-the-time, and always kept their relationship exciting.

He would show up at her part-time cafe job, with a fake excuse to her boss about a death in his family, and he needed her support.

When YN would walk out to his motorcycle with him, concerned about his grandmother’s death, he would only smile at her, inform her that his grandmother has been dead for fifteen years, and that he was going to take her on a hike to see a waterfall she’d mentioned wanting to see once in passing.

But then there was their sex life, it was phenomenal and unlike the few half-hapzard experience she had before him.

He was confident, dominant, and introduced her to things that she used to not even have the nerve to say out loud let alone do.

It was him who introduced her to BDSM and they explored it for nearly two and a half years of their relationship.

YN did research while they were together and after the fact, she had even attended a few virtual training sessions to learn about correct techniques, safety precautions, and learning the dynamic of power play which engrossed her to no end.

However, when Klein requested they open their relationship, that had been such an unexpected turn-off that she no longer felt the connection that was there before.

The end of the relationship was amicable, they were still friends on social media and liked each others posts but it was at that point they realized they wanted different things and they couldn’t provide that to one another.

Where Klein wanted flexibility, uncertainty, and fluidity.

YN wanted regimen, structured, and a deep sense of connection with one person.

She did not want multiple doms nor did she want her dom to have multiple submissives.

She wanted all the attention on her, her dom would be absolutely captivated by her and be so connected to her physically, mentally, spiritually that they only want her.

Her ideal dom would never mention sharing.

Which isn’t to shame it because it was more common than not to have an open relationship, partner sharing, and swapping.

YN loved the idea of becoming comfortable with someone enough that she could be a brat which she wasn’t an easy submissive she had come to learn.

Her dominant had to work for her submission, sometimes she crumbled quickly and other times it took multiple punishments until the smirk was wiped from her face and replaced with tears on her puffy cheeks from the pinpricks of pain.

After Klein, she had gone on a few dates, some she even hooked up with but she never clicked enough with them to talk about anything like that.

And so she wrapped it up into a nice, neat box and tucked it into the back of her mind because she would find the right partner who would be compatible sexually with her.

Right?

Arthur and her had no sexual chemistry.

Arthur was just as polite in the bedroom as he was outside of it, he never put her in a unique position, and preferred to rotate between the missionary and doggy style.

He would occasionally go down on her but he didn’t know what he was doing so it didn’t feel like much of anything as most of the time he couldn’t even locate her clit.

Which meant fingering was out of the question because he didn’t even know the g-spot existed.

Anytime she managed to orgasm, it was from her own hand, getting herself off because she was past the point of asking him to try to do it.

Arthur did not have a high sex drive and YN felt guilty for being thankful for it.

He wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was trying, and it was so unsatisfying that YN felt like her skin itched sometimes because she hadn’t realized until Arthur how much she craved sexual intimacy with her significant other.

Again, Arthur initiated once a week, sometimes twice or sometimes not for a few weeks when his work is really busy.

YN was six years into a relationship of unfilled desire, disconnect, and a lack of satisfaction which she would have never seen for herself at only being twenty-nine years old.

The wedding was set for fourteen months away, at a vineyard on the coast of Italy.

It was decided by everyone but her as with most things she felt like nowadays.

++

YN had been scrolling through a blog post when something caught her eye.

It was written by a female who had a similar lack of connection with her partner in the bedroom but wanted more.

The writer had described that as soon as she asked if they could experiment with BDSM that their relationship had completely shifted, they were more in love than ever, and their sex life was more amazing than it had been in nearly a decade.

It was the motivation that YN needed to have the conversation with Arthur, with the hope that it would ignite a flame that had yet to be struck between the two of them.

YN loved Arthur, she wanted to be in love with him but she couldn’t honestly say she was at this point in their relationship.

Arthur had been surprised by the conversation, over dinner one night, if the way he sputtered red wine onto his crisp white button-up was an indicator.

His eyes had gone wide in a look of almost horror and he cleared his throat a handful of times while they discussed it in more detail.

“I just feel like it would be something fun to try out,” YN tries to keep it casual, to not let on to how much she desired this or knew that she would already love it.

“Erm, yeah. I would be open to it,” Arthur had agreed sheepishly, putting down his fork and knife.

“No, I do not want you to feel pressured at all! I just -” YN begins to try to soothe because she had not meant to get such a reaction of concern more than lust out of her fiance.

He chuckles kindly, smiling at her as he reaches across the table to hold her hand, “We can try it, if that’s what you want. I am open to whatever will make you happy, sweetie pie.”

Sweetie pie….

YN tried not to blatantly cringe every time he called her that.

++

It did not work out.

They did not even get a few minutes into foreplay when Arthur backed out, saying that he just didn’t feel like he knew what to do, and that he’d prefer if they just did their normal thing.

YN agreed, trying to swallow the disappointed lump in her throat because she didn’t want to guilt him in to trying anything he wasn’t into.

They didn’t discuss it again after that for a long while.

++

Arthur wasn’t blind to the shift after that night.

He now knew that he was not satisfying a need that YN desired and she had just seemed more subdued since he had called it off but was trying to hide it because he knew that she wasn’t trying to make him feel bad about not wanting it.

It had been on his mind though.

++

“A sex club?” YN’s eyes nearly buldge from her sockets, puting down her glass of water and ignoring the splashes it leaves on her hand because what had Arthur just recommended they try?

“Yes. A BDSM club or a kink club they call it. Maybe if I see other people doing it or we get into the right atmosphere, it will work better. At least off the start?” Arthur seems just as nervous as her, he hadn’t touched his food.

“And…I just…” YN was at a loss for words because this is just the most unexpected turn of events.

“Maybe I can learn from others. Really get good at it for you, you know?” He suggests, his eyes looking anywhere but at hers.

“Yeah, yeah let’s do it.”

++

The Body Factory was the club that Arthur had decided after doing his research.

He needed somewhere secretive, exclusive, and with iron-clad NDA’s so that no one could use this against him in his profession which was fair enough.

That’s where The Body Factor came into play.

There were guidelines to a membership:

You must make over a hundred-and-fifty thousand pounds a year.

You were sign and resign an NDA every three months.

A deposit of ten thousand pounds, it will not be refunded if any rules or regulations are broken.

You will send in health screenings every two months, proof of birth control (if female), and a background check.

You may not belong to any other clubs during the time of your membership at The Body Factory.

YN was quite shocked that Arthur had dished out that amount of money on the deposit for something that they weren’t sure that they were going to like nor want to continue to visit even though the membership spans for a year at a time.

“If we go, hate it, and decide to never go back, just consider it a really expensive date night,” Arthur had assured her with a chuckle, she knew of his wealth but even this seemed a bit like frivolous spending but little did she know it was just his desperation to make her happy.

++

The club was in the packing district of all places, tucked back in between massive factories, some that were still open and operating, others that had been abandoned for years now.

It was actually in an old clothing factory that had been renovated to resemble any other high-end club, from the inside there would be no way that anyone could even tell except for the incredibly high ceilings at some points.

However, the location in the city and of building choice gave a lot of privacy of entering and exiting, it wasn’t advertised nor did it have any sign indicating of their presence.

It was a maze of alleyways until the entrance appeared, a dingy door that was rusted and gave no indication of what was inside, someone walking past would have never looked twice or thought anything of the building nor the entrance.

Everything was matte black, dark, and dimmed.

There were occasional deep emerald green accents but everything was sleek, modern, and simple but in the most elegant way as they walked in.

YN’s heart was in her throat.

Where people going to be fucking right when they walk in?

Or people being led around on leashes right off the bat?

Arthur may pass out.

However, there’s a front desk, almost like at an office with a woman dressed in a incredibly fitted sleek black dress with smooth, curled hair, and makeup like it was done by a professional, she had to be a model because she was gorgeous as she smiled widely and checked them in.

They had to show their licenses, hand over physical copies of their screenings, NDA’s even though they had to sign them virtually too.

There were two security guards in black suits with earpieces standing by large, heavy dark oak doors with their hands crossed in front of them.

This seemed like a movie or just not real with how sophisticated this whole process was.

“Enjoy,” Penelope, the receptionist had chirped with the whitest, most perfect smile she’d ever seen.

Arthur seemed a bit awestruck for a moment and YN couldn’t even fault him for it.

The two guards move aside to open the doors, nodding for them to go in before closing them firmly behind them.

YN finds herself reaching for Arthur’s hand, nervous and shaky with new experience anxiety and adrenaline that she was finally getting back into what she wanted even more so.

There were people mingling, sipping on drinks, and all fully clothed.

It wasn’t until Arthur informed her, “Play starts at ten, the first hour is to introduce, mingle, meet.”

Ah, that makes sense.

It almost builds the tension, YN feels like she can taste it on the tip of her tongue.

They walk over to the bar, another beautiful women greets them right away, laying a napkin down in front of both of them, “Newbies?”

“Yes,” Arthur nods, pointing to himself first, “I’m Arthur, this is YN, my fiance.”

The bartender quirks an eyebrow as she not-so-subtly scans them, “Nice to meet you two. I’m Raven. I bartend Friday through Sunday here. What are you drinking?”

“A moscow mule,” YN asks, maybe some alcohol will loosen her nerves.

“It’s a dry club, babe,” Raven smiles patiently as her long fingernails click against the smooth surface.

“Oh,” YN replies in surprise, looking behind her at the shelves only to see syrups for flavoring but no actual liquor bottles or draft taps to be seen, “A sprite?”

“Water, please,” Arthur adds as he rubs YN’s thigh, squeezing it in reassurance, “I forgot to tell you. No alcohol here. Everybody needs to be sober when playing.”

“That makes sense,” YN hums in agreement, never having actually thought about it much, but it could definitely get cloudy on consent when alcohol was being consumed in regards to playing which was a dangerous and unsafe mixture.

They sit, observed for a few minutes before a few people begin to flock towards them, greeting them and asking surface level questions until there’s a deep, almost eerie chime that echoes for a long moment through the club over the soft jazz.

It was signifying that the clock had struck ten.

Everyone quickly wraps up their conversations before moving to different areas of the rooms, some disappearing down hallways.

The atmosphere had changed significantly in a very quick spurt of time as people started undressing, kissing, moving as if they’d just gotten permission.

There was a couple of the couch across the room that Athur and YN were observing from their barstools.

The two started out slow, sensual, like any normal couple behind close doors but when the woman knots her hair into her partner’s hair and demands his mouth move lower, he obliges and Arthur gasps softly at the roughness displayed.

YN’s been aroused for the last five minutes of watching them but doesn’t make an effort to act on it, not yet atleast, and once the couple move so that the man is laying on the couch, the woman kneeling over his face, it changes her vantage point but it catches on something else.

In the corner, further back into the room, there was a man sitting in the corner where there was barely any lighting, dim and his goal was to obviously stay in the background.

No one was approaching him nor was he interacting with anyone else.

YN knew there was a no phone policy but this man was sat, scrolling boredly through his phone and only occasionally glancing up to observe the people in action around him before eyes dart back down like it wasn’t entertaining at all.

He wasn’t aroused, at least from what YN could see, and he was in a tight, well-fitted suit but his dress shirt was barely buttoned, open enough to show the definition of his pectoral muscles, the sharpness of his collarbones, and a variety of darkly inked tattoos.

He was fucking beautiful.

YN realizes she oogling him but can get away with it because it appears to Arthur that she’s still watching the couple like he is.

However, when the man looks up after a few moments once again, his eyes are instantly locked on YN.

She can’t tell what color they are from here but she knows they’re light, twinkling under the barely there light of a sconce on the wall and it’s smouldering as he doesn’t blink nor waver with embarrassment of being caught staring at her.

YN quickly diverted her eyes back to the couple, her heart was pounding, and a sense of thrill shot up her spine even though it was inappropriate.

She wasn’t here for new partners.

She was here to learn and explore with her own.

YN tries to play it casual when Raven refills the drink she nervously chugged, “Why does that guy have his phone?”

Raven’s eyes darted to the man before grinning, “That’s Harry. He’s the owner, my boss. He supervises the free play.”

“Free play?”

“Out in the common area, it’s considered free play. If you claim a room, you are in private play with whatever partners you bring back there. Harry just makes sure everything stays safe and consensual out here. He gets bored though and plays Candy Crush on his phone.”

YN cracks her own smile at that, trying to imagine the man trying to get rid of sugary sweets and getting frustrated when he loses a round.

“Does he not play?” Arthur asks curiously, now his attention has changed to Harry as well.

“Not often,” Raven informs them, leaning her elbow on the counter, “I can’t remember the last time he did. I’d say at least seven years ago, at least in the free play but he doesn’t reserve rooms or anything. He made it clear that he doesn’t find at least any of the current members interesting enough to engage with.”

“That’s interesting, considering he must have an interest in it, if this is his club,” Arthur replies to Raven before turning back to the scene of the couple, another member had joined the couple and was currently giving the male some startling rough looking bruised kisses and bites to his stomach and thighs.

Arthur was getting aroused by the look and feel of it, he reached over and brazenly took her hand, and led her to his groin where he was hard in his trousers, encouraging her to palm over him which she did as she tried to get into it.

This…This atmosphere, these people, they excited her.

Arthur still did not.

They manage to get to a couch, Arthur appears to be getting so turned on that foreplay isn’t in his realm of ideas because he’s hiking up YN’s dress around her hips and positioning her on top of him which is a new position (in all six years they’ve never done cowgirl) but still, her arousal is barely boiling above surface level.

YN licks her palm, reaching down to help moisten herself because Arthur was not doing anything to spark her to get wet.

It was actually making her more distressed that despite the scenario, she still didn’t feel the connection to her fiancé.

When she slides down, it’s fine, he was an average size so even without much lubrication, it didn’t feel like a stretch or burn when she started to move her hips but it wasn’t as pleasant as if she was sopping, dripping down her thighs.

Arthur glances to the side at one point, noticing that the male from the throuple was now pounding into the original partner with his had tight around her throat, pushing her further into the couch without mercy as she tried to whine through stutter breaths.

YN felt like she was being watched the entire time, which of course she was being watched by other members but it felt different, when she blinks around and notices that Harry has his gaze honed in on her with a twisted scowl of almost disapproval, it confuses her.

However, she’s brought back into the moment when Arthur pants out, “Can- I want to try that.”

When YN follows his gaze, he’s referring to the choking, and yeah, maybe that will light that match.

“Okay, yeah,” YN agrees as she brushes her hair off of her shoulders, wishing he would have taken this dress off of her instead of shoving it upwards where it felt confining.

Arthur smiles at her, leaning up to give her a chaste kiss which didn’t match their situation whatsoever that they were in at the moment.

YN was feeling anxious about the judgment other members might put onto them but not because she cared that people watched but because she knew Arthur and her were nowhere nearly as fluid, practiced, or elegant as the other members whom seemed to just melt into one another easily.

Arthur had never tried it before but his hand came up to her throat, he’s getting close to his own release which means that he’s not as focused, eyes getting a glazed over appearance.

YN soon realizes that he has no idea what he’s doing as he begins to cut off her airway by cupping her throat in the center instead of at the sides.

It hurts, she can’t breathe but not the way that feels tingly, excited, it feels like he could quite possibly suffocate her because of his carelessness.

They had talked about proper methods and he clearly hadn’t retained that information.

A few black dots begin to dance across her line of vision and her body starts to trigger a flight or fight response which she wants to use her safe word but she can’t speak.

YN takes to dig her nails into his hand but he doesn’t seem to understand that it’s not out of lust.

A true fear begins to take hold that something horrible will happen to her in less than a minute.

He’s truly going to injure her.

YN is in a full-fledged panic induced state.

Then suddenly, without warning, a strong arm is being wrapped around her middle and a big, ring-clad hand grips Arthur where it was around her neck so hard he yelps in pain and releases his grip.

The person is physically lifting YN off of Arthur’s lap, trying to steady her on her feet but they feel like jello and she feels light-headed, the room wouldn’t stop spinning.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” The person’s voice is deep, raspy, and incredibly pissed off, “What the fuck is your problem?”

YN can’t even bring herself to look at Arthur right now, her full support into Harry’s side as she notices the two securities guards walking in.

“C’mon, let me sit you down. You’re okay but I want to check you out, alright? Yeah, c’mon, pet,” He encourages in a much softer tone, gentle and trying to comfort me as she struggles to catch her breath.

It takes a long second to realize that she’s crying, tears streaming down her cheeks, and fuck, she is so embarassed as every other member had stopped playing.

“We’re done for the night. We’ll re-open tomorrow at the normal hours of operation,” Harry announces to the room at large before looking to Raven, “Go close down the private rooms.”

Raven nods, no longer as smiley and bubbling but an expression of concern as she watches what’s going on with YN.

“Hey, darling. Can you tilt your head up?” Harry asks quietly once he sits her down in the same corner that he had been in, away from the group.

YN whines because her neck is aching, she doesn’t want to do anything as the drop in adrenaline has made her more exhausted than she’s felt in a long time.

“I know, I know,” Harry simpers in an unpredictably cooing tone, he taps his thumb on her chin to signal her to tilt it up and she obliges.

Harry prods gently at her neck, focusing on the center where the pressure has been, “Any sharp pains? Anything feel off or wrong like you need to go to the hospital?”

YN shakes her head, a fresh round of tears.

She knew that she wasn’t injured or seriously hurt.

YN felt more traumatized mentally than anything else.

“I need words, want to hear your pretty voice,” Harry orders in a honey sweet tone, eyes hyper-focused on her like they were in the beginning of the night.

His eyes were green.

Close to the accent color of the club.

“I’m okay,” YN manages to speak out, throat dry and scratchy.

Raven appears with a glass of water to hand to Harry before giving them their space again.

YN is about to reach for the glass but Harry is already moving it towards her lips for her, “Drink f’me.”

It’s strangely intimate as he tilts the glass, eyes watching her carefully and a sense of guilt sets in that she likes that Harry is tending to her, giving her his full attention.

“Is this a common occurrence? Between you two?”Harry doesn’t sound as kind anymore, his jaw muscle twitches slightly.

“Um, no. We came here to explore. I’m very much into this world and he isn’t. He’s told me he’s done his research in his free time but -“

“You’re telling me that you’ve never negotiated nor tried something like this and he full fledge tries choking?” Harry interrupts, outraged from where he stands up from squatting in front of her, “Did you ask or plan for that?”

YN shakes her head, a bit embarrassed that she was coming off as an amateur to someone…she felt an attraction to, felt intimidated by, and Arthur had ruined their experience here.

“No. We tried spanking a few times but he backed out. We were just supposed to come here to watch others so he could visual what all this looked like before putting it into action-“

Harry doesn’t let her finish as he storms away from her, his glare set right on Arthur who was sheepishly sitting back at the bar and nursing a drink as Raven talked to him.

YN’s heart rate starts to rise again when Arthur tenses, clearly being chewed out by Harry before her fiancé gets off his barstool and follows the club owners lead down the hallway.

YN rushes to the bar, Raven is already pouring her another sprite, “Calm down. He’s not going to hurt him or anything. They just need to have a discussion on whether or not Harry will revoke his membership.”

It feels ruined and it never even started.

All she can think about is that despite for a short amount of time she was getting what she asked from Arthur, there was still no god damn spark.

After a good half hour, the bar phone rings and Raven answers, murmuring a few words back into the receiver before having up.

“I’m going to take you back to his office now.”

++

Harry’s office was just as luxe, elegant as the rest of the club.

It was tense as soon as she stepped in the room and Raven left, closing the door behind her.

“I’ve decided not to revoke your joint membership after discussion with Arthur. However, there are contingencies if you would like to continue coming here. Are you willing to hear them? Arthur has already agreed to the terms.”

YN nods slowly, voice soft, “Yes.”

Harry keeps his face on her as he speaks, “I do not tolerate what happened here tonight in my club. Arthur has clearly proven that he isn’t educated enough to be able to have free access to the club and free play.”

“If you want to continue membership, Arthur will need to reserve a private room and lessons will be held until he fully grasps the concepts, displays understanding, and can play safely without supervision.”

“Who…Do you have instructors?” YN doesn’t think she wants another man involved in their sex life even in an educational aspect.

“Yes but I will be teaching the lessons,” Harry informs her, calm as ever, “I bring this up because I would need to be hands on, to demonstrate and display certain practice, power play dynamics but that is a lot to ask as I do not know your limits on sharing.”

YN’s speaking before she even realizes it, “Yes. We can do that.”

Harry’s lip quirks slightly before it disappears but it oddly enough seems like a reward.

“We can schedule. I will send the paperwork. I already have your questionnaires about hard limits, likes, dislikes, and willing to try. I want to make this clear, this will be purely educational and there will be no dynamic developing between me and you two.”

YN nods dumbly, at a loss for words because the mere thought of Harry domming her was a lick of a flame that she’d been missing so much.

“I will dom you with instructions interwoven for Arthur. We will try to keep everything minimal as I cannot stress enough that this is not anything but informative on my end to help improve your sex life as a couple.”

++

Three longs weeks pass before their first ‘lesson’.

Arthur voiced excitement about the instruction, never brought up the choking incident again, and never initiated any type of sex during this time either.

Everything was swept under the rug as usual in their relationship.

YN would never admit the fact that she had gotten herself off to the mere idea of Harry domming her because something about him had triggered something carnal, something near feral in her.

It’s more than she had even felt with Klein.

She knew it wouldn’t last forever but she was going to enjoy this to the best of her abilities.

++

YN only had excited nerves going into the night.

Harry had inquired more in the break of time about YN’s experience and was extremely pleased to realize that she wasn’t as much of a novice as he assumed.

Though she hadn’t experienced many partners or relationships within the community, her knowledge was expansive and deep enough to impress him.

Harry had texted her back with a simple message that had her core tingling enough that she had to rub her thighs together.

YN: Thank you for continuously checking in on my comfort and experience regarding these situations. I have many more concerns for Arthur as we’ve already discussed. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask!

Harry Styles: I do not plan to go easy on you. Unless you specifically want soft play for these experiences. I can be a softer dominant but my main modality is firm, mean, regimented with softer aftercare.

YN: You don’t scare me. ;)

She was already being bratty with him.

It sent a wave of good nerves through her as she waited for a reply to be sent to her inbox.

Harry Styles: It’s interesting that you’ve already started to decide to be bad for me when you don’t even know what I’m capable of, darling.

YN : I’m shaking.

YN: Terrified.

Harry Styles: I wish I could wrap my fingers around your throat right now. Show your fiancé the proper way to choke a god damn brat.

YN could feel herself pooling with arousal.

It felt a bit wrong but she reasoned enough with herself that it was all for the greater good of her relationship with Arthur but deep down she knew that was bullshit.

YN: You’re probably not much better.

Harry Styles: Quite honestly, haven’t worked with such a fucking disobedient bitch in a long time. I cannot wait to break you. A kitten who thinks they’re a big bad tiger.

YN: Fuck you.

Harry Styles: Kitty’s got claws.

Harry Styles: For now…

It felt bordering on inappropriate but YN reasoned again that Harry had made it clear that there isn’t anything happening, it is a strictly professional as a type of situation like this can be.

++

Saturday has come and YN wakes up to a text.

Harry Styles: Better wear something cute enough that I find you interesting enough to play with. Even if it’s just to teach.

YN rereads the message quite a few times and why is he so good at getting under her skin and she doesn’t even know him yet but it’s like he knows exactly how to wind her up.

YN: Black dress with tights.

Harry Styles: It’s good to know that you’re just another basic bitch.

YN: What will you be wearing then?

Harry Styles: That’s none of your fucking business. I call the shots, kitty. Not you.

YN: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Harry Styles: Good to know. Five spanks for the five emojis. Would you like to keep going?

She can’t even help herself

YN: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Harry Styles: Noted.

YN wants to reply, knowing he’s probably waiting but a tiny sliver of guilt starts to creep in when she thinks about Arthur because though she’s trying to convince herself this is perfectly fine.

It’s not.

Not with the emotions it makes her feel.

She hasn’t felt them in so long.

It scares her.

“Sweetie pie, are you having second thoughts? Should be getting ready,” Arthur steps out of the walk-in closet, adjusting the sleeve of his button up.

“No!” YN replies much too quickly, her tone high pitch, “Um, I lost track of time. I’ll get ready now.”

“Okay, I’m excited for this new experience with you,” He smiles sweetly, stepping over to press a kiss to her forehead.

It’s affectionate, loving, and she’s still thinking of other things than her fiancé.

++

YN decides on a black wide leg trouser with a corseted bodysuit that gave her tits the perfect push-up, she’s spray a very thin most of body glitter on her chest, she knew it would sparkle in the dim lighting.

She considered wearing the dress and tights to spite him but whatever, she’d be less easy access for him.

++

Arthur held her hand tightly as they entered The Body Factory.

YN was already searching for Harry, barely waving to Raven as Arthur leads them over but she doesn’t want a drink, she wants to play.

However her fiancé guide her to a stool, ordering for both of them as Raven has a look of curiosity as she slides them in front of him.

“Does he come out and get us?” Arthur asks Raven, looking around he doesn’t see him either.

Raven bites her lip, shaking her head with a chuckle, “No, I take you to your reserved room when ten hits.”

“What is it?” YN asks, unable to read what is going on the bartender's mind.

This conversation didn’t seem particularly funny.

“Nothing really. Harry just hasn’t offered private lessons for at least eight or nine years. Normally when couples have an incident like you did, Harry revoked their memberships without a second thought,” Raven informs them as she picks at a spot on the smooth surface of the bar absentmindedly.

“Why us?” YN wonders out loud, why after all that time did he make an exception.

“I wish I knew,” The bartender shrugs neutrally.

++

The deep chime rings out about forty-five minutes later.

YN cannot decipher whether she wants to throw up or jump up and down with excitement.

Especially when Raven guides them down a long hallway, then into another corridor until they reach a door with a sign that warns, “No members past this point. Private access only.”

“Um-“ Arthur goes to point out the sign, he was a rule follower to his core.

“It’s Harry’s private playroom that members can’t use but again, this is special circumstances,” Raven’s voice is hushed as she leads them into a surprisingly minimal room.

There were cabinets built sleekly into the walls where all toys and accessories must be held, a matte black.

Everything matched but there was a bigger prominence of the green accents that were more subtle in the main areas.

The play bench hardware matches everything else but the cushion is a luxe emerald.

The bed was…unlike anything she had ever seen.

It was massive but fit well in the spacious room.

High posts on all four corners with subtle hooks to place restraints in.

The mattress looked fluffy and giving, it looked as if the sheets were a black silk but the duvet was a very muted pattern of black and green diamonds.

YN was in love with space.

It was so much more than she was expecting.

“Holy shit,” Arthur gapes at the elegance, clearly he had been expecting something different too.

“Okay, when Harry comes in, he will already be in the dom headspace and so he wants me to give you reminders. Harry will respect your hard limits as he’s reviewed them before the session. You have received a list of his so please do the same.”

“Just as you can safeword out at any time without consequences, Harry can as well. He will use the same ‘red’ if need be and will check your colors throughout to ensure safe play.”

“For this first lesson, Arthur you will sit and observe. Harry will display a safe, typical scene of play to understand what that looks like with whatever kind of submissive YN is. You may also use your safeword at any time to stop the play.”

YN swallows because would he allow that?

Surprisingly, Arthur’s face is still clear and happy as he starts to walk over to an overstuffed chair in the corner of the room and smiles at YN, “Can’t wait.”

YN raises a shocked eyebrow at his willingness but nods at Raven to show she understands.

++

They’re silent as they wait for Harry.

She wasn’t given instruction and because she was a bit nervous, she perched herself on Arthur’s lap as he rubbed her thigh and kissed her shoulder blades occasionally.

Then there’s a shuffle outside the door, the door knob twisting and the door opening.

Harry looked ethereal.

He wasn’t wearing a tailored suit like before but leather boots with a bit of a heel, form-fitting jeans that make his lean quads look biteable, and a plain black shirt.

His arms had even more beautiful ink than YN realized.

After Harry closes the door, his eyes lock on hers, not even acknowledging her fiancé’s presence.

“Stand up,” Harry orders loudly, a bit startling.

YN obeys instantly, her heart was pounding in her eardrums like waves of the choppy ocean.

A cruel smirk tilts on his lips when he scans her up and down.

“Did I strike a nerve, pet? This isn’t a black dress and tights. Are you already starting off so insecure? And you think you can handle me. What a cute, pathetic little kitten,” His voice is venomous, steady, and she’s clinging onto every word.

Arthur’s clearly confused but stays silent.

“I’m not pathetic,” YN argues shakily, it felt dangerous to get bratty so soon but it was her submissive profile and character, it came naturally.

Harry quirks a brow, “Sir.”

YN gives him her own confused look.

“I’m not pathetic, sir. Every time you speak, try again.”

“I’m not pathetic,” YN bleats easily, a flutter of her eyelashes.

Harry smiles like a goddamn wolf.

“Oh, you’re not? Let’s test that theory,” Harry draws as he takes a few steps backwards, towards the door, “Come to me.”

YN stands up, on wobbly legs, and begins to but is stopped in her tracks by his hard voice.

“Hands and knees. Crawl for me, I want to show your fiancé how pathetic you are for me,” Harry has a humor, an evil sense of it.

YN drops to her hands and knees, nearly panting already, and begins to move.

++

summary of triggering scene: YN’s fiance chokes her and though it’s completely consensual he doesn’t know what he’s doing and almost hurts her. YN cannot safeword out at the time but harry stops the scene.

[animesmolbean]

Words Hold Power

An “The Umbrella Academy” fanfiction

Five x Reader

(Female)

Author's Note: Welcome to my The Umbrella Academy fanfiction! I'm so excited to share this story with you all! TUA is my favorite Netflix show! I'm very sad to see it's in its final season, but all great shows come to an end! But at least we'll get to rewatch it over and over again, lol.

Speaking of which, please, no spoilers for S4 since I have not watched it yet. I'll let you guys know where I am in S4 in coming posts.

With that said, I just wanted to tell you guys this. There was one hesitation I had with writing this story. Handling Viktor's character. I know about the journey of this character and Elliot Page's journey as well. I know about the transition, and I wanted to tell you how I planned on approaching this.

I did research on this topic and wanted to be sure I was handling it correctly. I researched how I should write transgender characters and their journeys throughout the story.

I also read other TUA fanfictions for research to see how other authors handle it, and like the research, it's a mixed bag. Some use Viktor only, and some show the name change.

After researching, I decided on an approach.

I will follow what the show does and show the transition story Viktor has. I chose this because I believe it's a beautiful journey, and the show does a great job handling the topic.

One last thing, all the main characters (The Hargreeves siblings) are aged up a little.

With all that said, I hope you enjoy the first chapter! ♥️

~Character Info~

Reader's ability is cursed speech. She can make anyone do what she says with only a few words. It's similar to Allison's, except she doesn't need to say certain words first like her, and her ability is much more powerful. To the point where she has to be extremely careful about what she says.

(As you can tell, this was inspired by the anime character, Toge Inumaki from Jujutsu Kaisen.)

Chapter 1: We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals (Family Reunion)

On the twelfth hour of the first day of October 1985, forty-three women around the world gave birth.

This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women have been pregnant when the day first began.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

He got eight of them.

Many years later, the kids grew up and went on with their lives as adults.

There was Number One, aka Luther Hargreeves. Big, strong and was currently on the moon, studying and preparing for whatever his mission was.

There was Number Two, aka Diego Hargreeves. Impulsive, brave and works as a vigilante of sorts.

There was Number Three, aka Allison Hargreeves. Famous actress who was currently on the red carpet in front of paparazzi.

There was Number Four, aka Klaus. A lazy, free-spirited soul who is currently leaving rehab and using the money he got from the rehab to buy drugs. He ended up in the back of an ambulance.

And, there was Number Seven, aka Vanya Hargreeves. She was quiet, timid, and was currently leaving the theater after practicing her violin.

However, their lives would change forever with one broadcast.

Their father was now dead.

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY

☂

Vanya rode a taxi to her childhood home. A place she lived for many years.

The Umbrella Academy.

A tall condo-like building with a black gate.

Vanya approached the building and opened the doors, whose windows were decorated by umbrellas.

The foyer was fancy still. The middle was open with a chandelier hanging above a small round table in the middle. Tall, smooth white beams holding the sides which held the second floor. A staircase that leads to that second floor was behind the small round table.

It was just as Vayna remembered it. Every little detail was still there.

“Hey, Mom.”

Vanya called to the woman in the living room. Said woman sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace, which currently had a fire going. She stayed still as she stared into the dancing flames.

“Mom?”

“Vanya?”

A familiar voice turned Vanya’s attention elsewhere.

“You're actually here.”

She turned and saw her sister, Allison coming down the stairs.

“Hey, Allison.”

“Hey sis.”

Allison now stood before her sister. She chuckled and brought the other girl into a hug, which Vanya quietly but graciously returned.

“Ah. What is she doing here?”

A new voice spoke through the quiet foyer.

“You don't belong here. Not after what you did.”

It was Diego.

“You're seriously gonna do this today?” Allison spoke up, her tone telling that she wasn't in the mood for the male's attitude.

“Way to dress for the occasion, by the way.” She added, mocking Diego’s attire as he ascended the stairs. He was still in his “hero” gear; knives and everything.

“At least I'm wearing black.” Diego shot back nonchalantly as he turned left on the stairs, disappearing from the girls’ views.

Vanya, now uncomfortable, spoke up quietly, “You know what? I- Maybe he's right. And I shouldn't-”

“Forget about him.” Allison interrupted her. “I'm glad you're here.” She spoke softly. Vanya’s lips quirked up a little at Allison's words. The sisters shared a moment of silence.

☂

Diego arrived at his late father's room, to see Luther there checking the windows. He leaned against the doorframe.

“I can save you some time. They're all locked. No forced entry, no sign of struggle. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

As he spoke, he walked over to Luther who was also walking towards him.

“Oh, you got big, Luther. What's the secret, huh? Protein shakes? Low carbs?” Diego asked mockingly.

“What do you want?” Luther asked, not wanting to deal with Diego's attitude.

Diego reached into his pocket and pulled out a few folded pieces of paper, handing them to Luther. “The autopsy report.”

After he teasingly tried to pull them away from Luther, the latter brother snatched them out of his hand.

“And you have this, why?” Luther asked.

“Well, that's because I… broke into the coroner's office.” Diego explained as he sat down in an armchair. “And surprise, surprise, Dad's death was… normal. Just a boring, old heart failure.”

“Yeah, so?” Luther looked at Diego.

“So, why are you in here, checking all the windows?”

“Were you the first one on the scene?” Luther asked.

“Pogo found him.” Diego answered.

“Yeah, I talked with Pogo. He said he couldn't find Dad's monocle.”

“And your point being?” Diego asked in a bored tone.

“Can you think of a single time you saw Dad and he wasn't wearing that monocle? No. Which means someone took it. Which means there's a chance he wasn't alone when he died.”

Diego sat up from the armchair. “There is no mystery here. Nothing to avenge. Nothing to solve, nothing like that. It's just a sad old man who kicked it in a big empty house. Just like he deserved.”

“You should leave.” Lither spoke, not liking Diego's tone with that last sentence he spoke.

“Whatever you say, brother.” Diego said in a mocking tone as he turned to leave. Before he did, he turned back to Luther. “By the way, did you visit (Your Name) yet?”

Luther shook his head. “No. I was about to, actually.”

“You know where she is.” Diego simply said.

☂

Vanya entered the living room, looking around at the interior. She spotted a comic and new articles on their group, The Umbrella Academy. She looked at the bookshelves and pulled out one book in particular.

The title read, “Extra Ordinary My Life as Number Seven”

It was her autobiography book. The one she wrote when she left the academy.

She observed it solemnly until a voice spoke out.

“Welcome home, Ms. Vanya.”

She turned and saw Pogo, a human sized monkey dressed formally with a cane and glasses.

Vanya walked over to him and hugged him. Pogo hugged back with a hum. “So good to see you.” He noticed the book in her hand. “Ah, yes, your autobiography.”

“Do you know, um…” Vanya paused before continuing. “Did he ever read it?”

Pogo thought for a moment before replying, “Not that I'm aware of.”

Vanya turned her attention to the portrait above the fireplace. It showed a boy, around seventeen in age, sitting with a neutral but sophisticated look on his face.

“How long has it been since Five disappeared?” She asked.

Pogo turned to look at the portrait too. “It's been sixteen years, four months, and fourteen days.” The two looked at each other. “Your father insisted I keep track.”

“And… how long has (Your Name) been in that coma?”

“Sixteen years, four months, and six days.” Pogo replied.

“You wanna know something stupid? I always used to leave the lights on for him. I was scared that he would come back, it would be late, and the house would be dark and he wouldn't be able to find us, so he'd leave again. And he would take (Your Name) with him. So, every night I'd make a little snack and make sure all the lights were on.”

Pogo nodded. “Oh, I remember your snacks. I'm pretty sure I stepped in half those peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches, and those (Favorite type of Cookie) cookies.” He sighed a couple times before he spoke again, “Your father always believed that Number Five was still out there somewhere. He also believed that one day (Your Name) would wake up. He never lost hope.”

“And look where that got him.” Vanya said solemnly.

☂

Allison went up to her late father's study, looking around the area. The familiarity of it brought up a memory.

〰️

Reginald Hargreeves was working in his office, as usual, when Grace knocked on the door. She entered before closing the door.

“The children are ready for bed, sir. They wanted to say goodnight.”

She turned and walked a couple of paces and opened the sliding door.

On the other side revealed the eight children, all wearing matching pajamas. Allison was in the center while the others surrounded her. Little (Your Name) stood between her and Five, a black cloth face mask covering her mouth and nose.

The children were all smiling as they waited for their father to acknowledge them. But he was so into his work that he didn't even glance up at them.

Sensing the awkwardness, Grace quickly dismissed the kids. The kids, of course, were disappointed but not surprised. As they left slowly, (Your Name) tugged on Allison's sleeve, silently asking her to come.

“I'll be there in a minute (Your Name).” The girl whispered. (Your Name) tilted her head to the side. Allison spoke again, “Why don't you go hang out with Five for a bit before bed? I know you planned on it.” She gave the masked girl a small smile. (Your Name) felt her cheeks warm up, but she nodded, leaving and quietly walking over to Five. The boy saw her coming and, with a nod of his head, gestured to her to follow him. (Your Name) nodded and started to walk beside him. As she did, she heard Allison,

“He's always busy.”

〰️

“Where's the cash, Dad?”

The sound of a voice diverted Allison's attention and she walked over to her father's desk, hearing clamoring noises. She leaned forward to look to see who was over there.

“Klaus? What are you doing in here?” She asked.

Said boy looked up and gasped at the sight of his sister. “Oh! Allison! Wow, is that you?” He asked as he stood up. He embraced her slowly; Allison slowly returned the hug. “Long time. Too long.” He pulled away. “Hey, I was hoping to see you, actually, because I wanted to get your autograph. Add it to my collection!” He planted his chin onto his hands.

Allison let her brother act because it was how he always behaved when she noticed the white paper bracelet on his left wrist. “Just out of rehab?” She asked.

“No, no. No, no, no, no. No. I'm done with all of that.” Klaus replied with a sigh as he removed the bracelet. “I just came down here to prove to myself that the old man was really gone.” He smiled. “And he is! He's dead. Yeah!” He clapped, making Allison smile a little, shaking her head a bit.

“You know how I know? Because if he were alive, not one of us would be allowed to set foot in this room.” Allison silently agreed with Klaus.

“He was always in here, our whole childhood, plotting his next torment, right?” He said with a chuckle as he sat in the armchair behind the desk, putting his feet on the desk. “Remember how he used to look at us? That scowl?” He pointed to the man's portrait onto the wall behind him. “Thank Christ, he's not our real father, so we couldn't inherit those cold, dead eyes!” He stretched his eyelids to show more of his eyeballs. He fake screams, making Allison chuckle a little as Klaus started to dramatically imitate their late father.

“Get out of his chair.”

Klaus turned his head and saw Luther standing by the doorway. “Oh, wow, Luther! Wow, you really, uh… You really filled out over the years, huh?” Klaus said as he stood and flexed his arm muscles.

“Klaus.” Luther warned.

“Save the lecture. I was already leaving. You guys can talk amongst yourselves. I am going to visit (Your Name). Oh! The precious little sister of ours.” He chuckled softly. Before he could leave though, Luther stopped him. “Drop it.”

“Ex-squeeze me?” Klaus said.

“Do it. Now.” Luther ordered.

Klaus pulled his arm away from Luther and went back to the desk and started to empty out his pockets, which held a few of his late father's belongings. “It's just an advance on our inheritance! That's all it is!” Allison chuckled silently at her brother. “No need to get your little panties in a bunch.” With that, Klaus left, closing the door; leaving Luther and Allison alone in the room.

“So, Klaus is still Klaus, in case you are wondering.” Luther started.

“You know, after all these years, I find it strangely comforting.” Allison stated.

“Did you see Diego?” Luther asked.

“With his stupid outfit?” Allison added in amusement.

“Oh, I know. Do you think he wears that thing in the bathroom?” Lauther asked.

“Like in the shower?” Allison asked for confirmation.

“Yeah.” Luther confirmed.

“Yes, absolutely!” Allison laughed.

The two went on to talk about how their lives are going now that they are adults. Luther was the only one to stay while the rest went their separate ways. Their conversation ended talking about Allison's family and her powers.

〰️

A little later, everyone congregated in the living room. The fire was still going in the fireplace as everyone sat in silence.

Luther started talking about doing a memorial service for their late father. Some like Allison were mostly confused by this or making fun of it like Klaus.

“Is that my skirt?” Allison asked, noticing Klaus wearing a skirt now.

“Oh, yeah this. I found it in your room. It's a little dated, I know, but it's very breathy on the bits.”

Luther stopped Klaus before he could go further and started to talk about their father's death. He had a theory that he didn't die simply of heart failure. He recounted how he was acting suspicious and requested Klaus to try to communicate with him. Klaus was not interested.

“I can't just call Dad into the afterlife and be like, “Dad, could you just stop playing tennis with Hitler for a moment and take a quick call?”

“Since when? That's your thing.” Luther said.

“I'm not in the right… frame of mind.”

“You're high?” Allison asked, not surprised.

“Yeah! Yeah!” Klaus laughed. “I mean, how are you not listening to this nonsense?”

“Well, sober up, this is important.” Luther said.

Klaus only sighed.

When Luther started talking about the missing monocle, Diego concluded that Luther was suspicious of all of them, saying that Luther thought one of them killed their dad. This caused everyone to get upset. Diego insulted Luther's leadership, Klaus got up and jokingly said that he might as well go murder their Mom and (Your Name), unless she was already dead. Vanya left in silence and. Allison left in silence as well. Luther tried to defend himself, but it was too late.

They weren't always like this. When they were kids, they were tight knit.

〰️

17 YEARS AGO

“This is Jim Hellerman, reporting live for Channel 2 News outside of the Capital West Bank at Main and Sixth. A group of heavily armed men stormed the bank not three hours ago and took an unknown number of hostages.”

The armed men surveyed the bank as they pointed their guns at the bound up hostages and pushed them behind the counter as they proceeded with the robbery.

Unexpectedly, a girl with curly black hair, in a school uniform and mask, walked casually to one of the robbers.

It was Allison.

“Hey, get back with the others.” The robber ordered the girl.

“I heard a rumor.” Allison spoke.

“What? What did you say?”

Allison leaned forward and used her ability, “I heard a rumor that you shot your friend in the foot.”

The robber pointed his gun at one of his partners and promptly shot him in the foot, knocking him down. The hostages screamed at the sound of the gun.

Suddenly, someone, dressed in a boy's school uniform with a mask came crashing down from a window above and landed behind the counter. It was Luther. He punched one robber and threw him out the window with surprising strength.

Then, another kid dressed like Luther came from the other side of the bank. “Guns are for sissies. Real men throw knives.” He threw two long knives at one of the robbers only for them to redirect to another robber and immediately killed him.

There were now only two robbers left in the lobby.

One of them climbed onto the desk and pointed his gun shakily at the three kids. “Get back, you freaks.”

“Hey, be careful up there, buddy.” Diego, the knife throwing kid taunted.

“Get back now!”

“Wouldn't want you to get hurt.” Allison taunted as well.

“Or what?”

A fourth kid appeared seemingly out of nowhere, sitting criss cross on the desk. A taunting smirk on his face. This was Number Five.

The robber shot at Five, but he disappeared and reappeared on the other side. When the robber turned around and tried to shoot him again, he suddenly realized that he was not holding a gun.

“Ooh! That's one badass stapler!” Five taunted before smacking the guy's hand holding the stapler into his head. This knocked the robber over.

All they had to do now was get rid of the robbers in the vault.

Or so they thought.

There was one more.

He loaded his fun and his gun cocked, catching the kids off guard.

“Down you freaks!” He yelled.

Suddenly, running from a hidden place behind a wall was a fifth kid, dressed like Allison, as she pulled down her face mask. She directed her attention to the robber.

“Explode!”

The single word echoed loudly through the bank, and just before the guy could turn his gun to the girl, his body suddenly exploded, body parts, guts, and blood spreading out everywhere. The hostages screamed in fear. The girl quickly covered her face again, breathing heavily as she ran to her siblings.

She gestured to all of them. They couldn't see much of her face, but they could tell she was worried by the look in her eyes.

“We're okay. Thanks (Your Name).” Allison said.

(Your Name) hummed, nodding as she walked over to behind the desk with the others, while two more kids dressed like the rest of the boys joined them. Five looked at her. “That was pretty badass. Good work.” He complimented, giving her a smile. (Your Name) felt her cheeks warm up a little, and she tilted her head a bit and closed her eyes. Most people wouldn't be able to tell her expression behind the mask, but Five knew she was smiling at him in thanks.

“Do we really have to do this?” A meek voice asked.

“Come on, Ben. There's more guys in the vault.” Luther told the boy.

Ben sighed as he walked to the vault door. “I didn't sign up for this.”

He entered as the hostages all ran for their lives out of the bank. Inside the vault, the last of the robbers were eyeing slaughtered by Ben's ability. He screeched and roared as his tentacles ripped them apart and threw them against the walls. Blood splattered all over the windows.

Once it was quiet, Ben came out, covered in blood. “Can we go home now?” He asked, his breathing shaky.

It was time to leave.

The seven kids started walking towards the entrance of the bank. (Your Name) pulled out a small vial and turned the cap. She pulled the bottom part of her mask up and put the bottle to her lips. She tilted her head back and started swallowing the liquid. She finished it and placed the empty bottle back in her pocket.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Five's voice made (Your Name) turn to him. She nodded and hummed in thanks. Five offered his arm to her. “Ready?” He asked. The girl nodded again, and she hooked her arm with Five's. Five smiled at her, and they started walking after their siblings.

The seven kids emerged from the back as the news reporters pointed their cameras at the group, and they all clamored to try to talk to them.

Above on the top of a building nearby, stood Reginald Hargreeves, observing the other kids with a mini telescope. An eighth kid, dressed like Allison and (Your Name), minus the mask, stood next to him.

“Why can't I go play with the others?” The girl asked.

“We've been through this before, Number Seven. I'm afraid there's just nothing special about you.” Reginald said as he lowered his telescope.

The girl looked down. “Oh.”

Eventually, Reginald came down to stand with the children.

“Our world is changing. Has changed. There are some among us gifted with abilities far beyond the ordinary. I have adopted seven such children.”

‘You mean eight.’ (Your Name) thought to herself as she looked down temporarily, her arm still linked with Five's.

“I give you the inaugural class of the Umbrella Academy.”

Many news reporters asked many questions.

“What happened to their parents?” One asked.

“They were suitably compensated.” Reginald replied.

“Are you concerned about the welfare of the children?” Another asked.

“Of course. As I am for the fate of the world.” Reginald said.

〰️

☂

Everyone was in separate rooms, having their alone time after the little dispute from earlier. Klaus was still in the living room, trying to talk to their late father but he ended up knocking the vase filled with his ashes over.

Luther was walking through the hallways, reminiscing until he got to his room.

Allison was looking through her belongings until she found a gold heart locket with ‘A+L’ carved onto the front.

Klaus took the vase into the kitchen where he proceeded to take more pills.

Diego laid on the couch in the living room, playing with one of his knives.

Vanya sat on the stairs, a solemn look on her face.

Luther eventually found a familiar record and played it on the record player.

“I Think We're Alone Now” by Tiffany started to play.

Everyone heard the familiar tune all throughout the house and they all started to dance in their respective rooms.

Childhood nostalgia ran through their bodies as they all danced like no one was watching. Even Pogo moved a little to the beat.

But suddenly, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed.

The music stopped as the house reacted to the violent disturbance.

The siblings all ran to the courtyard and saw a giant hole, surrounded by blue lightning.

“What is it?” Vanya asked.

“Don't get too close!” Allison warned.

“Yeah, no shit.” Diego said.

“Looks like some sort of temporal anomaly. Either that or a miniature black hole. One of the two.

“Pretty big difference there, Paul Bunyan.” Diego insulted.

“Out of the way!” Klaus exclaimed as he came out with a fire extinguisher and tried to spray it but it was out of steam. So, he just threw it at the mysterious anomaly only for it to get sucked in.

“What is that gonna do?” Allison asked.

“I don't know. Do you have a better idea?” Klaus asked.

The anomaly got stronger and Luther ushered everyone behind him to protect them. Klaus wanted to run. Luther and Allison held hands.

The electrical crackling intensified and someone emerged from the anomaly, arms out. It disappeared and the person fell out of the sky and landed on the ground. The sky cleared up as the siblings walked towards the person, who stood up. He was dressed in a suit way too big for him.

“Does anyone else see little Number Five, or is that just me?” Klaus asked.

The boy known as Five looked at himself then back at the siblings.

“Shit.”

☂

The six were now in the kitchen. Five was busy making a sandwich while the others watched in shock.

“What's the date? The exact date.” Five asked.

“The 24th.” Vanya replied.

“Of what?”

“March.”

“Good.”

Luther spoke up. “So, are we gonna talk about what just happened?”

Five didn't reply. He just continued with making his sandwich.

Silence fell for a couple of seconds until Luther stood up. “It's been seventeen years.”

Five scoffed. “It's been a lot longer than that.” He blinked over to the cabinet.

“I haven't missed that.” Luther muttered.

“Where'd you go?” Diego asked.

“The future. It's shit, by the way.” Five replied as he blinked back to the table.

“Called it.” Klaus said.

“I should've listened to the old man. You know, jumping through space is one thing, jumping through time is a toss of the dice.” Five looked up at the siblings. “Nice dress.” He told Klaus.

“Oh, well, danke!” Klaus said, playing with the article of clothing.

“Wait, how did you get back?” Vanya asked.

“In the end I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time.” Five explained.

“That makes no sense.” Diego spoke up.

“Well, it would if you were smarter.” Five sasses.

Diego stood up to confront the boy but Luther stopped him, holding him back.

“How long were you there?” He asked.

“Forty-one years. Give or take.”

Luther and Diego sat back down. “So what are you saying? That you're fifty-eight?” The former asked.

Five looked at Luther. “No, my consciousness is fifty-eight.” He finished his sandwich. “Apparently, my body is now seventeen again.”

“Wait, how does that even work?” Vanya asked.

“Delores kept saying the equations were off. Eh.” Five took a bite out of his sandwich. “Bet she's laughing now.”

Vanya was confused. “Delores?”

Five ignored her and looked at the newspaper that told him about Reginald Hargreeves’ death. “Guess I missed the funeral.”

“How'd you know about that?” Luther asked.

“What part of the future do you not understand?” Five asked. “Heart failure, huh?”

“Yeah.” “No.” Diego and Luther said together.

Five hummed before clicking his tongue. “Nice to see nothing's changed.” Then, he got a good look at his siblings again. He realized that one was missing. “By the way, where's (Your Name)?”

The other five siblings looked at each other, solemn expressions on their faces now. “Well…” Vanya started. “There isn't an easy way to say this.” Allison said. “She's in a coma.” “She's dead.” Klaus and Diego finished. “Diego!” Allison scolded.

Five looked at his siblings, a subtle look of worry on his face, but on the inside, his heart was beating faster. “What happened?”

“Well…. like I said… this isn't easy to say.” As Allison tried to explain, they suddenly heard soft footsteps approaching the kitchen. They slowly turned their heads and what they saw shook them to the core.

There stood…

(Your Name).

Klaus yelled in surprise.

“Holy shit.” Diego said.

Everyone else looked in surprise.

(Your Name) was alive.

[goodluckclove]

I've been meaning to say something. (100 follower hot take)

Hey! Thanks for stopping by. I hope you've had a nice day. Why don't you rest with me for a while? I made some chocolate chip cookies - with shortening instead of butter, so they're very soft and very chocolatey. I made way too many and they aren't my wife's favorite, so I could use some help in eating them.

You're probably a writer, right? Or maybe you think about how you could be. Browse the tags here, or on other social media platforms. Maybe you used to write stories as a kid. I bet those were fun. Teachers might've thought they were impressive, or they dissected them line by line until the words didn't make sense in your head anymore. Either way, if you're here you're probably here for a reason.

(rant alert)

I dipped a toe in online writing communities on and off. My last attempt was forty-five minutes scrolling through the writing hashtag on Youtube Shorts (so TikTok, I guess? I don't know). I didn't like it. I really didn't. The thing that sticks out the strongest in my mind is one particular video where a woman claims that every story needs a second act plot twist.

Huh? Every story? All of them? Why? Since when? Who are you? What qualifications do you have to make a statement like that?

That's the common thread that makes a lot of writing spaces very uncomfortable for me. Successful writers are really only successful in their genre and for the given moment, so they don't have that much objective authority in the craft. And yet I see a lot of people deciding the things that you can't do in writing. Or the things you have to do, and how you have to do them. It was so much of Writeblr at first glance that I almost dipped out once again. I didn't, though, and I'm glad I didn't because now I get to watch some of the next great storytellers from across the world grow and examine and forge their way forward.

No one can teach you how to write. No, that's not true. Teachers teach literacy. Handwriting. Typing maybe - do schools still teach typing? Let me try saying it in a different way - no one, not one single person on this goddamned planet, has the right to tell you how to make a story.

I was supposed to get my MFA in creative writing before my first breakdown. My uncle stayed in the program I was meant to be in, and a few years after I dropped out he graduated. Recently I had the thought to look up his thesis novella, and as I searched I found myself regretting my decision to leave school. If I stayed and got to develop my writing in an actual class, with other writers and a knowledgeable professor, how much further along would I be than where I am right now?

It was bad. His novella was terrible. It was so bad I had a small existential crisis for, like, three days. He spent so much money on years and years of professional education and came out with a truly soulless story that read as if you prompted an AI to write the next Great American Novel. So if you think you need a writing degree to be a legitimate author, it could help connections-wise, but it ultimately won't be the thing that does the work for you.

Not all advice I see online on writing is bad. I find the people who are able to capture the "I" statements of therapy and phrase advice as things that have worked for them, or things that they personally enjoy, to be fine. Some writing advice can spark inspiration.

But if someone is the type of person to boil every story down to troupes and cliches, and then immediately say that every story that uses the trait they don't like is automatically bad for everyone? I'm dropping the kindness for a second - that's trash. That's a trash take and I see far too many writers use it as a reason to stop before they begin.

I don't like whump. I say my reasons in previous posts if you go back through my blog. But you will never hear me say that any story with whump in it is bad, because I don't know that. You might prove me wrong. I am an adult human being and I have the humility to admit that I can like something I didn't expect to. I genuinely enjoy the direction of The Human Centipede (only the first one) and if you cringed just now that probably means you haven't seen it.

There are so many types of books and movies and plays and comics out there. To enjoy a specific genre is fine, to ignore the existence of everything else is a really, really, really odd thing to do. Maybe someone will hate your story because they think everything should be Neil Gaiman, and therefore have no way to understand your epistolary high-Western. You are not the wrong end of that situation just for existing.

And at there is a definite threshold on how many writing tips you can gather before they stop being useful. If you find them interesting, that's one thing. That's fine. But if the culture of creativity online has made you feel like you need to educate yourself on every possible angle before you can write a story, you are actively harming yourself.

Imagine taking the level of structure you put on yourself in that way and putting it on children playing pretend in the backyard. Oh, Susie, don't you know that it's overdone for your Kitsune have dead parents? Xyler, shouldn't you ask someone else before you decide how Spiderman would react to this? It would make no sense and they do not need it. Kids will make a whole world out of nothing and it's the most fucked thing in my heart that at some point they get access to Reddit and dipshits start insisting that's wrong.

They aren't wrong and you aren't either. Your favorite creative influencer can't tell you your story, strangers on the internet can't tell you your story, your teachers and loved ones can't tell you your story. They can influence it, but they can't write it honestly the way you can.

You do that. That's the thing you do.

Man that makes me upset. I can't tell you how to make a story, either. If anyone sends me asks for writing advice the most I'll do is say what I've done before hopping into your DMs and starting a direct conversation. it's so personal to each individual artist, and I'd like to think that the people selling these classes and software and promoting these platforms haven't thought about that before. Otherwise it does feel manipulative. If you have a willingness to practice and imagine and really experiment with the possibilities, you are ready to write your story.

And if it doesn't work? Try again. That's what you do.

Stephen King has written roughly a thousand books and maybe five of them have decent endings. He is unimaginably successful.

I'm rambling now. I think I got that out of my system. I was really worried to say this out of fear of being too weird or somehow reverse-gatekeeping so hard that it circles back into also being a bad thing. I've just spoken to a lot of people who I still think of throughout my day, and I truly ache for them to get past the fear of creation. Because it's worth it. It's worth it and it's fun, even when it's messy and you're tired.

Let it Be just came on. Beatles. I haven't listened to The Beatles in a long time. Feels a little apropos.

I love you, reader. Reader, Writer, Colleague. Take care of yourself. Especially the little you, still sitting there in the backyard of your soul, bathing in the sun with their bare feet in the damp earth.

Consider joining them, maybe.

[littlefankingdom]

~ Batgirl (2000)

They are sad and disappointed in themselves and they should be. What they did is not justice.

So, I'm mad about this issue, like really mad for personal reasons I will explain later. For context: a young girl has been kidnapped by a thief who escaped jail. It's not the first time said thief kidnapps this girl. This young girl, around 10 years old, is an artist and her mother exploits her, making money by selling her daughter's art. They are rich. This woman doesn't love her daughter, she loves the money she is making from her daughter. The man that keeps kidnapping this young girl? Her father. Her father that loves and cares for her, that turned to crime to take care of his daughter, and refuses to sell any art she makes because she made it for him, because she loves her father. And she pleads, she pleads Batgirl to let her with her father and not bring her back to her mother who doesn't love her, she pleads her to not put her father in jail. And what do Batgirl does? She stops the father, gives him to the cops and brings back the girl to her mother. On those panels, they are looking at a sad child with her abuser they brought her back to.

My mother doesn't love me. She will say she does to others, but it's not true and it has been the case for a long time, since I was very young. I wasn’t unwanted, I was just not what she wanted. My life was supposed to be centered, until my death, around taking care of my mother (she is not disabled or anything, she just wants people to do everything for her). Raised to make money I would gift to my mother, so she could have luxuries, but I was not successful in that. I grew up pleading for love, pleading for people to listen to my pain. Nobody did. I learnt that people prefer the comfort and peace of their lives over helping others. I learnt to distrust authority figures (teachers, doctors, any adults/people at least 5 years older than me in general), because either they were power hungry assholes who abuse kids, either they preferred to look away, who would tell me to be nice and listen to my mother. It's too much problem to help children. In the end, I could count on nobody but myself to get out. I can count on nobody but myself. I hate the system, and I promised myself I would never be like those who look away, I will defend any child that needs it.

So, to read a story where a little girl pleads a HERO to not bring them back to their abuser, only for said HERO to still bring her back to her abuser, to tell her to be nice and stay with her awful parent... I am furious. This issue is literally telling me that, if heroes existed, the heroes you adore since you are a child, they would not have saved you. They would have bring you back to your mother and told you to be nice, like everyone else. They would have let you go through those years of pain. Heroes would have looked away.

What is the logic here? Because it's neither justice or the good thing to do. That it is the law? Since when do they follow the law? I don't remember vigilantism being legal, or assault and battery, or owning all the weapons Bruce owns. Yes, it was still a kidnapping, her father is a criminal, it would not have been a good life for a child. But, the Bats could have tried to find a solution, instead of simply giving this child back to someone who will treat her like shit.

I know it's just a fiction, so it's not like a real child is being exploited and will be more abused later when she stops being good enough because her mental health deteriorated, nobody is going to become depressed and lose trust in heroes because the bats brought her back to her awful mother. And also, it's not the characters who are at fault, it's the writers. It's not about Cass and Bruce being bad people heroes, it's about who the fuck decided to write that. New entries in my list of enemies, Keller Puckett and Dylan Horrocks.

[agirlwholovesrockstars]

smile idiot, I love you

☆ EDDIE MUNSON'S MASTERLIST ☆

❣ AGATHA'S MAIN PAGE ❣

• Summary : you called Eddie because you've been so down lately nothing brightens you up whatever you try to do but he only leads you to disappointment

• Word Count : mini fics for a reason hehe

• Warnings : 18+ Bestfriend!Eddie Munson x FEM!reader, cursing, reader and Eddie are both (20), use of y/n, self-doubt, overthinking, worrying about the future, just a dash of personal family problems, slight allusions to su*cide, not feeling good enough, Eddie can be a real idiot on this lol, reader is just really having a bad week and she needs someone to comfort her, that's it

• What to Expect : friends to lovers, angst and fluff

• Note To Reader : I'm trying to write more as I can here! so, I hope you'll appreciate it! 🥺🫶🏻✨ also I kinda projecting myself on this fic :')) I just wish there's someone like Eddie in my highschool life, but the problem is I am Eddie in highschool 😭

• Author Note : actually, the fic title itself has a history on my middle school days, it's what I quote to my crush for over (10 years 👀) HELP HAHAHA yeah I still do have a crush on that specific person until now anyways enough about me, I just realized that little phrase is so perfect for Eddie hehe

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You're now entering adulthood

Well, a young adult

Sooner or later, you'll be 21 and feeling like you haven't accomplished anything yet

You feel young but also at the same time you feel old

You know it is wrong to be worrying about your future because you're ignoring what you're having right now

You can't lie to yourself for it, you're grateful and thankful for all the blessings that come into your life

You got healed by all of things that scarred and traumatized you, the things that made you feel insecure about your looks and from all of the people who betrayed you before?

Your past self will still be self-loathing, low-esteem and still keep holding grudges

But now, you made peace with that like truthfully

You have never been more so comfortable and confident in your whole life after all of the things that happened back in when you we're 14

You seriously just can't help that you're like stuck in the middle didn't know which road or path that you will take over

Many people say that is okay if you don't have anything yet, is it that much more exciting?

But sometimes the fear comes first on you like you think about it a lot

What if this is it?

What if this is who you will be with all of your life?

College life, finding and looking for a job, trying anything you possibly can to earn money for your needs

It's all coming too fast it's like what they say, "Take a good care of treasuring your moments while still in your teens because time moves speedily"

It's true, you feel like you just had your 18 birthday yesterday and now all of the sudden you woke up and now you're 20

You're reaching your 20's and can't help but also worrying about your relationship status

Your family and everyone who is close to you are expecting you to be married

"Snap out of it!" You vocally told yourself to shut up your running mind

You close the door behind you

But before you take the stairs heading to your bedroom, you want to talk about how you feel with your parents

The moment you're about to open the sliding doors in the backyard, you overheard your parents arguing with each other

You frown and slumped your shoulders

You decided against it, so, you grip tightly on your bag and walk upstairs to your bedroom

You closed the door, you pressed your back on it and sliding down to sit on the carpeted floors of your bedroom and then threw your bag on your chair and you deeply sighed

You facepalmed yourself as your mind goes running a muck

You glanced at the telephone on your bedside table

Should you call Eddie?

Nah, he doesn't even want to be a part of your problem, you don't want to be a burden

The time when you get comfortable around Eddie, it feels like you can tell many things to him and he won't even judge you for it

The thing is that, you both haven't crossed that line in the level of friendship

You haven't showed your side of vulnerability and of course, he hasn't seen you sad like this

There's a splash of embarrassing feeling that is crawling under your skin and also you know you will regret opening up to him because you aren't used to it anymore

You used to be vocal about how you really feel to some of your friends

But since one of them betrayed you

Used your personal problems against you and shamed you for it, told somebody else about it and it saddens you and angers you

It changed everything, now, it's so hard to trust everybody for you

Ever since you and Eddie started your friendship, you've been itching to give him a glimpse of you that sometimes your life isn't happy-go-lucky most of the time

You can keep it to yourself, you know sometimes it isn't right to cling on somebody if you feel like this, you need to help yourself too

But now, you need it, you need someone else to listen

The muffled noises outside of your room, you could them more clearly behind the closed door, they still have the same heated argument, you think they went inside now

Your stomach grumbles, you really don't want to go down there while they're still having a fit but you sigh as you stand up and twist the doorknob open

They're in the living room as you headed towards the kitchen

You saw the plate that your mom prepared for you, you take it and grab a bottle of apple juice as you went back to your room quietly

"Hey, young lady!" Your dad shouted out to you as he loudly stomps, you flinched on the middle of the stairs

"Just leave her alone!"

"Why do you go to your room all the time, huh?!? Why don't you just eat in the dining table where you supposed to be?!?"

You hang your head low, you didn't speak but you can feel your heart racing

"Look at your kid! Our child is misbehaving and treating a lot of matters with disrespect"

"She is not acting like that-"

"She doesn't even talk to her parents!"

You still went on your bedroom finally but your tears are now clouding your vision as you placed your food at the small table in front of your bed

You glanced at the phone again and this time you didn't even hesitated, you dialed his telephone number as you collected yourself first and keep your breathing lowly

You're still sniffling and your tears still running down on your cheeks

You're too overwhelmed with everything

Your heart is about to explode of how much is going on right now, you feel like he doesn't gonna pick up the phone until few minutes later

"Hello?"

His voice lightens you up the moment you heard it

You cleared your throat "Eddie?" Your winced at your voice croaked

"Hey there, sweetheart!" He doesn't even notice how small your voice is

You mustered up and plastered a fake smile as if he can see you behind the phone

"Uh- I'm good, Eddie"

You can see him how he nods behind the phone as he spoke again "I miss you by the way"

Your eyes went wide to his words despite at how disastrous you look, your cheeks bloom in red

He missed you like a friend, right? Not the other way around?

"W-what?!?"

"I said I miss you!" He chuckles and it shoots more butterflies into your stomach at the sound of it

You squeezed your shut as your lips tug into a small smile as you wipe the residue tears from your face as you take a deep breath

You ignore the thrilling feeling that you're having right now as you ask him straight away

"Can you come over?" Your voice cracks as your eyes start to dart everywhere and hoping that he'll do it

You didn't even care if you sounded so weak at this point

You could hear him shuffling and making rustling sounds

You furrow your brows "Eddie, what are you doing?"

"I'm getting ready to come over" you can hear the keys to his van jingling

But before you can protest he said before he hanged up

"See you later, sweetheart"

"Are you sure-" the line went off as you stare at the phone with excited smile on your face

You freshen up and went in with your comfy sleepwear, you wore a strapped lavender top and short as you pull a cream cardigan sweater

You saw him parked in front of your house as you jogged towards the front door

Thank goodness, your parents are asleep they would never hear him coming

You unlocked and swing the door open before he can ring the doorbell

Your favorite smile of his appears as he saw you, he didn't even think twice of you hugging you

He also didn't noticed your lost eyes and your feeling blue expression

He lets himself inside as you manage to give him a smile

You told him to keep his voice low as you tell him your parents are asleep but he does his antics as always as you let out a genuine giggle

His eyes softens as he heard that a lot of times you hang out together

You both sat down on the couch as goes on with his usual rambling about his band and his D&D campaign

It's almost 8pm and you haven't told him what's the reason why he is here

Maybe, he thought that you called him to catch up with the things that you both missed out on for not bonding for the last 2 weeks

"E-Eddie" you tried to get his attention

But he still so very phased with his story to you

"The crowd goes crazy-"

"Eddie!"

He abruptly stops when your voice gets higher than before as you throw your hands up

His eyes goes a lot more bigger to your unusual behavior as he started to shift on his seat

"I'm sorry" you softly say as you look at him briefly on his eyes

"Eddie, I need to talk to you"

"Yeah, we're doing it aren't we? and you just rudely interrupted me"

"That's not-"

He cuts you off and you really don't want to get mad on you only one bestfriend who seems oblivious to what are you dealing now

"Can you recall of what I just said?" He exaggerated his words and becomes more dramatic

"You aren't even listening!" He runs his palms down playfully on his face

You're in disbelief

You tried to mask your shocked expression as you tried to chuckle

Does he even see the longing and need in your eyes?

Does he even know how low you are at the moment?

Or are you maybe picked the wrong person to talk to?

Maybe, you should've asked Max to come over instead of him

He feels that you're oddly quiet as he stopped talking again as he looked at you

He saw an unreadable expression on your face as he tries to understand it

That's the only time when he feels like something is wrong and off about this

He can feel how the atmosphere changed seconds later, he can feel the tension rising up in the air

You start to twiddle with your thumbs as you look down again

"Eddie, I called you to come over because I really need to talk to you"

"Yeah, we haven't seen each other for 2 weeks"

He's right at some points at that but not tonight, you incredulously laugh at him

"I-Isn't that the reason why I am in here?" He is confused as he tries to search for your face as you raised your head slowly

You look right back at him and that's where it hit him

The unreadable expression that he saw earlier, he can see it clearly now

He can see how hurt you look and how upset you are, his words caught up in his throat

That's where he finally realized that you're not doing any good ever since the call that you both had earlier

He feels like he's about to puke from his dumb actions

He can feel the bile forming up on his esophagus as he breath suddenly shudders at the sight of you

"I asked you to come here because I thought you will listen" you paused as you smile sadly at him

"It turns you're insensitive" you scoff as you went in the front door

He wants to hold your hand and ask for forgiveness but you ignore his words as you push him not too hard only for him to get him out of your house

Not giving him another word or a chance to let him talk as you already slammed the door closed as you start running up at the stairs as you let the tears fall

The phone rings is what made Eddie wake up

He groaned and he saw what time it is and now his head is like about to pop how achy it is

He only slept for 2 in a half hours

Did he ruin the friendship?

Is it over?

Did he lost the potential to have something more than friends with you?

His eyes went glassy as the events of last night replays back on his head as he massages his forehead as he picks up the phone

"Hello?" He sounds groggy but the person behind the other line is getting impatient with him

"It's about damn time!" Max's voice made him winced at it

"O-Oh hey, red- what-"

"Eddie, I think you need to check on her"

"Why?"

"Don't ask me questions just get in here!"

"That's my fault-"

"I knew it that you're the cause of it-" she takes a deep breath to calm down

"I-I'm just worried for her, Eddie- she isn't like this, she would've picked up the phone right now but she didn't, I can't contact her and I am literally here on her porch and I feel like she's keeping me away and ignoring me"

Eddie feels like a shit, there's this huge mega ton of weight fell down to his chest as he couldn't even take the guilt of his chest

"So, please, come here and I think you're the only one who can get to her"

"What makes you say that"

"Because, Eddie she has feelings for you"

He frozed and look back at the telephone as if she can see his reaction but he felt the eye roll that she did when Eddie went silent for a bit

"Oh, don't celebrate yet, you haven't talked to her"

"She may not say it to me but I can tell how the way she acts around you, you made her feel welcomed and that's hard for her, Eddie so don't take it by the heart if she goes sometimes harsh on you"

"Nah, red, thanks- I think I deserved the words that she thrown at me last night"

"What's the update?" He says as he watches the red headed girl getting panicked

Max paced back and forth on your front porch with her arms crossed

"There's none and I'm starting to feel unwell now"

Eddie stares at your front door as he thinks "Did you try to open the door?"

She shakes her head "No, I haven't- and also how can you be so calm?!?"

Eddie shushes her "Just be cool"

"I can't be cool" Max whisper-shouts at him as they quietly went inside

They call your name but no response and they look at each other with such suspense in the room and the fear of your state as the longer the silent increases

They climb up the stairs heading towards your bedroom

Eddie pressed the side of his face on the closed door and he hears a faint sound of a running water like a shower is open on your bathroom

He swivel his head quickly at Max as he told him what he heard and Max tenses as she tries to not jump into conclusions

Eddie opens the door to your bedroom only to find your bed is empty and hasn't properly placed back on its order

Your blinds are slightly open, the bathroom door is not fully closed and the light is on

They're starting to get nervous

Eddie spoke your name quietly again as he places his palms against the door as he pushes it further to open it

Max's heart breaks into half when she saw you sitting in the corner of your shower, you're still in your pajamas and it's now wet from the running water while you're crying horribly but the sight of you being somehow okay gives her a relief

She travels her eyes to your sink bunch of tissues everywhere and the weight is off with her chest as you didn't try to do anything

She knew that you have tendencies to do that and she always looks out for you even though you only give her an idea of what you truly felt, you don't elaborate it that much but just by one word, she knows

She just knows

You saw them both together standing in front of your bathroom doorframe that made you cover your face with your hands

Eddie is much more disheartened than last night seeing you like that is a punch to the gut

"I'll leave you to it, I'll stay downstairs" Max whispers to him as she gave him an encouraging smile as she left you both together as he closes the bedroom door

Eddie is determined to fix everything that he should've done last night

He makes his way over to you, you haven't seen him yet when he crouches down to hold you by his side, you flinched and gasp by his touch

Your knit your brows together at him as you eyes went everywhere on his face, he smiles at you and you mirrored his small gesture as he opens his arms as you went with it

He didn't even care if he gets wet like you

The water is now seeping through his clothes and his hair is getting damp but still he doesn't care

You hold onto to him like it was your last breath and that drives him to held you close to him

He rests his chin on the top of your head as you breathe heavily against his chest

"I'm so sorry" He says as his voice wavered as you pulled your brows together as you remove yourself off of him as you look at him in the eyes

"What- Eddie? I should be the one who is sorry because that is so selfish of me, I spoiled the night, you we're excited to tell me everything what I've missed from last 2 weeks and I'm just so self-centered not thinking about you first-"

He shook his head at you as he holds your hand you let him intertwined your fingers to him

"No, don't blame yourself, sweetheart- it's me, I am truly sorry about last night, I wish I could go back and redo the shitty thing that I did to you because I should've known, I should've known because I'm your bestfriend but I wanted to let you know that I do care about you so much, so much that I didn't get to sleep enough today I always think about you and please, please don't ever have doubts talking to me about the stuff that it's nagging with you because you can always be real to me"

You swallow the lump in your throat as you stare at him completely appalled to his words

His chest tightens, is he forgiven or not?

You watch how the water falls to him so perfectly and it's tempting to place your lips onto his, you didn't even thinking about it anymore

You already did

You breath hitches of your sudden action, the cold water seems to be so cold to you as you watch his cheeks turns to a tinge pink

He gave you a look that you don't seem to understand as he cups your cheeks as he returns the kiss

You yelp on the bathroom floor as you both started making out with each other with ragged breaths

He deepens it as he hold you by the waist as you held the back of his neck to pull him much more closer if that's possible

He felt your lips stopped moving as he looks back at you

Are you thinking that this is a mistake?

"Did I do something wrong?" It's a comedy to watch his face turns pale when you suddenly become quiet

"Smile idiot, I love you" you chuckle at him as you saw his shoulders relaxed as he takes a double look at you and what you just said to him

"You love me?!" He points to himself

You nod at him excitedly as you sheepishly smile

"Aww, I love you too, sweetheart- I can't fucking believe this" you giggled when he pulled you to give you another kiss

Max bangs the door that you two stop at what you're both doing

"You two better not get hanky panky in there!"

You both get dried up as you let him use your dad's old clothes

While Max is ordering pizza for lunch, you and Eddie are on the sofa, he's sitting while you're resting on his lap as he drew relaxing circles on your legs as his another hand caressing your head as you continue talking to him

He is attentive and looking at you intently

You told him everything and you see the way his shoulders slump and his eyes flashes with sympathy

"You're the strongest person that I know and I am proud of you, I really do" he kisses your cheek and you smile

"But you gotta remember that life isn't a race, this is not about who is going to be first one to be successful, there are a lot of people who don't know what their plans for their life yet and that is okay, don't you ever worry for the future and we are still young, there's so so sooooo many things to look forward to, there's so many great memories that haven't happened yet, just enjoy life and I swear on my Munson's doctrine that I don't care about what other people think of me and I'm just going to do what I want, what I love and enjoy and importantly what I like to do the most"

You giggled to his antics that never fails to make you feel happy and he soothes him

"I just get so overwhelmed with everything sometimes" you say as you avert gaze somewhere else

"That's normal, darling, because you're a human and you're not a robot" he boops your nose as you giggled again

"Do you think that I could do anything?"

"I think you're able to do amazing things and just set your mind to it"

"Thank you" you say to him, you feel a lot more better now

"Just trust me, you'll be fine" he says as he gently pats your thigh

"Okay, I started to get feel sick here because you two won't stop getting off with your hands with each other" she playfully throws up as you and Eddie both laugh

Eddie's eyes sparks mischief as he fires back at Max "Oh, she told me that you harboring feelings on me"

You cheeks went rosy as you glare at her, Eddie laughs at the look of betrayal in your expression

"Max!"

The doorbell rings as she ignores your imply as you she claps her hands together "Pizza!"

Eddie carefully removes your legs as he starts to help Max with the pizza

You watch them both as they get excited to bring everything at the coffee table and searching for a good film VHS

See, this is what you wanted

This is what you needed

Eddie is right, you'll be okay

As long as you have them and you evaluating your mentality and your physicality as you grew older and learn from every eventful happenings of your life and breaking free through your fears and letting yourself out there in your comfort zone, you will be proud of yourself more than ever

Because you know your story is not over

It's only just the beginning

[nanomooselet]

Little but Fierce IV

Of course, you can't talk about Meryl without talking about Roberto. He's only there because of her. He's easy to dismiss - oh, drunk old dude who condescends to his female protégé - but he shouldn't be, no more than than Meryl herself should be dismissed.

Roberto is a teacher. He's there to impart lessons. He's also a journalist, so he's there to tell stories. Put them together, and you have the local critical thinker, as well as a good excuse for Meryl to back out if she decides it's too dangerous. He exists to give her choices and to shield her from the consequences of her mistakes, until she's firm enough on her feet to have learned.

And boy howdy, does she need to learn. Meryl got a lot of raw confidence, but it's punctured when she encounters situations she doesn't know how to navigate, mostly the trappings of adulthood - planning ahead, economic hardship, encounters with the law. But also partnership and teamwork.

I pointed it out before but Meryl doesn't have a poker face. Everything she feels or thinks tends to show clear as day. Roberto's more controlled - especially considering he doesn't like or trust the MPs. He uses the slight authority he has to get some information out of these guys, and then Meryl misdirects them. Without ever really discussing it, they form a partnership to protect Vash, and they had to do it together. Roberto wanted to leave him tied up, Meryl was too startled over his identity to talk. And Vash is happy to see it! It's stuff like this that he loves most about humans. (Though he's also playing up the gosh-I'm-just-a-silly-little-guy bit.)

Also, consider the other definition of adult you might know. Check this out.

Meryl goes from marching in like the sheriff to peeking over the edge of the counter like a kitten. Why? Well, apart from the place falling silent and someone yelling that this isn't a place for kids, what did she see?

Sex work probably hasn't played a big part in her life so far. Every character up until these two has worn quite modest clothes, and look at the way these women look back at Meryl. They're not ashamed, they're almost... endeared. They think she's sweet. Girl's just a wee bit intimidated. And Rosa's disinterested hostility probably isn't making it easier.

Meryl's prone to raising her voice and going on lectures, but Rosa tells her to speak up, and that's when Vash and Roberto find her. Specifically, Vash suspected she'd head to the diner and guided Roberto to it, and Roberto sighs that Meryl's a lot of trouble/needs a shorter leash - they formed a partnership to protect Meryl.

(I wonder if these ladies will appear again.)

Roberto's purpose is threefold. 1) Protect Meryl 2) help her achieve what she wants 3) teach by information and by example. He almost never acts outside of those parameters.

I could probably write a whole other series of meta posts about the English dub (and don't think I'm not tempted, but also trapped in meta factory somebody help) but for now, here's one of my favourite exchanges in the first episode. Never mind the exposition.

Meryl: Any day now I'll get my big scoop! Roberto: Any minute now, I'm sure. Meryl: I'll be running the entire bureau before you know it! Roberto: Then could you give me a raise, boss? Meryl: I'm being serious! Roberto: So am I.

What's he being serious about? Money? Nope. (Or only a little.)

He agrees. Meryl's the boss.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

[anamoon63]

Thank you to @nocturnalazure, @kimmiessimmies and @marcishaun for the question! 😘❤️I decided to answer in one post and with only one sim because I'm having a bit of a busy weekend, I had a small window of time to sit down and do this and I really didn't want to leave anyone behind, so I hope that's not a problem. 😉

TONY LANGERAK

I'm sure nobody expected this, but Tony Langerak was my first ever favorite sim, 'favorite' being understood as a sim you can't stop playing with and that also has its own story. So for this time and in answer to my dear three mutuals who asked me this question, I am going to list 5 facts about my beloved Tony. 💙

THE FACTS:

Fact # 1

Tony Langerak is not technically an OC of mine because he was born in game, but his looks and personality are totally my creation. As his last name says, he is descended from the Langeraks of Sunset Valley; he's Dustin's great grandson and Parker's grandson. He was born in Hidden Springs, then he migrated to Starlight Shores, then back to Hidden Springs, and finally settled in Island Paradise. He has a twin brother, Mike; they are not really identical but if you dress and style them alike, they will look very similar! (BTW, Mike is married to the famous singer Miranda Cho, sister of another famous singer Michelle Cho, both Dale' Cho's aunts. This is where the Langerak and Cho families meet!). Tony is and adult (around the middle 40s), and belongs to generation four of The Kamels of Hidden Springs (One gen before the Cho Brothers). In addition to having a twin, Tony has two older sisters who are also twins, Kamillah and Lillian. And a brother older than all of them, Kurt.

Fact #2

Tony didn't go to college; his dream was to be a writer (Illustrious Author). To pursue it, he moved to Starlight Shores with his twin brother and the two of them worked hard to get to the top. It was there that Tony met his first wife, outstanding acrobat Cassandra Steele. His stay at Starlight Shores didn't last long though, as he became an explorer and traveled all around the world to get relics to sell, making money very quickly. His aspiration then changed drastically, now his desire was to have a Private Museum, which he eventually achieved. Also, after getting practically all the treasures he could in his adventures around the world, Tony managed to achieve his primary aspiration which was to become a famous writer. He began writing about his travels, and then he continued with novels of all genres, including an autobiography.

Fact #3

In terms of skills, Tony is quite talented and multifaceted, not only mastering writing but also painting, sculpting, and in his spare time, he plays the drums. He's a seasoned traveler and explorer, he's a professional diver, he's an expert in martial arts, and he practices meditation. Additionally, and thanks to Jeannine, he knows all the secrets of nectar making, has his own vineyard and wine cellar, and, of course, he has his own winery in his vacation home in France.

Fact #4

Today, Tony leads a fairly peaceful life, but it wasn't always easy, it may have been full of successes, but it was also full of failures, mainly his love life, which was quite chaotic. He married very young to Cassandra Steele, but during their marriage, on one of his trips to Champs Les Sims, he met Jeannine Lambert with whom he had an affair that later turned into a steady romance. For a while, Tony led a double life, being unfaithful to Cassandra (perhaps due to his commitment issues). When he finally confessed to Cassandra about his affair with Jeannine, she asked him for a divorce. Tony begged her for a long time to forgive him, but Cassandra wouldn't budge, and they ended up separating. The post-divorce period was a very dark time for Tony, during which he drank himself into an alcoholic. It was difficult for him to get out of it, but he finally did and, once sober, he made the heartbreaking decision to forget Cassandra forever and propose marriage to Jeannine.

Fact #5

Jeannine was not Tony's only romance. After his divorce from Cassandra, Tony had several other affairs, including a marriage with Mia Azul, the red-haired mermaid from Island Paradise; a more or less long relationship with Aislara Alvarez with whom he had a son; and even a steamy affair with Adaeze Min in Shang Simla. But all that is already behind him (apparently), he is now happily married to Jeannine and lives with her and their four children in Island Paradise. Jeannine has been trying to convince him to move permanently to their house in Champs Les Sims, but Tony is not sure, as he is very attached to the island. Recently Cassandra called him and asked him to meet to discuss an undisclosed matter, will she come back to disrupt Tony's life again, or will she let him finally enjoy his peaceful marriage with Jeannine? We will see!

-----

Additional note: Tony and Cassandra's story has been on hiatus for like two years or more now, but it's still going on in my imagination, lol. I hope to resume it soon.

Additional note 2: I know the answer to this ask was supposed to be only 5 facts, but you know, I'm a compulsive storyteller, plus when I start talking about my sims there's no stopping me, so they weren't really 5, but more like five groups of many. 😋

I have much, much more to say about Tony, but this will be all for today. Thank you all for reading this far! 😊💗

[bluedalahorse]

August and Rousseau are functionally the same character: the serious version

On Thursday evening, at my fanfic co-author’s encouragement, I posted about August and Rousseau being functionally the same character. This post was meant to be tongue-in-cheek, but there’s always been a serious, liberal arts college analysis version of it lurking in my head. I decided to go ahead and share it because what is the point of rejoining tumblr if I can’t torture the world with my Young Royals meta? (Do we even call it meta anymore? I am Fandom Old.)

So anyway, I have now written too many words about how Rousseau the horse is a narrative shadow for August, and how horse tropes are used to communicate August’s character arc. My ~credentials~ are as follows: I’m currently doing a terminal degree in writing literature for children and teenagers, and I have re-read the Felicity Merriman American Girl Books more times than I can count. I was not a horse girl in childhood, despite my mother trying to get me to be one by buying me Breyers and an alarmingly technicolor Lisa Frank notebook with a horse on its cover. (For Not Being A Horse Girl reasons there may be some errors in equestrian terminology here, but I’m gonna do my best. I invite genuine Horse Girls to weigh in with their knowledge and insight.) I have more thoughts about August as a character than I know what to do with, to the point where those thoughts have in part inspired the critical thesis on justice and privilege in YA lit that I am going to write for my MFA. These thoughts here on tumblr are merely for a fannish intellectual experiment, however, so I will not be as aggressive with the MLA and the footnotes as I would be in thesis work.

While I am an American of Swedish descent who has celebrated her Scandinavian heritage since childhood, I am still very much an American and my native language is English. Most of my lit theory here is therefore informed by the Anglo-American Horse Girl tradition, which I know got imported to a lot of other countries in translation. At the same time, I am aware that there are Swedish Horse Girl books out there, and I do not know as much about where they overlap with the Anglo-American tropes and where they differ. If anyone has knowledge in this particular area, please feel free to chime in.

Before we begin, I feel it necessary to issue a few notes about content. The first and most obvious content note is that this meta deals with August’s character arc, so I will naturally mention his releasing of the video and his other toxic masculine behaviors that harm the people around him. I will also make reference to his drug addiction, mental health issues, and possible disordered eating. In addition, there will be discussion of abusive relationship dynamics and adults invading the privacy of teenagers with the goal of controlling their romantic, sexual, and reproductive futures (particularly in the context of a monarchy securing its lines of dynastic succession.) You have been warned.

TOPICS COVERED

Horses in Literature and their General Vibe

Cinematography and Film Language in Young Royals

August, Felice, and Sara

Bloodlines and the Line of Succession

What’s next for August and Rousseau?

Horse/Power

Horses have long been symbols of wealth, status, and nobility. While literature and folklore offer their fair share of ordinary workhorses, the prince on a fancy white horse is an iconic fairy tale image. Historically, the ability to maintain a stable full of horses, specifically bred for battle or fine riding, was (and still is) a privilege only the rich can afford. Among the Romans, the second highest ranked social group after the senatorial class were the equites, named for the fact that they were rich enough to own horses they could bring to war. Fast forwarding to the modern day Young Royals, we see the wealth of Hillerska on full display in the stables. Even Felice’s parents, who have plenty of money to burn, remind her how much they spent on Rousseau.

August, of course, defines himself by his status. When we first meet him, he’s always going on about his father’s estate, bragging about flying off to restaurants in France, separating out who is nouveau riche and who is ancien regime—and so on and so forth. So what? you may be saying. Plenty of Young Royals characters are wealthy and own land. Why single out August and make him the character shadowed by the horse, just because of his money? Probably because of the other ideas horses get associated with in popular media. Horses in fiction are often temperamental, but their humans often work to control and tame horses in spite of that. There’s a certain tension and troubledness to fictional horses that makes them dangerous. Rousseau is no exception to this—Felice and others have difficulty managing him. We know August has a temper that gets the better of him. We also know he’s obsessed with control, and the first person he tries to be strict and controlling with is himself.

To put it more briefly, horses in stories can be used to open up a lot of questions about wealth and power and how that power is, well, reined in. Thematically, having Rousseau as a shadow to August’s character arc is an obvious choice.

Framed by the Stable Doors

The cinematography of Young Royals visually links August and Rousseau from the very beginning of the series. As early on as episode 1.2, a shot of Sara taking Rousseau out for a trot is followed immediately by a shot of August out on a run. (Or maybe it happens in the opposite order? Help.) These moments mirror one another—both of them are scenes of a moment of discipline and exercise, underscored by tense background music. Throughout season 1, even when August and Rousseau aren’t paralleled by the editing, they are at least paralleled by the writing.

As we move into season 2, the shots of Rousseau become more constrained as the threat of prison looms over August’s head. Rousseau is almost always behind a fence or restricted by some other architectural features. The bars(?) of Rousseau’s stall door echo the bars of a jail cell, while the trailer belonging to the Worst Kind of Horse People (TM) suggests a police van taking August away after a future arrest. These scenes almost always include Sara somewhere, and she’s often having reaction faces. As others have noted, Sara doesn’t speak much, but these visual cues offer hints about her internal mental landscape while also foreshadowing her eventual role as the one who turns August over to law enforcement.

I’m inclined to read these “imprisoned horse” scenes as Sara having internal conflict about her relationship with August. On some level, she is attempting to grapple with the fact that they’re already doomed because of August’s prior actions with the video. I don’t necessarily think this means that Sara is always thinking these things consciously and in words. Maybe it’s just a sense of foreboding in the pit of her stomach. Instead of having Sara try to articulate this in any sort of literal way, my guess is that the YR production team wanted to convey this part of her arc through visual language and symbolism. I think it works, once you’ve decided to buy into the horse parallels.

Does this mean we’ve segued into talking about the girls now? Probably. Might as well gallop ahead…

Enter the Equestriennes

Even outside of Horse Girl books, women on horseback are a repeating motif in Western literature. As various academics will tell you, equestrian women occupy a complex and problematic (in the academic sense) space on the page. On one hand, riding horses confers status upon these women and gives them some freedom of movement. On the other hand, equestrian women are often being trained for the patriarchy in subtextual ways. One thesis I looked at explains how in Victorian literature, riding was often used to facilitate female characters’ interaction with men in ways that eventually lead to marriage. You also examine the common Horse Girl cliché of that one special teenage girl who knows how to calm down the impossible horse, and understand it as a little sister to the “I can fix him” romance genre. As bastion of literary analysis TVTropes points out, ponies and the Troubled But Cute Boyfriend sure do have a lot in common.

Young Royals knows the tropes, and it wants you to know that it knows them.

Felice Ehrencrona doesn’t want to be a horse girl. Felice’s mother wants her to ride, because riding is what archetypal rich girls from Hillerska do. Throughout season one, we see Felice struggling with her riding classes and being afraid of Rousseau. While she gains more confidence with the help of Sara, she never truly grows to love being around Rousseau (as we can see by the way she quickly abandons her hobby later.) Still, for a while, Felice maintains the public image of the happy equestrian by posting pictures of herself and Rousseau to her Instagram and making additional posts that say she’s in the stables when she isn’t. Felice’s mother, believing this to be true, is delighted—until in 1.3 it comes out that Sara has been riding Felice’s horse instead, and Felice’s positive relationship with Rousseau is just a facade.

What holds true for horses holds true for boys, too. Felice’s mother is constantly putting pressure on her about boys, specifically in the way she encourages Felice to pursue Wilhelm. The fact that Felice knows stuff about the line of succession and whose babies get what rank (something she explains to the beleaguered American Maddie) suggests that Mamma Ehrencrona isn’t just interested in Felice having a nice boyfriend, she’s actually bringing marriage and babies into it. Which… is a lot. It’s so “a lot” that Felice rebels against her mother at the end of 1.3 by hooking up with August.

Although Felice’s initial act is one of rebellion, she ends up trapped back in the same place she started from, where socioeconomic status and performative gendered nonsense is prized above all else. August, after all, is still from the nobility and still comes with all that baggage Felice is getting from her parents. Felice’s relationship with August is very bad, especially behind closed doors where he’s constantly questioning her about who she’s with and where she’s going. To Hillerska at large, however, they give off the impression of being the school power couple. During moments of characters scrolling there phones we can see that in addition to being seen together, they also included photos of themselves together on one another’s instagrams. This contrast between the image and the reality of Felice’s relationship with August echoes Felice’s selfies with Rousseau.

As for Sara… well, if you nodded along to what I said before about the special teenage girl who is the only one who can tame the troubled horse, you probably already know where I’m going with this. Sara and August’s relationship doesn’t really come out of nowhere. Rather, they’ve spent an entire season taking a step closer to one another, literally and figuratively, every few scenes. You know the cliché where the horse girl visits the troubled horse every day and gets a little bit closer each time until the horse finally trusts the girl enough to eat sugar cubes out of her hand? Yeah. Same rhythm/pacing as the Sara/August scenes, and it only gets more obvious in season 2. That scene where he’s having a panic attack and she calms him down? He is a scared horse. We’re all on the same page, right? I hope we’re all on the same page.

In some ways, it’s not a perfect analogy and doesn’t always match up in a one to one way. Most horse girl books stay wish fulfillment and there isn’t always a moment of “the horse is Bad Actually, and we will remind you that the horse released a sex video of the horse girl’s brother.” But I think the horse girl novel coding speaks to what makes a relationship with August appealing to Sara in the first place. Deep down Sara wants to be special and exceptional to someone else, and she feels she understands things about August (and how to keep his emotions regulated) that other people don’t. As Sara sees it, she’s taken time to build trust with August. It’s the two of them together against really difficult odds, and she’ll take the difficulty that comes with that.

Also, while we’re here, the first place August kisses Sara is the stables. And there’s that entire conversation Felice and Sara have when Sara comes back after having sex in 2.3. I’m just saying. It’s right there. We’re all doing the math, right? We all see it?

People Of Good Breeding

Here’s where it gets even more icky.

In season 2, Felice decides to quit riding. This makes keeping Rousseau a bad investment, so Felice plans to sell him, and Sara decides to tag along. When a particular family expresses interest in Rousseau and comes to Hillerska to assess him, Sara swiftly dubs them the Worst Kind of Horse People.

What makes the Worst Kind of Horse People so upsetting to Sara? They don’t know how to respond to Rousseau, and they don’t treat him with the compassion Sara does. They’re willing to endure Rousseau’s volatile moods, however, because of he’s a thoroughbred and has a prestigious pedigree.

Things I did not know before watching a documentary about it: apparently all the thoroughbreds that exist in the world now are descended from three historical stallions. They are inbred af. IRL people who own thoroughbred stallions now will charge ~$50,000 per insemination in like a horse breeding hookup situation. Which… what? What the literal fuck. I get that this is a hobby people feel very passionate about and find fulfillment in, so I am trying not to be judgmental… and also that is a lot of money (more than half my yearly salary) for just one instance of breeding horses. So I’m still wrapping my head around it.

It stands to reason that the Worst Kind of Horse People could want Rousseau for his, um, genetic material. Anyway, let’s talk about the monarchy and the line of succession.

At the same time that the Worst Kind of Horse People are expressing interest in Rousseau, the royal court has started to pay attention to August. According to the YR fictional family tree, August is next in line for the throne after Wilhelm. Kristina’s advisors have plans to groom (see what I did there) August as a backup heir if Wilhelm keeps insisting on having free will. (Really! The audacity! Good for Wilhelm, though, we’re all rooting for him.)

For August, the idea of being elevated to spare prince, or potentially even king one day, feels liberating. Based on how he’s acting at the shooting range after his visit to the palace, he sees a chance for himself to leave his crimes behind and not be caught in his guilt. But I want to pause for a moment and consider the scene in 2.4 where he gets the phone call from the palace. Jan-Olof asks August a series of privacy-invading questions, including ones that touch on his sexual history. The final question (and therefore the one the writers want you to notice) is simply “are you heterosexual?” to which August replies that he is.

There’s a tempting rabbit hole I could go down about what it means for August to go beyond just engaging in toxic heterosexual behavior, and actually embrace heterosexuality as a label, and because it’s a tempting rabbit hole I will save it for another meta. What I want to focus on here is how sinister this scene feels. Part of that is because we (and Sara) know how blatantly and easily August is lying, and that he’s slipping back into his old, status-loving, drug-abusing self. In light of the established Rousseau parallels, however, I can’t ignore the subtext that the royal court is interested in whether or not they can “domesticate” August just enough that they can get him to eventually marry the right girl and produce a legitimate heir to the throne. That’s it. Nothing more. They aren’t interested in helping him with his addiction or getting him into therapy for his disordered eating or helping him process his dad’s death—all of which would put him in a better emotional place, and maybe even prevent him from returning to the emotionally dangerous mindset he was in when he outed Wilhelm and Simon to the entire world. On a metaphorical level, the royal court is basically treating August as livestock. Which. Is gross, actually.

Now, don’t get me wrong. We all know that August himself perpetuates a lot of gross sexual behavior toward others. Aside from releasing the video, he’s selfish and borderline emotionally abusive toward Felice, especially about sex. He constantly eggs on his classmates to stand up on the breakfast table and brag about their “conquests.” He eventually becomes extremely sweet and tender with Sara, but that’s only after he’s tried to get her to sell him drugs, bullied her family about not being able to eat lunch on Parents’ Weekend, and kissing her without her consent in the stables. August is very much Not Someone Who Respects The Sexual And Reproductive Autonomy Of Others and yet! There is this whole entire system of hereditary monarchy behind him, aiming to control every aspect of his life and violate his privacy, and he is a teenager. It’s not okay that they do it to Wilhelm either. We know they’re trying to do it to Wilhelm even now, and we get the sense they did it to Erik too, given the lines about the OnlyFans girlfriend needing to be hushed up.

I think it’s easy to say, well, August is power hungry and amoral enough that he consents to having his privacy invaded, and he does, but I legitimately wonder if he knows what he’s getting into. (Case in point: I think August really believes that the palace crowd would let him publicly date Sara. And, no. Even if Sara weren’t Simon’s sister, I can’t imagine they’d be excited about him dating the neurodivergent daughter of an immigrant mother and a father with a shady drug past. At the very least they’d force Sara to sign some pretty hefty NDAs.) My point is, you can consent to something and still end up in a weird power dynamic that’s bad for you and doesn’t honor where your feelings are. You can be a person of privilege who harms others, while still being harmed by systems of privilege yourself. And that’s precisely part of what makes August a compelling and complicated character.

Look, I just wish more people nowadays had seen the legendary 1990s anime Revolutionary Girl Utena because they would then get what I mean when I say that August isn’t Akio, he’s Saionji.

…I’m off track. My point is that the reproductive subtext in that scene is deeply unsettling and August’s nakedness in front of the window only makes it moreso. Right. Moving on.

What’s Next? The Horse and His Boy

(Apologies for naming this last section after a problematic Narnia book.)

Man. I wish I could just write August off and clamor for his untimely and violent death without a care in the world. The reality is that I’m under a curse, and that curse makes me want to see him eventually sort his life out, one way or another.

Let me be clear about what that does and doesn’t mean: I don’t mean that I don’t want to see him face consequences for the very real crime he did. I don’t mean I think he should suddenly be perfect and woke. I don’t mean that he and Sara should get back together. I don’t mean I want to see everyone forgive him. I just mean I want August to honestly confront the truth of his life so far and go “you know what? I suck. I can do better. I’m not even sure how, and I’m gonna make mistakes along the way, but maybe I can suck less.” And maybe he takes one tiny step where you’re like, if he keeps taking steps like this, this kid could turn out okay by age 40. Maybe. I feel incredibly exposed even saying this, since I know August is so widely despised by so many people in fandom, and I know other people who are okay with letting him stay in the villain zone, but I also feel like if anyone can pull off this story, it’s Lisa Ambjörn. She gets nuance, and she gets young people their flaws and their family conflicts. If YR were a different show, with a different writer and a different morality underlying the stories it tells, I would feel differently. But I don’t, and I think Lisa can pull off a complex story like that. So here we are.

(For examples of YA novels that pull off this kind of narrative catharsis, check out the character arc of the protagonist Deposing Nathan by Zack Smedley. Or pay attention to the uncle’s character arc in Randy Ribay’s Patron Saints of Nothing.)

There’s a very soft acting choice of Malte’s in 2.3, where August goes to meet Sara in the stables, to ask if she wants to come by and talk later. Sara’s getting Rousseau settled for the evening, and August reaches out and pats Rousseau on the nose. If I’m remembering the scene correctly, the usually temperamental Rousseau is calm in response.

We’ve seen August act self-aggrandizing before so he can build himself up and threaten other people. We’ve also seen him engage in escalating acts of self-harm (via excessive exercising and calorie counting) when he isn’t living up to his own strict standards. What we don’t see a lot is him having compassion for himself. If we accept that Rousseau is August’s shadow-self, then this nose pat is a rare moment of self-compassion. It’s at this point in the season that August realizes he needs to exist in community with other people, and that he needs to actually process his overwhelming emotions instead of lashing out at others. He makes an effort to try and quit using drugs, genuinely connects with Sara, and even briefly defends Simon when Vincent gets on Simon’s case after the indoor rowing match. It’s a positive trajectory and a glimmer of what could have been. That lasts until his visit to the palace, when August is offered the position as Wilhlem’s backup and starts to go back to his old ways. Moreover, the pressure of becoming the spare creates new complications for August’s mental health, and he slides back into lashing out at others again.

At the end of the season, August views Rousseau as a commodity and buys him for Sara in a Grand Gesture (TM) that’s actually pretty alarming and could be categorized as love-bombing. Sara is not impressed (I suspect she’s witnessed Micke love-bombing Linda, and all her alarm bells are going off) and continues her trip to the bus stop so she can report him to the police.

I could talk about the police call and the part where Sara is playing with a small horse keychain at the bus stop, but that might be the topic for another meta. Instead I want to take a moment to think about the practical fact that August owns a horse now. This opens up a few questions: if Rousseau continues to be August’s shadow-self, what does it mean for August to buy and own Rousseau? Is August going to have to learn to take care of Rousseau now? How much farther can we extend this metaphor?

Patience, comrades. We’re almost to the finish line.

By buying Rousseau, August has allowed himself to be bought by the aristocratic power structure that’s been trying to maneuver him into royal life. He’s started to actually use the inheritance left for him by his father—not because he’s finally started to process his grief, but because he’s doubling down on the idea that he deserves his inherited wealth and that he can use it as lavishly as he wishes. What’s interesting is the way he thinks this makes him into someone Sara will stay in love with. There’s the quid pro quo of it all, which is the obvious surface reading, but there’s also another level wherein August has been raised to believe that this is the ideal of aristocratic masculinity, and therefore what Sara would be attracted to. He assumes Sara wants the prince (even if he has to be a little bit Machiavelli’s the Prince behind the scenes to play that role.) But Sara wants the trust and care and connection, and a bond that’s a little bit weird and unique and ultimately private. She also values honesty and accountability. Sara doesn’t want the prince—she wants the horse. But not the literal one. And not necessarily in a material ownership kind of way, either.

As we move into season 3, I find myself wondering what’s next for August and Rousseau. Like. August owns a horse now. Is he going to have to take care of it? Like is he going to have to learn how to groom Rousseau and muck stalls and such? I get that he’s rich and can probably pay someone to do that for him, but given the way that Rousseau is meant to be a commentary on August’s character arc, there’s a lot of narrative potential (and dare I say… humor?) in August just having to learn to take care of the horse his own damn self in season 3. I feel like it could allow for some great moments of introspection on August’s part, if done well, and could lead him to a place of radical acceptance. We don’t even have to rule out August going to jail for his crimes, but knowing that jail is not the kind of thing that will happen in the first five minutes of the first five episodes, why not facilitate some internal character growth via horse chores first?

Alternately, August will just keep doubling down on making someone else do the horse chores. This would be consistent, if nothing else. He may just continue to be horrible, in which case I am worried for Rousseau.

(Please, Lisa Ambjörn and/or god and/or Epona. I am so desperate for this as-of-present unrepentant fuckboy to have to do symbolic horse chores that end up being about him finally coming to terms with the impact his counterrevolutionary behavior has on others. Is that so wrong?)

Anyway, I guess we won’t know until season 3. Thank you for sticking around if you’ve read this far—it ended up being way longer than intended! I’m back on tumblr after being away since 2015 or so, so this post feels like a wild way to reappear. But I’m glad I shared my thoughts all the same. Have a blessed Saturday, fandom.

[authoralexharvey]

INTERVIEW WITH A WRITEBLR — @brimorganbooks

Who You Are:

Briana || she/her

Hi! I'm a horror author, playwright, and game writer. My books include THE REYES INCIDENT, MOUTH FULL OF ASHES, THE TRICKER-TREATER AND OTHER STORIES, UNBOXED: A PLAY, and more.

What You Write:

What genres do you write in? What age ranges do you write for?

Horror, psychological, and thriller. Adult.

What genre would you write in for the rest of your life, if you could? What about that genre appeals to you?

Horror. I LOVE safely exploring the darker parts of life and human nature.

What genre/s will you not write unless you HAVE to? What about that genre turns you off?

High fantasy. It's never really interested me.

Who is your target audience? Do you think anyone outside of that would get anything out of your works?

I write books for readers who grew up reading Goosebumps, can't get enough of the Scream franchise, and love ghosts, monsters, and true crime. I like to think my work is accessible and easy for almost anyone to pick up, though.

What kind of themes do you tend to focus on? What kinds of tropes? What about them appeals to you?

Found family, lovers to enemies and enemies to lovers, humans are the worst monsters, becoming the thing you strove to destroy, betrayal

What themes or tropes can you not stand? What about them turn you off?

mental illness as a monster. it's cheap and ableist

What are you currently working on? How long have you been working on it?

I'm writing an adult horror novel that will be published by DarkLit Press this fall. Here's the summary: Everyone has heard about Vega and his Vixens. No matter how much Sarah Eaton tried to distance herself from what happened that night, the past is a difficult demon to shake. After living through a public, sensationalized tragedy, Sarah wants to put the past behind her and move on with her life. When a producer and her film crew show up on Sarah’s doorstep, she almost slams the door in their faces. But the ghosts of Sarah’s past can only be exorcized by money, so she consents to answer the film crew’s questions. As Sarah revisits her experience with Vega, the cult, and the tigers, she must decide whether the money is worth retraumatizing herself—and hurting her wife and their child. TIGER CULT is a 80,000-word adult horror novel for fans of Netflix’s TIGER KING, LUCKIEST GIRL ALIVE, and the novel THE GIRLS.

Why do you write? What keeps you writing?

I write because nothing else makes me feel more "me." I keep writing because I love connecting with fans and readers.

How long have you been writing? What do you think first drew you to it?

I've been writing for as long as I can remember. As a child, I read a lot, and one day, I realized I could write my own stories. Since then, I've been hooked.

Where do you get your inspiration from? Is that how you got your inspiration for your current project? If not, where did the inspiration come from?

I get inspired by everyday events, as well as Pinterest. This project was born out of the TIGER KING era of the pandemic.

What work of yours are you most proud of? Why?

So far, I'm the most proud of THE REYES INCIDENT. I worked my ass off on that one. It's also the first thing I've written that includes ownvoices disability representation.

Have you published anything? Do you want to?

Yes and YES.

What part of the publishing process most appeals to you? What part least appeals to you? Why?

I LOVE drafting and editing. Plotting is tough. Outlines aren't second-nature to me yet, although I need them to keep my drafts cohesive. I used to be a die-hard pantser, but I'd have to cut HUGE sections of the book in edits. Never again.

What part of the writing process most appeals to you? What part is least appealing?

Same as above

Do you have a writing process? Do you have an ideal setup? Do you write in pure chaos? Talk about your process a bit.

I AM pure chaos. My fiance bought me a Freewrite Traveler, and I use that for drafting now. I also write in Google Docs on my phone a lot. My ideal setup would be a desk solely dedicated for writing, in a space of my own where I could close the door and shut out the world. I don't have that yet. Someday, though.

Your Thoughts on Writeblr:

How long have you been a writeblr? What inspired you to join the community?

3-4 years! I used to run a multifandom blog on tumblr, and I missed the sense of community and connection.

What is your favorite part about writeblr?

Everyone is so nice and shows genuinely interest in each other's work!

What kinds of posts do you most like to interact with?

Snippets and WIP excerpts

Finally, anywhere else online we may be able to find you?

Twitter, website, Tiktok, and Instagram

Questions For Fun:

Pick one piece of media-any media at all-that had the biggest hand in shaping who you are and what you make. What is it and why do you think it had so much influence?

This is a tough one! Now, I'd say the BIOSHOCK trilogy because I fell head over heels for it. Formatively speaking, probably GOOSEBUMPS because i read SO MANY of them, and they used to give me night terrors. Those books made me realize I wanted to write horror.

What is your favorite horror movie/book/etc? What is your least favorite? Why?

My favorite horror movie is NOROI: THE CURSE. It's Japanese found footage, and it's so scary. My least favorite horror movie is FREDDY VS. JASON because it's the worst film I've ever seen, period. It's just... not good.

What famous person alive or dead would you most like to have lunch with? Why?

I would LOVE to have lunch with Mary Shelley and tell her how much she's done for the genre and how much I appreciate her.

[colorfullfalls]

Wrong Bitch (part three)

“I don't like her.”

Embry’s eyes were on the road driving them to their house. He glanced at her to see that she was intently looking out the window at the fields they passed. He couldn’t see her face that well but he could tell that Y/n rolled her eyes, “You are being childish.”

He chuckled, “Am not.”

Bantering back and forth was like their thing. It felt so natural between them and for once it felt like Embry was a normal man who could just have a normal night with the love of his life. 

“Dude, you saying ‘am not’ just proved my entire point.” 

Embry smiled and shook his head, “Eh, not really. I just don't like her. Who is she to try to have authority over the pack? Her mother already ruined enough, so Renessme can just butt out.” 

Y/N hummed in agreement, “Jake’s the alpha so that makes her think that she has more of a say.” 

“Well, she doesn’t. I think Jake is even starting to get annoyed with her, and that's like hard to accomplish when you’re an imprint. Must be one of her many talents.” 

It was always shoved down people’s throats about how much of a blessing Renneseme was. She was born from a human and got to be half human half vampire. And she was born into a world where a werewolf would make sure that no harm would come to her. It was almost disgusting how perfect her life was, it made Y/N want to punch the half vampire sometimes- even if it was against her morals. 

Bella and Edward just glorified everything she did and the other Cullens were guilty of it too. The whole situation was weird and oddly sort of sad in a way. Nessie would never get to be normal and learn how to deal with conflict on her own because her family was always there with their noble input. 

Y/N tried to be civil with Nessie, but it was just so hard when the woman carried around an ego the size of Mexico. She was perfect and always seemed to get what she wanted. It annoyed Y/N, especially at the fact that Nessie would never have to worry about adult problems like money, not when the Cullens were so freaking loaded. 

“Do you think a part of Jake resents imprinting on her?” Y/N asked, finally removing her eyes from the window to look at him. 

He grimaced a little at her question, “The Jake I knew would probably despise his life right now. When he first phased he didn’t want to be a wolf and he certainly didn't want an imprint. Now look, an alpha and he imprinted on the enemy. Imprints make you happy though, it's the nature of it.” 

“Well, I hope you don’t secretly resent imprinting on me, because that would hurt.” 

Embry scoffed, “I was chasing after you since I was like thirteen. Trust me, you are the only one I wanted.” 

She couldn’t help but blush at his words. 

“I love you” She grabbed his hand that had been resting on the dash. His fingers were quick to interlock with hers as he brought them up to his mouth to give her hand a kiss. 

“I love you more.” 

The next morning was the meeting with Alice Cullen to see what was going on with the witches. Since Embry had an outburst it was decided that all of the imprints would hang out inside the Black residence until the meeting was over. No one wanted anyone to get hurt in the crossfire of negotiation. Y/n sat by Kim as they talked about how Claire was starting to get so big. 

She started to feel light headed as they were talking. She blinked a few times and shook her head to try to keep steady. Her eyes began to droop and she felt herself losing control. 

Green flashed in her eyes before she could open them again. Instead of being in Billy’s house she was in a field that looked like it was drawn by a person. The textures were so cartoonish and she felt confused by it all. She felt a presence to her left and she whipped around to see the witch from the other day. 

Y/N hated to admit how beautiful the woman was, but that was overtaken by the fear and anxiety that she felt. 

“What is this?” She demanded. 

“This is how we communicate outside of the regular realm. It’s our dream speak where we can speak without being with each other. My ancestors have used this for ages.” 

Y/N just stared at the woman as she walked closer. She tensed up as the witch stood right in front of her looking eye to eye, “What do you want with me?”

“You need to stop the meeting that is happening. My girls are starting to get angry and I can only hold them back for so long. We can sense that there is unease and we know that there is a plan being formulated. You are to stop this all if you want peace.” 

Y/N scoffed, “You are talking to the wrong person here. I am not in charge and I have no power to stop anything. If you want peace you need to stop contacting me. Like this is not going to go over well.” 

“I am not hurting you.” The witch seemed confused. 

“Okay, but you have me in this dream land and I bet the other imprints already altered the pack that something weird is happening to me right now. You guys are basically already at war and contacting me again is a mistake.”

The beautiful witch rolled her eyes, “The wolves are so dramatic. We aren’t going to harm any imprints. We just needed you to warn them. Did I harm you the first time?”

Y/n stood quiet as the witch walked away and bent down to pick a piece of grass, “Well, no. But you made a mistake in coming in contact with me.”

“We are all put on this earth for a reason,” The witch grabbed the grass and began to tear off little bits of it as she spoke, “What we do is necessary but it is in ways that you all will not be able to understand. We are peaceful, but we are doing what we must do. Our rituals are sacred- messing with them will cause an out right war. A war I do not think the wolves are ready for. You are a soul of reason, I can feel it. That is why I picked you to warn them. I think you want a war less than we do.” 

“War ends with casualties and I don't want the boys to be hurt. Especially not Embry. Can you explain why you do the rituals and maybe the wolves would reason with you?”

The witch sharply shook her head no, “We cannot expose our ritual or else we will no longer be able to do it. Witches code. It’s as sacred as imprints. You just need to trust me.”

Y/n threw her hands up in the air, “Trust you? I don't know you, and what you want me to trust is really sketchy and morally wrong.” 

“Y/n you have five days until hell breaks loose unless you put a stop to their plans.” 

She went to ask more questions but the dream world dissolved in waves as she was brought back to reality. 

Y/n came back to Embry holding her head in his large hands, brown eyes scanning her face in utter worry. She blinked a few times to notice the whole pack was around the pair trying to figure out what just happened. Her heart was beating rapidly and she felt dizzy.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Embry soothed, petting her hair.

“I know what happened, but what did you guys see?” She asked, slowly starting to push away from Embry to collect her thoughts.

Embry made it hard to think clearly when she was that close to him. He was thought consuming and all she could think about was him. It was an effect of the imprinting and she both loved it and hated it. She didn’t miss his small frown and reluctance as she pushed away.

“Your eyes rolled back and there was a sort of purple mist in the whites of your eyes.” Leah said, grabbing her hand softly as to not startle Embry.

Embry have Leah a warning look. He was annoyed. Y/n was his imprint and after all the fuss maybe he wanted her to herself. Leah was always all over Y/n. It was the whole best friend thing but it could get old fast.

“The witch, she like visited me in this dream type world-“ y/n began but Sam pushed through the crowd.

“So the dream world is true.” He mumbled, “tell me more.”

“I couldn’t see much besides the witch. She warned me for the final time that you guys need to stop advancing on them or else it will lead to war. This witch, she’s contacting me because the witches don’t want war.” She explained.

“They certainly are getting a fight now. They need to stop contacting imprints:” Jacob was fuming.

“Imprints?” Paul turned and glared at Jake, “if I’m correct Y/N is the only one they are going after. Yet it’s your imprint that led the clan here. She’s the issue and she’s been the issue. So if you want to end this arrange a meeting with Rennesme.”

Jake began to shake and Y/N had had enough.

“Stop! Look, we need to meet with them and I think I should be there.” She yelled, getting everyone’s attention.

“Absolutely not!” Embry argued.

She turned to him and gave him soft eyes, “They have been contacting me. I’m like their person.”

“I don’t care, you’re not going near them.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and turned to Sam, “Schedule a meeting.”

Embry huffed and before Y/N knew it her feet were in the air and she was being hauled over his shoulders. “Y/n’s not involved in this anymore.”

“I am!”

“Embry put her down.” Jake tried but Embry ignored him and walked straight towards the truck. Y/n smacked his back but obviously the small smack didn’t effect the wolf at all. It annoyed her how strong he was at times.

“We are going home.” Embry said shoving his fiancé into the door and buckling her up.

Later that night Y/n felt like something was wrong. Her stomach was doing flips and unease flowed through her mind. Shit was happening somewhwre but what was going on? And how could she tell? She sighed and looked over to where Embry was sleeping.

His mouth was slightly ajar with soft snores escaping now and then. He was a snorer but damn did he deny it every time. She smiled and moved the hair that had fell on his face away. He looked so at peace lying beside her. She remembered a time when she used to crave for moments like this but now she was living it.

She decided she needed a cold glass of water to calm down. She walked downstairs to grab a glass when she noticed someone standing by the sink in the dark. She gasped and grabbed onto the nearest thing she could find. A pencil.

“Hey, it’s me.”

Nessie.

Y/n breathed out in relief, “What the hell are you doing here being creepy like that?!”

Nessie awkwardly laughed, “Sorry. I just had to come see you. Jake’s asleep and I figured that Embry was too- meaning that this is the only chance that we get to speak without them breathing down our necks telling us what we can and cannot do.”

Y/n raised her eyebrows, “Okay? What do you want to talk about?”

“I think we are the key to stopping all of this. They came here because of me and they reach out to you.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking earlier but Embry hauled me away like a child.”

Nessie smiled and then crossed her arms, “I’m not trying to sacrifice either of us, but we need to go without any of them knowing about it. Embry and Jake would never allow this. They would lock us in a tower before we visited the enemy.”

Y/n winced, not liking the idea of going behind Embry’s back and doing something so dangerous. She knew he would flip shit if she went, “So when do we go?”

“Now.”

“What? Like leave right now?”

Nessie nodded.

“What if Embry wakes up?”

“If he was going to wake up he already would have. We have to do this now or else things will not be resolved. You and I are taking this matter into our own hands. We don’t need men telling us what I do.” Nessie ranted.

“This is like a good thing to be worried about though. What if they kill us?”

“You forget that I’m half vampire…” Nessie deadpanned.

“No, I know. But there’s gonna be way more of them and we are probably going to spook them.”

Twenty minutes later the two women stood in front of the witches’ coven. Nessie was able to track them by scent and y/n trusted her judgment. Truthfully these two didn’t really like each other but in this moment they had to trust one another.

The door flew open and about ten witches walked out of the door on high alert. Y/n saw her witch that kept contacting her. They all looked paranoid, eyes scanning the area probably for the wolves to attack.

“We came alone.” Y/n spoke.

All eyes turned to her.

“We don’t want a war to break out between you and the wolves. But apparently we are the only ones who will listen to what you have to say. So we are here and you need to explain.” Nessie said, standing slightly in front of Y/n. Nessie knew Embry would kill her if anything happened to his imprint.

“Your wolves will not leave us be.” Y/n’s witch said, “and we need space to continue our operation.”

“We need more than that.” Y/n demanded, “You contacting me has the pack ready to fight like tomorrow.”

“I’m the leader of this Coven. I’m Lilian and I’ll explain it all if you come inside.”

[algolstare]

Honey, I know you're scared but you're lucky you have people outside the abusive circle who love you. I had nobody. Maybe you need to take a leap of faith and ask them for help, truly. You can't keep living like this. Just now it's a kind of awful stop gap but don't let it become permanent. I know you have to be careful rn but this is no way to be living. I know you want to protect those who love you because you love them but something has to give. You're going to have keep your wits about you and figure out your next move, but I know this is easier said than done. But please don't give up. Your mom is a monster. Don't let her win. That's why she's doing this because by leaving you managed to gain the upper hand and as bullies don't like this, she's upping the ante. She is a sick fuck and a coward. If you have somebody or people who may be prepared to help you, who are aware of the situation and possible danger presented by your mom, who are prepared to get you out of there PROPERLY and on your feet and give you that time to get cleaning job or whatever - you seem very hardworking etc - then take your chance, sweetheart.

I'm sorry for the long letter but I had no help and it nearly killed me. But I got out by skin of my teeth because I knew I was doomed anyways if I stayed. But you have your safety and others safety to consider I know. I just hope and will you to get out for good, to not give up.

i am lucky, this is true the people who love me have changed my life for the better in ways i cant even put into words. i can say honestly that enduring this long has been worth it just for the warmth from my loved ones, who feel so much more like family than blood-family there are limits to what you can do for someone when you live oceans away. there are limits to what you can do, when you are struggling yourself. there are limits to what you can do with regards to money, energy, time, level of risk taken on. if my loved ones could have scooped me up out of here a la prince on a white horse im completely certain they would have done so already i cant go back to the place i lived before even knowing the favorable circumstance w/ regards to that. my mother was completely confident about coming to take me back, she knows the address, itd be a repeat of the same - probably not even waiting for an excuse if im very unlucky. i can't afford to take a leap of faith the worst that can happen is not that someone would say no - it's that someone would decide for me that the way to go is to involve the authorities, which isnt safe for me so long as i am here with nowhere else i can go, at a moment's notice or otherwise. it is hours to the nearest shelter. even if i were out of here, even if i decide i dont give a goddamn if they get into trouble for their own evil choices, i cant afford to take anyone to court, and even if everyone believed me and i didnt end up as yet another villainized abuse victim, it still wouldnt make me any more secure in having a place to live, and it isnt a means to gaining housing. not only that, there's more to take into account: what happens when my mother who is pretending to be not evil is no longer constantly watching what the workers who care for my sibling do to someone who the authorities will never believe? if that doesnt make sense for being too vague, i can say what i mean more clearly by tying it to something else: opportunistic predatory adults outside my home took advantage of me every time i let it slip that nobody gave a shit what happens to me. it's important to maintain the illusion of having people who care about what happens to you if you dont want people to take advantage of the easiest target in clear view. unless i can personally be someone who they know to fear consequences from, breathing down their necks, there will be consequences for unraveling my mother's webs of lies. they already don't treat my sibling as they should. it's not only my own safety i risk with every mistake. even if i decide to say fuck it, seek the help of others even though i know wherever i go if my family finds me they will do their best to do more harm, including to people who help me, it's not just the weight of guilt for that - but for my siblings, only one of which has escaped completely and isnt in any danger from family anymore, the other is totally and completely still at their mercy despite physically not living in the same house anymore, and nobody counts his words for anything because he's intellectually disabled - even when the authorities get involved, which they have been too many times for me to even count anymore, nobody believes him or me or maybe they just didnt care, either way, the outcome is the same.

even if i tossed all that aside and shirked my sense of morality that i know is all tied up in misplaced blame and living under the gaslight since birth, i dont have room for mistakes for my own sake either. im already physically so fucked up from just under a month of not even the worst theyve done, if it escalates further, i dont know. ive managed to just walk off tons of blood loss before, but that was a miracle, and i was more well-fed then. there's nowhere for me to go if i fuck up and don't have another place to go lined up.

my work went up in flames, i have no income right now and have to figure that out running on less than empty, and i have the option of trying to raise funds for escape again but again, it's more than money constraints, i have to figure out so many things and none of these decisions are small

ive promised my loved ones repeatedly im not going to give up, and i dont feel like breaking it at all. im going to keep trying. but it's really, really, really not a matter of willpower. i have that in spades.

im glad that you got out and i hope that you remain safe for the rest of your life and never ever have to endure abuse again. i know that everything you say comes from the heart and from a good place, of wanting me to be well, and of rooting for someone whose struggle you see your own in - i dont want to discount that by talking about how impossible everything looks right now for me, at all!!

i wish i could come up with a better reply. i dont want to go "so true, will do!!" when i know all the reasons i cant do, you taking the time to encourage me is so meaningful to me that i want to be nothing but sincere.

[animesmolbean]

Words Hold Power 

An “The Umbrella Academy” fanfiction

Five x Reader

(Male)

Author's Note: Welcome to my The Umbrella Academy fanfiction! I'm so excited to share this story with you all! TUA is my favorite Netflix show! I'm very sad to see it's in its final season, but all great shows come to an end! But at least we'll get to rewatch it over and over again, lol.

Speaking of which, please, no spoilers for S4 since I have not watched it yet. I'll let you guys know where I am in S4 in coming posts.

With that said, I just wanted to tell you guys this. There was one hesitation I had with writing this story. Handling Viktor's character. I know about the journey of this character and Elliot Page's journey as well. I know about the transition, and I wanted to tell you how I planned on approaching this.

I did research on this topic and wanted to be sure I was handling it correctly. I researched how I should write transgender characters and their journeys throughout the story.

I also read other TUA fanfictions for research to see how other authors handle it, and like the research, it's a mixed bag. Some use Viktor only, and some show the name change.

After researching, I decided on an approach.

I will follow what the show does and show the transition story Viktor has. I chose this because I believe it's a beautiful journey, and the show does a great job handling the topic.

One last thing, all the main characters (The Hargreeves siblings) are aged up a little.

With all that said, I hope you enjoy the first chapter! ♥️

~Character Info~

Reader's ability is cursed speech.  She can make anyone do what she says with only a few words.  It's similar to Allison's, except she doesn't need to say certain words first like her, and her ability is much more powerful.  To the point where she has to be extremely careful about what she says.  

(As you can tell, this was inspired by the anime character, Toge Inumaki from Jujutsu Kaisen.)

Chapter 1: We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals (Family Reunion)

On the twelfth hour of the first day of October 1985, forty-three women around the world gave birth.  

This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women have been pregnant when the day first began.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

He got eight of them. 

Many years later, the kids grew up and went on with their lives as adults.  

There was Number One, aka Luther Hargreeves.  Big, strong and was currently on the moon, studying and preparing for whatever his mission was.  

There was Number Two, aka Diego Hargreeves.  Impulsive, brave and works as a vigilante of sorts.  

There was Number Three, aka Allison Hargreeves.  Famous actress who was currently on the red carpet in front of paparazzi.  

There was Number Four, aka Klaus.  A lazy, free-spirited soul who is currently leaving rehab and using the money he got from the rehab to buy drugs.  He ended up in the back of an ambulance.  

And, there was Number Seven, aka Vanya Hargreeves.  She was quiet, timid and was currently leaving the theater after practicing her violin.  

However, their lives would change forever with one broadcast.  

Their father was now dead. 

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY 

☂

Vanya rode a taxi to her childhood home.  A place she lived for many years.  

The Umbrella Academy.  

A tall condo-like building with a black gate.  

Vanya approached the building and opened the doors, whose windows were decorated by umbrellas.  

The foyer was fancy still.  The middle was open with a chandelier hanging above a small round table in the middle.  Tall, smooth white beams holding the sides which held the second floor.  A staircase that leads to that second floor was behind the small round table.  

It was just as Vayna remembered it.  Every little detail was still there.  

“Hey, Mom.” 

Vanya called to the woman in the living room.  Said woman sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace which currently had a fire going.  She stayed still as she stared into the dancing flames.  

“Mom?”

“Vanya?” 

A familiar voice turned Vanya’s attention elsewhere.  

“You're actually here.” 

She turned and saw her sister, Allison coming down the stairs.  

“Hey, Allison.” 

“Hey sis.” 

Allison now stood before her sister.  She chuckled and brought the other girl into a hug, which Vanya quietly but graciously returned.  

“Ah.  What is she doing here?” 

A new voice spoke through the quiet foyer.

“You don't belong here.  Not after what you did.”

It was Diego.

“You're seriously gonna do this today?” Allison spoke up, her tone telling that she wasn't in the mood for the male's attitude. 

“Way to dress for the occasion, by the way.” She added, mocking Diego’s attire as he ascended the stairs.  He was still in his “hero” gear; knives and everything.

“At least I'm wearing black.” Diego shot back nonchalantly as he turned left on the stairs, disappearing from the girls’ views.  

Vanya, now uncomfortable, spoke up quietly, “You know what?  I- Maybe he's right.  And I shouldn't-”

“Forget about him.” Allison interrupted her.  “I'm glad you're here.” She spoke softly.  Vanya’s lips quirked up a little at Allison's words.  The sisters shared a moment of silence.  

☂

Diego arrived at his late father's room, to see Luther there checking the windows.  He leaned against the doorframe.  

“I can save you some time.  They're all locked.  No forced entry, no sign of struggle.  Nothing out of the ordinary.” 

As he spoke, he walked over to Luther who was also walking towards him.  

“Oh, you got big, Luther.  What's the secret, huh?  Protein shakes?  Low carbs?” Diego asked mockingly.  

“What do you want?”  Luther asked, not wanting to deal with Diego's attitude.  

Diego reached into his pocket and pulled out a few folded pieces of paper, handing them to Luther.  “The autopsy report.” 

After he teasingly tried to pull them away from Luther, the latter brother snatched them out of his hand.  

“And you have this, why?” Luther asked. 

“Well, that's because I… broke into the coroner's office.” Diego explained as he sat down in an armchair.  “And surprise, surprise, Dad's death was… normal.  Just a boring, old heart failure.”

“Yeah, so?” Luther looked at Diego.  

“So, why are you in here, checking all the windows?”

“Were you the first one on the scene?” Luther asked.

“Pogo found him.” Diego answered. 

“Yeah, I talked with Pogo.  He said he couldn't find Dad's monocle.”

“And your point being?” Diego asked in a bored tone.

“Can you think of a single time you saw Dad, and he wasn't wearing that monocle?  No.  Which means someone took it.  Which means there's a chance he wasn't alone when he died.”

Diego sat up from the armchair.  “There is no mystery here.  Nothing to avenge.  Nothing to solve, nothing like that.  It's just a sad old man who kicked it in a big empty house.  Just like he deserved.” 

“You should leave.” Lither spoke, not liking Diego's tone with that last sentence he spoke.  

“Whatever you say, brother.” Diego said in a mocking tone as he turned to leave.  Before he did, he turned back to Luther.  “By the way, did you visit (Your Name) yet?” 

Luther shook his head.  “No.  I was about to, actually.” 

“You know where he is.” Diego simply said.

☂

Vanya entered the living room, looking around at the interior.  She spotted a comic and new articles on their group, The Umbrella Academy.  She looked at the bookshelves and pulled out one book in particular.  

The title read, “Extra Ordinary My Life as Number Seven” 

It was her autobiography book.  The one she wrote when she left the academy. 

She observed it solemnly, until a voice spoke out.

“Welcome home, Ms. Vanya.” 

She turned and saw Pogo, a human sized monkey dressed formally with a cane and glasses.  

Vanya walked over to him and hugged him.  Pogo hugged back with a hum.  “So good to see you.” He noticed the book in her hand.  “Ah, yes, your autobiography.” 

“Do you know, um…” Vanya paused before continuing.  “Did he ever read it?” 

Pogo thought for a moment before replying, “Not that I'm aware of.” 

Vanya turned her attention to the portrait above the fireplace.  It showed a boy, around seventeen in age, sitting with a neutral but sophisticated look on his face.  

“How long has it been since Five disappeared?” She asked.

Pogo turned to look at the portrait too.  “It's been sixteen years, four months, and fourteen days.” The two looked at each other.  “Your father insisted I keep track.” 

“And… how long has (Your Name) been in that coma?” 

“Sixteen years, four months, and six days.” Pogo replied.  

“You wanna know something stupid?  I always used to leave the lights on for him.  I was scared that he would come back, it would be late, and the house would be dark and he wouldn't be able to find us, so he'd leave again.  And he would take (Your Name) with him.  So, every night, I'd make a little snack and make sure all the lights were on.” 

Pogo nodded.  “Oh, I remember your snacks.  I'm pretty sure I stepped in half those peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches, and those (Favorite type of Cookie) cookies.”  He sighed a couple times before he spoke again, “Your father always believed that Number Five was still out there somewhere.  He also believed that one day (Your Name) would wake up.  He never lost hope.” 

“And look where that got him.” Vanya said solemnly. 

☂

Allison went up to her late father's study, looking around the area.  The familiarity of it brought up a memory.  

〰️

Reginald Hargreeves was working in his office, as usual, when Grace knocked on the door.  She entered before closing the door.

“The children are ready for bed, sir.  They wanted to say goodnight.” 

She turned and walked a couple of paces and opened the sliding door.  

On the other side revealed the eight children, all wearing matching pajamas.  Allison was in the center while the others surrounded her.  Little (Your Name) stood between her and Five, a black cloth face mask covering his mouth and nose.  

The children were all smiling as they waited for their father to acknowledge them.  But he was so into his work that he didn't even glance up at them.  

Sensing the awkwardness, Grace quickly dismissed the kids.  The kids, of course, were disappointed but not surprised.  As they left slowly, (Your Name) tugged on Allison's sleeve, silently asking her to come.  

“I'll be there in a minute (Your Name).” The girl whispered.  (Your Name) tilted his head to the side.  Allison spoke again, “Why don't you go hang out with Five for a bit before bed?  I know you planned on it.” She gave the masked boy a small smile.  (Your Name) felt his cheeks warm up, but he nodded, leaving and quietly walking over to Five.  The boy saw him coming and, with a nod of his head, gestured to him to follow him.  (Your Name) nodded and started to walk beside him.  As he did, he heard Allison, 

“He's always busy.” 

〰️

“Where's the cash, Dad?” 

The sound of a voice diverted Allison's attention and she walked over to her father's desk, hearing clamoring noises.  She leaned forward to look to see who was over there.  

“Klaus?  What are you doing in here?” She asked.  

Said boy looked up and gasped at the sight of his sister.  “Oh!  Allison!  Wow, is that you?” He asked as he stood up.  He embraced her slowly; Allison slowly returned the hug.  “Long time.  Too long.” He pulled away.  “Hey, I was hoping to see you, actually, because I wanted to get your autograph.  Add it to my collection!” He planted his chin onto his hands.  

Allison let her brother act because it was how he always behaved when she noticed the white paper bracelet on his left wrist.  “Just out of rehab?” She asked.

“No, no.  No, no, no, no.  No.  I'm done with all of that.” Klaus replied with a sigh as he removed the bracelet. “I just came down here to prove to myself that the old man was really gone.” He smiled.  “And he is!  He's dead.  Yeah!” He clapped, making Allison smile a little, shaking her head a bit.  

“You know how I know?  Because if he were alive, not one of us would be allowed to set foot in this room.” Allison silently agreed with Klaus.  

“He was always in here, our whole childhood, plotting his next torment, right?” He said with a chuckle as he sat in the armchair behind the desk, putting his feet on the desk.  “Remember how he used to look at us?  That scowl?” He pointed to the man's portrait onto the wall behind him.  “Thank Christ, he's not our real father, so we couldn't inherit those cold, dead eyes!” He stretched his eyelids to show more of his eyeballs.  He fake screams, making Allison chuckle a little as Klaus started to dramatically imitate their late father. 

“Get out of his chair.” 

Klaus turned his head and saw Luther standing by the doorway.  “Oh, wow, Luther!  Wow, you really, uh… You really filled out over the years huh?” Klaus said as he stood and flexed his arm muscles.  

“Klaus.” Luther warned.

“Save the lecture.  I was already leaving.  You guys can talk amongst yourselves.  I am going to visit (Your Name).  Oh!  The precious little brother of ours.” He chuckled softly.  Before he could leave though, Luther stopped him.  “Drop it.”

“Ex-squeeze me?” Klaus said.

“Do it.  Now.” Luther ordered.  

Klaus pulled his arm away from Luther and went back to the desk and started to empty out his pockets, which held a few of his late father's belongings.  “It's just an advance on our inheritance!  That's all it is!” Allison chuckled silently at her brother.  “No need to get your little panties in a bunch.” With that, Klaus left, closing the door; leaving Luther and Allison alone in the room. 

“So, Klaus is still Klaus, in case you are wondering.” Luther started.

“You know, after all these years, I find it strangely comforting.” Allison stated.

“Did you see Diego?” Luther asked.

“With his stupid outfit?” Allison added in amusement. 

“Oh, I know.  Do you think he wears that thing in the bathroom?” Lauther asked.

“Like in the shower?” Allison asked for confirmation. 

“Yeah.” Luther confirmed.

“Yes, absolutely!” Allison laughed.  

The two went on to talk about how their lives are going now that they are adults.  Luther was the only one to stay while the rest went their separate ways.  Their conversation ended talking about Allison's family and her powers.  

〰️

A little later, everyone congregated in the living room.  The fire was still going in the fireplace as everyone sat in silence.  

Luther started talking about doing a memorial service for their late father.  Some like Allison were mostly confused by this, or making fun of it like Klaus.  

“Is that my skirt?” Allison asked, noticing Klaus wearing a skirt now.  

“Oh, yeah this.  I found it in your room.  It's a little dated, I know, but it's very breathy on the bits.”

Luther stopped Klaus before he could go further and started to talk about their father's death.  He had a theory that he didn't die simply of heart failure.  He recounted how he was acting suspicious and requested Klaus to try to communicate with him.  Klaus was not interested.  

“I can't just call Dad into the afterlife and be like, “Dad, could you just stop playing tennis with Hitler for a moment and take a quick call?” 

“Since when?  That's your thing.” Luther said.

“I'm not in the right… frame of mind.” 

“You're high?” Allison asked, not surprised.

“Yeah!  Yeah!” Klaus laughed.  “I mean, how are you not listening to this nonsense?” 

“Well, sober up, this is important.” Luther said.

Klaus only sighed.  

When Luther started talking about the missing monocle, Diego concluded that Luther was suspicious of all of them, saying that Luther thought one of them killed their dad.  This caused everyone to get upset.  Diego insulted Luther's leadership, Klaus got up and jokingly said that he might as well go murder their Mom and (Your Name), unless he was already dead.  Vanya left in silence and. Allison left in silence as well.  Luther tried to defend himself, but it was too late.  

They weren't always like this.  When they were kids, they were tight knit.  

〰️

17 YEARS AGO

“This is Jim Hellerman, reporting live for Channel 2 News outside of the Capital West Bank at Main and Sixth.  A group of heavily armed men stormed the bank not three hours ago and took an unknown number of hostages.” 

The armed men surveyed the bank as they pointed their guns at the bound up hostages and pushed them behind the counter as they proceeded with the robbery.  

Unexpectedly, a girl with curly black hair, in a school uniform and mask, walked casually to one of the robbers.  

It was Allison. 

“Hey, get back with the others.” The robber ordered the girl.  

“I heard a rumor.” Allison spoke. 

“What?  What did you say?” 

Allison leaned forward and used her ability, “I heard a rumor that you shot your friend in the foot.” 

The robber pointed his gun at one of his partners and promptly shot him in the foot, knocking him down.  The hostages screamed at the sound of the gun.  

Suddenly, someone dressed in a boy's school uniform with a mask came crashing down from a window above and landed behind the counter.  It was Luther.  He punched one robber and threw him out the window with surprising strength.  

Then, another kid dressed like Luther came from the other side of the bank.  “Guns are for sissies.  Real men throw knives.” He threw two long knives at one of the robbers only for them to redirect to another robber and immediately killed him. 

There were now only two robbers left in the lobby.  

One of them climbed onto the desk and pointed his gun shakily at the three kids.  “Get back, you freaks.” 

“Hey, be careful up there, buddy.” Diego, the knife throwing kid taunted.

“Get back now!” 

“Wouldn't want you to get hurt.” Allison taunted as well.

“Or what?” 

A fourth kid appeared seemingly out of nowhere, sitting criss cross on the desk.  A taunting smirk on his face.  This was Number Five.  

The robber shot at Five, but he disappeared and reappeared on the other side.  When the robber turned around and tried to shoot him again, he suddenly realized that he was not holding a gun.

“Ooh!  That's one badass stapler!” Five taunted before smacking the guy's hand holding the stapler into his head.  This knocked the robber over.  

All they had to do now was get rid of the robbers in the vault.  

Or so they thought.  

There was one more.  

He loaded his gun and his gun cocked, catching the kids off guard.  

“Down you freaks!” He yelled.  

Suddenly, running from a hidden place behind a wall, was a fifth kid, dressed like the rest of the boys, as he pulled down his face mask.  He directed his attention to the robber.  

“Explode!” 

The single word echoed loudly through the bank, and just before the guy could turn his gun to the boy, his body suddenly exploded, body parts, guts, and blood spreading out everywhere.  The hostages screamed in fear.  The boy quickly covered his face again, breathing heavily as he ran to his siblings.  

He gestured to all of them.  They couldn't see much of his face, but they could tell he was worried by the look in his eyes.  

“We're okay.  Thanks (Your Name).” Allison said.

(Your Name) hummed, nodding as he walked over to behind the desk with the others, while two more kids dressed like the rest of the boys joined them.  Five looked at him.  “That was pretty badass.  Good work.” He complimented, giving him a smile.  (Your Name) felt his cheeks warm up a little, and he tilted his head a bit and closed his eyes.  Most people wouldn't be able to tell his expression behind the mask, but Five knew he was smiling at him in thanks.  

“Do we really have to do this?” A meek voice asked. 

“Come on, Ben.  There's more guys in the vault.” Luther told the boy.

Ben sighed as he walked to the vault door.  “I didn't sign up for this.” 

He entered as the hostages all ran for their lives out of the bank.  Inside the vault, the last of the robbers were eyeing slaughtered by Ben's ability.  He screeched and roared as his tentacles ripped them apart and threw them against the walls.  Blood splattered all over the windows.  

Once it was quiet, Ben came out, covered in blood.  “Can we go home now?” He asked, his breathing shaky.  

It was time to leave.  

The seven kids started walking towards the entrance of the bank. (Your Name) pulled out a small vial and turned the cap.  He pulled the bottom part of his mask up and put the bottle to his lips.  He tilted his head back and started swallowing the liquid.  He finished it and placed the empty bottle back in his pocket.  

“Are you feeling okay?” 

Five's voice made (Your Name) turn to him.  He nodded and hummed in thanks.  Five offered his arm to him.  “Ready?” He asked.  The boy nodded again, and he hooked his arm with Five's.  Five smiled at him, and they started walking after their siblings.  

The seven kids emerged from the back as the news reporters pointed their cameras at the group, and they all clamored to try to talk to them.  

Above on the top of a building nearby, stood Reginald Hargreeves, observing the other kids with a mini telescope. An eighth kid, dressed like Allison, stood next to him.

“Why can't I go play with the others?” The girl asked.  

“We've been through this before, Number Seven.  I'm afraid there's just nothing special about you.” Reginald said as he lowered his telescope.  

The girl looked down.  “Oh.”

Eventually, Reginald came down to stand with the children.  

“Our world is changing.  Has changed.  There are some among us gifted with abilities far beyond the ordinary.  I have adopted seven such children.” 

‘You mean eight.’ (Your Name) thought to himself as he looked down temporarily, his arm still linked with Five's.  

“I give you the inaugural class of the Umbrella Academy.” 

Many news reporters asked many questions.

“What happened to their parents?” One asked.

“They were suitably compensated.” Reginald replied.  

“Are you concerned about the welfare of the children?” Another asked.  

“Of course.  As I am for the fate of the world.” Reginald said.  

〰️

☂

Everyone was in separate rooms, having their alone time after the little dispute from earlier.  Klaus was still in the living room, trying to talk to their late father, but he ended up knocking the vase filled with his ashes over.  

Luther was walking through the hallways, reminiscing until he got to his room.  

Allison was looking through her belongings until she found a gold heart locket with ‘A+L’ carved onto the front.  

Klaus took the vase into the kitchen where he proceeded to take more pills.  

Diego laid on the couch in the living room, playing with one of his knives.

Vanya sat on the stairs, a solemn look on her face.

Luther eventually found a familiar record and played it on the record player.  

“I Think We're Alone Now” by Tiffany started to play.  

Everyone heard the familiar tune all throughout the house and they all started to dance in their respective rooms.  

Childhood nostalgia ran through their bodies as they all danced like no one was watching.  Even Pogo moved a little to the beat.  

But suddenly, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed.  

The music stopped as the house reacted to the violent disturbance.  

The siblings all ran to the courtyard and saw a giant hole, surrounded by blue lightning.  

“What is it?” Vanya asked.

“Don't get too close!” Allison warned.  

“Yeah, no shit.” Diego said.

“Looks like some sort of temporal anomaly.  Either that or a miniature black hole.  One of the two. 

“Pretty big difference there, Paul Bunyan.” Diego insulted.

“Out of the way!” Klaus exclaimed as he came out with a fire extinguisher and tried to spray it but it was out of steam.  So, he just threw it at the mysterious anomaly only for it to get sucked in.  

“What is that gonna do?” Allison asked.

“I don't know.  Do you have a better idea?” Klaus asked.  

The anomaly got stronger and Luther ushered everyone behind him to protect them.  Klaus wanted to run.  Luther and Allison held hands.  

The electrical crackling intensified and someone emerged from the anomaly, arms out.  It disappeared and the person fell out of the sky and landed on the ground.  The sky cleared up as the siblings walked towards the person, who stood up.  He was dressed in a suit way too big for him. 

“Does anyone else see little Number Five, or is that just me?” Klaus asked. 

The boy known as Five looked at himself then back at the siblings.  

“Shit.” 

☂

The six were now in the kitchen.  Five was busy making a sandwich while the others watched in shock.  

“What's the date?  The exact date.” Five asked.  

“The 24th.” Vanya replied. 

“Of what?”

“March.” 

“Good.” 

Luther spoke up.  “So, are we gonna talk about what just happened?” 

Five didn't reply.  He just continued with making his sandwich.  

Silence fell for a couple seconds until Luther stood up.  “It's been seventeen years.” 

Five scoffed.  “It's been a lot longer than that.” He blinked over to the cabinet. 

“I haven't missed that.” Luther muttered.  

“Where'd you go?” Diego asked.

“The future.  It's shit, by the way.” Five replied as he blinked back to the table.  

“Called it.” Klaus said.  

“I should've listened to the old man.  You know, jumping through space is one thing, jumping through time is a toss of the dice.” Five looked up at the siblings.  “Nice dress.” He told Klaus. 

“Oh, well, danke!” Klaus said, playing with the article of clothing.  

“Wait, how did you get back?” Vanya asked.

“In the end I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time.” Five explained.  

“That makes no sense.” Diego spoke up.

“Well, it would if you were smarter.” Five sasses.

Diego stood up to confront the boy, but Luther stopped him, holding him back.

“How long were you there?” He asked.

“Forty-one years.  Give or take.” 

Luther and Diego sat back down.  “So what are you saying?  That you're fifty-eight?” The former asked.

Five looked at Luther.  “No, my consciousness is fifty-eight.” He finished his sandwich.  “Apparently, my body is now seventeen again.” 

“Wait, how does that even work?” Vanya asked.

“Delores kept saying the equations were off.  Eh.” Five took a bite out of his sandwich.  “Bet she's laughing now.” 

Vanya was confused.  “Delores?” 

Five ignored her and looked at the newspaper that told him about Reginald Hargreeves’ death.  “Guess I missed the funeral.”

“How'd you know about that?” Luther asked.

“What part of the future do you not understand?” Five asked.  “Heart failure, huh?” 

“Yeah.” “No.” Diego and Luther said together.

Five hummed before clicking his tongue.  “Nice to see nothing's changed.”  Then, he got a good look at his siblings again.  He realized that one was missing.  “By the way, where's (Your Name)?”

The other five siblings looked at each other, solemn expressions on their faces now.  “Well…” Vanya started.  “There isn't an easy way to say this.” Allison said.  “He's in a coma.” “He's dead.” Klaus and Diego finished.  “Diego!” Allison scolded. 

Five looked at his siblings, a subtle look of worry on his face, but on the inside, his heart was beating faster.  “What happened?” 

“Well…. like I said… this isn't easy to say.” As Allison tried to explain, they suddenly heard soft footsteps approaching the kitchen.  They slowly turned their heads and what they saw shook them to the core. 

There stood…

(Your Name).

Klaus yelled in surprise.  

“Holy shit.” Diego said. 

Everyone else looked in surprise.  

(Your Name) was alive.

[karizard-ao3]

I'm very excited about a book I just ordered

I went to see Asteroid City today so, to my delight and despair, I was treated to some weird/indie film previews (my despair is because a lot of them come out after my kid gets home from his dad's and he probably wouldn't sit through them if we saw them in the theater). One that I was interested but probably won't be able to see in theaters was called Landscape with Invisible Hand, which was based on a book.

"Okay, no problem," I thought. "I'll just read it."

It was not on the Libby app, for either library I'm associated with. Alas.

But! I discovered who the author was - a certain MT Anderson who wrote a book that absolutely shaped my teenage perception of consumerism and technology.

The book was called Feed. I used to have my mom drop me off at Barnes and Noble (possibly while she was doing errands? Or possibly because no one, myself included, wanted me around the house). I would pick a likely looking book from the shelves, then go curl up in a chair and read it.

(Looking back, having become a book store employee in later years, I wonder if the staff recognized me. I never talked to any of them, except to ask to use the phone once or twice at closing time when my mother had not yet arrived for me, but if I had been working there I would certainly have clocked the little weirdo reading our wares without ever buying anything - not even a coffee or tea. I wouldn't have cared, but I would have noticed. I assumed at the time that I was incognito.)

One night, I found a book called Feed, which I found so fascinating and illuminating that I ended up buying the hardcover copy for $16.99 USD (price confirmed because I still own the book). I most likely had to borrow the money.

It's been several years since I last read it, so forgive any inaccuracies. It is set in a not too distant future when everyone is equipped with a microchip that allows them to access social media (called the Feed) from inside their heads. They can send each other messages without ever lifting a finger and, in fact, most people have lost the ability to write. Everything is disposable and the world is slipping into decay. The main character meets a girl who did not grow up as he did, being raised by parents who resisted getting the Feed and did not allow her to have it until she was 16. I don't want to give any spoilers from there, but I was blown away by this book as a kid. It felt like such a dark, truthful piece of social commentary and it very much impacted how I looked at things like smartphones and social media and capitalism.

Thus, I am so thrilled to read another book by this author and am excited to find out what kind of dark, dystopian future he will be giving to me this time. I've also decided it's about time I reread Feed as an adult, so I can get my expectations of Landscape With Invisible Hands better aligned. Who knows? Maybe Feed actually sucks?

(P.S. Please don't confuse Feed by MT Anderson with The Feed by Nick Clark Windo, because the latter started out with a really strong first chapter and then spiraled from there, and the former was, by my recollection, great throughout.)

ANYWAY, I'm just really excited and if anyone has input on any of these books (without giving spoilers), PLEASE GIVE IT.

[vazaha-tya]

Harry Potter is one of my hyperfixations. My brain is wired in a way that means that even when I wasn't engaging in the fandom, I was still thinking about it. It's not something I can just push aside (I did try for three years. I still obsessed over it.)

I latched onto the books as a kid trying to survive in an abusive household. I'm sure you can imagine why it appealed to me and still does now that I'm a young adult. That still doesn't excuse the fact that this story and its writer are actively harmful to minority groups, some of which I am a part of.

That means I need to decide how I want to interact with the Harry Potter world. I know I haven't touched the books in years, nor watched the movies or even thought about buying anything related to the HP intellectual property. I have been wondering if I should stop writing Harry Potter fics. It's an ongoing dilemma for a lot of people in the fandom. Everyone has their limits. JKR's behaviour makes us question ourselves constantly. I'm not sure I have the right answer, or that the decision I made now is one I'll be happy with as JKR doubles down but I posted some version of this on the author's note of my pride month one shot "where magic is kind" and I think that still holds true:

I never loved JKR. I didn't even find the books ground-breaking when I first read them. I fell in love with the wizarding world through the Harry Potter fandom. I learnt to love it because there were people who looked at the cracks in the story and thought, "I can fix this". They saw a diamond in the rough dirtied by bigotry and flawed writing, and decided to polish it.

Buying anything from the Harry Potter franchise means giving money to a woman who will use it to endanger a group with one of the lowest life expectancies out of all marginalised groups, so I've decided I would not do it anymore. But fanfiction is ours, not the authors'. It's our way to reclaim those works to make them ours outside of copyright. We can't deny JKR wrote those books but we can try to build something better out of them. In my wizarding world, trans people are safe. I wish they were in real life too. Until then, I'll keep writing stories where they are or where they are allowed to fight for that safety.