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songsofadelaide · 3 months

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"Hey, Platoon Leader, are you guys trying to be the next Shinomiyas?"

You looked up from your plate of food and gave Kafka an incredulous look from across your shared table. "...What?"

The older officer raised his hands in defence when he caught the strange look on your face. "O-Oh, you know! The Director General and his wife, the former Captain of the Second Division. They were a power couple. I just thought you guys were similar is all..."

"Kafka-san, you better clarify whatever it is you're saying," you chuckled at his statement. "Though I definitely do not mind being compared to the Second Division Captain Shinomiya Hikari, the gods rest her soul. She was brilliant, after all! A shining example to so many young women, myself included. We could have stood to learn a thing or two from her..."

It was a tragedy, you thought. The Director General had always been a serious man, but the unexpected death of his wife made him all the more. And now that Kafka mentioned it, the weight of the idea rested even heavier on your mind. The higher you two rise in the ranks, the more will be expected of you. The more numbered Kaiju appear, the more you will have to set out in their field.

The higher the danger risk, the more skilled personnel will have to be deployed. And seeing how the top brass acknowledged your fiancé's most recent accomplishment— subduing and neutralising Kaiju No. 10— the likelihood of him being assigned even more dangerous missions will only increase—

"You think the Vice Captain would consider growing out a beard too when he becomes Director General? Like Director General Shinomiya. I mean you did mention once that his old man was grizzled and all..." Kafka asked aloud as he helped himself to his lunch.

???

His question was so left-field that you couldn't help the laughter that escaped your stomach. "Pfft— What?! Kafka-san, wh— Hahaha!"

"I-I'm serious, though, Platoon Leader?! A beard would make him even more menacing!"

"Haha! N-No, okay, okay! I'm sorry! I'm sorry for bursting out laughing like that! I-It's just— Soshiro grows stubbles at an alarming rate and he always shaves because he hates being told he'd look like his father with a beard," you said, nearly breathless and tears prickling your eyes. You continued to speak as you calmed down, the seriousness of your expression prompting your lunchmate to pause his meal. "I might not be able to achieve Captain Shinomiya's legendary level of coolness or renown, but I think as long as I continue accomplishing orders, that's good enough for me."

Arriving at your table not long after your fit of laughter were the Vice Captain and another recruit— one who happened to hear your conversation right from the start.

"I—" Kikoru started, her plate slightly trembling in her hands as you met her earnest gaze. "I think you're just as cool as Captain Shinomiya, Platoon Leader! More importantly, I'd like f-for you and Vice Captain Hoshina to always be safe while in the battlefield so you can both live long and fulfilling lives! Th..."

The kind her mother never got to live.

Soshiro took his place next to you as Kafka gestured for them to sit at your shared table.

"Thank you, Kikoru-chan. I am honoured you think so highly of me. If there's anyone feels the loss our amazing Captain Shinomiya the most, that would be you," you said as you reached for the younger girl's shaking fist from across the table, giving her a gentle yet reassuring squeeze. "If Soshiro and I ever do become the Defense Force's next power couple, I can only hope we have a child as talented and dedicated as you are."

"That's assumin' we're actually still a couple," Soshiro quipped. "I could hear you laughin' at Kafka's joke from across the building. Whatever did he tell you that was so funny, sweetness?"

"Kafka-san here was just saying how cool you would look grizzled with a beard all over your handsome, handsome mug," you shot back at him as you gently gripped his chin to force him to face you. "But don't worry, sweetness, I like you just the way you are now."

Kikoru's hands flew to her mouth as her face suddenly flushed. H-How lovey-dovey of them!

"You're already plenty menacing with that sly look of yours," you continued, before slapping the table so hard that it surprised both Kafka and Kikoru, who were staring in awe at just how affectionate their superiors were being. "Now eat, eat, eat up, our little fledgelings! Eating right, getting enough sleep, and exercising are key to living long! Let's not miss out on even one of those!"

Soshiro smiled as you ate your fill along with your favourite new recruits, though he'd never hear you say that out loud. Being a power couple never appealed to him because all that mattered to him were saving lives and staying alive— to be able to live in the future you were all so earnestly fighting for.

I suppose having someone to proudly stand next to isn't such a bad idea.

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#mari's prompts 🎠#kaiju no. 8 #kn8 #kaiju no. 8 spoilers #hoshina soshiro x reader #starry divider by @/cafekitsune

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rogueddie · 9 months

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Disabled Steve / Eddie Fics

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🦻

give me a sign

findmeinthewychelm

It was sweet torture the way Steve was pining over him. Robin was sick of listening to him talk about Eddie, but she also hadn’t stopped him yet.

Words : 4,235 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

what would you trade the pain for (i'm not sure)

Library_of_Gage

Steve doesn't bother anyone with his chronic pain; it's something he'd rather keep to himself. And then it spikes in the Upside Down, in front of Eddie Munson, and Steve slowly starts to learn that, sometimes, sharing what hurts does help.

Words : 8,230 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Our Love is Shown in the Letting Go

Xxbottlecapxx

Steve’s mother comes home and has to deal with the fact that she has no idea who her son is, and maybe never will.

Words : 10,189 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Not Rated

AO3 : x

Who Am I to Say What Any of This Means?

IndigoFudge

Eddie’s eyebrows are raised. He’s speaking deliberately. “My first grade teacher set up a meeting with Wayne and told him she thought I had autism. So Wayne took me to the doctors and it turned out she was right.”

He is still looking at Steve. Oh. Steve’s been staring at him like an idiot for forty seconds instead of acknowledging this important, incredibly personal detail that he has just shared. Steve remembers eye contact––one, two, three––then answers. “That’s cool.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, carefully. “Have you ever been tested? Because I’ve been noticing… When I look at you, I kinda see some signs.”

Words : 7,371 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

she'll know me crazy, soothe me daily (better yet, she wouldn't care)

jewishrat420

Eddie doesn’t really cry about this anymore. He’s long since shed his own personal tears of pity, spent enough time mourning a different life. He’s accepted it, for the most part, doesn’t really give a shit about being normal or whatever. No one’s normal.

But this…Eddie’s not used to this. He’s never had someone hold his face in their hands, look him dead in the eyes and say, “Eddie Munson. For better or for worse, and fuck, I know this is worse, I want to know you.”

Words : 3,988 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

the beginning of a bad joke

alligator_writes

At the beginning of his rant, lecture, whatever, Hottie stares right at him. He has a really intense stare. Pretty brown eyes set in a prettier face with even prettier hair on top of his head. Eddie gets distracted by all that pretty and by trying to make his point.

And he doesn’t notice until halfway through that Hottie isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking at his friend.

Eddie looks at her, too. Looks at her confused and focused expression. Looks at her hands moving rapidly.

Oh. G-d.

Hottie’s deaf, isn’t he?

Words : 7,083 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

I Took The Good Times, I’ll Take The Bad Times (I Take You Just The Way You Are)

steddieeddie

In 1984, Eddie Munson told Steve he was going to marry him one day laying in the quiet confines of Steve’s room.

In 1985, they broke up. It wasn’t because they wanted to, but because Steve thought they had to. They spent almost an entire year apart, hurting, wondering about what could have been.

In 1986, Steve Harrington was almost fatally injured in the final attack against The Upside Down, against Vecna. He spent seventy six days comatose, and then almost an entire year in the hospital learning how to be a person again. He learns how to open and close his hands, hold things, and how to feed himself again. Steve learns how to stand, how to walk, going from walker to cane by the time he is allowed to go home.

In 1987, he did just that. He goes home.

It was a slow process. Way slower than Steve wanted it to be, but it was worth it.

Sure, his hands were never going to work the same, there was constant pain in his arms and left leg, and he would never walk without a cane, but at least he’s alive.

He made it.

That was what mattered.

Words : 30,101 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #fic rec #ficrec

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happy74827 · 11 months

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No Ordinary Life

[Sam Riordan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: The group had almost ran out of options on what to do with Sam, but Andre had decided there was still one more option to explore. And that option, was you. (GIF credits: @heronamedhawks)

WC: 1,179

Category: Slight Fluff, Slight Angst

We don’t know much about Sam as of right now, but I do know I would literally die for this boy. He and Emma really deserve the world, and they fr better have their happy ending (which seems impossible given the universe they live in, but one can hope). This definitely deserves a part 2, depending how well it goes, but for now enjoy the purity that is Sam.

Edit(2023): Hey I finally made the part 2, check it out here

『••✎••』

As Sam walked down the bustling halls of Godolkin, he couldn't help but feel like an outsider. All around him, kids with extraordinary powers, kids like him, were chatting, laughing, and walking to their classes. They were able to use their gifts freely and openly, and they were respected by others for it, but Sam didn't have that luxury. Honestly, he couldn’t remember a time that he did.

All he remembered was the woods, his brother, and the constant pain of being hunted.

His hand unconsciously traveled to top of his head, pulling the hoodie that Emma had lent over to him farther over his face as he tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn't easy when the hallway was completely crowded by nosy students, but he did his best. That’s all he could really do.

Emma and Marie (as he found her name to be) were by his side, protecting him for the skewing eyes of others. For the most part it worked, except it drawn more attention to her due to that odd system that Emma had acknowledged him about. A rating, whatever that was.

It was cool to know that his brother had been ranked number one, though.

If Luke was still… No, don’t think about it, Sam.

He shook his head, ridding himself of that train of thought. There was no point in dwelling on the past, and thinking about his brother wouldn’t change anything. He was gone, and Sam was left alone.

His thoughts were interrupted by Jordan, who he was still slightly confused about. He? She? They? They seemed to have been good friends with his brother and they were friendly enough, so Sam didn’t really question the matter too much.

Plus, he kinda enjoyed the subtle sarcasm that Jordan would once in a while use. It made him feel like a kid back in school. So for that, Sam was thankful.

“Dude, this has got to be the stupidest thing we’ve ever done,” Jordan had said, turning to the guy walking besides them… Andre. Sam didn’t know what to make of him, or anyone really. He had always been so closed off from other people, that now it was almost a bit overwhelming.

But at least he had Emma, so he didn't have to worry about the social aspect too much.

Andre gave Jordan a sideways look, a small smirk on his face. He seemed pretty chill too.

“Listen, I don’t like this anymore than you do, Jordan,” Andre stated, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But with everything happening, and with Cate… this is our best option.”

“Yes, let’s bring the kid with a bounty over his head into the place where they’re all going to be looking for him. Great idea, Andre. Seriously, how did I not think of it first. Soooo smart of you, dude. Good job. I'm so glad we're friends, really I am.”

Jordan rolled their eyes, and Andre just looked away in annoyance. Then, to Sam’s dismay, an awkward silence fell over the group. Once again, Sam was struck by just how different his life was now. It was like he was suddenly thrown into another world, and he had no idea how to function in it. He was so far out of his comfort zone that he couldn’t even see the zone.

Sam glanced over to Emma, and saw her smiling encouragingly at him. He tried his best to return the gesture, but he felt like his face muscles were going to fall off if he forced them any longer.

After what seemed like hours, but really only a couple minutes, Andre halted in front of a random dorm room door, and turned to face the group. He sighed, his face set into a look of grim determination. Then, he knocked.

Three times, Sam counted. Three knocks.

The door opened almost immediately after, and the man who answered had to be the most handsome human being Sam had ever seen. He had short black hair, a sharp jaw, and a dazzling smile. It was actually kind of intimidating.

“Whadda’ want?” the man asked, his voice a rich baritone. Sam didn't know why, but it felt like the man was judging him. His eyes scanned over the group, lingering on Sam for just a second, before returning back to Andre.

Andre cleared his throat, a bit nervously, but he didn’t get a chance to speak as Jordan scoffed, shoving past the man and into the room. Emma followed, giving the man an apologetic look as she did. And thus, everyone followed, leaving the man alone and bewildered in the doorway.

Once everyone was settled inside, the man shut the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He glared at Andre, his eyes burning holes through his head, but Sam didn’t pay any attention towards him anymore. All his eyes were on the strange girl in front of him, you.

You were sitting on the floor, legs crossed and a bored expression on your face. Your eyes were half lidded, and you seemed to be lost in your own little world. Andre had mentioned you, a little. Said that you were the person he had called earlier, that you would help them figure out what to do with Sam, and that you knew and could a lot of stuff. But he had never told them how gorgeous you were.

Your hair was down, and looked so soft that Sam just wanted to touch it, run his fingers through it, and feel the texture. You had a cute little button nose, and a round, chubby face that was just too adorable. And your eyes were so expressive, a mixture of colors that swirled and shone and sparkled in the light.

Andre had called your attention and you snapped out of it, blinking a few times before glancing up at him. It was then that you noticed the others, and you stared at them all, wide eyed and open mouthed, but that was quickly replaced with a smile.

“Hi, Andre! Wow, you must be Jordan… Marie… and Emma? Right? Oh, and you must be the kid Andre talked about, oh my gosh. It's so nice to finally meet you all. Sorry I didn’t say anything when you came in, I was just finishing up this thing for Kota. Oh, Kota! You're still here… hi. Wait, why are you all here? You weren’t supposed to be here until 2:00, and it's only-”

You looked down at the watch on your wrist, your eyes widening even more when you realized the time. You had been talking so fast that no one had been able to get a word in edgewise, but you had managed to finish what you had to say, and it was all so rushed that it was hard to keep up.

The only thing Sam could focus on was how despite all of that rambling and mumbling, you were still keeping that bright smile that never seemed to falter. A truly happy supe? He never thought it would exist. Even Emma, as sweet and pretty as she was, tended to falsify the smiles she had. Sam only saw her real one about three times. He cherished them, of course. Every single one.

You stood up, brushing yourself off and fixing your clothes, and walked over to them. Your hand was outstretched, and your smile was radiant. Sam could practically feel the happiness radiating off of you.

You looked so innocent, so sweet and pure. He could hardly believe that you were a supe, but the fact that they were all standing here said otherwise. You had power, and you knew how to use it.

Jordan and Marie seemed to have recovered from their daze, and the two shook your hand after Andre. Marie had even introduced herself, and it ended with you in giggles, telling her that you already had known her name.

Emma was next, and she had taken your hand immediately and shook it.

Then it was just him that was left.

He stood frozen, staring down at your outstretched hand. He could feel all the eyes in the room on him, and he just knew that his hood was starting to slip.

His instincts were yelling at him, screaming at him to run. To get out of there and stay far, far away from you. From everyone.

But he couldn’t.

So, instead of fleeing, he slowly, cautiously took your hand in his. It was small, warm, and fit perfectly.

You smiled again but this time it was strictly for him, because of him, and it made his heart beat just a bit faster.

He didn’t even realize it until your smile has widened, but he had pulled down his hood, letting you see his face. He didn't understand why he did, and a part of him wanted to pull the fabric right back over his face, but it was too late now.

The damage had been done.

Sam didn’t have a chance to scrape off the dried blood off his cheeks, another result of an accidental outburst, and he could feel your eyes rake over his face, taking in every single detail.

But it wasn’t judgmental, or critical.

No, there was something else in those swirling eyes of yours, and it was then that he noticed the little flecks of gold hidden in the sea of color.

Sam was a bit embarrassed, to say the least, and he tried to pull his hand away but your grip only tightened, and he didn't have the strength to resist. He felt your hand go up his arm, unraveling the hoodie that clung to him like a second skin.

The others didn’t seem to do anything as you pulled the material above his elbow.

Your eyes roamed over the scar that stretched across his forearm, and he knew what was coming before the words even left your mouth.

Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at you as you asked the dreaded question, and his eyes were glued to the floor.

It was Emma who answered, her voice barely a whisper.

Sam despised the pity in your tone. The last thing he wanted was to be pitied. He didn't need or want anyone's pity. He was fine. Everything was fine.

The silence shattered as you took a sharp breath, but Sam couldn't bring himself to look at you. Not when he knew the look of pity in your eyes.

You released his arm, the hoodie dropping to the ground, but Sam didn't even register it. He stood there, frozen, as you slowly reached out your hand towards his face.

"Before I do anything, I want to warn you so it doesn't scare you. Is that okay with you? I just... I want to make sure you're alright. But if you don't want me to touch you, I won't. I'll respect your boundaries. Just tell me, okay?"

Sam blinked, his head tilting upwards, his eyes wide with surprise. There was no pity in your eyes. No negativity or degradation. Only a gentle concern and kindness that he had only experienced in these past few days.

Your touch was tender, and he felt a warmth spread across his face. He couldn't bring himself to deny you. So he nodded, and a small smile appeared on your face. It was still a smile, but a different kind. One he had never seen from you before. And once again, that smile was meant just for him.

Suddenly, the lights in the room dimmed, capturing Sam's attention. He hadn't noticed before, but the entire room was filled with interconnected lights, forming a grid-like pattern. They began to glow, pulsating and shifting with each passing moment. The light danced across the walls, creating mesmerizing shapes.

Sam was captivated by the whole process. And then, the lights suddenly stopped, freezing in place. Sam expected them to return to their normal brightness, but they grew brighter and brighter. It was then that he noticed your hands. They were no longer touching him, but rather, they hovered above him, palms facing his face. A peculiar expression settled on your face.

Sam didn't know what it meant, but he didn't have time to wonder because, in an instant, your hands transformed into light. It wasn't like beams shooting out of your palms, but rather, golden particles that flowed around your body and traveled along the lights, intensifying their brightness. Patterns began to form and move.

Sam watched in awe as the shapes transformed into pictures and scenes. The colors melted and shifted together. Light filled the room, washing away the world around him, leaving only the vibrant colors, the images, and your face.

Your face, so close to his. The smile still adorned your lips, and your eyes shone like stars, the brightest things in the room. Sam could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Reluctantly, he admitted that the light was beautiful, just like you.

It was the most extraordinary sight he had ever witnessed. It was as if the sun had exploded, its light spreading across the room. The colors danced along the walls, forming vivid images. Sam saw a field, a house, a family. He saw his old friends. He saw him. His brother, Luke.

Sam's face crumpled, and a sob escaped his throat. Tears blurred his vision, but they were absorbed by the light, vanishing as soon as they fell. You remained a silent observer, watching over him as the colors gradually faded, and the world returned.

The room was as bright as before, but everything was the same. Sam could still see the concern and worry etched on your face. You reached up to wipe away his tears, but this time he flinched back, and the contact never happened. Your hands fell to your sides.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and your lips trembled, trying to hold back your emotions. But a tear escaped, rolling down your cheek. Andre cleared his throat, breaking the spell. Both you and Sam turned to face the others.

They were all watching, expressions of shock and confusion on their faces, except for Jordan, who wore a mask of indifference.

Andre and Emma stared at you, mouths agape, while Sam saw the tears in your eyes, the fear evident on your face.

Of what, he couldn’t tell. As of right now, there were so many things you could be scared of. With The Woods, being the thing that contains most of it all, It was hard to pinpoint one specific reason.

Then, just like before, Andre's voice cracked as he decided to interrupt Sam’s thoughts.

"What the hell was that?"

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thavron · 10 months

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So I think I've cracked this moment.

So this moment has bothered me. I've seen several people say this is Crowley breaking up with Aziraphale, but I think it has a different meaning. I think he's saying, "I understand."

Hear me out.

It was actually listening to the song Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy that caused me to have a little epiphany. I love how it's juxtaposed over Crowley rushing back to Aziraphale, indicating that he is the Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy, but there is more to it.

That song was released in 1976, which is a time when being gay or being queer of any kind was deeply frowned upon. Though laws in the UK banning same sex relationships had been lifted by this time, for consenting adults over the age of 21. Freddie explicitly coming out at this time was something that could have ended his career. Freddie danced with the media on this one, hinted but was never forthright and kept his romantic life largely under wraps. This is something that queer people did in general and had to do well into the 90s. They flirted in code, they romanced behind closed doors. They kept their love out of sight.

Much like our Ineffable Husbands.

Editing to add- that the reason this triggered something for me, is that despite the secrecy, Freddie Mercury got up on stage and sang a song about a man taking another man out on a date at the Ritz. Everyone knew. Just no one knew knew. And it wasn't enough to end his career. Much like our Ineffable Husbands. Everyone knows, including them. Just no one says a thing about it.

Which brings me back to A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square.

This song is about one magical night. A couple meet, fall in love, feel the magic of their romance, and then as the sun comes up they go home. It is something like a dream that has to be let go with the harsh light of day. But there is hope, because sometimes they can hear the echo of the nightingale. A promise perhaps to meet again.

So I think it is widely assumed that there is more to the 1941 flashback. I tend to concur. I think we will see the origin of why this song is important to them. I suspect the song is about them. They have one magical night, where they are both brave and express their love for each other. But then the sun comes up and they realise that they have to go back to their lives. I think they will acknowledge that the incident with the zombies was a close call, and they need to cool off and stay away from each other. Slow down.

So 1967 is the first time they have seen each other since. They both know how they feel, they're just waiting for the right time. They shouldn't have met at all, except Aziraphale wants to give Crowley the holy water. I think that explains the awkwardness but also their softness toward each other. It's a meeting of lovers, but the time isn't right just yet. No nightingales are singing. That's what Aziraphale means by "You go too fast for me." Not yet, it's too soon. We're still under suspicion.

So the end of season one, the world is not over and our ineffable husbands are free. What do they do? They go for date at the Ritz. You can not tell me this is not a date. Sorry, don't believe you. "The Ritz is the most romantic hotel in the world." It's like their whole selling point. It's why it pops up in the lyrics of Berkley Square, and also in the lyrics of Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy. It's the place where magic happens. And for me, the playing of the song, and the reference from God herself, it's saying the time is right. They can finally be together again. This is their moment.

So Season Two. I've read reviews of season two where people liken it to fanfiction. Neil calls it is a bridge season. I think it's the dream. Not actually a dream, I don't think Neil is that unoriginal. But in the song they liken that one magical night to a dream. It's a fantasy that they get to live until the sun comes up. They get to live their dream for four years. They are together and they are in love but they are still living in secret. They still don't acknowledge it. They're still holding back. One of the themes in this series is timing is everything. Maggie and Nina's relationship doesn't work because timing. The magic trick worked the time it mattered. Timing is important, and the ineffable husbands are bad at it. They should have thrown themselves into this but they were too cautious and they missed their chance.

I think this conversation is when Crowley realises. Not that he is love with Aziraphale, that was established in 1941. But that everyone knows anyway. There is no reason to hide. No one cares that they're an item. Aziraphale has a similar epiphany after his chat with Shax. So they both decide to move the relationship along, but damn do they have bad timing.

Now I am as confused and heart broken as anyone about the final fifteen. And I am certain that there is something that we are not seeing, a trick that we've missed. There are six minutes unaccounted for. Neil says its a continuity error, but he's demon, he lies.

So here is what I think, and why this line "that's the point, no nightingales" is important. At some point during that conversation Crowley catches on. Whether they have a moment of stopped time, or the fact that Aziraphale is acting so utterly unhinged, there is something that happens that we don't see and it clues him in. He is hurt and angry yes, but he understands. What he is understanding is that the dawn came stealing up, and that the interlude is over. The nightingales stopped singing, and they have to go back to work. He gets it and that's how he lets Aziraphale know.

"You're an idiot, we could have been us." He doesn't like the plan, whatever it is. He thinks running would have been preferable, but he is resigned to it.

Then that kiss. One last goodbye just in case the world ends? Desperate longing and years of pent up frustration? I don't think the trick is here. I think this is misdirection. We're all looking at the kiss, we missed the coded message that came right before. I think "No nightingales" may also suggest that this isn't the kiss. The romantic kiss will come later, when the nightingales sing again. And they will, of that I'm certain now.

The song playing in the car, a message from Aziraphale or from the Bentley reminding him to have hope. Two things we know about Crowley. He is an optimist. He loves to rescue his angel. We also know that he is the trusted stooge with the steady hand. Aziraphale will perform the theatrics, he will do the rest. The fact that he waited and didn't just storm off like he did when he was rejected in series 1 tells Aziraphale that he is still here. He's still in this.

That's my interpretation anyway.

#good omens #good omens meta #yup i have way too much time on my hands #and i hate unhappy endings #and will live in denial about this

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chiefdirector · 3 months

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Hiding | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Act Two| Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33

“Have a nice day off, did we?” the voice of Sergeant Caradine rang out from behind (Y/N), causing her to jump in her seat. Quickly, she whipped her head around to face her boss. “Didn't take you for a slacker, Bradford.”

“Please, I’m not a slack-”

Caradine rolled his eyes, “Don’t act like you don't have more coffee breaks than anyone else in this department. And don’t get me started on the amount of times I've caught you playing computer chess.”

(Y/N) guilty looked down at her lap, “So… you’ve come to fire me?”

“Not yet, if you were anyone else I would’ve. But despite your flaws, you're damn good at your job.” Cardaine looked like he wanted to smile, but fought the urge off. Slamming down a file on Bradford’s desk, he continued. “I got a case for you. Homicide. Lopez had already been briefed. You two are going to be partnered for the time being.”

“Cool-”

Caradine cut (Y/N) off again. “What have I said about the word ‘cool?’”

“That it isn’t ‘cool’”

The sergeant just huffed, demanding that (Y/N)get out of his sight.

—

Lopez tried to keep her focus on the road, focussing on the case at hand even but she couldn’t help herself. Pulling up on a red light, she turned her head to her partner “Bishop told me that you and Tim went on a date…”

“We’re married.” (Y/N) deadpanned.

“Still. Was it fun? Sexy even?”

“Why do you care, Ange. You're also in a committed relationship. Unless you have something to share?”

Angela lightly punched (Y/N) on the shoulder as she saw the lights turn green. Turning back to the road, she rolled her eyes. “It’s a little dry. He’s a lawyer, he doesn’t have any cool work stories to share. So spill.”

“He took me to where we had our first date.”

“Ooo. Let me guess! Romantic restaurant? Walk on the beach? Wait no- it’s Tim. Football! He took you to see the football!”

“Shooting range.” (Y/N) revealed, laughing at Angela’s insistence.

“Damn it!” Lopez groaned, pulling the car to park next to the sidewalk. “That’s not romantic.”

“It wasn’t too bad. But we’re here now, let's be a bit more professional.” (Y/N) tried to reason as she looked across to Angela who had an eyebrow raised. “And I will tell you more later.”

“Good, let's go.” (Y/N) went to get out of the car before she realised where she was. It shocked her that she did not recognise the address in the file, but looking at the house, there was no way she could mistake it now.

This was Kade Sullivan’s house.

“Do you know who died, was it the homeowner or…?” (Y/N) said, letting her voice trail off, the implications running through her mind.

“Yeah, the homeowner. Did you know them or something?”

(Y/N) hummed in acknowledgement before getting out of the car and towards the house.

—-------

The patrol officers shot her strange looks as she made her way directly into the kitchen, (Y/N) had her mind only on one thing only. The bug that she had planted with Harper. Looking over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed, She ran her hand under the counter until she found the device. Quickly, she pocketed it before heading back out to the living room where the body lay.

Around the body, several patrol officers stood, waiting for the coroners. Most of the officers (Y/N) didn’t recognize. She had never bothered to learn most of their names, most people relocate before bonds were formed, but she clocked onto two standing in the corner immediately.

“Chen, Bradford. Come here, I have a job for you.” She beckoned, waiting as the two came over.

Quietly, she told Chen to come to her side, slipping the bug into her hand once she was close enough. “Take this back to the station, don’t stop for anything. Upload any data it may have that hasn’t been looked over and destroy it.”

“Destroy it? Doesn’t it need to be reported?” Chen asked, keeping her voice as low as (Y/N)’s.

“Yes, tell Grey. Don’t give any details. Once me and Lopez wrap up here, we will meet. Don’t tell Grey anything he doesn’t need to know.” She said, before turning to her husband. “You do the talking. I will be back soon. Let Harper know if you see her. And both of you, don’t say anything on the radio.”

(Y/N) walked further into the house as soon as she finished talking, not giving Bradford or Chen any room to argue.

“You heard her,” Tim said, looking at his boot as Lucy stood still, “Move!”

———————

After watching her partner examine the crime scene one to many times, Angela finally managed to drag her partner out of the house and back into the shop.

They drove in silence for a bit, Angela deliberately taking the scenic route back to the precinct. Eventually the quietness got to her and she couldn’t hold back nah longer. “Are you okay?”

(Y/N) just hummed in response, looking out of the window to avoid Angela’s concerned look.

“You know this isn’t the end of the world. We will be able to find another way to Dyer.” Angela didn’t need to say the name for (Y/N) to know who she was talking about. “It’ll work out.”

“I know… it’s just-” (Y/N) trailed off

“Just what?”

“It just feels real now. Seeing Sullivan dead… before, I knew the threat was there but I could ignore it. Other cases to work on, you know? But now, with him gone. Another pawn off the board.”

It was Angela’s turn to hum, processing her partner’s words. After a few moments, she spoke again. “This just means we’re one step closer to ending this.”

“But so is she.”

—————

It didn’t take long for the coroner's report to come back; the death was ruled as suspicious. No foul play, just a lonely man, too burdened by the world. Or by guilt. That was how he died but the real mystery came post-mortem. The call had been sent out as a homicide but all violent markings had been inflicted after death. As if someone was staging him.

(Y/N) sighed as she ran her hand through her head. Looking down at the file, she reread the words over and over, as if she couldn’t fully comprehend them. There was something else that she was missing, something familiar.

Tags:

@xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e @malindacath @agentred27 @anaferreira-4 @starstruckchopshoptyphoon @alessiamargaux @rexit-mo @ladespedidas @omg-its-vixen @agentcable @rookietrek @fluentmoviequoter @wonderland2425 @niktwazny @the-dino-geek

#chiefdirector #talks #anonymous #tim bradford x reader #the rookie #tim bradford #tim bradford imagine #bottom of the river #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader

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atalana · 12 days

Text

second thing from the book of bill i wanna overanalyse! ford's journal entry right before he sent that postcard to stan (written out for ease of reading)

CONS: 1) S is an overgrown child with none of my rigorous mental training. Who knows what could happen if Cipher stepped inside Stanley's mind for even one minute... 2) What if Stanley somehow manages to destroy the portal like he destroyed my perpetual motion machine? I suppose that machine did work in it's own way... It kept me perpetually angry for thirty years! [Coded message: Have I been too harsh all along?] 3) What if he tries to rope me into his latest get-rich-quick scheme? His latest commercial was for "Stan Sauce: The Miracle Sauce that's too cool for the FDA!" 4) What if... he mocks me? What if he sees that I abandoned our family to become a recluse on the brink of madness? Could I risk admitting that I was... wrong? PROS: I have no one else.

like okay, to take this point by point

1) i keep comparing this one with "you would have seen him for the scam artist he is" in the finale. it took ford that long to come around on the idea that stan actually does have areas where he's the smarter twin. the idea that stan could be better equipped than ford to handle bill is something that never occurred to him, ford was just focused on "only the most intelligent person could beat bill and i can't so what hope does stanley have??". which is exactly how bill suckered him in the first place

2) it took me a few rereads on this one to realise what it was ford was actually afraid of? like, yes, he wants to shut down the portal, he doesn't want bill to use it. but just like with his journals, he's terrified of the idea of the portal being destroyed. it doesn't matter that it was furthering bill's plans, or that leaving all of these things intact just increases the chance of them being used for harm in the future - that's his life's work! it's his ticket to being recognised by the whole world for how great he is!

ford you are full on "fairytale king can't let go of his fortune even when it dooms the world" here. you can blame other people all you like, but the reason you got sucked through the portal (starting the chain that would eventually cause the apocalypse), is that the portal was still fully functional. like! you could have stopped all of this by just taking the portal apart. but you would never be able to rebuild it, because it was a joint effort between you bill and mcgucket, and neither one of them will ever help you again. you got addicted to the idea of the glory you would get for this, and your self esteem is rapidly dwindling the more you realise how wrong you were, so as far as you're concerned, this is all you've got. and just like your dreams of going to that college, you're scared stan will take it away from you

2.5) the fact that "have i been too harsh all along" is the part in code. because even while you're considering it, you don't want to acknowledge it. of everything you wrote here, that's the part you're ashamed of, and so you're hiding it where no one could possibly read it.

3) this is just an excuse to rag on stanley and feel better about yourself. do not pretend for even a moment like this is a genuine worry. what could stan possibly do to rope you into a scheme that would be worse than the situation you've already cooked up for yourself? it's not like you have a problem saying no to him

4) there's the meat of the issue! the shame is back! it's been motivating you your entire life, it sure ain't stopping now you've got something to legitimately be ashamed of!

but this is also the most clearheaded and honest about the whole situation we've seen ford be. it really does feel like a tipping point where it could have gone one way or the other - if the portal hadn't split them up again for another thirty years, it's possible stan might have been able to get through to him here. it wouldn't have been easy, but there was a chance

and then god that last line hits so hard, i had to stop for a moment when reading and just let that one sit with me. like you have a whole page of reasons why you don't want to involve stan in this, and you could probably come up with several more if someone asked you to. but at the end of the day, none of those objections actually matter. you know they're superficial, compared to that massive glaring truth - you have dug a hole for yourself so deep there's no way to get out of it on your own, you've pushed away absolutely everyone who could try and help you, and there's only one person who's stubborn enough and loves you enough to come anyway

#gravity falls #the book of bill #stanford pines #stanley pines #ford pines #stan pines

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makkir0ll · 5 months

Text

setting the past (part two)

ukai x reader

wc: 1.8k

synopsis: you coach a volleyball team, one of the best in the country known for having mostly recruited players. you take pride in the fact that you have led your team to win a national championship title. And with the news of the rising team karasuno, your interest is piqued, mainly because that was your old school. you had known that they were nicknamed the "fallen crows" and such, so hearing about their fast improvement you decide you want to see it for yourself. you call up the school and takeda picks up. you organize a practice match for later that week.

but what you don't realize is that their coach is your highschool ex.

a/n: me when i post a part two after a month. sorry guys i was battling depression, school, and writers block but we survived and now i give you this. shoutout to @cottonlemonade for listening to me rant about this fic for hours.

part one. masterlist

the aura in the gym is awkard. everyone can feel it. and they sure don't miss the way you and ukai keep sneaking glances at each other while the teams warm up. ears turning red when you guys make eye contact.

he's just observing your coaching style he says to himself. but he can't help but notice how pretty you are. your hair tied up so your neck can remain cool in the hot and humid gym. the sweat beads that drip down ur neck and onto your chest. he's starting to sweat a little and not because of the heat anymore.

and you surely think he's changed a lot too. the blonde hair definitely suits him, compared to his buzzed hair in high school (that you helped him with in the bathroom of the sakonishta store). and you for sure don't miss the two silver piercings on his left ear.

but your thoughts are interrupted when your team captain comes up to you "we're receiving first." you nod your head in acknowledgment, pulling out the whiteboard and giving the team the game plan.

"we're going to start out with haru, yoshi and kyo in the back line, for the best defense. and we'll have our tallest in the front." you point to the whiteboard. "remember that no matter what keep-"

"keep the ball in play" they all cut you off. you're surprised with that. do i really say that everytime you think to yourself.

"well since you already know the drill then. go and have fun. don't worry too much since this is just a practice match." you say smiling sitting back down on the chair as you watch them line up.

as the game starts nothing too interesting has happened yet. until you see a ball getting slammed to the ground out of nowhere and you look to see a jumpy first year land back from his spike. your team is frozen in their spots, they turn their heads to you and you turn your's to ukai. he just gives you a smug smile and shrugs his shoulders. clearly he likes to show off.

"don't mind it, get the point back!" you yell at them, as karasuno goes to serve. what the fuck have they been working on?

the game continues as your team slowly becomes accustomed to the first year's insane quick attack. you end up winning two straight sets but the points were really close throughout.

as you pack up your things you see a man with glasses approach you. you assume he's the one you talked to on the phone to plan out this match. you turn your body to face him and he holds his hand out to shake.

"thank you so much for coming all the way here, it must've been a long drive." he starts, still shaking your hand.

"oh it's no problem, thank you for having us. i know it was very last minute so thank you for being able to accommodate us." you reply, releasing your hand from his and bowing down slightly. "i think our bus driver is here, so we'll head out. i hope you see you again."

you hoped to see everyone but your ex, you lied to yourself. but deep down you couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach that would erupt whenever you would catch him glancing at you.

you and your team are walking back to the bus, they are eager to get home and you can see it on their faces how exhausted they are. you told them that you'll stop for food on the way back home and you're going to keep your promise.

once you counted fourteen players on the bus, you reach into your pocket for your phone, except you couldn't find it. with a sigh you turn to the bus driver, " i'm so sorry, but i think i left my phone back in the gym. i'll just go grab it really quick." you explain with an apologetic look on your face. he tells you it's no problem and to take your time. meanwhile he'll turn on the air conditioning because it's hot.

you turn around to walk back to the school, the smile on your face turns irritated. you really didn't want to run into ukai again. how emabrassing would it be to walk back in the gym. he would proabbly say some bullshit like "oh back so soon", with that stupid smirk on his face you thought to yourself. you really liked his stupid smirk.

your thoughts are interrupted when you hear your name being called out. you look up to see the fake blonde running towards you, your phone in his hand. you roll your eyes. of course this would happen to me of all people, this somehow seems worse.

he stands in front of you now. you take notice of how he's grown a couple of inches since you last saw him in highschool. "is this yours?" he asks, holding your phone out.

"yes, thanks." your tone is still sharp, you're really annoyed now. you would've rather just slipped into the gym quietly to grab your phone, not be face to face with your ex.

you grab your phone out of his hand, but your fingers ever so slightly graze each other and you feel his calloused hands from the years of volleyball. i wonder if they- NO NO NO STOP THINKING THAT.

once the device is in your hands, you begin to walk away, pulling up your friend's contact so you can update her on the absolute shit show that happened today.

"i saw they used your little trick back there," ukai says. it makes you stop in your tracks and you slowly turn around.

"what?"

"in the game, your team, they used that trick of yours from high school, right? the one where you would hit the block on purpose to get a rebound?" he explains to you, crossing his arms with that stupid smirk on his face gracing his features.

"so? it's a good technique. and since when were you this observant?" you question. ukai had never really been the one to know techniques, let alone remember yours. it might have made your stomach erupt with butterflies at the comment but you tell yourself its the anger bubbling up. with your frustration growing and all you wanted to do was go home, you turn around. "i'm going now, bye."

"you haven't changed a bit, y'know" he makes you stop, yet again. ukai couldn't help but admire how your passion for the sport never left. the way your eyes lit up everytime your team got a point was the same look that you had when you were in highschool. the way you spoke with so much thought and intent during time outs made him smile.

though you didn't think he meant it in that way. you thought he still thinks your the same dumb girl from highschool. you have changed a lot. you've grown as a person. you are NOT the same person from highschool.

"whatever ukai." you emphasize the use of his last name, walking away back to the bus as you ring up your friend. she picks up asking what happened.

"you will not believe the shit i just went through."

------

"and then get this, as im about to leave he goes 'you haven't changed a bit y'know' like what the hell is that supposed to mean?" you say to your friend who's on the other end of the phone. for the past twenty or so minutes you've been debriefing the utter chaos that happened today, what you don't realize is your team in the background quietly eavesdropping on your conversation trying to put the pieces together.

"i dunno y/n? but anyways why does this matter he is your ex from highschool," she emphasized the last word, "it shouldn't matter now, unless, y'know, he's a good fuck? is he?"

your voice goes to a whisper "i dont see how him being good in bed is related to this?" you know your team is listening to the conversation, they’re not slick about it and you can't have them hear you talk about things like this.

"because! maybe you'll meet again and have some hot makeup sex, and trust me it sounds like you need it." she explains, you cringe at her words trying to not imagine the scenario (you do later that night)

"anyways, i wouldn't know either way. we never got that far in highschool." you explain. you did all the other stuff though, just not the main act.

"what a shame, he sounds like he'd be good too."

"can you please not imagine my highschool ex in bed." you bring your fingers to smooth out your furrowed brows. you don't want to have wrinkles before you hit thirty. "anyways i have to go now we're back at the highschool, i'll talk to you tommorow." the bus comes to a stop and the team stands up to walk out of the vehicle. when they all step off the bus they thank the driver in unison before turning to you to hear any last minute annoucements.

"good work today," you start off. "i know it must've been a long drive but thank you for cooperating. i hope you enjoyed the game." they all nodded their head yes, too tired to express any other emotions. you could tell that they just wanted to go home and sleep. "alright then! go home and rest a lot, make sure you're eating enough and staying hydrated, because next week we're going to the summer training camp. that's all i have to say for today, i'll see you tommorow, goodnight!" they all reply with a tired goodnight mumbled under their breath as they make their way back home while you go towards your car.

once your in the tiny vehicle you immediately crank up the ac because although it is night your car still feels somwhat warm from the summer heat. as you're waiting for the car to cool down you're checking your email, and you see one from coach nekomata, the coach from nekoma highschool who invited you to the tokyo training camp. his email is answering your question that you asked a while ago about the teams that are going to be there.

Hi Y/n! Sorry I got back to you so late. I am still figuring out how to use this phone. But here are the list of teams that are attending the training camp:

Fukurōdani Academy

Nekoma High

Shinzen High

Ubugawa High

Karausuno High

Kozue High

you re-read the list of highschools again, making sure that you read them all right. karasuno high. you read the two words over and over again, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren't hallcuinating. with a groan you slump into your car seat.

"of course this could only happen to me"

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gracemain919 · 16 days

Text

Doppelganger (oc) short story: (story cause and outcome depends on how the obsession acts)

(The Fungus universe)

Tw: Yandere, exhibition smut, non-con.

They Love You

Lights, such a bright light that engulfed your irises torturing them for ever trying to see. The sounds of whispers from a hidden crowd in the far darkness that surrounded you while a tingly feeling spread through your legs.

The chair you were seated on started to creak as a force pushed it back along with your body. Your legs were held by gentle yet firm hands that were slowly tracing circles into the flesh while your hands trembled against the restraints that bound you to that chair. Wrists turned red from the friction while your bare skin was out on display for this whole ‘crowd’ to see. The ‘crowd’ you couldn't even acknowledge.

Tilting you’re head back you moaned, the sensation in between your thighs getting better and better until the person causing such feelings took a break. Jacob parted his lips in awe peeking his head back to you, his smile almost breaking his face. “God… if I had known the Liar would have let me do this after that successful break-in… I would have done it sooner” he said in between breaths. He was breathless, drugged even.

While talking he trailed his tongue over his lips and you would have grimaced at such actions if you weren't too dazed to start complaining. This also meant you didn't flinch when he dropped your legs, letting them lay idle on the chair while he traced a finger over your cunt and taking said finger licking it clean.

Not the worst thing you have seen, but your embarrassment grew as he stood raising his hand while sticking out his tongue to the ‘crowd’. He was taunting the others… This sick bastard.

Your arousal was evident as he turned to the side letting your body more in view to the hidden crown that shrouded in the darkness the lights hid. You didn't know if you wished for them to continue hiding or for the lights to return. Each sounded equally as awful, just as awful as The Doppelganger's touch on your collarbone.

“So long you have been with us and you still think there are people here who don't drool at your very mention. Come on, they love you” he whispered getting too close for comfort.

Your non-existent response must have been enough for him to quickly return to your front. Hands taking their place on lifting you to his view; he returned to his little part of the show. His tongue began to trail up and down your nerves, your moans being accompanied by his groans. Like a damn dog getting a drink of water.

“Damn it”. His actions became faster and before you knew it he left you back to square one. Couldn't even finish the job leaving your body aching for more. “I have something better for you dear…”.

Your pulls agasint rope could resemble how he pulled against his pants already giving you all the ideas of what the next step would be. Is it bad your kinda excited for it? Being left wanting more twice has already made your already hot insides into a boil. You just needed something to cool you off.

While your mind was getting filled with some unsavory thoughts, your eyes started to trail down Jacob’s form. Must have been obvious since his smirk grew along with a snicker. “Worked hard for this body dear. You don't have to tell me I'm beautiful. I know it”.

Yeah right… you rolled your eyes as he discarded his clothes leaving himself bare alongside you. He wasn't a muscular man, more on the slender side. Thin finger tips, long but slim arms. The only thing that had a bit more meat was his chest and that description is a bit too generous.

Yet again he can change his form at any moment. You sometimes wonder why he likes that form so much.

“Hmm… Don’t worry. You will get your fill. Just like I and the others will get ours” he muttered hovering above you before looking at your bonded hands, an idea clearly showing in his eyes. “Sit very still dear,” he said quickly going to the back of the wooden chair leaving you to promptly remember you were being watched… by eyes you can't even see.

Your eyes trailed the darkness as you felt your hands being maneuvered by Jacob. Did it really matter?

Your thoughts were interrupted as the loud sound of rope being torn made its presence. How the doppelganger broke it was a mystery, but you were too tired to even think of making a run. Jacob just grabbed your body like a ragdoll and made you lay on the floor. Which was worse. Yay…

“Im getting too tired for this…” you complained as he positioned himself behind you. You could feel his arosal. Very hard arousal as he extended both arms to his sides with a smile like if he won a battle. Yet again you were the star of the show quickly proven by how he raised you torso up letting everyone see your face and chest more clearly. And also pushing you closer to his girth but you try to ignore that.

Nevertheless, you can not ignore the warm feeling of fullness as he pushes into you or the quick pace he decides to start with. You barely did anything not like you wanted to do anything. You just let him hold you like a fleshlight pushing you up and down his member as he pleased.

“Oh… look at them dear, they want to see you,” he said tilting your face to the darkness. “There… fuck. Let them see you. Let them,” he moaned as he continued plunging into your warm flesh. Damn, it did feel good… your insides could agree.

Maybe once you were done… you could convince him for a future favor in this ‘special’ place.

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere story #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #ocs #oc #yandere character #yandere shapeshifter #yandere male #yandere smut

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icallhimjoey · 7 months

Text

Explain Us

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: So, more than flatmates... but, what exactly? Would be fantastic if you would just, you know, talk about it. But communicating is not your strong suit and you're extremely certain that it's fine. Confusing and vague, but, fine.

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, a continuation of define close, no need to read it to enjoy this, though it will help!, language

Author’s note: yea joe fucked up. not talking is fixing exactly nothing between the two of you. but we can be adults about this, can't we? (we can't)

Wordcount: 4.1K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

You’d held on extra tight all night.

Squeezed with your fingers, your arms all tense, because what if Joe wasn’t joking and this was the last time you’d get him all to yourself like this? There was this shared invisible way of being that you’d created together which you had always pretended was just normal flatmate behaviour.

It wasn’t.

Of course it fucking wasn’t. And now that Joe had casually said he was moving, your brain seemed to have shut down.

Just touch. Keep touching.

What would you even be to each other if not flatmates? If forced proximity wasn’t working in your favour anymore?

Just friends?

You had to swallow down bile at the mere suggestion of being just friends with Joe.

Flatmates was such a safe way to describe each other.

It just meant, yea, we live in the same space. We share our comfort zone. We see each other a lot and are kind of like family a little, just because of that.

People never asked questions.

There was no need to explain how well you knew each other. How much time you spent together. People would hear 'flatmate' and would assume.

They would assume wrong, because there definitely was more there. But it wasn’t weird when they witnessed you laughing at inside jokes together. Or if they heard you ripping each other to shit until you ended up in a weird wrestle that didn’t stop until someone knocked an elbow to a table top too hard. Or if they heard you casually talk to Joe through a door whilst he was sat on the toilet without acknowledging that he was, you know, actively sat on the toilet.

The term flatmate was safe.

But it was also scary.

Because how many of the other flatmates you’d ever had did you still speak to?

Precisely none.

Not that you’d had many previous flatmates. But still. You didn’t speak with any of those people anymore. They were now merely vague acquaintances that held a spot on your Facebook friend list, which was utterly meaningless, because who even still used Facebook these days?

They’d been chapters in your life that you’d so easily moved on from.

People who, if you’d see them down an isle in a shop, you’d avoid them at all costs and pretend you hadn’t seen them.

You’d never even fully considered that Joe would also one day turn into a chapter of your life that you’d have to avoid in a supermarket and wasn’t that just the most fucked up stupid thing you’d ever even heard?

You knew you were avoidant.

Didn’t really dabble in foolish shit like confrontation.

So it made sense that you weren’t exactly doing so great now that you were being confronted with how avoidant you actually were.

Joe said he was going to move out.

The pile of clothes outside of his wardrobe suddenly made sense.

Had he not said anything before? Had you just not paid attention? Not registered what you didn’t feel like registering? Was your brain working against you with that much conviction?

Felt wild.

But it took you maybe five seconds to decide that you were not going to freak out.

You could be totally cool about this.

Have a night of cuddled up sleep like Joe hadn’t just said he was going to leave you after you’d properly fucked for the first time and, if you wanted to freak out later, you could do that by yourself in a locked bathroom with the shower running after he’d moved out.

So you tried to sleep.

Couldn’t. Because your mind kept going.

But you tried.

Tried relaxing every time you noticed that your fingers were digging into his flesh.

Couldn’t.

But you tried.

And Joe’d just fallen asleep like he hadn’t just dropped a huge bomb into his bed. Like everything wasn’t suddenly shattering all around you. Wasn’t all falling apart. Wasn’t forcing you to slip on your armor, your mask, your disguise. The one you’d wear when you and Joe were around others. Where you pretended to be normal and helpful and friendly and not touching and kissing and essentially licking each other all over.

You’d have to wear the disguise for Joe.

What a disgusting turn of events.

Could you blame him? Yes.

Were you going to? No.

You could be the cool girl. Keep Joe around. Not scare him off with questions like, “How long have you known about this?” and, “Is this legally even allowed?” and, “What the fuck do you even think you’re doing?”. Questions that definitely all needed answers, but you weren’t going to ask them.

You’d learn the answers along the way, you were sure.

Cool girl.

Come dawn, you had managed to stuff your own emotions down somewhere deep. Hoped they’d stay down there until you decided they could bubble back up.

You also hoped that where your cheekbone pressed into his hair would somehow leave a bruise there. On both of you. So he could feel and see how fucked up this was.

Joe’s alarm went, and you swallowed all feelings even further down.

Closed your eyes and felt Joe stir.

Felt him remove the arm that had stayed in place around your waist to turn the alarm off.

Heard him groan and move back to snuggle up close again, and for a minute, you decided to fully just enjoy it for what it was. Closeness with the guy you liked.

Fuck.

The guy you liked.

You let a hand snake into his hair as you felt him burrow back into your neck. Classic five-more-minutes move. When you softly scratched at his scalp, Joe moaned.

All drawn out.

All sleepy.

“Gon’ make me drool,” he croaked, voice hoarse and low. “Fall back asleep.”

You could burst at the seams with how much you wanted that.

Tightening up a leg around his, you used your other hand to lightly stroke fingers up and down his back and felt how Joe sank deeper.

Was this not the nicest thing ever?

Was Joe not going to fucking miss this?

Why the fuck was he going to move?

Joe allowed himself your touches for a few more minutes before a forced deep inhale pulled him from your grasp on him. It was still dark outside, and when Joe disappeared for a morning shower, you contemplated your next move.

Go to your own bed, fall back asleep, and then hopefully sleep through the whole day?

Or go wash your face, do your make-up, and get ready for the day?

Or have breakfast now, and disappear into your bathroom when Joe would have his?

Yea.

That seemed smart.

Breakfast now and then get ready for the day when Joe would come in to have his.

You got out of Joe’s bed, let your eye fall on the big pile of clothes and decided that, in some weird sort of passive-aggressive-possessive way of feeling, that you deserved one of his hoodies.

That you could wear that today.

Make him see something.

You didn’t fully know what, exactly, but it felt right.

You fished one out, not even one that sort of looked like one of yours, and took it.

Get fucked, Joe.

You only just finished a bowl of granola when Joe stepped into the kitchen, his phone and a balled up pair of socks in hand.

“Movers should be here soon,” he checked the time on his phone, tried to make conversation maybe, but you didn’t know what to say. Didn’t want to talk about it.

You watched him hike one knee up to put a sock on, balancing unsteadily on one leg, and then as you walked past him to leave the room, you couldn’t help but let a hand slide across his back.

Last time you got to do that? Maybe.

Shit.

About 10 minutes later the doorbell went and you checked out the window to see a large moving van waiting outside.

When you moved house, you did that by forcing your friends and family to come haul cardboard boxes for you, and you’d thank them by having cheap beers in your new place that didn’t have any unpacked furniture yet.

Not Joe.

Joe got a company to come do all the work for him.

Three men brought in stacked up big industrial strength plastic moving bins and big rolls of plastic sheeting and... it was actually real.

Joe was moving out.

You didn’t even know where to. You could guess. But you didn’t know anything.

You hid in your bedroom for most of it. Made tea with your back turned to all the chaos at one point, but truly didn’t involve yourself in any of the chaos.

From your bedroom you heard Joe pointing out what needed packing. What didn’t need packing. What needed extra care.

It didn’t take all that long. Just as well. Joe was paying these people.

You listened to Joe tell one of them that someone was at the other address, so they were good to head over. Said he’d meet them there later.

The front door shut, and you stared at your bedroom door for a moment. Tried to imagine what Joe’s bedroom looked like now, all empty. And the living room, now without the big cabinet Joe kept old DVDs in that he never watched but didn’t want to get rid of, because teenage-him had begun a collection, and these were the best films.

You kind of didn’t want to see it. The new emptiness.

But then a soft knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts.

“Yea?” So casual. So laid-back.

Slowly, your door opened, and Joe got to see how you sat on the edge of your bed, heels on the frame, knees to your chest, wearing his hoodie.

Joe leant in the doorframe, head tilted to the side, hands in his pockets, and he looked at you like he felt sorry a little. Apologetic in the worst way. You kind of hated it, but you didn’t want to let him see.

Cool girl.

“Wanna come see the new place?” he asked it like he really hoped you’d say yes but fully expected you to say no.

Which was exactly why you were not going to say no.

“Sure.” you shrugged.

“Yea?”

You got up and grabbed your phone, took it off its charger and pretended to check something, mostly to avoid eye-contact and seem all casual as you said, “Yea, why not. I can help you unpack. Don’t have anything better to do.”

Joe didn’t move aside when you stepped closer, and when you looked up, you were met by his little smile, tongue pushed into his cheek whilst his eyes scanned you up and down a second.

Be cool.

You didn’t know if you wanted Joe to say anything about the hoodie you were wearing.

“Or not, if you don’t want my help?” you shrugged again, face blank, and Joe fucking saw right through you.

He chuckled to himself as he removed his hands from his pockets to grab hold of you by the fabric draped over your shoulders, and he pulled you in for a hug.

One that you didn’t return.

“Don’t have to help,” Joe muttered as he squeezed you tight and, yea okay. So, you didn’t get your arms involved, but you could definitely rub your face into his chest a second.

Feel his strong embrace and close your eyes a second.

Smell him a second.

“Won’t put you to work, just want you to come see.”

Cool girl.

Just friends now.

Future acquaintances.

Strangers, eventually.

Joe hugged you even tighter until it became so tight it was funny.

“Fine.” you sarcastically complained, voice all constricted because Joe wasn’t letting up. “Won’t lift a finger.”

You avoided looking at the empty spaces in your flat that used to hold Joe’s things and then left the flat together.

On your way to Joe’s new place you walked side by side and you kept your eyes on the pavement for most of it. Kept your arms crossed over your front. Made sure you were extra spatially aware, because Joe had said that you always bumped into him when you walked together, and you were ready to prove him wrong, prove that you were actually an excellent walking-partner.

Like that was something that was on Joe’s mind right now.

Like he wasn’t in the middle of moving house.

And then, Joe talked.

And you just listened. Nodded along. Went, “Oh, all right.” and, “That’s cool.” and, “Mhmm.” a bunch.

There were several months left on the lease, and Joe offhandedly said it was taken care off, that you didn’t need to worry, like it wasn’t a huge sum of money he was talking about.

Said it would give you some time and space to find someone else, a new flatmate, no rush.

Said his new flat was really nice, and Joe said that like your flat wasn’t.

Said his new flat was in a really nice area. Like your flat wasn’t.

It was.

But, you understood that this one was likely nicer.

You didn’t comment or ask any questions. It just was what it was and you were going to have to deal with the reality of the situation whether you wanted to or not.

No point in pushing anything.

Best to just go with the flow.

You weren’t enjoying the flow, but you were definitely letting it float you downstream.

Joe’s dad was over at his new place now, and halfway there, Joe got a call from him. The movers had arrived, and was there a way to prop the front door open, did Joe know?

Joe didn’t know, but he said he’d be there soon.

Said he was bringing an extra pair of hands and looked at you as he said it. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, and Joe quickly said, eyes.

He was bringing an extra pair of eyes.

However, you were absolutely going to be helping, you knew. Roll up your sleeves and do some heavy lifting, if only to keep yourself busy. And you’d be silly about it, rolling eyes and sighing loudly, all heavy with pretend annoyance, sarcastically exclaim “I thought I was meant to just come over and get a tour?” and then his dad would make fun of Joe for being less of a help than you, and Joe would scoff loudly and stumble through excuses, and then you would flex an unimpressive bicep, and you’d all laugh.

Nothing was going to be a problem unless you made it one.

And then it sort of went like you had predicted.

You walked past the moving van, ended up helping getting furniture into the lift, and the first thing his dad saw of you was your back as he held a door open so you and Joe could carry a cabinet inside.

Then, quickly, before his dad could launch a million questions at him, Joe invited you on a grand tour of the place. Made his dad smile as he listened to his son saying stupid things like, “This is the living room that won’t have a sofa for at least six more weeks because apparently delivering sofas takes for fucking ever...” and, “Here we have a lovely view of, just... other flats, no, don’t actually look, it’s not a nice view, but it’s fine, I didn’t buy the place for the view, looking outside is overrated...” and, “Instead, be impressed with the size of the kitchen, and ignore the mystery drawer that we’ve not been able to open yet.”

Idiot.

Fuck.

Joe was really moving into his own flat. One roughly the same size as yours. Not even that much nicer, you thought, as he showed you ‘round.

But it was all his, and he seemed proud and embarrassed about it, which was devastatingly cute.

You were obviously going to kind about it. Be all impressed. Be a good friend. Postpone the supermarket-avoiding by actually being friendly.

“This is so nice!” you said after you’d gotten to see all rooms. His bed had been taken apart and movers had just placed the pieces of it in a stack alongside one of his bedroom walls, mattress wrapped in plastic stood upright next to it.

Felt stupid, because that wasn’t your bed, but... that was kind of your bed.

“Yea, you think? Not too flashy?”

It wasn’t flashy at all. The bathrooms didn’t look like they’d been redone since 2004, maybe.

“Just that you were able to buy it,” you joked, but weren’t wrong. Buying property in this area of London was absolutely the most ostentatious thing Joe’d ever done. “Everything else? Shockingly normal. There’s Ikea flatpacks in the hallway for fuck’s sake!”

Joe laughed, which in turn made you laugh, and fuck off, you were sort of killing this cool girl thing.

Made Joe laugh when in all honesty you didn’t think he was allowed to feel all joyful right now.

Well, he did.

This was a big deal.

And it wasn’t like you were going to be flatmates forever, were you?

People moved on. People found new phases of life. Next steps. Onto bigger and better things.

In Joe’s laughter, he bent. Leant back with his eyes squeezed shut, reached a hand out to balance himself and it was fine when he just grabbed your arm. You had your arms crossed over your chest, protective and closed off, so a hand gripping a bicep just to keep a body from falling over was fine. You were laughing too, it was fine.

But then Joe used his grip to pull you closer and slung his other arm over your shoulder, and with your arms still folded, Joe pulled you right into him as he hugged you.

You accepted it, but you didn’t.

Wanted to unfold your arms and make your fronts touch, but you didn’t.

Wanted to violently push him away and scream and cry because why hadn’t he fucking said anything.

But you didn’t.

Instead of all those things, you just tensed up in Joe’s hold. Locked your shoulders and bit at the inside of your lip and prayed Joe wouldn’t notice.

Joe immediately noticed.

Without letting go, Joe moved his head back just far enough to get a look at your face. He could easily detect the upset. Could easily see how exhausted you were. Joe saw the anger, the frustration, the sadness all covered in a light sheen of fatigue. And Joe also witnessed from up close how you were working really hard to hide all of that.

Like you could ever hide shit from him.

Like Joe wasn’t fucking trained to snuff it out on you.

Like he hadn’t felt you grasp onto him for dear life all night. Like he hadn’t seen the hunched up shoulders. Like your arms hadn’t been protectively crossed, literally hugging yourself, since you’d left your flat.

And he’d been waiting.

Always waited.

You always took the lead on everything. Steered this ship over dark seas with waves so high, Joe couldn’t see past them until whatever new thing you’d introduced into your friendship became normal and routine. It was safer that way. Have you call the shots.

But he understood waiting had been the wrong move here, and it was already too late when he realised he should’ve said something so much sooner. He just hadn’t wanted to have that awkward conversation. You never talked. But he should have. He knew he should have.

And now seemed as good a time as any to still try his hand at it.

“Hey,” Joe soft said, and gave you a little shake.

You took it as a way of Joe trying to cheer you up and get you to smile.

So you did.

Just smiled.

“No, don’t– you can be honest,” Joe pulled away a little more, getting a better look at you. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

An invitation to yell at him.

But your smile only grew, and for a moment, Joe almost believed it was real.

“Well, I’m thinking...” you said it in a humorous way, and stopped the moment before it could even become sincere.

Joe gave it one more try, though.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how I–...”

“I think that wall needs a splash of colour. Bit of paint.”

You didn’t want to talk about it.

You and Joe never talked.

Not talking felt important now.

You needed the not-talking now more than ever and Joe couldn’t taint what you barely even had right now with talking. You were trying so hard, and having him try to suddenly talk seemed so unfair.

So you looked past him, looked at one of his bedroom walls and changed the course of conversation to safer waters.

You felt how Joe’s eyes scanned your face a second. Saw him give in. Felt like he owed it to you to let you call the shots, because he’d made the mistake of not saying anything.

Joe turned around and looked at the same wall for a second before he turned his head to squint at you, countering lightly, “Do I really need to?”

You squinted right back, “I don’t think you really want my honest opinion.”

You knew Joe was going to keep all his walls white. Keep it safe. Keep it boring.

“But you know what would look really nice? Big palm in that corner.”

You tried to keep the mood fun and playful and hoped you could make him laugh again. Which, he did. Joe did laugh. But only for a second, because, “Oh! That reminds me!” and without explaining what reminded him of what, he walked out.

You hesitated to follow, unsure if you wanted to continue this weird interaction with other people present. The hesitation was only short, because it only took a few seconds for Joe to jog back down the hallway and–

Your stomach dropped.

No.

The small crispy wave plant.

What?

Joe proudly raised the little pot he was holding in his hand and walked it over to place it in the window. Then he stepped back and admired it and–

No.

That was– no but, that was yours now. That had gotten moved into your bedroom and, yea, all right, you kept calling it Joe’s plant, but he was the one that kept correcting that it was in your bedroom.

When had he even taken that?

Had he just gone in and grabbed it in those three minutes you’d gone to make tea?

What the actual fuck?

Then Joe turned to look at you, smiled and said, “It's a start?” as he shrugged one shoulder and, no. It fucking wasn’t. That couldn’t be a start. That plant didn’t belong in here.

And neither did his bed, all taken apart.

Neither did he.

All of this was yours, everything inside of this room belonged to you, and if you had arms big enough you’d grab everything and haul it right back, what the fuck was he even thinking?

But then, “Joe?” his dad called him to the living room. Movers had questions. With a final squeeze of a shoulder, you were left in Joe’s new bedroom by yourself.

With his disassembled bed.

Wrapped up mattress.

And that stupid plant.

Which, not yours, apparently.

But you know what?

If not yours, then also not his.

You stepped closer. Touched a leaf with a careful hand. It really was a nice little plant. So vibrantly green. You knew Joe was so pleased with the pot he’d chosen. It was nothing special, but he’d mentioned it a little too often to know he wasn’t being normal about it.

But if not yours, then also not his.

Like a cat, you pressed a finger to the side and slowly pushed it. Made it slide across. Watched as the sun danced over the wavy leaves until it just... slipped off.

Just like that.

Crashed to the floor.

Potting soil spilled.

Plant pot cracked right down the center.

Good.

If not yours, then also not his.

You left right after that. Walked straight out. Ignored Joe as he called after you and took the stairs instead of the lift. Were quick, moved your legs as fast as they could go without turning it into a run.

A deep frown stayed etched into your forehead until you got home, where you angrily shook your coat off like your coat was the one that told you it was moving less than eight hours before the movers showed up.

Where you then also angrily pulled off Joe’s hoodie because fuck him.

Where you rushed into your bedroom and let yourself drop down onto the bed face first.

Where you let yourself cry in heaving sobs.

Where you heard your phone ring and pushed it off the bed when you saw it was Joe trying to reach you.

Where you finally looked up to look at your window.

And saw Joe’s stupid little plant there.

Unmoved.

Uncracked pot. Soil still inside. Leaves soaking up the sunlight.

And–

Fuck.

So much for being a cool girl.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @bylermaxmayfield, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma77645, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @miserybeans, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #define close #explain us

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teaboot · 1 year

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How do you stop being so scared and angry all the time?

I've been a scared and angry person in the past, so my first instinct was to write a really long and introspective piece about it, but really I think it can all boil down to a few small points.

Fear

Trust yourself to make good choices when things go wrong. If there's a skill you need to learn to believe that, learn it.

Know that the forces of the universe don't care about you personally. That sounds pessimistic, but if the planet isn't actively trying to help you, then it's not out to hurt you, either.

While the universe is indifferent to your plight, other people aren't. We're a naturally empathetic and communal species. Approaching strangers with humility, consideration, and respect will get positive results ninety nine times out of a hundred.

Remember that everyone is scared and confused and has anxieties and hopes and fears. We're all doing our best. You aren't alone.

Anger

When people do dumb, rude, belligerent crap, remind yourself that while you can walk away from their actions, they can't. Their personal choices and actions have repercussions you can't see. They probably have loads of strangers giving them side-eye or cussing them out for their bullshit, and that's not a very pleasant life to be living.

It's so easy to get angry at someone who's getting angry with you. Remember, though, that anger is a reaction to other emotions- fear, anxiety, frustration, confusion- and those feelings aren't your responsibility. Their outburst is a bad choice they are making in response to other things, and staying calm and patient and acknowledging their feelings will usually bring them down to a rational space.

With that in mind, try and figure out where your anger is coming from. Are you scared? Hurt? Confused? Frustrated? Anger seems nebulous and powerful, with no clear beginning or end. Frustration and confusion, helplessness and anxiety- those are actionable. There are things you can ask for or do to make them better.

You can step away. Take a minute to sort yourself out. Anger itself isn't bad- It's the things we do out of anger that bite us on the ass. Give yourself time and space to cool down and decide what's a good idea and what isn't.

I'm still working through these myself, but these are what's helped so far. I hope they can help you, too.

#Advice

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interstellarsystem · 9 months

Text

Experiences With Being Out as a System

So, our parents know we're a system. It's all good, they understand that when we suddenly speak like someone from London that it's just another guy taking the body for a spin real quick and that they don't need to question it too much.

The thing is... They don't know our names, or anything about us as individuals. We don't have enough open communication with them to actually discuss the inner-workings of the hundreds of little guys in our brain and who they are or what they like, but even if we did, it's not actually important to them. It almost seems like it's swept under the rug.

Our mother said that she doesn't get why she should have to know anyone else when we're all "us". We're all just a collective to her still, a bunch of bits that make up her child, even though she knows we're separate. Her child, the original, isn't here anymore. But the thing is.. some of us want to get to know her and the family individually. Even beyond just being seen as who we actually are, we want to be a part of it aside from being treated as someone who is gone. But it's not a thing they understand despite our explanations of what it means to us, even despite the fact they know the original is dormant and has been for years.

The most anyone in our family knows about us is our mother, and she only knows anyone with a voice similar to Sark as "the american one". She doesn't know that there's even multiple who sound similar to him.

Technically, we're out as a system. Effectively, though... We're still closeted. Though not really because we're staying in it, moreso that we left but it follows us around like a shield within our own household, but it's not shielding us. It's shielding them from us.

Our experience with talking to medical professionals has been hard because of this--sharing bits about ourselves has been scary. It's scarier to show them pictures of our nonhuman headmates and say "that one is me", but it's never actually been bad when we've mustered up the strength to do it. One of them looked at Mal and saw his horns and said he looks like a faun from Greek mythology. Even though he's not, a positive response like that was empowering. That same one said Filigree's hair was cool. Little acknowledgements about who you are when you've tried to be seen before is great.

With our IRL friends, we expected the situation to be similar to our parents. Swept under the rug like a taboo and given weird, uncomfortable looks when spoken about. But it's been completely different.

We get asked who is fronting, we get acknowledged as separate people, hell, we even felt comfortable telling them about our actual fictive identities and letting the ones who wanted to follow this blog (hey guys if you're reading this <3) get access to it. They acknowledge our nonhumanity and nonhuman parts, share things about our sources with us because it reminded them of us, etc. Sometimes, now, because we've been open about it, we get people actually ask "is x fronting" and we say yes and they say "I knew it".

That specific feeling of being recognised even when your outward appearance doesn't change is absolutely amazing. Little manerisms, little ways our voice sounds even when masking accents out in public, even the words we choose to use are tells toward who is actually controlling the body and they pick up on it--even things we might not recognise we even do. Sure, there's hundreds of people in here and people won't know every single one off by heart, but the ones who are out here often are being recognised and that, to me, is amazing and validating to all of us.

I guess the point here is me sharing our experiences, but also.... You will be able to find people who see you for you. You as a system, you as a nonhuman, you as a disabled person, you as a queer person--you'll be able to find your people. And you know, I hope you do soon--because the feeling of being known is great.

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4ft10tvlandfangirl · 10 months

Text

You know what's incredibly upsetting? Seeing so many pro-Israel or pro-Zionist posts parrot that the only reason anyone could be pro-Palestine or call for a free Palestine is because they hate Jews.

I know what this tactic is meant to do and I know how making people apathetic, how discrediting their knowledge of a topic or questioning the genuineness of their empathy and other similar tactics are used to benefit the oppressive group but it's still pissing me off.

I am a descendant of enslaved people.

Our history lessons always begin with the slaughter & genocide of the indigenous peoples that were here first, primarily the Taino, who thankfully have a few descendants living in isolation along with the protected Maroon villages. It is normal throughout high school to take history trips to former great houses & plantations and see for ourselves the sites where our ancestors were brutalized and massacred; the weapons and tools of torture preserved and on display so that we knew but a taste of what they went through.

My university is built on the grounds of a former plantation. There are businesses and homes built on top of mass graves & on top of sites of slaughter. There is literally no escaping our colonial history because it touches everything. Our last names are not even our own! Most of us have English, Scottish and Irish last names given by the plantation owners to our ancestors. Or you know...because many children were the product of rape. We cannot accurately trace our true heritage more than 4-5 generations back because most families have no complete records.

A lot of you like to bring up grandparents. Cool. My great-great grandmother was the daughter of a mulatto free woman and a white Scottish sailor. She was white passing. Because land and work were hard to get here under colonial rule, she left the island for a better life with her husband who was a Cuban born mulatto and they ended up living in the US through WWII and after. They were considered an interracial couple (black & white rather than both being seen as mixed) and could not live in certain places because it was illegal. Papa couldn't find work, was treated horribly, because he had darker skin but Grandma found work passing as white and was treated much better. She worked 2-3 jobs to provide for them and their 5 children.

But, there were times when she would appear darker like if she was out in the sun too long or her curls would start to show and a Jewish neighbour/coworker suggested to her it might be safer to tick Jewish on forms rather than white if her race was ever questioned. I suppose due to that kindness the family formed friendships within the Jewish community where they lived & Grandma's eldest son actually married a Jewish woman. His kids and grandkids are all Jewish and they still live in the US.

I share this specific thing because I have very real concerns for those members of my family. But while I worry for them in this time of increasing anti-semitism and absolutely decry any verbal/physical attacks against them, I am still going to speak against things that are wrong. What Israel is doing is wrong. Of course as a non-Jewish person I can acknowledge I may misstep and if I say/do something that is genuinely anti-semitic I'll take the correction. But if your aim is just to intimidate me into silence it's not going to work.

And trying to tell me 'well black people are not welcomed there or black people wouldn't get treated well in Palestine' as if that affects the cost of bread. Guess what? Black people face racism everywhere. Even among our own and colonialism has a lot to do with that. That same grandmother, I was fortunate to grow up with her in the latter part of her life after she returned to the island and every time I went out with her there were questions of whether my family worked for her. Or why was I, this little black girl with this little old white lady as if I meant her harm. She had to say proudly, "This is my granddaughter." How other people view me or treat me isn't going to stop me from speaking up for what's right.

With the history of my people I could never ever ever side with the oppressor. Ever. Whether its here in the west or in the east, whether it's happening to my fellow black people, or any other group of people, I cannot in good conscience stand with the oppressor. My ancestors were forcibly stripped of their humanity, called savages, animals, barbarians and all of that was brutally beaten into them. That same language and similar acts of brutality are being used against Palestinians today.

You think you can cower me into staying silent on that? With unfounded accusations of hate? I refuse.

N.B. - my use of the word mulatto here is strictly to provide the historical context of how my grandparents were seen/classified and spoken of. It is not a term we use.

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