#can you tell I really liked picture of Dorian gray in high school?

[netherzon]

I want to write a soulmate au sometime. It’s one of my favorite tropes, personally, and I don’t remember there being that many of them for America/Germany

[r-a-b-talks]

Dæmons' names :

Lucie's name come from latin. Lux, lucis means, among other things, "light". I used the French spelling because A) I like it better and B) I have a childhood friend with this name

Skye is probably self explanatory but I'll add that I loved The Penderwicks' series as a kid.

Auberon represents Jason. It's the name of the King of fairies in medieval legends and Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. The "Au" spelling is from old French. I like the idea of a literary name for Jason's inner-self and I also liked the theater connection with Alfred (see Algernon)

For Cass and Barnabas, her Southern tiger car, the first thing I liked was how their names sounded together. There's a dog character with this name in The Sandman that I really like and since it's a talking dog, I thought it would make a good dæmon's name.

Brunhild, Tim's Labrador, is named after a Germanic/Scandinavian legendary warrior queen. Nice, um ?

Silas means "of the forest", which matched Babs' dæmon ape form. It's also the name of a vampire in The Graveyard Book and making bats' references is nice.

I picked Amaranth ("Mara") because of the red variety of the plant. African greys have red tails.

I picked Algernon for Alfred for two reasons. One of them is memories of crying my heart out over a fictional lab mouse in high school. The second is The Importance of Being Earnest, a comedy written by Oscar Wilde where one of the characters is named Algernon. Alfred has a theatrical background and it sounded nice.

I could tell you that Guinevere the Guinea pig didn't get her name because it sounded very satisfying but I would be lying. I picked Gwin as a nickname because of Dustfinger's marten in the Inkheart trilogy.

I could have just snatched Hero's name away from Shakespeare's hands but I'm borrowing it from the Greek myth of Hero and Leander, star-crossed lovers.

I didn't pick Titus. This good boy was gifted to Damian by Bruce in the comics.

I got the name for Saltan, Martha's honeybee, from a fairy tale written in verse by Alexander Pushkin. I misremembered seeing a honeybee there (it was a bumblebee, actually).

Apollonia, the name of Thomas' sable comes from Apollo, Greek God of beauty, music and others. I like to think of Martha has an accomplished musician (harpist ?) of great beauty.

Frankie, Barry's insect dæmon's name, comes from a bunch of associations my brain made. I wanted a masculine name for her and my thought process looked like this : green < Frankenstein's creature as sometimes portrayed < Frankie.

Samson the Golden Retriever got his name because of his hair. Samson, in the Old Testament, was a guy who got his strength from his hair. I imagine Samson the dog as a big hairy thing.

Jessica Jordan has a golden eagle named Prometheus. Hal jokes about it because, in Greek Mythology, Prometheus is condemned to have his liver eaten by an eagle every day as it reforms for having (allegedly) defied Gods (and Zeus in peculiar).

Martin Jordan's Scarlett is named as such because of Gone with the Wind, Jessica's falcon is named after the titular character of The Picture of Dorian Gray and Isadora "Isa", Oliver's canary, is named that way because I like the name (that I borrowed from dancer Isadora Duncan) but there's no more meaning behind those names.

I think you can guess why a jewel thief's magpie would be named Tiffany.

Oh and sweet Billie, Clark's non existent dæmon, probably got her name because I was thinking about rewatching New Who's first season.

[shititbe]

Anyway, Peter Parker is Bi, and I Won’t Be Convinced Otherwise.

Firstly, we have to get our bases covered. What exactly is Bi-sexuality? What is sexuality? 

Sexuality is defined as a persons identity in relation to gender(s) they are attracted to. Why is this important? Peter’s sexuality has never been specifically stated in the comics, nor in any other form of media. It’s assumed that he is straight because of his popular relationship with Mary Jane Watson in the comics, and the movies. 

Now that we have a bases for what exactly sexuality is and how it’s defined, let’s go over Peter’s partners. 

Obviously Peter and Mary Jane are a piece of comic book history. They eventually get married, though sadly, during the events of Civil War II (I think, don’t quote me) Peter and Mary Jane sell their marriage to Mephisto in order to save Aunt May

They later had their memories of their marriage restored, they have yet to get back together and it’s been a few issues if I remember correctly. Next we have Peter’s first, and most unfortunate love, Gwen Stacy. 

They dated in high school where she later died. Of course, Peter has dated other people (namely, Black Cat, Betty Brant, Carol Danvers, Anna Maria, Cindy Moon, Lian Tang, and so on). Since we have his known history of heterosexuality out there, we need to move onto another important part of Peter’s Bi-sexuality. An important implication in any media, especially queer media though, and that is the homoerotic subtext. 

Homoerotic subtext is important part of queer culture, a lot of the time it’s used to portray a characters queerness without saying it out (see: Dorian Gray by Oscar Wild or Great Gatsby By Fitz). In current decade, homoerotic subtext is often used for queer baiting or creating more realistic male friendships. 

So what’s the difference between someone creating a health male friendship (or a character comfortable in their heterosexuality) and implying a character is queer? 

Here are some examples of a healthy male character, both with himself and his friendships.  

Clearly he’s just taking the shit, and messing around with Reed. He’s comfortable enough (or as I like to see it, so traumatized because good god this guy has been Spider-Man since he was 15 good god that’s awful. He probably doesn’t care anymore). Here are some examples of Peter a little more than just a straight man shooting the shit. 

This has three meanings. Two of which I will take, one of which is just deeply embarrassing. Despite Peter’s history with humiliating events, I don’t think he would get his own spunk in his eyes. Leaving the other two options, he has experience getting spunk of - some kind - in his eyes, and/or he’s taking the shit again. Which is very likely. 

Kissing a cop? For....no reason? A little not so hetero of you Peter. 

You can practically hear his disappointment in his voice. Also could be read as taking the shit, but why would you. 

Making out with The Thing? Gay. 

This one is the most important. Peter is clearly tired, annoyed by his teammates (see wolverine being wolverine in the corner). Shits on fire, its mid battle, and Peter has the audacity to mutter “I hate men” to himself. The only people I have every heard say this in that was are lgbt and straight women, and lgbt men. This kind of expression only comes from people who date, or deal with men in a completely different world than straight men. Straight men use this phrase as an endearment, “Oh have you seen Bill today, I hate that guy.” “Man Jerry can do so many push-ups, I hate that guy.” Very different language, and implications (I also, obviously don’t know how straight men speak). 

 Now that we’ve gone over our bases, and homoerotic subtext. How else could we gather that Peter Parker is Bi? There are many tropes in media - queer media - that allure to a characters queerness. Like homoerotic subtext, there are ways to tell an audience something without specifically saying it. 

This is a gay wedding Peter went to in the recent comics. I don’t know if any of you have been to a gay wedding recently, but Peters face (the first panel above the wedding) is the same exact face I made at my first gay wedding. It’s the face of excitement for not only the couple, but for yourself. The hope that maybe, you too can actually be in a same-sex relationship. 

I’m also going to allure to queer tropes as stated previously. Such as the real, and fictional trope of lgbt people sticking together. Thousands of years of belittlement and oppression will make groups of people not want to wonder out, and subconsciously look for others like them. 

Johnny Storm (and Wade Wilson since he comes in later but I couldn’t find a picture of the confirmation) is cannon Bi-sexual (Pan-sexual). 

Their friendship is deeply homoerotic as most queer friendships in media and real life are. Johnny flirts with Peter on many occasions (saying his ideal women is a female version of Peter, inviting him over to watch is sex tape, and so on) and of course oh my god they were roommates. 

Some other popular queer tropes are: Found Family, Soulmates, and Enemies to lovers. Because it’s superhero related, this includes the Identity Porn tag as well.  

Peter Parker and Wade Wilson have a famous Love/Hate relationship. I mean, how could you expect anything less when your first meeting with this known mercenary is him throwing your civilian persona out the window of a car. Now, Wade still doesn’t know Peter is Spider-Man in the current run of comics, but that doesn’t make anything about them any less gay. 

For the Found Family Trope: 

Because it’s Peter and Wade, their whole development can be read as Enemies to Friends to Lovers, so I wont bother backing that up because, uh, it speaks for itself. One panel really does to add that cause though 

I’m not going to explain what a free-pass list is.

The Soulmates part I know I have to back up. 

For SoulMates:  

Now this panel requires a little explanation. Wade kills Peter, not knowing he’s Spider-Man. Weasel takes over for Peter (they don’t know its him) so no one suspects he’s dead. Deadpool begins to feel guilty he killed his best buds best bud, so he tries to bring Peter back to life. Losing his stunning good looks (switching back to how he looked before Weapon X making his wife Shiklah estranged (then she married Dracula but thats beside the point)). Spider-Man is Peter’s “true self” or patronus for Harry Potter fans. Wade is stupid and hasn’t connected the dots yet, effectively making him the biggest simp in history. Seriously, who destroys their marriage for the c h a n c e for getting some with their idol? A Simp, that’s who.

Peter forgives Wade for killing him (and for saving him from killing their genetic daughter itsy-bitsy). If someone killed me they better be hot as fuck before I even thing about forgiving them. Ignoring Peter’s super sexy forgiving nature, uh, he’s kinda simping. 

Died in each others arms. Nothing else is needed. 

They’re heartmates. From what I read, the feeling has to be mutual in order for it to work. The witches (long story, comics are hard to explain) that captured deadpool were expecting his wife so they could get the headmistress back. Instead, they got Peter. Basically Heartmates = soulmates but chosen for you instead of chosen by you. 

To conclude my point: 

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. 

[starlightcleric]

10, 11, 22, 26 for the writing asks?

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Haunted in a bad way: I have not been able to forget some details of the fic where I learned what “lemon” meant the hard way from ff.net in like 2012 as much as I really don’t need them in my brain.

Haunted in a good way: Yes, books (and occasionally fics, but I’m going to talk about books), that seem to reach inside my soul and change me in some way. I had a particularly moving experience with The Picture of Dorian Gray in college, for example.

My own writing: My own writing haunts me in the “I have neglected it” sense. The partially finished one shots on my hard drive. The “In Progress” chaptered fics on AO3 that haven’t been updated in years. The ideas that only live in outlines and my mental backlog document.

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

If something’s not working, I cut it even if I like it. And I stick it in a document related to that character of cut content to see if I can use it again. I think grieving is a bit of a melodramatic description of the process? It always sucks when you’ve spent time working on something and you have to cut it for whatever reason, but it still exists in my head.

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

When I was in middle school and high school, everything was in notebooks that lived in a shoebox under my bed. And the different notebooks were for different projects (or sometimes different elements of the same project). I also had a bunch of loose leaf scratch paper with notes every which way, usually when I was trying to come up with names.

These days all of my writing is on the computer. For a while everything just lived on the hard drive of my laptop, but I’m trying to move to writing in google drive so it’s not tied to one machine.

The way my directory structure is laid out is Writing → Fanfic → <Fandom>, and within the fandom I sometimes have further sub directories for characters, a Posted directory, an Abandoned directory. If I have specific focus on a character, I often have a file that’s “<Character Name> Notes” that’s a collection of story ideas, fic titles, and writing snippets.

For chaptered fics, some of them live in a directory in separate chapters (for example, A Tangle of Brambles is made up of separate files of Chapter 1, Chapter 2, etc) and some of them live inside one document with chapters broken up by headings. The latter tends to happen when I’m trying to write the entire thing before posting rather than one chapter at a time in order.

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

Basically all of my characters have playlists that I listen to when I’m trying to plan for them. It isn’t always as necessary for the actual writing process if I have strong outline or plan. To some extent all my characters are just pieces of me that I can draw from. I don’t know that I’ve ever regretted writing about a character; I tend to create characters that I want to tell stories about. I’ve certainly had some that were more difficult to tell (see Watcher Talia’s stuff), but in that case it was me projecting into writing more so than the character’s issues affecting me.

weird questions for writers

[random-imagines-blog]

Empty Walls {Sirius Back x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2380 Summary: A lot of the order is pretty untrusting of any Slytherins joining their midst - but there is one person who accepts you. Warnings: Mentions of character death.

Molly Weasley shoved a plate of food in front of you, so harshly that little puddles of gravy spilt onto the table, making a small mess. You thanked her regardless of her hostility, and cleaned up the gravy with your own napkin, embroidered with your initials. She was a wonderfully sweet woman most of the time - but you just so happened to be a Malfoy. Despite your loyalty to the Order of the Phoenix, many of its members still didn’t trust you yet, because of your surname. It was more about that than the fact that you had been in Slytherin, while everyone else around here seemed either to be a Gryffindor or even a Hufflepuff. You tied your blonde hair out of your face and started to eat self-consciously, knowing that there were eyes on you no matter what. Sirius Black’s to be specific. He always seemed to be watching.

The room filled with the sound of eating as everyone dug into Molly’s delicious food. You were the first done, vacating your seat quickly and washed the dish - by hand - in the sink. You had grown up completely spoiled, with the house elves doing all of the cooking and cleaning, so earning your place here had been difficult at first. You didn’t mean to be spoiled. You just couldn’t help how you were raised.

Grimmauld Place. It was dark and it was dingy, but there was one place in this house in particular that you were drawn to. The wall with the family portraits - your own included. All of the little faces of your family, and then the burned out one of Mr. Sirius Black. Your eyes went to your brother and you smirked to yourself. He was painted in that little hat. He always hated that picture, which made you love it even more. You then saw your parents, Lucius and Narcissa. They both looked a little snooty, which was how they tended to appear to the world. But they were never like that when it was just the family together. Your fingers graced your mother’s face. You missed her, a lot. She still sent you owls, and your father would always add his own little notes. They loved you, despite the fact that most of their friends saw you as a traitor. That your actions nearly put a bounty on their own heads, like the rest of the order.

But you were going to help take him down before he could try to collect.

“Do you really like staring at your own face that much?” A deep voice came from behind you. You didn’t turn around. It was Mr. Black himself. He always seemed to be following you around. He was probably the most mistrustful of the lot. You just ignored him, and put your fingers over your father. You missed him as well. His opinion was the one that you had been most scared of - but you were doing what he was too cowardly to do. You were making the right choice.

You didn’t even pay attention to your little portrait. You knew what you looked like. You didn’t give into the vanity that the rest of the Malfoys seemed to have. You preferred knowledge over looks.

“It’s not that bad of a picture. Mine was awful. They made me cut my hair for it, so I looked like some dapper gentleman,” Sirius said. He had come and stood right behind you. You didn’t realize how close he was until then. If you took even one step backwards, you would have bumped into him.

“So it’s a good thing that your place is burnt out then?” You asked.

“I like to think of it more as an empty space,” Sirius said. “I’ll probably paint over the whole damn thing one of these days. Most of these people, I don’t feel like I’m that related to anyway. Like you.”

“We’re  hardly related. It’s like ... many branches away,” You said with a shrug. He may be some sort of cousin but it never felt that way to you either. When you looked at him, you saw ... well, a handsome man, even with all of that hair and those tattoos. You had seen photos of him when he was younger and you had some pretty obscene thoughts one should not be having over family members. He’d been, to put it roughly, a hunk. “Why haven’t you painted over it by now?”

“The room needed some sort of decor,” Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know what I’d do with an empty wall.”

“Well, knowing you, I’m sure you’d hang a very flattering portrait of yourself,” You mused, clicking your tongue. “Dorian Gray style.”

“What?” Sirius asked. You laughed then, remembering that someone like him probably hasn’t picked up a book since his time at Hogwarts, let alone one written by a muggle.

“Nothing,” You said, shaking your head. “So what can I help you with? Does Molly need help with something?”

“Why would Molly need help with anything?” Sirius asked, taking a seat in one of his favorite chairs in the bedroom.

“I don’t know - you all seem to think that housework is female only work-” You started but Sirius cut you off.

“Not at all,” He said, shaking his head, those unruly waves flying around him. “I actually wanted to talk to you myself. And it’s really not about housework.”

“Well, talk away,” You said, settling into a chair of your own, facing away from those painted walls.

“I’ve been keeping my eye on you for a while now. I knew your father back in school and-”

“Yes, I’ve heard some of the stories,” You interrupted, crossing your legs. “There’s no need to go into a lot of backstory. I know you don’t trust me and that’s what you want to talk about, isn’t it?”

“Do you always go around making up all of these assumptions?” Sirius asked, curiously. “I don’t distrust you, I actually wanted to tell you that I think you’re doing an amazing job. Especially for someone so young.”

Your mouth went dry at the unexpected praise that he was bestowing on you. “Well, thanks. That actually means a lot to me. It’s been hard, since I had to give up everything but saving the world seems pretty worth it. Wanna tell Molly what you think, because that woman has had it out for me since day one.”

“She’ll come around. She’s just mistrustful of Slytherins, that’s all.”

You were quiet for a couple of minutes there, thinking about all of the times that you had tried to proven yourself to the Order. You had gone out on dangerous missions without hesitation. You had fought people who had once been dear family friends. You were trying to protect the world, which seemed bigger than just one family.

“Guess I just have to give it time - and hope that we have enough of it,” You sighed, realizing there wasn’t much in this situation that you could do. “You’re not so bad yourself, Black. Even if you come from a family of, well, us. Snakes and all.”

“Thanks,” He chuckled. “I’ll take that to heart.”

-

Since you had already graduated from Hogwarts, you spent a lot of time among the rest of the adults. Molly was finally warming up to you just a little, if only because she had no children to keep her busy now that they were all back at school. You were one of the youngest in the Order, having just left school the year before, and so she doted on you. Or, at the very least, she didn’t make a mess of your food anymore.

“Fancy taking me for a walk?” Sirius asked you one day, leash in hand. You laughed, knowing exactly what he had meant. It was the only way that he could leave this house. Being disguised as Snuffles, the big black dog. And the only way not to get Animal Control called on him was to have someone walk him around.

You nodded, also feeling the need to get out of the stifling nature of the house. Get away from the screams of the portrait and the gloominess that clung around every corer despite you and Molly’s attempt to cheer the place up a bit. Sirius turned into his dog form, and you put the leash and collar on him - which always felt weird, no matter how many times you did it. His tongue lolled out as he grew excited for the fresh air and it was enough to make you laugh.

These walks became more and more frequent - especially because sometimes, when you were in a more isolated part of town, Sirius would turn back into his human self and you would have a coffee and sit in a park, enjoying the early fall nature. You ended up having some really long conversations. About everything. You told him some stories about his godson, Harry, and his friends at school - they were rather infamous and it seemed like you knew a lot about them despite not being in their house. And your brother’s complaints, of course.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that you were falling for this much older man, despite the age gap and the fact that he had been in Azkaban for years, and that this was hardly the time for love, given the fact that there was a war that was growing in importance more and more each day.

-

“To the ones that we have lost,” Arthur Weasley said, raising his glass in toast over his head.

It was  not a happy occasion that you were celebrating here tonight, back at Grimmauld Place. “To the ones that we have lost,” you toasted back in return. And then you drank deeply from your flask - Firewhiskey having become a solace these days.

Sirius was taking things particularly hard - the war may be over, but the cost of that victory was entirely too high. He was tearing himself apart about it, but you couldn’t blame him. He lost his only other best friend. And the Weasleys had lost two sons - one to death, and one to the attack of a werewolf, though Bill was pulling through swimmingly.

You stood up slowly, which garnered the attention of the rest of the people around you. “I can’t be here,” You admitted, finding it too hard to be around loved ones, when they weren’t exactly the ones that you wanted.

You went down the hallway into the room with the family portrait on it, your wand in your hand as you closed the door, but you did not lock it. “What have you done to be remembered for?” You asked the portrait of yourself, and of your parents.

“I think this is a long time coming,” Sirius said, staggering into the room. “Patat Pingere.”

“What are you doing?” You asked, as the paint started to peel off of the walls, and then dissolve into nothing, leaving only the bare baseboards that they must have been before the family tree. You watched as you, your parents and the rest of them just seemed to disappear, like you never existed.

“You deserve to be remembered,” Sirius said, leaning against the doorframe, taking in the sight of all of that white. “So we’ll repaint you now, as you are. And... and Remus. And Tonks. And Fred... the others...”

You nodded, looking at the potential of it now. All of the noble house of Black had disappeared, and most of them were better off being remembered - entirely unlike everyone that you had just lost, and whose death was still pulling at your heart.

“And yours,” You said, looking over at Sirius. You were surprised to see that his head was down, and a sob racked through his entire body, and he was barely keeping himself upright.

You rushed to his side and took his weight upon your shoulder, half-dragging and half-carrying him to his favorite chair and helped to lower him into it. He didn’t let you go, so you had no choice but to sit with him. You curled up in his lap like a kitten, and he held you while sobbing into the shoulder of your robes.

You were through with crying - you’ve made yourself dehydrated with it and nothing ever seemed to get better, but seeing Sirius like this was still draining nonetheless. “You’re not completely alone Sirius - you have me.”

That seemed to help somewhat, for his shoulders stopped shaking as much, but he did continue to hold onto you tightly, making sure that you could not leave, even if you had wanted to. You didn’t want to, you wanted to stay and make sure that he knew - that he knew that you would not leave him.

“I love you.”

You weren’t expecting that from him, especially not at this time, but you began to run your fingers through the dirty, straggly hair.

“I love you too.”

“Don’t just say that if you don’t mean it. I can’t take anything more, I just-”

You’ve never seen him so vulnerable before. Even when he was in the middle of a fight, with spells going around him, narrowly missing him, he usually had some excitement showing on his face. But this was a defeated man, who seemed ready to break at the slightest negativity.

“I mean it, with every bit of me. I really, truly do,” You told him, detangling a few knots with your fingers, your wand having dropped on the floor when it seemed like he was falling. “I love you, Sirius Black.”

“Can we fix this - these empty walls?” Sirius’s head rose just a little.

You nodded, looking into his dark eyes, which had the same expression as a dog that had just been kicked. “Yes, I think we can. I know we can. Let’s start tomorrow.”

[since0202]

Chapter 6: Study-hard

It had been a couple of weeks since the tribal gathering, but Grace had been slammed with finals prep before the winter break. There was at least one downside to stacking all of those AP classes and that was the massive amount of work it took to pass her finals and finish her term papers in time.

Jacob had tried to call her a few times over the first week, but she had been so swamped that she had had to decline the calls that Charlie had answered while she was hunkered down in her bedroom sifting through notes and furiously typing on the desktop. 

Bella was making her way through a load of work she hadn’t gotten to since the incident, but she was by no means rushing. All of the air had gone out from her, and in her deflated state, school work was the last of her worries. She’d been putting in more hours at Newton’s store lately, probably to stay out of the house and out from under Charlie’s worried stare.

Grace pulled Bella into her study circle so they could bounce productively off one another and they spent most days after school in the library or upstairs in their room together.

Two weeks after the tribal council meeting, Charlie knocked on their partially opened bedroom door, holding the cordless phone in his hand with a sigh. It was Sunday night and Grace was in the study zone. She glanced up quickly before turning her eyes back to the computer. Her hair was held up by a single pencil in a loose, curled bun. She was wearing wide black framed glasses and a dark green Westmoore High sweatshirt and thick white sweatpants. She had layered the necklace elder Ti’hal had given her the night of the tribal council meeting so that it ringed three strands around her neck and held the black stone just at her collarbone. Jacob’s bracelet was wrapped firmly around her wrist and she played with the loose ends every now and then.

“Tell him I’ll call him back,” she said softly, pouring over a textbook next to her. Charlie held the receiver to his ear.

“Jake, she-” he paused for a minute, “Alright, hold on.” he turned back to Grace, “He says you said that last time and the time before that and the time before that. He’s not taking no for an answer.”

Grace sighed, irritated and held her hand out. Charlie stepped forward and handed it over with a sigh of relief.

“No.” Grace said into the receiver. Charlie did a double take and turned to look at her. She held the phone back out to Charlie. She could hear loud protesting from Jake and stifled a giggle. She wasn’t trying to make him mad or stress him out, but at this moment, school came first.

Grace shook the receiver at Charlie who grabbed it back with a grumble and held the phone to his ear. In the background, Bella let out a chuckle. Charlie’s eyes lit up with surprise at the tinkling sound coming from Bella. She shook her head smiling and turned back to her work.

“Yeah, Jake, no. She’ll have to call you back.” Charlie said over the protest. “It’s finals Jake, they’ll be done in a week. Okay, okay. Yeah, okay.” Charlie trailed off down the hallway trying to talk Jake down and Grace fell back into her work. She could hear a muffled conversation going on downstairs for the next couple of minutes but paid no mind.

The next few days it was quiet from Jacob. Maybe he had gotten the message finally. She was enjoying spending some time with Bella. While she wasn’t her normal self by any means, her quiet company was comforting to Grace and allowed her to focus.

On Wednesday, Bella skipped out early on their study session for her shift at Newton’s, leaving Grace on her own to study under the warm glow of her desk lamp. She put her over ear headphones on and listened to her tried and true study playlist, making headway. She lost all track of time but the early descending darkness was deceiving. It must have been no later than 7pm, but the sky made it look like it was midnight.

It was then that Grace was startled and let out a gasp as she saw a hoodie-clad Jake climbing clumsily through her window and knocking over the huge stack of books on her nightstand. He was already through the window and standing up when Grace hurriedly whispered “Jake what the hell!”

“Grace?” Charlie called from downstairs. Always the in-tune police chief.

“I’m fine! Just knocked over some books.” She called out her door before quietly shutting it. While this was still just Jacob, she was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be climbing through her window on a school night in the pitch black.

“Sorry,” Jake whispered with a jerking shrug of his shoulders. He bent to scoop up the books with his broad hands and placed them haphazardly back on her nightstand. He turned to look at her and her face was still one of shock, mouth hanging open, speechless.

“What was I supposed to do?! You haven’t been returning my calls, you haven’t been down to the rez-” Jacob said hurriedly above a whisper.

“SHHH!” Grace’s eyes widened as she rushed up to him and clamped a small hand over his mouth. His skin was extraordinarily warm. Had he gotten taller? He was a good half a foot taller than her at her admirable 5’8”, but still. Even the cut of his jaw felt stronger. She blushed ever so slightly.

“Do you want me to get in trouble? I’m like 1000% sure you’re not supposed to be in here right now.” She looked at him expectantly to answer, but realized after he raised his eyebrows and pointed at his still covered mouth that he couldn’t. She lowered her hand but had it at the ready.

“I’m sorry, I was just worried and it’s Charlie. He’s not going to care.” Jacob whispered.

“Okay, there’s a big difference between Jacob, downstairs, in the light of day, and a boy with mysterious motives in my bedroom at night behind a closed door,” Grace hissed.

“To be fair, you closed the door,” Jacob countered. Grace groaned.

“Jacob!”

“What does he think we’re going to do!?” Jacob shot back. A tense, awkward silence fell between them and all at once Grace didn’t want to answer that question. She blushed profusely and saw a little color rise to Jacob’s face as well. She took a step back from him and returned to her chair.

“Jacob, you should go. I really am studying. I have two term papers due this Friday, an exam tomorrow, and three more next week. Then I’m done and we can hang out over winter break. I promise.” She pulled her leg up under her and propped herself up over her books. Jacob sunk to her bed and leaned back against it, discarding his shoes. “Okay, that’s the opposite of leaving.”

“We can hang out now, I won’t bother you, I’ll just read one of these intensely thick books and stay quiet and you can just...do your thing.” He shrugged and grabbed “A Picture of Dorian Gray” from the stack and cracked it open. Grace let out a huff and turned back to her work.

He kept his word. For the next hour as Grace meticulously wrote out additional flash cards and flipped through notes and highlighted extra snippets of information, he stayed quiet. His soft breathing became her background and she relied on it’s even, steady rhythm to guide her. She felt warm. She felt happy.

After the hour, she gathered her flashcards up and climbed out of her chair and onto the end of the bed pushing Jake’s legs aside.

“Okay, quiz me.” she set the flash cards before him and he sat up eager to please, pulling the cards toward him and discarding the book.

“Okay, Grace Study-hard Alo-”

“Not my middle name, but okay,” she interjected.

“Let’s see what you got.” He cleared his throat and Grace laughed. “What was the Enlightenment?” His voice took on the lilt of poorly practiced game show host.

“The rebirth of intellectual thought and philosophy and it complemented the Scientific Revolution that focused on the hard sciences.”

“Very good, extra credit.”

“That’s not-”

“Next question! How were the works of Ancient Greece and Rome preserved?”

“Monks made dedicated copies that they created by hand. However, in hand copying, there could be altering of ideas, thoughts, and practices.”

“That would suck to have to write that all by hand.”

“Jake,” Grace protested.

“Okay okay!” he cleared his throat again.

As they worked through the entirety of her flashcards, Jake cracked jokes that made Grace peal with laughter despite her best efforts to stay serious. She got most of them right and once they finished, Jacob gave out an exaggerated breath of exhaustion and flopped back onto the bed. Grace sat up next to him at the top of her bed, while he relaxed on her pillows, one arm up under his head. He peered up at her as she worked her way through the cards she didn’t remember and made some edits.

“How do you remember all this stuff?” Jacob asked curiously. At this point Charlie had probably gone to bed and Bella would be home soon. Grace wasn’t worried about speaking in a whisper now.

She shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s just weird information that gets stuck there. It’s on a need to know basis, I guess. And I need to know this stuff right now, so it just stays there.”

“You’re gonna do great,” Jacob said, yawning some and letting his eyes close. Grace yawned in return and slumped down a little on her bed next to him so that she was half sitting, half laying down.

Grace spoke under breath, quizzing herself as Jacob’s even breath slowed. Grace hadn’t realized that she too fell asleep until low light creeped through her window in the early morning hours. She stirred some and realized her desk lamp had been turned off. She looked over at Bella’s bed and saw her sleeping there peacefully, for once. When Grace turned over, she softly gasped as she came face to face with Jacob’s sleeping form.

He was facing her, an arm draped over her waist and a slice of black hair fell over his sleeping face. As he exhaled softly, she could see his lips parted ever so slightly. She felt a squeeze in her heart as she brushed the swath of hair away from his face. Grace let herself stare at him peaceful like this for just a moment longer before she sat up and gently shook his shoulder.

“Jake...Jake wake up,” he groaned softly and pulled at her waist trying to bring her back down and press her to him but she pried his hand off from around her and shook him harder. “Jake wake up. We fell asleep, Billy’s probably worried sick about you.”

Jacob’s dark eyes opened, and Grace didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so beautiful before in her life. “Grace?” he yawned. “What time is it?”

“It’s like 5:30 in the morning. You should go.” She shot a look over to Bella’s stirring form.

“Okay.” he whispered back and slowly hauled himself from her bed and put on his boots.

“You’re not climbing back out the window, come on.” Once he was upright, she crawled out of her bed, took his hand and guided him to the door. She cracked it open and peered out and around to check that the coast was clear. Jacob stood half awake behind her, but was seemingly awake enough to interlace his fingers with her, a way of bringing her closer. She gently pulled him out into hall once she was satisfied with the silence and padded softly down the stairs and to the front the door. When she pulled it open, the cold air rushed over her and Jacob quickly perked up, he crossed the threshold still holding her hand and let it go only at the last moment when he said,

“Good luck on your test today. I’ll see you soon?” He gave her a soft, teasing smile.

“Yes, very soon, I promise. But Jacob, you can’t sleep over like that again, we’re gonna get in trouble.” Grace warned, crossing her arms tightly in front of her to keep warm.

Jake let out a guffaw nodded, and stepped toward her, taking her off guard before quickly kissing the top of her head. Before she realized what had happened, he was jogging down the front steps and off toward the Rabbit. Grace stood planted in place, glued to the spot by the effortless affection bestowed upon her. What was that? Jacob was her best friend, but did this mean something different?

Suddenly, she was overcome with exhaustion and closed the door quietly before bolting quietly up to her room and under the covers. The sheets still held onto his soft, warm, scent that was a mix of fir trees, spice, and crisp sea air. She fell asleep, crushing the pillow he had slept on to her and woke up an hour later to bright sunshine. When she sat up and felt the bed around her, it dawned on her that she had had a boy in her bed. Not just any boy, but Jacob Black. She put her face in her hands and shook her head back and forth, not sure how to feel.

Bella was up, but hadn’t crawled out of bed and was peering out at the sun with eyes clouded in gloom. Sunny days were two parts hard, one part easy for Bella. It was the most realistic day that she would have spent without Edward normally and that brought her comfort. But on the other hand it only accentuated his absence.

“Bella?” Grace called from her bed. Bella slowly turned to her and gave her a smile.

“Was Jake here last night?” she asked nonchalantly as if she had a boy in her room at night all the time like it was no big deal.

“Uh, yeah.” Grace squirmed, “He barged in and then stayed to help me study and we kind of fell asleep.” Bella just nodded her head appreciatively and got up to go to the bathroom. Before she left the room, Grace said hurriedly:

“Don’t tell Charlie.”

“Of course.” Bella confirmed as if this was the most obvious answer in the world.

[beguilingcorpse]

Hey I took ur ouran quiz and the questions were awesome and I did indeed get dragged to filth, as has everyone in the tags, but I think we're all too embarrassed to post pictures of our results bc the callouts were so accurate kjshdfkjsdhf but im so curious abt the others,,, would you mind posting all the descriptions you did? I'm so curious. either way thanks for a banger of a quiz!

AH omg i’m so glad people are enjoying it!! and im sorry that people are getting called out lol but I did try to warn you. im mad that uquiz doesn’t have a “see all results” feature but here are all of the descriptions!!

haruhi:

you give off main character energy but also don't give a shit about being the main character. if you got this answer you probably also relate to tamaki or kyoya but ONLY one of them. you have mixed feelings about the other. you don't think you can experience love the way everyone else talks about it. you crave physical touch but your intimacy issues prevent you from seeking it out so you're stuck wishing anyone else would initiate it and anticipate your needs. people have said that they were drawn to you and a GOOD number of people have told you that they liked you. 9/10 times their crush was unrequited. you're still friends with all of them. hope ur doing well with that gender crisis you're going through!

tamaki:

wow. you're truly a dramatic bitch. maybe people find you a little grating but you're charming enough that they still hang around you for some reason??? ur a big romantic and your expectations will never match reality. every time you pass a mirror you get caught up in your own reflection, even if you don't consider yourself attractive. your self esteem swings WILDLY between "i'm a terrible person and no one really likes me" and "i'm perfect and everyone wants to be me". you definitely have SOME kind of parental complex and you projected way too hard on disney movies in your childhood. how is your hyperfixation with beauty and the beast treating you now? you genuinely want to be a good person but you find that your actions often have unintended consequences. being a wine mom (or your gender equivalent) is absolutely in your future. you're pretentious as fuck and your favorite book is probably pride and prejudice or the picture of dorian gray or some fruity shit. also you're in love with your best friend and im sorry

kyoya:

you have written PARAGRAPHS of analysis about whatever show or movie you're hyperfixated on and definitely talked about it with people who aren't familiar with the source material. you're just a little bit of an asshole (or at least you think you are) but you have a close group of friends nonetheless. you're a good liar and everyone hates playing among us with you. debate is your love language. you wonder constantly why anyone likes you at all. despite this, you're surprisingly loyal (even beyond your own expectations). you like being in charge of a situation even if people don't view you as the leader outright. you're never manipulative with malicious intent but you enjoy seeing the influence you have on others. usually this amounts to introducing them to a new show or hobby. people have told you that they've liked you and your first instinct was to say "thank you, but no you don't". you're just emotionally unavailable enough to be ~intriguing~ but consider swallowing your pride enough to tell the people in your life that you love them.

hikaru:

you know that feeling where you make a joke and maybe one or two people really laugh at it but everyone else doesn't know how to respond? of course you do. you have a very defined sense of humor and you feel like there are only a handful of people who really get you. in reality, part of this stems from the fact that you judge other people, make assumptions, and are slow to forgive. you've definitely given a friend the silent treatment for DAYS... and what was it for? are you happy living life this way? do you so love believing yourself to be misunderstood? i promise there are other people out there who like your obscure interests just as much as you do. pause your early 00s pop punk for a second and get over urself.

kaoru:

are you excited for the big recital coming up? you must be, since you've been playing second fiddle for so long. you're probably disappointed with this response. you wanted to be a main character. you feel like sometimes ur a background character in your own life. most of your friends are people you met through pre-existing friendships and you pretty exclusively hang out in groups. you're a good person and people enjoy your company, but there's maybe only one or two people who would call you their BEST friend. that's okay. you feel the same way. you rarely come up with plans or jokes, but you can "yes and" like there's no tomorrow. maybe your life is a little boring, but at least its comfortable. it's a shame, though. there are a lot of people who could help bring you out of your comfort zone, if you'd let yourself leave your bubble every now and again.

honey:

so. you have a complex. that's okay! most people do. you just HAVE to be the hottest person at the supermarket or the friend that EVERYONE loves. you have a lot of friends but only a few people who really, truly know you. you use humor or flirting or playing dumb to deflect from the fact that you have a SHIT ton of walls up around you and you're afraid to let anyone beyond the facade you put up. you aren't hurting anyone by doing this, but it does get a little lonely sometimes. you like the attention you get, even if it's pretty surface-level. you have a weird thing about crying in front of other people: either you do it too often or you absolutely REFUSE to. you just want to be held. and honestly? don't we all.

mori:

holy shit. you're SEXY. you know EXACTLY when to shut the fuck up and it's hot. it's a double-edged sword, though. when was the last time you let yourself be someone's shoulder to cry on? and when was the last time YOU cried on someone else's shoulder? hm. might want to work on that. you don't think too highly of yourself, but you recognize you're a kind person. bit of a doormat tho. perhaps you've even been called "subservient". it's a shame you're so emotionally closed off, because your friends would honestly love for you to open up more. if you did anything competitive in high school--choir, drama, band, sports, etc.--you were never a soloist or the star player. you played defense, didn't you? you were in the chorus, weren't you? i bet you were in percussion (not the quads tho). your biggest flaw is that you refuse to acknowledge how important you are to other people. there's a gardener and a flower in every relationship, and it's time you started being the flower.

[strangerfictions]

Book Recommendations (Billy Hargrove x Plus Size Reader)

Request: Can I request Billy Hargrove x plus size reader fic? Reader is shy and plus size and is always wearing bright patterned shirts/high waist jeans. She babysits her neighbour's kids who go to the swimming pool a lot. She hangs around the sidelines when she's at the pool, never getting in, just reading. Billy always tries to speak with her because he likes her. Fluff please! Sorry if you're not up for writing a plus size reader

Warnings: Lots of Fluff!

Words: 3045

A/N: Thanks to @morganofthecoves1 for this awesome request. I had a blast working on this! First fic back after a little bit of a hiatus! College has been crazy since mid-March and so I had to push writing to the sideline while I focused on my degree. I am now finished the second year of my degree and honestly, I can't believe it but I loved this request so much so I knew I had to work on this for my first fic back! Also, I want to start writing more plus size fics as I am plus size and love plus size fics so damn much! If anyone has requests for them let me know!

 It was mid-July and the sun had been beating down on Hawkins for months now. You never got used to the heat during this time of year but you still had to work. Every year since Freshman year you had babysat your neighbour's kids and despite this being your final summer before college this year was no different. You didn’t mind because all you had to do was bring them to the pool every day and they were happy.

It was the hottest day of the year and so you knew bringing the kids to the pool was the best idea. You packed your bag to include sun cream, money, and two books to read by the side of the pool. You never really got into the pool as you never really felt comfortable in a bikini or swimsuit, especially around the girls of Hawkins who were considered beautiful because they were thin. It wasn’t that you weren’t confident because you were confident the majority of the time but having so little on in front of so many people made you feel vulnerable in a way. You knew you would eventually have to give in but not today.

You left the house early that morning wearing your usual attire. You loved the recent trend of colourful shirts and so you have been going out and buying them every couple of weeks. You now had an entire collection that you loved. You went for a tropical print shirt along with your blue high waisted jeans.

After you got the send-off from your neighbours you walked the kids to the pool for opening time. It was always best to get there for opening time because it got very busy very quickly. It didn’t take too long to get to the pool as you and the kids talked about random things on the way there. However, you were a bit early and so you all had to stand around in the little shade outside the gates of the pool.

As the opening time came nearer more and more people began to appear outside the pool. Before long you saw the familiar mullet-wearing lifeguard walk towards the gate. You and Billy had always been on different social scales. He was popular and you just about existed in high school. Despite this Billy had been trying to talk to you for weeks now but you were way too shy to say more than two words to him.  You watch as he opens the gate allowing people into the pool. The kids run in front of you to get your usual spot near the back of the pool. Both you and Billy yell at them to stop running at the same time causing you both to smile at each other.

“Morning Y/N!” Billy smiles at you as you walk past him.

“Good Morning Billy” you say quietly as you walk past him and over to where the kids have set up for the day.

The day went by as it usually did, hot and slow. It was mid-afternoon and you were sat at the edge of the pool with your feet dangling in while reading your book. It wasn’t like there was much for you to do by the pool and reading was something you enjoyed.

You could feel a shadow looming over you and you knew who it was. Every day Billy will approach you and ask you what you are reading today you will answer with as little words as possible and he will go back to his post for the rest of the day.

“So what are you reading today Y/N?” You look up from your book as Billy crouches beside you.

“Emma by Jane Austen” You say shyly looking back down at the pages.

“You know I’d love to read more classics but I just can never get into them they are way too wordy you know” You look away from your book and back at Billy surprised.

“You like to read?” You ask shifting a little as you feel the hot tiles beneath your jeans.

“Sometimes, when I get the chance. What would you recommend to start with?”

“Something small maybe. Ease yourself into it. I loved The Great Gatsby, it’s one of my favourites, so maybe that would be a good start?” You suggest as Billy stands up.

“Great thanks! I’ll stop by the bookstore later and pick up a copy. I’ll let you know how it goes.” He winks at you and walks back to his post. You glance around and spot some of the older women staring at you. That was all you needed.

The rest of the day went by quietly. You finished reading ‘Emma’ and spent the rest of the day talking to the kids who’s friends had left early that day. You got home around nine the night and spent the night lying in bed thinking about Billy and the fact that he likes to read. You always found stereotypes weird but one glance at Billy and you would think he would never have touched a book in his life. Although he had done well in English class so you weren’t all that surprised.

The next morning followed the same routine. Like clockwork, the same people turned up at the pool and just before opening Billy’s head emerged from the staff room. This time he was carrying something in his hand. The familiar blue cover standing out to you. He’s been reading ‘The Great Gatsby’ you thought to yourself as you pushed the kids forward so they could get your usual spot.

As soon as Billy opens the gates everyone dashes for their usual spots but you take your time knowing that the kids will save your spot.

“Morning Y/N” Billy says as you walk through the gates

“Morning. Enjoying Gatsby?” You stop beside him to catch his answer.

“You know what I didn’t think I would enjoy it all that much because you know it’s the twenties how great could it be but I am loving it!” He beams at you.

“Oh great, I’m glad you are enjoying it so much! Well, I guess I’ll see you later” You say turning around and walking towards the kids.

After setting up you sit down on the edge of the pool and sit there for the rest of the day reading.

After a few hours, the familiar shadow appears over you.  A little earlier than usual you thought to yourself. Billy crouches down beside you holding his book.

“So, I just finished it…and I did not expect it to go the way it did. Thank you for recommending it!” Billy says as you turn towards him

“Oh yeah, the ending is pretty crazy. I think that’s why I loved it so much. I’m glad I could help!” You smile folding your book across your knee, so it doesn’t fall into the pool.

“Got any more recommendations for me?” He asks

“Have you tried Gothic fiction before?” You ask to see what he is really into.

“Not really. I’ve heard good things though”

“Okay, I would say start with something like Dracula by Bram Stoker or Frankenstein by Mary Shelly” You suggest as you Billy takes in the info.

“Cool. I’ll check them out. I have a question for you?” Billy stands up getting uncomfortable from crouching

“Uhm sure!” You say not knowing where this was going especially since it was Billy.

“Why don’t you get into the pool?” He asks as you squint at him through the sun.

“No reason I just prefer being able to read on the edge and keep an eye on the kids” you lie to him. You can tell that he does not believe you but either way, he accepts it as an answer.

“Alright then well, I will let you continue. See you later.” You watch as Billy walks back to his post knowing that you are being stared at by the older women on the other side of the pool.

The next week goes by similar to this. You now stop at the gate to ask Billy how he is getting on with the book you recommended. He tells gives you his initial opinion and you go to your usual spot. Once he is finished, he will let you know by crouching beside you and talking about it with you for a few minutes and then you both go about your day.

Since you recommend ‘The Great Gatsby’ Billy has now read Dracula, Frankenstein, Moby Dick, The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Scarlett Letter, Animal Farm and Pride and Prejudice. You were enjoying talking to him about books. You even let him borrow some and that was something you rarely did! This little routine with Billy went on until the end of Summer. You knew it was going to happen, but you weren’t looking forward to having to give one last recommendation.

You were standing in your usual spot of the kids when you spot Billy coming to open the gates. The kids inch forward so they can make the most out of the last day of summer but you hang back letting the others in Infront of you. You walk in behind a group of older ladies who had stopped to flirt with Billy. You hung back behind them trying to remain as invisible as possible. Billy noticed you standing back and tried to get through the conversation with the women as quickly as he could. You watch as he gets a little irritated as the women keep talking.

“Sorry ladies I wish I could stand around chatting all day but I need to get to my post!” You watch as they walk away and Billy smiles at you.

“Hey sorry I didn’t know how to let them down lightly”

“It's alright. Just wanted to see what you thought of Wuthering Heights?” You ask fumbling with your fingers

“I went into it with an open mind but fuck it was bad. It was all so bad. I see what you mean now!” You both laugh knowing how bad you both thought of the book.

“Right! I never understood why so many people liked it. I guess in a sick way it's romantic but that’s a stretch” You say laughing with Billy. You look over to the kids to make sure they are doing okay but you then spot that you are getting evil looks from Billy’s admirers.

“We better walk towards my post before something turns nasty” Billy smiles at you as you both begin to walk towards the back of the pool.

“Thanks for helping me out by the way! It’s not often I get to talk to anyone about reading because…well, I’m sure you get it” Billy says quietly looking down at the ground.

“It’s cool. It’s something I enjoy and if I get to help someone out with recommendations then even better!”

“So, I’m guessing you are going to college soon?” He asks as he stops beside his chair leaning up against the frame.

“I’m leaving tomorrow. It’s going to be so strange leaving all of this behind” You say sadly shuffling on your feet as the heat burns through your shoes.

“What time do you leave tomorrow?” You look at Billy suspiciously

“I think we leave at about midday…Why?” You ask still giving Billy a suspicious look.

“Perfect! I need you to meet me here tomorrow morning just before opening time” You open your mouth to protest.

“Don’t question it just meet me around the back” He argues back at you

“Fine, I guess I’ll see you here tomorrow morning” You say walking away smiling to yourself.

The next day arrives faster than you would have hoped for. You weren’t ready to say goodbye to Hawkins just yet but NYU was now your home for the foreseeable future. You got up super early and finished packing up the last few things into your dad's car. You told your parents that you wanted to go for one last walk before leaving and so at eight-thirty you left your house and walked the same route you had been so used to walking for the past four years except you now knew that this would be that last time for a while and as you got closer to the pool your emotions began to catch up with you. You had to stop so you could hype yourself up. You knew you would more than likely be back next summer so after a few minutes of hyping yourself up and telling yourself over and over that you would be back you continued down to the pool.

Once you got to the pool you walked around the back to find Billy sitting on a wall cigarette in hand.

“Hi” you call over to get his attention

“Oh hey! I thought maybe you had decided not to show up.” He says throwing his cigarette on the ground and stomping on it.

“Oh yeah sorry, I had to stop for a few minutes…It’s weird knowing I won't see this place again until next summer” You say looking down at the ground embarrassed.

“Yeah, I get it. I was like that when we moved from California. It’s not a fun time but I’m sure you will fit in up in NYU.”

“Well, it’s not like I fit in here…anyways why am I meeting you in the sketchiest part of the pool?”

“Well funny you should ask! I wanted to thank you somewhere that wasn’t going to have onlookers and well the back of the pool never has onlookers so here we are”

“Thank me? For What?” You ask sitting down next to him on the wall.

“For the book recommendations and for talking to me about books. I always feel awkward reading but seeing you read at the pool gave me a little bit of confidence to do it so yeah thanks” With that Billy pulls out something wrapped in brown paper and tied with ribbon and hands it to you.

“I didn’t wrap it Max did.” Billy says as you take from him

“Billy you didn’t have to get me anything you literally could have just said thanks and went our separate ways and I wouldn’t have minded” You said as you slowly unwrapped the ribbon

“Yeah well, I don’t want to go our separate ways. You’ve been a great friend and I genuinely have had such a great time getting to know you the past few months so I would hope that we can stay in touch” You unwrap the brown paper to reveal a limited edition copy of ‘The Great Gatsby’.

“Oh wow. You didn’t have to Billy! I don’t think I can accept this honestly”

“Why did I know you were going to do that! You’re way too humble Y/N just take the damn book, please! I remembered when you recommended it to me you said it was one of your favourite books and well I saw it in the book store and thought you might like it so please just take it!” Billy pleads with you as you smile at him

“That’s sentimental and sweet thank you! I had planned on giving you something but don’t expect it to be something as impressive!” You take your backpack off your back and rummage and grab something out of it. You hand a book flipped over to Billy along with a fancy envelope.

“Okay so I didn’t have wrapping paper, but I saw this and thought you had to read it. It’s not your style at all but I’m sure it sparked something in you when you started talking to me” He flipped the book over to find that you had given him a copy of Emma by Jane Austen.

“Also there is a slip of paper in the envelope that lists about 356 books that I would recommend. Not all of them are classics but I think you will enjoy most of them. Also, there’s a library card in there you should check that out sometime…unless that’s too uncool for you.” You say laughing

“Wow…I didn’t expect anything from you all things considering. I guess we had a similar idea. Thank you I’m very much looking forward to reading this and all of the other books you have recommended. Who knew books could bring people together” You both laugh as you stand up.

“I better go. I still have a few more things to pack up before we leave this afternoon” You didn’t want to leave but you knew you had to

“Yeah of course. You better stay in contact though!” Billy says standing up in front of you.

“Obviously. I need to know what you think of all of the books you read from the list!” You both stand looking at each other awkwardly.

“I don’t want to leave. I know I have to but if I leave I may not ever come back again and that scares me” You say trying not to cry.

“It’s alright it’s time for you to move on and start your life elsewhere. You can’t stay in Hawkins all your life no matter how much you want to.” You feel a tear slide down your face and then all of a sudden you are fully crying. Billy walks towards you and pulls you into a hug.

“Jesus Y/N I didn’t think you were a crier” You eventually stop crying and pull away from Billy

“Sorry I don’t know why I am so emotional today it’s stupid because I’ll probably be back next summer and still have to babysit and do the usual summer activities but I just feel weird leaving” You felt stupid for how you were feeling but you also knew it was normal.

“How about I walk you back to your house that way you will be where you need to be and we can continue to talk?” Billy suggests

“Yeah, that would be great!” you say happily turning to begin walking out of the pool.

You both begin to walk towards your house and spend the entire time talking about books and you almost forget that you are leaving in a few hours.

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[tremble-in-the-hips]

All right, you asked for it. A fucking Picture of Dorian Gray fanfiction I wrote in high school. Pine away, gays.

Dorian’s leg bobbed furiously. The cigarette between his fingers smoldered to an ashen stub. On his velvet purple couch, he stretched out, perplexed by the painting strung above the fireplace. He shuddered as his own oil-glazed eyes peered at him. 

They weren’t really his eyes, he thought. The eyes belonged to Basil, whose skilled hands opened the window into Dorian’s soul, now sitting on the mantle. Dorian felt Basil’s presence in the canvas. His hands, cramping around a paint brush; his one eye open as he perfected his vision; his dark hair falling in clumps in front of his eyes. The concentration and adoration Basil put into creating the image was powerful. As he stubbed out his cigarette with a flick, Dorian felt the artist’s careful scrutiny staring back at him as he sat. He rubbed the back of his neck with a chuckle as he thought of being in Basil’s studio just that afternoon. 

“Don’t listen to Harry,” Basil had warned. They were standing, a breath apart in the waning sunlight. Anxiously, Basil dug beneath his fingernails with a pencil to dislodge layers of crusting paint. 

Dorian had scoffed as he straightened his cuffs. “Basil, I’m beginning to see a pattern,” he chuckled. “For someone you trust, you condemn Harry rather harshly, don’t you think?”

Basil smiled politely. Dorian’s smile unraveled. “What,” he cried, “have I said something amiss?”

Basil met Dorian’s eye and laughed as he clasped his rough hands around one of Dorian’s. “No, never, my dearest,” Basil cooed, “I only wondered when I claimed to trust Harry.”

Dorian bent towards Basil. Concerned, he whispered, “You doubt his loyalty to you? Your friendship?”

Basil shook his head with a grin and laid a firm hand on Dorain’s shoulder. Head bowed, he turned back towards the painting on the opposite wall. “That, I don’t doubt,” Basil proclaimed, “ours is a friendship more like a commitment than marriage. We’ve seen too much together, know too much about each other. He will take my secrets to the grave with his cynicism and darkness which he so loves to spread,” he muttered. He rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. 

Dorian eyed Basil playfully. “So, your lack of trust stems purely from experience? One too many nights of debauchery spent face down in a ditch due to one nefarious Henry Wotton?” Dorian stepped forward and took up all of Basil’s view. “Too many secrets falling out of his pockets?”

Basil chuckled and pushed Dorian away. Dorian giggled and shoved him back. The two poked and pulled on one another until Basil brought his hands over Dorian’s cheeks and held him back, both of them laughing raucously. (Seated on his couch, Dorian grinned at the thought.) Basil sighed and the air was calm. “Maybe,” he replied simply. 

Dorian clasped Basil’s shoulders and shook him once. “My God, Harry dares to decry marriage when he is married to you!”

Basil leaned heavily on Dorian’s shoulder, guffawing as his knees gave out. Wiping joyful tears from his eyes, Basil sighed, “Oh, but only Harry would believe a friendship akin to marriage worth cherishing and the only truly good purpose for marriage besides politics.” Basil stood up straight, eyeing Dorian from beneath his curtain of hair. “More than anything, the man is quick to decry romance.”

“Ironic, for a man with cynically romantic notions,” Dorian cried with a laugh. He looked adoringly at Basil. “What would he think of a friendship akin to romance?”

Basil bit his lip, eyes wandering absently to his left. He scoffed, “More than likely shaking his grim head at us.”

Dorian huffed, emerging from his revere startled and breathless. Friendship akin to romance, he thought, what a delightful delusion. He could hear Henry Wotton’s voice repeat such a sentiment in his head. He shuddered. He sometimes did find Harry outrageously grim, even when he followed Harry with a childlike curiosity and adoration. As embarrassed as he was, he found himself smitten with the lord; Wotton was handsome and charming and enticingly treacherous. Whatever Wotton said felt like honey, despite later burning like vinegar. 

Basil’s warning had shaken him. Dorian paused, considering how the night was to proceed. His party, which was to include Basil and Dorian, were to head to the theater after the club and witness one of Sybil’s first performances after their proposal. He was torn, intrigued and terrified by Harry’s promise of disappointment from Sybil’s love. Part of him wanted to continue heedless, so infatuated was he with Sybil; yet he felt hesitant, and chanced leaving Sybil if he got scared. 

It felt real, his love for Sybil. More real than even Harry’s cynicism could penetrate. 

Could there be a potential for failure in a feeling so strong? If only he could explain it to Harry! He paced the living room, drawing up articulate analogies. His satisfaction with Sybil was as permanent as the spring bloom, as lingering as a smoke cloud from a pipe, as tender as Basil’s affectionate brush stroke. 

Dorian skidded to a halt in the doorway, hand clutching his chest. Why do I still think of Basil? he thought. He flopped into a lounge chair, groaning. One of his servants came to him, mumbling about the arrival of Harry and Basil (did his heartbeat quicken?) to take him to the club, then the theater. His heart thumped as he plucked a flower from a vase on the counter and twisted the stem clean off. He pocketed the newly fashioned corsage. A beautiful tiger lily, muted orange with maroon spots. 

. . . 

His corsage lay crumbled in his hand. His entire body felt heavy, as if sinking into the earth. The theater box, already half empty since the second act, felt cold and bitter. 

Henry put it best. “Terrible,” he stated factually, “just terrible. Ah well - flames burn out. Such is life, such is theater.”

“This isn’t right,” Dorian gasped, barely looking up from the flower in his hand. He studied the creases in the petals. He attempted to smooth them out with his thumb, growing annoyed when the petals curled around his fingers. He huffed, “she must be ill, or upset, or possibly inebriated, or-”

“Oh dear, sweet Dorian,” Henry sighed, laying a hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Dorian barely looked up. “We both know those possibilities aren’t true,” Henry crooned. With a sniff, he looked toward the stage exit. “You’ve got to hand it to her thought,” he sighed, “she loves you. It’s clear in her face, the way she looked out into the audience, the way she breathed. That’s love. But it’s normal love, average - and acted love will always be more potent. Or at least it will present better on stage -”

“Where’s Basil?” Dorian cut in, shrugging off Henry’s hand with an irked groan. 

“Home by now,” Henry relayed in a monotone, “he left partway through the curtain call, had to attend to a friend or a casserole or his own melancholy or something.” Dorian heard the click of a pocket watch opening. “Well,” cried Harry conspicuously, “your Juliet has more than likely returned to her dressing room now. I suggest you have a chat with her.”

Dorian grit his teeth, prickling against his clothes and skin. His annoyance felt like bile rising in his throat and he felt like spitting. Suddenly he was up, throwing the corsage against the floor. Through the unsettled curls of his hair, Dorian saw Henry step back with wide eyes and a smile.  

“Dorian, love, what’s got you flying like this?” he questioned playfully.

Dorian huffed and crossed his arms. He felt inflamed, like a deceived child. Was this the product of love? A loss of sense, a loss of purpose? Sybil was supposed to be Dorian’s greatest prize, the person for him to be proud of forever. When she flitted across the stage, he wanted nothing more than to claim the moment, claim her, with a fiery passion. She was something to behold (in her prime, Dorian thought bitterly, which seems to have ended) and she was something he wanted to behold constantly. 

Dorian flew, a trail of orange tiger lily petals falling at his boots. He felt confident in his ability to tell her just how he felt and nervous of her reaction. But he was angry! Truly angry! To watch her perform on any other night was to watch the gods of grace and whimsy in flight. What would become of the world, his world, without her gift, his pride? For her to fail or give up performance would be like if Basil put down his brush. 

Dorian hovered hesitantly in front of Sybil’s dressing room. He could feel his heart clattering against his breastplate. He reached for the doorknob and felt his ill intentions bubbling in his throat. She’s a charlatan, Dorian thought wickedly, and I am a willing sucker to her ruse. She embarrassed me in front of my friends! She doesn’t deserve my advances, my praise. What a failure! I’ll see to it she realizes the shame, the embarrassment. I mean, what would Basil think - 

Dorian’s hand shook violently as he grasped the doorknob. His breath escaped in sharp gasps. His grip loosened. To his left, he peered through a window and a vision formed of his own living room through the darkness. In the projection, he saw Basil smoothing the ruffles in Dorian’s jacket. His face was splattered with paint and a playful smile pulled his lips. 

“You really are a wonder, Dorian,” Basil’s voice echoed. Dorian’s mirror image blushed. “So youthful, yet so open; so beautiful, yet so kind.” The vision of Basil looked away from the vision of Dorian and stared, knowingly, at Dorian in real life. Terror gripped Dorian and shame overcame him as the vision smiled at him, concern in his eyes and a slight, adoring tilt in his head. The vision whispered, “I can always trust you to handle important things with care and thoughtfulness. It’s what I like best about you.”

Dorian let go of the doorknob and stared at it pointedly. His face twisted and released. What was my plan? he thought. What would I have accomplished with such anger?

The door creaked open and Sybil’s heart-shaped face appeared like a moon over the horizon. She beamed. “Oh, love!” she yelped and pushed the door open.

Dorian looked forward and straightened his back. He swept his hair back and gave Sybil a polite smile. “My dearest,” he muttered shyly. 

“I was hoping I had seen you on the balcony,” Sybil squealed with delight. She stepped into the door frame and swept her hand over the room. “Will you join me, good prince?”

Dorian met her eyes and sighed, feeling light and giddy. Despite the embarrassment, his physical feelings for her were strong. Sybil held her hand out for Dorian to take. Before he reached out, he thought of Basil’s unruly dark hair and affectionate smile.

The right thing? Dorian questioned fearfully. He took Sybil’s hand delicately and kissed her fingers. “I would, darling,” Dorian chuckled, “but I must attend to personal matters.”

Sybil recoiled slightly, but soon returned a polite smile. “Oh, that’s fine. Before you go, I was wondering what you thought of my -”

“You were lovely,” Dorian cried, “and I will explain away my hastiness later!” He leaned forward and gave her a sweet kiss on the lips. Once he was out the door, he began sprinting down the street. 

. . . 

Basil’s door flew open and he laughed with surprise and delight before pulling Dorian into his embrace. “I’m more than shocked,” Basil cried, “you came back for me! The night is alive with clubs and youthful spirit and you come to these unlit suburbs.” Basil sighed and leaned against the doorway to his living room with a jaunty grin. “Of course, the night’s youth allowed you to deduce that I had returned home.” Basil raised the wine glass he had been holding in respect. “You know me too well,” he chuckled. 

Dorian giggled, “have you been drinking, Basil?”

Basil bit his lip against a smile and moved the glass behind his back. “Who’s to say,” he deflected, barely containing his laughter.

Dorian clasped Basil’s shoulder with a grin. “It’s no matter anyway. May I?” Dorian inquired, pointing lazily at Basil’s glass.

Basil shrugged and handed his glass to Dorian. “Why not? Here, have a head start.”

Dorian blushed, touched by the gesture. He took Basil’s glass, raised it to him, and took a sip. It felt like stinging, sweet ginger as it ran down his throat. 

Basil poured another glass in the corner of the room. He eyed Dorian kindly. “I’m terribly ashamed of my behavior tonight,” he admitted, “I’m sorry for leaving the theater without so much as a goodbye. Sybil’s performance was important to you.”

“Whatever you are sorry for, you are forgiven, believe me,” Dorian assured, “I was only worried for your well being.”

Basil looked away, smiling to himself. “Thank you,” he whispered, “though, you could have called. You didn’t. You ran here. I’m curious as to what compelled you to do so.”

Dorian laughed. “I’m curious as to why you fled when you claimed you were eager to join us!”

Basil shrugged with an innocent smile, his lips touching his cup. Chuckling, he said, “I’m still not sure. I thought myself a bore on such a joyous night. Shakespeare often depresses me.”

Dorian nodded attentively, sipping at his drink. “I believe that is his point actually,” he wondered. “The dramas are meant to strike a chord with our humanity, to tell a story of unrequited or unfulfilled romance.”

Basil scoffed, staring into his swirling glass. He met Dorian’s eyes tenderly, sighing, “My dear, often it is the romance that depresses me.”

Dorian turned his head, brow furrowed, and Basil laughed, “it is nonsensical to anyone but me. I find myself incompatible with romance. I don’t hold onto relationships. I am quick to turn inward, quick to anger, and unable to respond to a lover’s cry for attention.” Basil huffed with eyes downcast. “Lovely, lovely Dorian, I am impossible to love.”

The room stood quiet. After a moment of discomfort in silence, Dorian sat on Basil’s dark green couch and beckoned to Basil. Basil shuffled over with tepid steps and flopped into the seat next to Dorian. Dorian turned his shoulders towards Basil and took his hands. He turned them over, lightly drawing on Basil’s palms with his thumbs. He whispered to Basil, “I left the theater tonight after the show because I was inspired by the idea of what you’d think of my actions.”

Basil leaned back against the arm of the sofa, surprise alight in his eyes. His lips drew taut as he tried to suppress a smile. “Go on,” he whispered.

Dorian cleared his throat. His palms were sweating and he cupped them lightly around Basil’s, trying not to dampen them. “I was inflamed,” he continued, “both by Henry’s words and the events at the theater. I felt mean like a snake, wanting to lash out.” Dorian chuckled darkly. “I thought myself deserving better. I thought of telling Sybil so, harshly if need be.”

Basil stared at Dorian with concern. He looked down, grasping at empty words. “I’m . . . sorry to hear you were in such a state, possessed by evil like that.” He clasped Dorian’s hands gently. “I am, however, proud and delighted that you thought of me and made a better choice.”

Dorian averted his gaze, beaming. “It seems I think of little but you lately, Basil.”

Basil blushed deep red and his face lit up with a delirious smile. Dorian hopped closer, encouraged by Basil’s response. He took a shaking breath, continuing, “Basil, whatever compels you to believe you are impossible to love, it is a false pretense; you create beauty out of nothing; you adore your friends with great and genuine enthusiasm; you corale me towards the right path,” Dorian declared. Running a hand through his flyaway hairs, he leant towards Basil with a serious look. “Despite my influences, you get me to see what is right and good with only the thought of your care, your kindness, and your love for me.”

Dorian let out a final breath. Basil’s eyes were locked with his, shining with earnest and insane happiness. His head rested relaxed to his left and he rubbed Dorian’s hands between his fingers. Dorian’s heart quickened and he looked away, clearing his throat again. Timid, he looked into Basil’s eyes. He whispered, “Who are you to say you are immune to romance? What about us? Fools in a friendship akin to romance?”

Breathless, Basil reached out, cupping Dorian’s face gingerly in his hands. Dorian lightly traced his fingers over the back of Basil’s hands. Basil shook his head in disbelief. He rubbed his thumb along Dorian’s cheekbone. “I,” he stuttered, “I, you, you’ve surprised, I’m . . .”

Dorian slid his hands down the length of Basil’s arms and dug his fingers into Basil’s shoulders. “Whatever you’re planning to do or say,” he breathed, “do it now. I despise suspense.”

Basil burst into laughter and Dorian joined. When both had caught their breath, Basil pulled Dorian towards him for a kiss. Dorian closed his eyes, sinking with relief as he wrapped his arms around Basil’s neck. Basil ran his fingers through Dorian’s hair and let his lips drag over Dorian’s sluggishly, intoxicated by the intimacy. Dorian pressed his forehead to Basil’s and Basil pulled back, gasping for breath. With a grin, Dorian nuzzled Basil’s nose, causing the two to giggle with childish giddiness. 

“Do you believe you’re wrong now?” Dorian cooed. “About being incompatible with romance?”

“Possibly,” Basil retorted, playing with one of Dorian’s curls. 

“I think you’ll do fine,” Dorian sighed, catching Basil’s eye and grinning. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a stem of lavender. Basil’s brows drew together in a question and Dorian explained, “I pulled it out of the vase at the theater..” Basil rolled his eyes and Dorian flicked his nose. “Enough,” he laughed, “I’m trying to perform an incredibly romantic gesture.”

Basil laughed heartily. “Okay,” he cried, “you’ve gotten me to believe in love again. Happy?”

Dorian beamed, “Always, with you.”

[ladylynse]

The Trouble with Ghosts - Part X [FF | AO3]

Lancer hadn’t realized how closely young Mr. Fenton’s school troubles–and the secrets he surely wasn’t telling his parents–were tied to ghosts until after that encounter with Phantom.

<<  <  Part X  >

-|-

The Picture of Dorian Gray, he didn’t think he could stand much more of this.

“Vlad’s like you,” Lancer repeated, and Danny squirmed. “Vlad Masters. The mayor.”

“How many other Vlads do you know?” Danny mumbled, not looking at him.

Lancer didn’t bother to answer that. “He shares your, ah, affliction, and he’s actively hunting you down?” Were there others? Lancer wasn’t sure he wanted to ask right now—Danny would surely latch onto that and turn the conversation in an entirely different direction—but the thought was…disquieting. A human with ghostly abilities…. The potential abuse of power alone was a terrifying prospect, but the number of people who might attempt to gain these powers, were the truth known that such a thing was possible….

Danny pulled a face but looked up. “I dunno if you can call it an affliction. We’re not sick. I mean, Vlad had the ecto-acne, but that was just because he got blasted in the face. I think. Maybe the pop did way more than just make the proto-portal malfunction. It’s just…. This is more a state of being. We just are this way. It’s easier not to question it.”

Easier for him, no doubt. Lancer wanted to press for details about whatever accident Danny was alluding to—he could guess what the proto-portal must have been, given the installation in the Fentons’ basement, though he was at a loss for everything else—but he didn’t want to allow young Mr. Fenton to lead him on a merry chase away from the subject at hand. Which he was clearly trying to do. Again.

Fortunately, it sounded like the circumstances that led to the creation of these ghostly abilities in humans were rare. Danny hadn’t given any details about his own accident, but if Vlad’s had involved a proto-portal—

No. He wasn’t going to ask now. The dubious safety of the FentonWorks lab could be addressed later. At least…. At least it wasn’t as bad as Lancer had first feared. At least Danny was still alive. He and Vlad both displayed too many signs of life for that not to be the case, particularly if Vlad’s accident had happened in his college years.

“So why, for David Copperfield’s sake, would Mr. Masters be hunting you instead of helping you?” If Vlad’s experience was remotely similar, and surely there must be similarity enough if the effects were the same, he could be helping Danny. Guiding him through this. Rebuilding an old friendship with Jack and Maddie while getting to know their kids. If he fancied Danny as the son he’d never had—

“Hunting me down isn’t the best way of putting it, either,” Danny said instead of answering what Lancer thought was a perfectly reasonable question. “He’s not like Skulker. He doesn’t want my pelt at the foot of his bed or on his mantle or anything gross like that.”

Lancer barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Danny was trying to sprinkle in little details that he hoped Lancer would follow up on instead of the more pressing matters at hand. The bait was blatantly obvious.

And harder not to take than it was to spot.

“You said he wishes you were his son. That he’s obsessed, to the point that he’s been conducting genetic experiments. If he wishes to be a mentor to you, why does he seem so set on trying to destroy you?”

“Uh. That’s not really important. I mean, it’s Vlad. It’s hard to say anyway.”

Sometimes, it was very hard to remember that he’d signed up to help his students, not strangle them.

“I rather think I know enough that telling me a few more supposedly unimportant details won’t make a significant difference to my health, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Danny winced. “Can we just change the subject for now and circle back later?”

Fine. If Danny didn’t want to talk about it right now, they didn’t have to talk about it right now. There was more than enough time for him to tell Lancer exactly which ghost was associated with the mayor—though he had an awful feeling that he might already know, if he allowed himself to think about it for any length of time. In the meantime, there were a number of other matters they should talk about sooner rather than later.

“Would you rather discuss exactly what you should tell Miss Gray?”

“…No?”

“Because you aren’t going to continue to let her do this,” Lancer continued. It wasn’t a question, and from the look on Danny’s face, he knew that. “You can’t. However skilled a ghost hunter she is, however skilled at evading her you usually are, you cannot allow her to continue to hunt you down simply because you feel that it is easier to be hurt and bear that pain and these secrets than to hurt her by telling her the truth.”

“Would you still be saying that if she shot me in the face with her ecto-gun once I told her?”

“Mr. Fenton. Do you honestly believe that would be her reaction?”

Danny was quiet for a moment. Then, “I guess not. But it’s still a possibility.”

“A more distant one than I’m sure you imagine,” Lancer said dryly. “Miss Gray is merely seeking to protect this town, much as you are. If neither of you will stop, you can at the very least share the burden and not make things worse for yourselves.” Danny looked like he was trying to come up with something he could use as a decent protest to this point, so Lancer added, “And if you do not tell her now, you will only invite more trouble for yourself. She is surely suspicious of us both, and if she does go to the mayor with her concerns….”

“Vlad’s going to be a problem either way.” Lancer just looked at Danny, and Danny relented. “But, yeah, you’re right, if Val mentions seeing me, he’ll know exactly where I am. I just…. Do I really have to tell her?”

That was a concession, whether or not Danny had realized it. “You do know her secret.”

“That’s, um, part of the problem.”

“Which will only grow into a greater problem unless you actively do something to resolve it. Contrary to what we all wish, most problems do not go away when ignored. It is high time you stopped ignoring this one. And once you tell Miss Gray, you will have a better idea of how to tackle the issue when you tell your parents.”

“But I don’t….” Danny trailed off. Lancer didn’t need to have as many years teaching under his belt as he did to recognize the unhappy expression on Danny’s face. He didn’t want to do this. He had no desire to do this now.

But he also knew he should, and that was one of the many reasons Lancer was going to win this particular argument.

Really, he already had.

“Are you ready to discuss Mr. Masters candidly, then?” Danny shook his head, so Lancer sighed and got to his feet. “Very well. I’ll see if I can catch Miss Gray—or the Red Huntress. Please, for the love of Robinson Crusoe, stay here. You won’t be doing anyone any favours if you try to sneak off, least of all yourself.” In a softer tone, he added, “You aren’t out of the woods quite yet.”

“Vlad doesn’t want me dead,” was all Danny said. He didn’t promise to stay put, and Lancer wasn’t keen on the idea of trusting in young Mr. Fenton’s common sense, but between what Danny had confided and what Lancer had guessed, he hoped there was enough trust between them for Danny to trust him, too.

And trust him enough to listen to him.

He didn’t know if he’d be able to find Valerie, but he knew that if he didn’t leave now, he had no hope until after school was let out. The lunch break would be over soon. If she truly intended to observe that, she couldn’t stay in his neighbourhood for long, even if she was looking for clues to Phantom’s whereabouts. Furthermore, if he were able to find her, convincing her to come back with him would take more time. If Danny truly wanted to run, he’d have ample opportunity.

But trust must go both ways.

Still, it was hard not to regret leaving Danny alone.

XXXXXXXX

Danny wanted to bolt. He stayed in bed, holding his breath and listening as Lancer locked the front door behind him. And then he wanted to jump up and transform and fly away and hide.

Except he still couldn’t fly, and even if he just walked out the front door and left it unlocked behind him, invisibility was still out. And he didn’t know what he could tell his parents about what had happened to him when they inevitably found him. If he walked out as Fenton, someone could call them, if only so they could get some peace and quiet. If he walked out as Phantom, well….

Danny sighed and slumped back.

Despite what he’d implied when talking about Sam and Tucker borrowing the Spectre Speeder, getting into the Ghost Zone was easier said than done right now, if only because getting home undetected seemed nearly impossible. It offered no guarantee of sanctuary, anyway—at least not from Vlad. Even if there were somewhere safe he could go, running wouldn’t solve his problems. Lancer wasn’t going to let this go. He wouldn’t just forget about this. He wouldn’t just ignore it. Danny had no way to reset the situation.

He wasn’t sure he’d do that even if he had the chance.

He hadn’t thought anyone would react like this. Jazz was concerned, sure, but she’d never tried to stop him from doing what he was. She opposed Vlad when she could, they all did, but he knew she wasn’t doing as much as she might because protecting his secret meant protecting Vlad’s, too.

Except Lancer had figured out his secret, and Danny had told him about Vlad, and even if Vlad could get Lancer fired or worse, Lancer was willing to take the risk.

Or, more accurately, Lancer was willing to face the consequences.

Because there would be consequences.

There had to be consequences.

Even Valerie…. What would Valerie say to this? What would Lancer say to her when he found her? How much was he going to tell her before he expected Danny to admit to everything he’d kept secret for so long? Would Valerie even be able to look him in the eye after this? Would she warm to Phantom because it was him or scorn Fenton because of what he was?

“I need to not worry about this,” Danny muttered. That was easier said than done, of course. Just because he couldn’t control how anyone else would react didn’t mean he wouldn’t rather keep them in the dark forever.

But Lancer was right.

Sooner or later, that ignorance would put them in danger. He might not be able to protect them. And…and not telling them was as much for selfish reasons as any excuse he told himself to justify putting off telling the truth. He really was protecting himself more than he was protecting them.

It was just…hard.

Even just thinking about telling them everything. Valerie, his parents…. So much had happened. Maybe too much. He knew it was easy to put it off, he knew that would only make telling them later harder, but he still….

He still wished he had more time. That he could do this on his own terms. That he didn’t feel forced into it, between Vlad’s actions and Lancer’s decrees.

If he was being honest with himself, though, he knew that he might never tell anyone unless he had to.

It was too easy to focus on the possible negatives than dare to hope for any of the positives.

Danny lost track of time. He didn’t notice the door open, but he heard voices, and a sudden terror seized in his chest. Lancer had found Valerie. Whatever he’d told her, he’d brought her back, and—

“Danny?” That was Valerie, knocking on the door frame of Lancer’s spare room. Danny blinked and tried to focus. Judging by the confusion on her face, Lancer hadn’t told her much. “Mr. Lancer said you needed to talk to me?”

She didn’t ask why it couldn’t wait, why he hadn’t said anything when she’d been there earlier, or what would so important that Lancer had gone after her and would be perfectly okay with her skipping school for this.

She didn’t really need to, though.

“Yeah.” His voice was weak. Danny swallowed, unsuccessfully trying to push down his fear, and said, “Sit down, Val.”

She looked over her shoulder, but Lancer hadn’t followed her. She moved to the foot of the bed and sat. As the silence stretched between them, Danny could hear a kettle beginning to boil.

Tea—or whatever Lancer offered them—wouldn’t fix this.

Danny wasn’t even sure it would smooth things over.

But it would give him something to hide behind, and Danny was grateful for that.

“What’s going on?” Valerie finally asked.

“I….” How was he supposed to go about this? He never intended to tell Valerie like this. He wasn’t even sure he’d ever intended to tell her. “It’s, um…. It’s kinda complicated.”

She waited, raising her eyebrows in a prompt to continue when he didn’t.

“It’s just….” Asking her to promise not to freak out wouldn’t do any good. “Look, recently Mr. Lancer, um, kinda found out a few things.”

“About?”

Everything. “Some, uh, ghost stuff. It’s…. I’m sorry. This isn’t easy to explain.”

Valerie frowned. “Danny, if this is about something your parents invented, why not talk to Sam and Tucker? They know more about that stuff than I do.”

“It’s…not exactly that? It’s, uh….”

“Look, just why did you want to talk to me? It’s not that I don’t want to be your friend, but this doesn’t really seem like it involves me. I should be in school. You should probably be sleeping if you won’t go to a hospital. Y’know, to regain your strength.”

There was no easy way to say any of this. “I know your secret.”

She froze for a split second before forcing a smile. “It’s not really a secret anymore. Besides, I hardly have to do the mascot job now. I’ve got enough seniority that I’m usually on cash or in the back.”

“I don’t mean your job at the Nasty Burger.” He should just come out and say it. He should—

“I made you two some hot chocolate,” Lancer said, coming into the room with two steaming mugs topped with little marshmallows. He set them on the dresser. “I’ll be in the kitchen doing some marking if you need anything.”

They watched as he left, neither moving to grab the hot chocolate. Danny was tempted, but—

“This is weird,” Valerie said. “I mean, Mr. Lancer’s being nice and all, but it’s still weird. I’m just going to head back to school, okay? Call me after if you actually need something, and—”

“I know you’re the Red Huntress,” Danny said.

Valerie couldn’t school her expression quickly enough, but she still poured the incredulity into her voice as she asked, “Are you kidding? You think I’m the Red Huntress? I mean, I’m flattered, she’s awesome, but I barely have time to do my homework as it is.”

“You got your new suit from Technus,” Danny continued, “but Vlad still supplies all your weapons. And I’m assuming he empties your thermos, too. He’s got a ghost portal in his secret lab.”

Valerie stared at him. “Vlad. As in Vlad Masters? You think he has a secret lab with a ghost portal? Your parents are the ghost hunters, Danny, not him.”

“They worked together in college,” Danny said. “They thought Vlad gave it up after his accident, but he didn’t. He just focused on some other stuff for a while.” He took a slow breath and then chickened out rather than take this opportunity to spill everything. “I know the whole story, Valerie. Including why you started doing this in the first place. You don’t need to keep pretending.”

Valerie studied him in silence, maybe trying to figure out if she could convince him he was wrong. In the end, all she said was, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help when you got caught in that ghost fight.”

You were. “It, ah, wasn’t the kind of ghost fight that you’re thinking. Look, I know this is a lot to take in. I’ve known for a long time. Pretty much right from the start.”

“How? Who told you?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “No one really needed to tell me. And, uh, you should know that Lancer figured it out, too. When you came by this afternoon.”

Now her eyes were narrowed. “And what gave him that idea? That I’m the Red Huntress just because I dropped by to do some fundraising?”

Danny swallowed. “Because he knows—we both know—that that’s not why you really came. You’re looking for Phantom.”

Valerie straightened up, the last vestiges of her pretense dropping away completely. “He’s here, isn’t he? I knew it. My tracker’s never been that far off. He’s the one who told you two, isn’t he?” Perhaps catching the look on Danny’s face, she hastened to add, “It’s nothing personal, I swear. I know you think he’s a good ghost, but—”

“Valerie, the whole reason you’re hunting ghosts is because it’s personal. You think Phantom’s the reason your dad lost his job, and—”

“You don’t know the whole story,” Valerie interrupted. “You can’t, so don’t pretend you do. And it’s not just about Phantom. He’s not the only ghost in this town. He’s just the only one that’s convinced everyone else except your parents and Mr. Masters that he’s good.”

“Actually,” Danny said slowly, “you’re the one who doesn’t know the whole story.”

He wished he had the hot chocolate to hide behind now, but it was a good thing Valerie was empty-handed; she might be tempted to throw it on him otherwise. It wouldn’t stop her from calling up her suit and trying to shoot him, but hopefully the fact that this was Lancer’s house would if nothing else did. Maybe she’d just settle for screaming at him?

“What are you talking about? Of course I—”

“The thing is,” interrupted Danny, “you never let me tell it.”

“Just now?”

“Pretty much any time you saw me.” She was confused. He could see that easily enough. Confused and ready to protest. Again. And he…. He just had to say it. Say it and show her. “Cujo’s not my dog, and I never meant to ruin your life. I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m….” He’d come too far not to say it, but he found himself staring at his hands and unable to meet her eyes. “I’m Danny Phantom.”

Silence.

He risked looking up, only to see her staring at him. “I’m, uh, not kidding. I really am Phantom.”

Her expression gave away nothing, so he risked transforming.

It was the only thing he could do to show her, anyway. To prove that he was telling the truth. About everything.

Valerie’s expression tightened, her hands balling into fists, but she didn’t call out her suit. She didn’t try to shoot him.

She blinked.

Blinked again.

Abruptly stood up and left—fled—without a word.

Danny didn’t try to follow her. He just sat there, hoping she’d come back. When he heard Mr. Lancer down the hall, he knew she wasn’t. He got up, closed the bedroom door, and grabbed the two mugs of hot chocolate from the dresser. He kept one as he crawled back into bed and set the other on the bedside table, hoping the drinks would be distraction enough from what had happened.

The mug was lukewarm in his hands, but his insides were cold. He wasn’t particularly hungry anymore, but maybe this would warm him up. He just felt… He just needed something. Jazz would probably hug him, talk to him, but he wasn’t about to go out there and chase Valerie down. He’d rather ask for her forgiveness later. Sometime when he’d worked up the nerve to see her again and she’d actually want to see him again.

Danny took a sip of the hot chocolate. The marshmallows had melted into a sweet foam on top. Ordinarily, he’d like it, but now….

It was hard to keep his stomach from turning, given Val’s reaction.

After how Lancer had taken it, he’d hoped…. He’d hoped it wouldn’t be this bad. He’d hoped she’d at least talk to him, even if that talk had started with yelling.

But just leaving….

It was too easy to remember Spectra’s words. Too easy to be tempted to believe them.

Not a ghost, not a boy. A freak. Just some creepy little boy with creepy little powers.

Valerie must see him that way, and if she took it like this…. He’d have to do the damage control he could. Convince Lancer to give it up. Not keep pursuing this, wanting him to tell his parents or do something about Vlad. Things didn’t have to change. He didn’t…. He couldn’t….

The first tear dripped off his chin and into his hot chocolate.

By the time the last one fell, the drink in his hands was cold.

XXXXXX

Lancer had made a point of leaving the kids to themselves. He didn’t think he’d be a mediating force as much as an interference; the fact that he’d arranged everything, that this meeting was taking place on his terms at his house, should be mediation enough. If he gave them the time to sort this out for themselves, they could work through whatever needed to be worked through. Then, he could help them when they were ready for his help.

He only got halfway through the first essay before Miss Gray appeared at his side. A few tears tracked down her cheeks; most still gathered in her eyes, no doubt blurring her vision as she looked down at him. “Did you know?” she whispered.

He had perhaps misjudged the situation after all. Lancer gestured for Valerie to pull out a chair, and she did, barely looking as she flopped down. “I learned about your, ah, extracurricular activities less than an hour ago.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I’m afraid I only found out about Mr. Fenton’s condition this morning as well.” In truth, it hadn’t been long before Miss Gray had turned up on his doorstep, but it felt much longer.

Maybe he had pushed too hard, rushed this, but given the circumstances his students were facing, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

It was better that the truth came out now rather than in worse circumstances. Whatever Danny thought, he couldn’t keep his secret forever. From the rest of the world, sure, but those he interacted with so often? Particularly when he’d said his ghostly enemies were well aware of the situation? Not all the ghosts he faced would be so honourable as to respect his wishes. Sooner or later, one would come along which would use his secrecy against him.

As far as Lancer was concerned, Vlad Masters already was.

“Then you….” Valerie sniffed and wiped at her nose with the back of one hand. “Then you know what I’ve done. What I’ve been doing. I…I thought…. Why wouldn’t he just tell me? Explain? I wouldn’t have…. I wouldn’t….”

“I expect he was afraid,” Lancer murmured. He reached over to the counter for a box of tissues and passed them to Valerie. She took one and almost immediately needed another. “Not of you, Miss Gray. Not exactly. He was afraid to hope for the best. This means that he feared not being believed, that the misunderstandings would grow, or perhaps that people would be angry at him for keeping his secret as long as he did and not try to understand why he would make that choice. Perhaps most of all, he feared the consequences of hoping the truth would be well received and finding that hope misplaced.”

Valerie sniffled but said nothing.

“Some of his reasons for keeping his secrets,” added Lancer quietly, “might well align with yours.”

She stiffened but didn’t deny it, which confirmed his suspicion that very few people knew the identity of the Red Huntress.

“Another reason for wanting to keep his secret is that he didn’t want to hurt you with the truth.”

“That’s stupid,” Valerie said immediately. “I mean, I could’ve…. I almost….” She shook her head. “I need to tell my benefactor. He’ll…. He’ll be able to fix my stuff. Make sure it doesn’t hurt Danny. So I don’t do this again by mistake. I don’t…. I can’t hurt him. Not again.”

Lancer blinked. Danny hadn’t told her that Vlad—? “I’m afraid Mr. Masters is already aware of the situation.”

“What?” The news seemed to have shocked away her tears. “No, he can’t be. He’s only after ghosts. Danny’s human.” She hesitated. “Isn’t he?”

“He’s still human,” Lancer assured her. He didn’t know the details, but if nothing else, Danny was human in every way that mattered.

At least Valerie wasn’t trying to deny Vlad’s involvement. She no doubt correctly suspected that Danny had filled him in on that little tidbit after he’d deduced her identity. That was for the best; he’d like her cooperation moving forward.

“Then he can’t know. He wouldn’t…. He asked me to go after Phantom!”

“From what Danny tells me,” Lancer said quietly, “he is not the most scrupulous of people.” Cloning. Experimentation. He’d spare Valerie the details for now; she’d no doubt have questions he couldn’t answer. “You would have to ask Danny to explain what he can to you. In the grand scheme of things, I fear he’s told me very little.”

Valerie said nothing, focusing instead on stuffing the mound of damp tissues on her lap into a dry one, which she promptly shoved into her pocket.

At least it wasn’t another denial.

“I know this is a lot to take in.” Treasure Island, he knew. “It may be little comfort, but I called the school after you went in to talk to Danny. Your absence this afternoon is excused. I know you would likely prefer to clear your head, but if you’re willing, Danny could use our help.”

Her mouth twisted. “Right. Because he’s still recovering. From being in a ghost fight. Where he was the ghost.” She took a shuddering breath and wiped at her eyes. “Yeah. I’ll do whatever I can.”

-|-

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@cosmic-melodies 

[growntolovesecrecyfic]

Grown to Love Secrecy - Chapter One (Petekey)

Can be read here.

Summary:  Mikey Way hates Oscar Wilde but Pete Wentz convinces him to read The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Chapter One: All Art is Quite Useless

--

“Let’s fall in love for the summer.”

Mikey chokes on his spit and goes into a fit of coughs managing to squeak out a measly “What?” in between coughs.

Pete hands Mikey a can of Coke before responding, “Stop loving me in September.” Pete looks around before he pats and rubs Mikey’s back to ease the coughing a bit.

Mikey nods, taking a sip from Pete’s soda. His coughing calmed, he sucks in a deep breathe before saying, “I know what you said.” He stops for a moment to think, looking through the fence that separated the bands and the rest of Warped Tour. Admiring the orange and pink hue the sunset paints the field they’re in. He forgot which town they’re in and it’s only the fourth day.

He looks back at Pete who was picking at his lip while staring off into the distance. It’s a bad habit, they both know this, but they have worse habits to deal with.

Mikey sighs, grabbing Pete’s hand, “Hey, stop that.” Pushing his hand away from his mouth, his fingers quickly wrapping around Pete’s palm. Pete scans the area, giving Mikey’s hand a quick squeeze before placing a small peck to his lips. Mikey smiles, looking at the ground before back at Pete again.

“Yeah. Sure, I’m down,” His smile falters, looking away from Pete for a moment, “Only for the summer?” His eyes are back on Pete who’s now smiling, “Of course!” Pete pulls Mikey in a bit closer, indulging in Mikey and drinking in his scent of sweat and a hint of cologne before asking, “Why would it be longer?” He inspects the area once more before he uses his free hand to push Mikey’s hair out of his face, cupping his cheek and pulling Mikey in for a kiss.

Later that night, Mikey was deep in thought in his bunk on the My Chem tour bus, skimming through the pages of an old book he brought with him. He fingers the small tears at the corners of the hardcover book, the maroon cover with gold lettering was all too familiar yet the contents inside remained unread. He turns the book and reads the cover, his fingers feeling the golden indents on the leather.

The Picture of Dorian Gray.

He stole the book from his old job at Barnes and Noble. They weren’t fond of him asking for weeks off when performing across the East Coast with his band and their friends from Midtown. Fired after two years but at least he has this and their band name as a memory.

Not that he read the book or anything. He worked in the music section; books weren’t really his thing but something about this one caught his attention. Gerard had an Oscar Wilde phase during his last year of high school after reading The Canterville Ghost, so Mikey is somewhat familiar with the author.

He opens a random page and reads briefly before stopping and setting the book aside, letting out a long sigh. He curls up in himself, hugging his knees and staring at the page before his train of thought was interrupted by a light tapping on the wall outside his bunk beyond the thin, navy blue curtain.

He remains silent before a small voice spoke out, “Hey, Mikes? Are you there?”

It’s Gerard.

Mikey leans forward and pulls open the curtain, revealing his brother behind the navy shield.

“Can I come in?” Gerard asks and before Mikey could answer, he crawled in, making himself at home. Sitting against the wall next to Mikey, mimicking his position.

“Sure.” Mikey responds faintly in hopes of filling the silence that plagued the bunk and that part of the bus. The rest of the guys were probably out goofing off with Cortez or maybe at the front of the bus playing video games. Mikey didn’t know and frankly, didn’t care either.

The pair sit there for a while, simply enjoying each other’s company before Mikey notices Gerard’s gaze, silently cursing himself upon the realization that he’s reading the page that Mikey left off.

Gerard would constantly pester him to read the book and he never got around to it, ultimately convincing himself that at the age of 23 Oscar Wilde isn’t worth reading.

“Live. Live the wonderful life that is in you.” Gerard reads out loud, seemingly towards Mikey. Mikey just holds himself tighter, looking away from Gerard and the book.

He remains silent as Gerard reads him the rest of the passage.

“Be afraid of nothing,” Gerard finishes. Gerard grabs the book and closes it, looking over at Mikey. “What are you afraid of, Mikes?”

Mikey is suddenly filled with annoyance. He knows his brother means well but he really doesn’t want to answer, and he knows if he doesn’t Gerard will start asking questions. Ask him about where he was all day, why he’s so quiet, why is he finally reading Oscar Wilde after officially declaring his personal beef with the dead author while drunk after one of their shows a couple of years ago.

“The water and cutesy animated films.” Mikey answers and Gerard replies with an annoyed sigh. Mikey rolls his eyes, turning to meet the eyes of his brother for the first time since he got into the bunk.

“Where were you all day?” Gerard asks, “I know you’re old enough to watch over yourself, but I haven’t seen you since after our set.” Mikey looks away, he knows what’s coming next.

“Is it a girl?” Gerard asks his brother, gingerly placing a hand on Mikey’s shoulder.

Mikey frowned.

He knew his brother was the feminist type, often advocating for women’s rights on stage and in person. He always admired that about his brother, his courage. Just like how he wore makeup for the first time when him and his parents left to go to blockbuster when Gerard was 16, or how he would wear drag to school just for the hell of it or how Gerard would kiss Bert for the Taste of Chaos tour. That was a riot. Pissed off a lot of dudes from the scene but Gerard didn’t care.

He always knew his brother was brave like that, kissing and hugging dudes and holding them close and not being weird about it. He wishes he didn’t spend his first two years sleeping with every girl he could find to make up for the fact that he was questioning his sexuality.

The way he dressed and carried himself didn’t help either.

After the few incidents he was faced while on the bus, he decided that it’d be best if Gerard was his personal chauffeur rather than being asked by some older dude if he’d like to have a “good time” with him and some of his buddies at some shady club.

But that’s beside the point.

“No.” He answered coldly.

He was close with Gerard, yes, but he hadn’t talked to Gerard about his sexuality crisis. He knew that Gerard would understand but he’s not sure if he’s comfortable enough to talk about it himself. He didn’t want to push the responsibility on Gerard for him to deal with and then run off to whatever new problem or crisis is in his life.

“Then what is it?” Gerard’s voice was tight, and he was closer now.

Here goes nothing.

“It’s not a girl.”

Gerard was about to ask another question before Mikey cut him off.

“I was spending the day with Pete.” He started to stammer, “And uhm, He uh, he asked me if I could… uh.” Mikey was having some second thoughts, unsure if he could finish his sentence then Bob interrupted their conversation and Mikey thanked the God that he no longer believes in.

“Hey, Toro and Frank are wondering if you guys wanna stop at a 7/11 for some slurpees. We have the entire day tomorrow before we need to be at Dallas.” He asked the pair, his hands occupied with poker chips in one and Ray’s blue DS in another.

Mikey was quick to answer, “Sure.” Quickly getting up and out of the bunk, leaving Gerard behind with Bob.

“Tell me something, Frank,” Gerard asks his best friend who’s occupied with stuffing candy bars in a slurpee cup.

“Mmm, something.”

Gerard grumbles and Frank snickers at his annoyance.

“Ugh, no. I was talking to Mikey earlier and he was talking to me about Pete and how he asked him to do something, but Bob interrupted us before he could say anything.” Gerard crossed his arms, carefully watching his brother and the other bassist fuck with the nacho cheese machine, laughing amongst themselves and Gerard swore that there was a moment between them. He knew he had to get to the bottom of it.

“Well, I mean, do you think it’s anything important?” Frank asked as he attempted to shove another bag of skittles in the cup, completely oblivious to the pair that Gerard is watching.

“I think so. He was stressed earlier, and I didn’t think we wanted to tell me anything in the first place.” His eyes were off Mikey and Pete now as he didn’t want to be accused of anything later.

“Then don’t bother him.” Frank says bluntly, grabbing another cup for an actual slurpee while Gerard follows him to the machine.

“Why? He obviously seems bothered. Do you think Pete’s bothering him?” Gerard looks back at the pair who were now in the chip aisle, Pete picking for them both it seems.

Frank turns to look at Gerard, “Dude, he’s not 19 anymore and even if he was, you have to stop treating him like a child. Him and Pete seem perfectly fine. Maybe Pete asked him to play a show for them or something and was nervous to ask you if he could practice with them instead? And even if it wasn’t that. It’s totally fine. You know Mikey, he doesn’t get hurt easily.”

Gerard was a bit stunned by Frank’s response and just stared at Frank as he filled his cup with cherry-flavored slurpee. He knows he’s right, but he can’t help but worry about Mikey sometimes. He is a bit reckless but an adult. If he needs help, he’ll ask.

The two bands meet up at the cash register, their bassists in the back of the group while the others talk. Their chatter filling a mostly empty 7/11 while Pete and Mikey stand close together, their pinkies locked as they drink their slurpees feeling like the only people in the world.

[lexfritterwrites]

Let Lips Do What Hands Do - Part 11

Y’all, I haven’t posted in here since they updated it so everything might be terrible. Anyway, I’ll do my best. You can always catch me on AO3. 

previous

It's April, and Addie feels like crying most days. In fact, she actually has cried for the past eleven days — once in the shower, twice over her cup of tea and the other times where when she was in bed alone. Taron's been filming in Ireland for three weeks, and it's a glimpse at how life would be if they were to stay together in all the madness.

 "Sad again, huh?" Jack says, catching the gray look in her eyes. "I feel I should be offended you're not that upset about leaving me."

 Addie throws a sugar packet at him, hitting her mark on his cheek. "I know things between us won't change when I leave. You'll just be a phone call away."

 "Taron will too."

 "That's different. I don't think I like this ache, this pain." Addie absently stirs her tea. "In the words of Elphaba, 'If that's love, it comes at much too high a cost.'"

 "You know she ends up with the scarecrow at the end of that musical, right? I mean, we saw it together. I wrote a review which you edited."

 Addie rolls her eyes, too done to deal with Jack today.

 "I love him, you know. And to think we won't be together because of our location, I think I would rather not be with him at all."

 "Your call," Jack says. "I know you're scared but I think the two of you could make it work, and that's coming from a guy who stays away from relationships. You don't have to split because you're half a world away."

 "What if he meets the one but can't act on it because of me? Or what if he does act on it and I'm left devastated? It's a real poop chute."

 "It'll work out, Addie," Jack says, covering her hand with his own. "It'll work out."

 Addie slumps and rests her head on the table. "Why?"

 Jack gently musses her hair. "You didn't not date for years while you were here and the first guy you do consider turns out to be fuckin' perfect. You really know how to pick them."

 Addie laughs, feeling a little lighter at the thought.

   It's her whole year on display, the premiere of the students' films adapted from classic novels. Four fully written, produced and edited films will be turned in with her thesis, but the gala tonight will only feature twenty minutes from each with the students having a few moments to present before their film. It's an affair she's invited the whole school to as well as their family and friends, and even though Jack is by her side, the one person she wants to be there most isn't. Taron's caught filming in Ireland; Addie understands but still doesn't enjoy it.

 "Look at what you've done," Jack says, watching the rows of students talk excitedly amongst themselves, no doubtedly ready to display their hard work. "Not even a full teacher yet and you've got them inspired. That's a noble thing."

 Addie squeezes his hand. She takes the microphone and heads to the center of the stage. Pausing a moment before delivering the introduction she's prepared, she smiles. The kids eagerly sitting before her are a tribute to her and her hard work and creativity, and this life is about her just as much as it is Taron.

 She takes her seat next to Jack as the first group's film rolls across the screen, an updated retelling of Sense and Sensibility. It's funny, well thought and inclusive of the community, what with Edward Ferris having evolved into Edwina and Colonel Brandon an Indian man in the British navy. Everyone claps as the students presenting The Picture of Dorian Gray take the stage. Addie's phone buzzes in her pocket and she risks a quick chance to look at it.

 Can we watch the full-length versions this weekend? - T

 Sure, if you want. - A

 I do! At least that one. I'm dying to see how they did the marriage proposals. - T

 Addie whips her head around, looking to see him somewhere. There are faces illuminated by the screen but then she sees him, sitting on the edge of the row with his hood pulled up over his head; no doubt he didn't want to be recognized. He waves slightly when he sees her, and Addie smiles.

 He came after all.

 I'm so happy you're here! - A

 I'm really glad I could make it. Will sneak to bar at end so as not to detract. - T

 Sounds perfect. - A

 Thank you for coming. - A

 Addie is extremely proud of everything the students accomplished, and the cooking class made a giant cake for the ocassion. She sneaks a piece for Taron in her bag, poses for pictures with the kids, compliments the parents for raising some great hopes for the future, and then she's dashing out the door.

 "Adelaide, you're incredible!" Taron says, standing up from the table. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek.

 "I can't believe you're here," she says, her face buried in his neck. "How'd you manage?"

 "Flew in this afternoon," he says. "Wanted to surprise you."

 "I'm very surprised," she says. "Very happy, too."

 Taron kisses the side of her head before pulling away to point her to a secluded booth. "I want to hear all about the rest of the videos. When can we watch them?" He holds her hand across the table, leaning towards her.

 Addie bites the inside of her lip, studying him. "What's wrong?"

 "What?" Taron asks, shifting backwards. Addie knows she was right to expect something.

 "Taron, I know you," she says quietly. "I know when something's up. What is it?"

 "No, Adelaide. I came here to celebrate you and the work you've done and I don't want it spoiled."

 "I feel like it's already spoiled if you don't tell me what's going on. Is everyone okay? Your mom and the girls? Your dad?"

 "Everyone's fine." He exhales loudly, looking at the table. "It's two more weeks."

 "Oh." Addie sags against the cushion. "Oh."

 Taron rubs her knuckles with his thumb. "I know it's really shitty, but it is what it is."

 "It's okay," Addie manages over the lump of emotion lodged in her throat. She feels like she's gagging but it's just the thought of his absence for another two weeks just a couple of months before she's supposed to move back to the United States. "You chase your dream and I'll chase mine."

 "Thus, though we cannot make our sun stand still, yet we will make him run."

 Addie snorts, swiping a tear off her cheek. "Marvell. Good choice."

 "Anyway," Taron says. "We've got tonight."

 "Bob Seger, a modern poet."

 It's Taron's turn to laugh now and he shakes his head. "Seriously though, can I take you out to dinner and then stay up with you all night watching the work of your students?"

 "Yes, I would like that."

 "Good," Taron says, moving quickly from the table. He drops a note on its surface and helps Addie back into her coat.

 "Can I make an amendment to the plan though?"

 "What's that?"

 "Can we just pick something up and take it home? I really don't need an audience to just want to be with you and I'm wearing Spanx so I'd really like to get out of them and into my pajamas."

 "Deal," he says. "You look bloody gorgeous but comfortable is something I also enjoy. Your place or mine?"

 "Mine is closer but you have a better TV so let's do that."

 "Sounds perfect," he says. He could offer to run back by hers so she can gather things, but he knows everything she needs is available at his. Tucking her beneath his arm, he kisses the side of her head — she'd taken the news of his delay better than he would have expected.

 They're curled up in his bed and halfway through the updated retelling of Frankenstein when Addie stretches her fingers across his chest.

 "What is it, cariad?" Taron asks, shifting his eyes. He can see the crown of her head and the tip of her nose, and he can see her fingers flex against his shirt.

 "I'm thinking about us."

 "Oh?"

 She pauses the video and sits up, and it's then he sees the tears in her eyes. "I think when I leave, that should be our end."

 "Adelaide." He bolts upright and reaches for her, but his fingers don't actually land anywhere. He can't touch her now.

 "Being apart from you these past few weeks has been hell. I never thought I would be someone to feel this way about anybody, but here we are. I'm exhausted. It feels like a piece of me is missing when you're gone, like smiles are less genuine and laughter does little for my soul. I can't imagine living my life for extended amounts of time without you, feeling this way. So if we just enjoy the time we have left and part as companions who once loved each other, I think that would be better."

 "Do I not get a say in this decision?" He asks softly, his chest tight and his jaw returning to a painful clench.

 "Of course you do," she sighs. "But what is the logical outcome of this?"

 "Fuck this. You can sleep in the guest room tonight." Taron moves in a flash, storms into the bathroom and slams the door shut.

 "Taron! Taron, no!" Addie frantically scrambles off the bed and futilely twists the doorknob. "Taron! Taron, please."

 She can hear the shower running and she sinks to the floor. She knew she shouldn't have said anything.

   Taron finds her half an hour later curled up on the floor with her cheeks red and eyes blotchy. He wants to be angry, he can feel the cold inside him wanting to push her away, but he can't.

 "Addie, come on," he says, gently collecting her in his arms and setting her upright. "I'm hurting too, you know."

 She nods blearily as he leads her back to bed. "I didn't mean to ruin what we have now. I feel like shit, and now I really feel like sh—"

 "Addie, I know," Taron says. "What you're saying makes sense, but it really fucking sucks when it's said out loud. You would rather be without me than be far away and with me, and I suppose that makes sense. Your chances of moving on are better if you're not thinking about some loyalty to me."

 "Me moving on?" She laughs. Taron thinks her crying must have left her too weary to think properly. "It's you. You'll move on long before I will and I don't want you to be stuck with me."

 "That doesn't matter," he says, taking her hand. "I think you're right though. We have a few good weeks left together and we should spend them as happily as we can. Let's not fight or what-if ourselves anymore. You're here, I'm here, and we should let that be enough for now. I can't think on it anymore."

 "Is it really okay?"

 "For now." He wipes a tear from her cheek, knowing his own should be joining it had he not just cried in the shower. "Let's go to sleep and sleep very late into the morning beside each other."

   Taron bites his nail, a habit he'd gotten into since ditching cigarettes; his teeth weren't thanking him but his lungs certainly were.

 "There he is," Jack says, pulling out the chair across from Taron and sinking into it. "Mr. Egerton."

 "Jack," Taron says, shaking his hand. "I wanted to talk to you about Addie."

 "I figured," Jack says. "She told me about her plans of departure."

 "Yeah, and it's not good. How do I get her to stay?"

 “You don’t."

 "Jack, please," Taron says, rubbing his forehead. "I can't have her leave."

 "And you can't have her stay either." Jack says softly. "I know you love her, Taron, as do I, but I also know she won't stay. She'll come to regret the decision as well as you if she stays. Going back to Washington has been her goal for six years. It's all she's worked for and all she's wanted. You need to let her go."

 "Can you?"

 Jack snorts his laugh. "I don't have a choice."

 "We could talk to her together."

 "That's not going to work."

 Taron drops his head to the table, his chest feeling unbelievably tight. "I don't know what to do."

 "Taron, there's an obvious solution here."

 "What's that?"

 "Go with her."

 Taron grunts. "You and I both know that's not logical."

 "So what? You can't do for her what you want her to do for you just because you're a famous actor who happens to make more money?" Jack leans back in his chair. He's really liked Taron, like him for Addie, and he needs Taron to see the sense in this before his like gives into loathing. "You're not giving up her dream so don't let her give up hers."

 "She's your best friend. How can you be so calm?" Taron crosses his arms in front of him, elbows still on the table, and he lets his chin fall to rest against them.

 "Addie is more than a best friend to me," Jack says. "I truly believe she is my person, even if there's no romance. Addie wasn't even supposed to be born, yet here she is. Incredibly determined, driven and happy."

 "I know that." Taron leans onto his cheek.

 "I know you do," Jack says patiently. "That's part of the reason you love her." He reaches across the table and squeezes Taron's shoulder. "You have to let her go."

 "Why is that the only option?" Taron moans, rhetorically putting the words into the universe.

 Jack chuckles as he leans back in his chair. "That's the only way she'll come back."

 "You think she'll come back?"

 "I hope so," Jack says. "For both our sakes."

 Taron laughs. He'll have to make time for Jack when Addie is gone.

 He finds her asleep on the couch when he returns home, and he gently brushes a hand across her face.

 She opens one eye to look and smiles when she sees him. “I must have dozed off.”

 “Yeah,” he says softly. It spreads through him, a calm peace. She is leaving to pursue her dreams, and there is nothing he can do to stop her, nor would he want to. He kisses her tenderly, finally accepting it. “You want to go take a nap upstairs?”

 “That sounds nice,” she says, sitting up next to him. “Hey, are you okay?”

 Taron smiles and kisses her again. “I’m totally fine. I just really love you.”

 Addie’s laugh warms him and she leans her head against his shoulder. “I love you, too.”

 Taron takes her hand and quietly leads her upstairs.

[herenya-writes]

Was tagged by @forgotten-envies for this tag game. Warning, it’s a long one.

your name and then what you would have named yourself: Name’s Jessi (short for Jessica). I think I would have named myself after a tree or plant. Like Aspen or something. I really like tree names.

astrological sign (sun/moon/rising if you know them): I’m a Virgo. That’s all I know lol. I’ve never really identified with it much—I’m just not a nice/gentle enough person for it.

when did you join tumblr and why?: I joined a little over a year ago because I wanted to get involved with the Star Trek fandom. I started writing fanfic for Star Trek pretty soon after I watched TOS, and I wanted a platform to interact with other fic writers and my readers.

top 5 fandoms: Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, Stormlight Archives, Star Wars, and the Witcher.

top 5 favorite films: Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, The Voyage Home, Pride and Prejudice, The Princess Bride, and Phantom of the Opera

go to song when you wanna Feel something: “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet

what’s your religion or faith if you have one?: Good question!

a song that makes you feel seen: “She Used To Be Mine” by Sara Bareilles

if you could have any career: Any career? Something in space for sure, especially if it involved discovery of distant planets or functioning as some kind of ambassador to aliens. More realistically, a professor of English and Literature somewhere, with an emphasis on how science fiction reflects humanity.

do you have a type?: I want to say no, but I bet I do. I mean, I’m demi, so it’s more of a personality thing with me, but it varies from person to person. People who give good hugs/cuddles are high on the metaphorical list though!

what does your heart/soul yearn for: To be remembered when I’m gone. I want my name—or at least my deeds—to be spoken of in generations. I want to do something meaningful with my life.

if you had to describe yourself in 5 words to someone who doesn’t know you: sarcastic, writer, observant, nerdy, passionate (wow that sounds really lame idk man)

favorite subjects in school: English by far, although I also enjoy history (specifically World History) and Physics.

where does your soul feel most at home: Curled up on the couch surrounded by my family with a fire going. We don’t have to be talking. just existing in the same space in comfort and love is enough.

top 5 fictional characters: Kaladin Stormblessed, Spock, Aragorn, Obi-Wan, and Elizabeth Bennet. (That is a very male-dominated list, which I have some thoughts about, but I’m not gonna derail this post.)

top 3 moments in a show that made you ugly cry: Hmm. I don’t cry very much...I cried when Spock died in The Wrath of Khan, I might have cried when the Fellowship parted ways in The Return of the King, and I definitely cried at some point while watching the Clone Wars, although I can’t pin down a specific moment.

the earth, the sun, the moon or the stars: The Stars.

favorite kind of weather: Thunderstorms with heavy rain and plenty of lightning.

top 3 characters you kin with: Idk. Spock, I guess. Annabeth Chase (more when I was younger, but yeah), and Mr. Darcy maybe?

favorite medium of art: Books. Although I really like traditional paintings that utilize a lot of different textures.

introvert/extrovert/ambivert: Introvert.

a favorite literary quote: You want me to just choose one??? I don’t think I can do that... How about “The purpose of a storyteller is not to tell you what to think but to give you something to think upon” from The Way of Kings (I think) by Brandon Sanderson

some of your favorite books: Mistborn, The Way of Kings, and the Alloy of Law all by Brandon Sanderson; Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen; The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde; and The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

if you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?: Somewhere with a forest where the leaves change color in the fall and there’s a mountain nearby. Not in the city, but not too far either. 

if you could live in any time in history when would it be?: Probably the Renaissance, which is likely a basic answer.

if you could play any instrument masterfully it would be: Well, I play the clarinet moderately well, but I would love to be able to play the cello masterfully.

if you have one, what mythological god or goddess do you feel a connection to: Hmmm. Once upon a time I would have answered Athena without hesitation, and I suppose that’s still somewhat true, but I’m not sure.

and lastly, favorite recent selfie in your camera roll: 

The screen protector in front of my selfie camera is broken, which is why there’s that weird lighting lol

[mortuarybees]

What books do you recommend me to read?

I’m not sure what your tastes are but I’ll tell you some of my favorites! To be quite honest, I mainly return to the same books over and over again so the list is rather short and I doubt I have anything to recommend that you won’t have heard of already. I’ll recommend my favorites. It consists mainly of my usual rotation of things i read over and over or books that left an impression on me and I refer back to them often.

When it comes to the non-fiction section just like….keep in mind that most academic texts have many, many problems and I’m not presenting any of the texts I list as The Quintessential Must Read Best Flawless Overview of a topic, I’m mainly listing the books I have found to be approachable and reasonable introductions to topics. Read everything critically, always (and that includes everything else on this list, not just the non-fiction).

Plays:

An Oresteia, translated by Anne Carson (Aeschylus’ Agamemnon, Sophocles’ Elektra, Euripides’ Orestes)

Iphigenia in Tauris by Euripides

I mean like. Shakespeare, obviously; my personal favorites are Hamlet, Twelfth Night, As You Like It, Julius Caesar, and Macbeth; recently, thanks to the productions starring David Tennant, Much Ado About Nothing and Richard II have been added to the list

Doctor Faustus, Edward II, and Dido by Christopher Marlowe

Antigone, particularly Anne Carson’s translation, and after you’ve read Antigone, I’d recommend reading Antigonick, but not before

Lysistrata by Aristophanes

The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde (I feel like Lady Windermere’s Fan is also kind of necessary reading and I do love it of course but I’ve only read it the once, for the sake of it, whereas I’ve come back to the Importance of Being Earnest a million times and the 2002 movie is one of the things I watch when I’m down)

Novels (and Epics)

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett if you haven’t yet, obviously

Maurice by E. M. Forster

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

VIRGINIA WOOLF. everything but particularly the Waves, Orlando, and Mrs. Dalloway. The Waves is my favorite, followed closely by Orlando, but I’d start with the Mrs. Dalloway because it gets you accustomed to Woolf’s writing style and the way she approaches her characters if you haven’t read her before.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (If you haven’t read it yet and you have seen 2005 P&P and love it and you’re opening the novel with the expectation that it’s similar to the 2005 film in tone and feel, you’ll be disappointed. If you’ve seen the 1995 miniseries, that reflects it very well. So just approach it with an open mind with 2005 on the back burner and you’ll find it an amazing and very repressed love story)

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh

When the Moon Was Ours by Anna-Marie McLemore

The Iliad (the translation I own is Lombardo. It’s extremely approachable and colloquial and I enjoy it, and if you’ve never read the Iliad and you find it intimidating, I would very much recommend it, but my high opinion is not universal. Fagles and Lattimore are very popular translations and I like them both well enough)

I’m dying to get a copy of Emily Wilson’s Odyssey translation. I don’t love the Odyssey personally but I am a big fan of Wilson and from what I’ve read about her translation and what she’s said about it, if anything could make me enjoy the Odyssey, it would be that translation.

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller. I would personally recommend reading the Iliad first just because Miller takes…….liberties with it, but I also don’t think there’s a problem with that at all, so if you’re not interested in the Iliad, or you think tsoa would get you interested in it, there’s nothing at all wrong with reading it on its own or reading it first. I just think it’s a genuinely more enjoyable experience to read the Iliad first and then see what Miller does with it. And regardless of what order you read them in, if you read them both you will understand how very different tsoa and the Iliad are from one another and you will not be one of those people who talks about the Iliad when what they mean is tsoa. Again, there’s nothing wrong with tsoa, it’s one of my favorite novels, but it’s just a very separate thing and it gets just a little maddening.

Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson. It’s both poetry and a novel but it’s got to go somewhere so

When I was 14 I got very into Les Mis and i will recommend it. I genuinely love it and it will always have a special place in my heart. I have read the entire brick only once however because as much as i love it. as much as i Relate to the infamous off-topic tangents. there is a limit to my patience.

The Epic of Gilgamesh is just like. extremely good. I really don’t know enough about it to recommend any specific translations; in high school I was given a stapled copy of the whole thing and I read that til I lost it and now if I want to reread it or refer back I just look it up online. I’m a fake fan.

Poetry

If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho translated by Anne Carson

The Beauty of the Husband by Anne Carson

Devotions, Felicity, and Winter Hours by Mary Oliver. Those are the anthologies that I have read and I adore them. I imagine that all of her anthologies are also amazing and all of them are on my to-read list. I don’t think you could possibly go wrong

I do not have the singular published collection of Elizabeth Siddal’s poetry (My Ladys Soul) but I have read all of her poetry and she is an amazing poet and I hold her very near and dear to my heart

Crush by Richard Siken

Useless Magic by Florence Welch……..yall knew what you came here for

Songs of Innocence and Experience by William Blake

Non-fiction and Essay Collections (again. None of these are recommended as the definitive, end all, be all, all-you-need book on any given subject, they’re just some of my favorites). I have limited myself to collection specifically because this is long enough already and if I start just adding essays it’ll never end. All of these were either purchased online for under $10, are available somewhere on the internet as pdfs, or were at my library, so if you look, you can probably find them somewhere (I say this bc while trying to find the authors of some of these I have been stunned by their retail prices and I’m assuring you, don’t be scared off by your initial search bc I sure as fuck did not pay $30):

Citizens: A Chronicle of the French Revolution by Simon Schama

Marie Antoinette: the Journey by Antonia Fraser (controversial but well-researched and approachable and I love it. I would recommend reading like. almost anything else first because Fraser does obviously focus on Marie Antoinette and her life and experiences; and while she does talk about the revolution, it isn’t the focus of this biography, and you won’t understand why it was necessary if you don’t come to it with a good grasp on the broader events outside Marie Antoinette).

A Day with Marie Antoinette by Hélène Delalex

Robespierre: a Revolutionary Life and Liberty or Death: the French Revolution by Peter McPhee

The Black Jacobins: Toussaint L’Ouverture and the San Domingo Revolution by C.L.R. James

If you’re at all interested in 18th century art, I recommend Rococo to Revolution:Major Trends in Eighteenth-Century Painting by Michael Levey

A People’s History of the United States by Howard Zinn is controversial. But it’s approachable and well-researched and if you don’t know a lot about American history, I recommend it highly (especially for Americans).

Eros, the Bittersweet by Anne Carson (okay literally everything by Anne Carson. All her essays, her poetry, her translations, her weird mashups, all of it. There are a few things I haven’t read yet but. I very much doubt you’re going to be able to go wrong, so just take what I’ve listed as my favorites)

This Changes Everything: Capitalism vs. The Climate and the Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein

Black Against Empire: The History and Politics of the Black Panther Party by Joshua Bloom

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: and Other Lessons from the Crematory and From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death by Caitlin Doughty (also the illustrations by Landis Blair are absolutely phenomenal. Look at this. I love it so much I pulled it out of the book to hang in my momento mori corner because it’s so beautiful.)

The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan

Alexander of Macedon by Peter Green is. okay we have a love-hate relationship, me and this biography; me, and peter green, but I have major issues with every single Alexander biography I’ve read and this was the first so if you want to start somewhere, I guess go for it.

The Empathy Exams by Leslie Jamison

The Honey Bee by James L. Gould. It’s out of date in some respects but a good, simple introduction into honeybee biology and behavior

Before the Deluge: A Portrait of Berlin in the 1920s by Otto Friedrich

Vanishing Bees: Science, Politics, and Honeybee Health by Sainath Suryanarayanan and Daniel Kleinman

Out of the Past: Gay and Lesbian History from 1869 to the Present by Neil Miller

Holy Madness by Adam Zamoyski isn’t by any means perfect, but it’s a alright introduction to the Age of Revolution. Just don’t let it be the only thing you read. It’s here because it has a special place in my heart as my introduction to it.

Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

Erotic Exchanges: the World of Elite Prostitution in 18th Century Paris by Nina Kushner

Radical Love: Introduction to Queer Theology by Patrick S. Cheng

Our Lives Matter: A Womanist queer Theology by Pamela R. Lightsey

Our Native Bees: North America’s Endangered Pollinators and the Fight to Save Them by Paige Embry

At the Existentialist Café by Sarah Bakewell (I really do not know that much about philosophy or existentialism specifically or this subject generally, so I have no idea where the faults of this book are, but I really enjoyed reading it and it made me think a lot. I have a feeling it’s very simplified so take it with a grain of salt as I did?)

Walden by Henry David Thoreau (just. just. it’s enjoyable but don’t get too into it please for the love of God). My copy (and I think most copies?) includes his essay Civil Disobedience as well which is very good.

Never Caught: The Washingtons’ Relentless Pursuit of Their Runaway Slave by Ona Judge

The Uninhabitable Earth by David Wallace-Wells

The Diaries of Virginia Woolf: I’m currently in the midst of volume 2 (1920-1924). They’re very enjoyable, but they’re something of an undertaking as all diaries are if you aren’t already very familiar with the biography of the person in question, so like. If you find yourself moving slowly don’t worry about it.

Gay Berlin: Birthplace of a Modern Identity by Robert Beachy

To Be Broken and Tender: A Quaker Theology for Today by Margery Post Abbott

The New Jim Crow byMichelle Alexander

The Environmental Case: Translating Values into Policy by Judith A. Layzer is a textbook that was assigned to me in my Enviornmental Policy class last semester and I really fkcing enjoyed it. It’s a book of case studies in environmental policy and it’s dense at times, but really interesting and enjoyable.

The Second Amendment: a Biography by Michael Waldman

Michelangelo’s Notebooks: the Poetry, Letters, and Art of the Great Master by Carolyn Vaughan. Just like. Genuinely. Genuinely. unintentionally hilarious. but also sometimes very sad, and very gay. I just adore Michelangelo. Just a shy foul-tempered repressed disaster. Jesus Christ.

[romanticisation]

Quarantine Survey 🤍

Thank you, @poetruusic, for tagging me in this cute little survey!

1. Where are you isolated? (Country or city too if you like)

I’m home with my family, in the small city in southern Germany I still call home. I’m so glad to be here, with people I love (although they often are annoying) and a lot of nature to escape to. I couldn’t bear being alone in my dorm room right now!

2. What are you currently reading or watching?

I’m reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, which I love, but I’ve been putting off reading for a while now, so this is a good reminder!

3. If you can go outside, what do you like to do during this time?

I’m rollerskating almost daily now, and it’s giving me the most joy one could imagine. It makes me feel free when I’m otherwise confined to the house, and it feels so rewarding to get better and learn new tricks every day.

4. Any fascinating concept you’re studying?

I’m taking lectures on Comparative Politics and on the EU this semester, as well as a seminar looking at the EU from a Comparative Politics viewpoint, and it’s so nice how these different courses complement each other, and how the things we learn in each of them tie together!

5. What kinds of acts of creativity/forms of art are you currently doing?

My friend and I are working on an online zine, and it’s extremely exciting! I’ve been wanting to do something like that for a long time and I’m so happy to be working on it with her, as her way of thinking often inspires me! And by the way, iIf anyone wants to submit something hmu!

6. A song/s that resonates with your state of mind at the moment?

Not really a song that captures my current state of mind, but I was really moved by Dance with Me by beabadoobee recently (and some of her others songs as well):

If you wanna dance / Then dance with me / It’s pretty fast / But this is what you do at parties, right? / And I know it’s hard to tell / But I think I really like you

It filled me with a weird nostalgia for being a teenager in high school, made me long for the innocent teenage romance I never had...

7. Favourite impulsive/’bad’ coping techniques?

I play a lot of games on my phone at the moment... Mostly Animal Crossing Pocket Camp, so at least it’s cute!

This was so much fun! I’m tagging @stardoused, @gaykilljoys, @cottagecore-peach, @wee-lightning-bug and, as always, whoever else wants to do it. (Seriously, just pretend I tagged you!)

[mountainmaven]

1, 2, 4, 14, 29, and 48, for the 50 Bookish Questions post.

oooh Thank you!!!

1. What is your favourite book and/or book series of all time? Okay favorite book of all time is The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. Favorite series is a little harder because I like a lot of them but some top picks would be: Little House series by Laura Ingalls Wilder, Fablehaven by Brandon Mull, The Parasol Protectorate series by Gail Carriger, The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis, and the trilogy The Obsidian Chronicles by Lawrence Watt-Evans.

2. What is the longest book you have ever read? How many pages? Okay I’m only going to go by the books that are a single story (not omnibuses, short story or poetry collections etc.) and I think the winner for that would be The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley which is 876 pages.

4. What is a book series that everyone else loves but you do not? I can’t think of an answer for this because of all the really big popular series I’ve seen on Tumblr (ACOTAR for example) I haven’t read any of them. Oh wait - and man this is hard to say publicly knowing the popularity of them and the flogging I may get... I am not a fan of Tolkein’s Hobbit and Lord of the Rings series *ducks to avoid things being thrown at her* I like the stories like when people talk about the books and tell me about them and watching the movies but I did not like the books at all (it’s a writing style thing).

14. What book gives you happy memories? The Little House Series which is probably one of the reasons it’s one of my favorite series. I mean it’s a favorite because they’re just good stories that are told well. But I have a very vivid memory of one summer in elementary school and going to the library every day to check out books and that was the summer I first read those books. Mom and I would sit at home and read all day (after I got back from the library) and we’d read until just before dad was due home from work and then we’d get up race around and do any straightening up, start dinner etc. That and our cups of tea at the end of schoo/work days later in my high school years are some of my fondest memories of just me and my mom.

29. What book are you currently reading? I’m currently reading The Sun Down Motel by Simone St. James. I’m also reading Essential Zen Habits by Leo Babauta. 

48. What book made you angry? This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper. I’ll put the rest under a read more just in case of spoilers (and because of triggers) but this book pissed me off more than any other has. (tw rape)

There is a scene in the book where the male protagonist is raped by his sister-in-aw because she wants to get pregnant and she can’t get pregnant by her husband (protag’s brother). I’ve talked to so many people who disagree that the scene is not rape.  But he explicitly said NO at least twice that I can remember and she continued to have sex with him. And it was just glossed right over and never even discussed again or brought up or addressed in any way in the book.  But because he’s a man and she’s a woman, and because he got aroused so many people don’t consider that rape and I disagree most vehemently.

Thank you again for asking!!!!