#god that edit also helped get me through living in a scary house last year

[bardengarde]

BJ Hunnicutt "so nice" fancam is my best friend

[tsukiihime]

Heartbreak (Bakugou x Reader), (Shinsou x Reader) Part 2

The second part to the fic I wrote, this will probably be my last post for another week since I have school to catch up on. Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Angst, a bit more fluff on Shinsou’s end, drinking

Taglist: @sugarandsoft

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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It’s three in the morning, and Bakugou can’t sleep.

He’s beyond pissed at himself for staying up this late, but he can’t help it - he’s been in bed since nine and he can’t get you out of his mind. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you stormed out of the apartment. He regrets not chasing after you, he loathes himself for being such a dick and he hates himself for even letting his stupid agency dictate his personal life. He wants to tell you so bad that you’re wrong, that beating Deku doesn’t mean a damn thing to him if it means he has to lose you. He wants to hear your voice so bad it hurts. He knows you’ll be going to Shinsou - you always do when you have a bad fight. He knows you’ll be safe there, but he feels like such a fool. He let you walk out in the rain on your own. What a hero he turned out to be. 

Bakugou spends the night alternating between flipping through the endless channels on the living room TV and staring at the ceiling. Every time he closes his eyes he sees your face - anger boiling your blood, disbelief painting your features as he fights with you, tears staining your cheeks. He feels sick to his stomach imagining you walking in the cold as you leave the apartment, sniffling as you make your way out in the rain. He wants to call you to explain himself.

But he doesn’t. His pride won’t let him.

It’s his pride that makes him trudge out to bars with Denki, Mina, and Sero the next day after you leave - he needs alcohol in his system to numb himself from the thought of you. Anyone will do if it warms his bed and makes your face disappear for even a second. God, he never thought he would be so hung up on you. He downs beer after beer, dances with woman after woman. Names and faces blur together as a cacophony of voices plays in his head. 

He ends up taking someone home that night - he couldn’t remember her even if he tried. He takes her back to the apartment you shared and pushes her onto the bed you shared. He kisses her collarbone and up her neck, but he’s aiming for your favorite spots instead of hers. The image of you overlaps with her, and he sees your figure beneath him instead of some stranger. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s his broken heart playing tricks on him.

He kisses her, imagining it’s your scent he’s breathing in rather than the vanilla and booze she smells of. He pictures your arms wrapping around his neck, your lips on his. She says his name, like honey on her lips, whispers it into his ear. And if he tries hard enough, he can twist her voice in his head to sound like you.

“Katsuki, I love you.” He hears it over and over, sees your smile and hears your laugh. “Katsuki, I love you.”

He makes her leave after that. She’s upset but he is too - an argument ensures and she storms out, leaving behind her underwear in her hurry to leave. 

He doesn’t notice. He’s too busy thinking of you.

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It’s been three weeks since your breakup with Bakugou. 

The news stations and gossip websites have been flooded with reports of Camie and Katsuki - neither have said anything about their relationship and the speculation of if they are or aren’t a couple is driving everyone wild. Thankfully, the people who were leaving awful comments have long since left you alone, prompting you to turn your Instagram to private and changing your username so they can’t find you easily. 

You’ve been avoiding social media like the plague, ignoring all television interviews that involve either Bakugou or Camie - you’ve learned your lesson from the night of the Hero Rankings. But you’re only human after all, and the one time your curiosity got the better of you, you dove into the comments on a tabloid’s website to see what the public was saying.

It doesn’t escape your notice that the comments are much kinder - it ranges from well wishes to remarks about how they wish they could replace Bakugou or Camie in the relationship. No one mentions you, which you are grateful for. You know the media thrives off of drama and rumors, so you’re content to have been forgotten about in this narrative. 

Shinsou’s been treating you like normal - another thing you’re grateful for. He is kind without being overbearing, and he gives you distance while also being there for you when you need it. You’ve migrated from sleeping on the couch to crashing in his bed, and more often than not you fall asleep to the smell of his body wash as you lay on his chest. 

You wonder what Bakugou would say if he saw you. He knew how close you and Shinsou were and still are, but anyone could think that you and the purple haired man were lovers. Here you are, getting upset at your ex-boyfriend for having a woman over two days after the breakup, when you are falling asleep in the arms of another man - even if he is your best friend. You wonder if that makes you a hypocrite. Your emotions are in chaos, all jumbled and confused. You miss physical intimacy and a part of you wonders if you’re just using Shinsou as a replacement. “It’s better to sift through these feelings when I’m calmer”, you think to yourself, “I’ll come back to it when I’m in a better place.”

Otherwise, you’ve been steadily making your way back to a normal life - work, school, and your personal life all seem to be peaceful and you’re content in a way you hadn’t been for a long time with Bakugou. Of course, the wounds of the breakup are still healing, but you’re doing a lot better from three weeks ago, when you couldn’t even bring yourself to get out of bed. Shinsou has been making sure that you eat properly and that you take care of yourself. Now that you’re out of that post breakup funk, he notices that you’re cheerful and upbeat - a good sign that you’re slowly recovering from your heartbreak.

Today, you’re home alone while Shinsou patrols the city - he’s promised to pick up dinner on his way home so you don’t have to cook. He’s looking forward to tonight - you’ve finished all of your school work for the weekend and you’re off from work until Monday. He’s eager to come home to you, he’s turned down his coworkers invitations to drink so he can spend the weekend with you. He’s picked up food from your favorite Mexican restaurant, and he’s stopped at the grocery store to get your favorite flavor of ice cream - the one that’s almost always sold out. 

He arrives home to see you lazing about the house - you’re laying on your back on the couch, holding your pastel Animal Crossing Edition Switch with a bag of chips resting on the table next to you. Your eyebrows are furrowed together as you focus on beating the shit out of a boss in Cuphead - a game you and Shinsou spent hours playing when it came out trying to pass the incredibly difficult levels. You’re wearing Shinsou’s favorite hoodie again - you might as well claim it as your own already you wear it so much - and your fuzzy cat print socks match with a fluffy cat ear headband that keeps your hair out of your face. Your face is recently washed and slightly pink, and he can smell your favorite coconut body wash from where he’s standing. He waits until you lose the stage (let's face it - there’s no way you’re beating that damn clown boss without his help) and he makes his way over to you, leaning over to look down at you as you exhale in annoyance at your loss. 

“Hey there, I got dinner. Also nabbed some dessert for you - ready to watch nothing but ghost stories for the rest of the night?” You stretch out your arms and legs, groaning as you move to stand from the couch. 

“Only if you promise to sleep next to me until I see sunlight again.” You hate ghost stories - you can handle scary movies about murderers and clowns but you don’t mess with ghosts. The only reason you’re watching tonight is because you know it’s Shinsou’s favorite and he always watches your nature documentaries even though you know deep down he probably doesn’t enjoy them as much as you do. You saunter over to the kitchen, and prop yourself on the counter facing Shinsou as you pull a taco to your mouth. “Ugh, even though the Exorcist was made like 50 years ago it still gives me the creeps. I can’t believe,” you take a moment to drink some water, “that you can watch her crawl backwards down the stairs and not piss your pants.” Shinsou lowly chuckles, giving a teasing smile as he unwraps his burrito.

“It’s ‘cause I’m not a chicken.” You roll your eyes and snort. 

“Whatever Mindjack. Not everyone can be as fearless as you.” He smirks as you swing your legs, turning your full attention to the taco you have in front of you. “Hurry up and finish so we can do a facemask before our movie marathon. You didn’t forget about that did you?” 

“‘Course not. You wouldn’t let me forget even if I tried, since you’re such a nagger.” You pout, hopping off the counter to wash your hands. Shinsou spends a bit too much time admiring how small you look wearing his hoodie - enveloped in something that belongs to him makes him swell with pride even if it’s wrong of him to think so. He wonders when he started to feel this way towards you, when his love changed from a close friend to an admirer. When he remembers his life, you are always there with him. By his side like a part of his body, always around when important events pass by, always by his side when the going gets tough. It’s not as if he’s always been pining for you - he’s brought other girlfriends around before even if the romance fizzles out before long - but recently he’s noticed you in a different light. Your bedhead and your sleeping face are just as cute to him as when you have your hair done and makeup on. Bringing other men over was never a problem, you’re his best friend and your happiness was always the first priority. But now, he finds himself annoyed at the mere mention of possible partners. You have no shortage of those - you’ve always been able to draw people to you as nerdy as you are - and the green vines of jealousy wrap around his heart every time someone gives you a gift on Valentine’s Day or someone asks you out for a coffee. You usually turn them down since you have so much to focus on, work and school makes you a busy woman after all. But he can’t help but be irritated at the stares you get in public sometimes - as beautiful as you are, you would think that you’d notice the way others look at you. He’s always loved you, but now he feels this once platonic love changing into pure romance, he aches for you like he’s never had before - longing for your touches, your hugs, your feather light kisses on his forehead when he’s having a tough day. The guilt he feels every time he holds you close like he did when you were kids, when you lay your head on his chest and he plays with your hair. To you, it’s still the action of a best friend, but to him it’s something he’d do for a lover. And yet, you’re oblivious, as dense as a rock but he loves that part too. How infuriatingly adorable you are sometimes. 

“‘Toooooshi~”, You wave your hand in his face as he comes back to reality. You raise an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

“Never better.” Your arms cross as you stare at him, suspicious that he’s hiding something from you. 

“You ready? I got everything set up.” He nods, and you turn to walk towards his bedroom.

Shinsou’s room is quite neat, a black bed in the corner next to ceiling to floor windows that gives a pretty good view of the city. He scored a good location in spite of his modest salary - he’s in it for the heroism and the good deeds, not the money. He may not make as much as Bakugou, Todoroki, or Deku, but he does alright. His capture weapon and artificial vocal cords mask rest atop his bookshelf, populated with picture books of you and him in your younger days, as well as a Polaroid camera you left with him when he went off to U.A and you stayed in Saitama. Next to the parts of his Hero costume is a picture of you and him on a trip to the beach - one he treasures above all else. In it, he holds you bridal style as you both smile from ear to ear at the camera. You’re practically glowing, wearing a bright yellow bikini set with a see through beach coverup wrapped around your hips, sunglasses resting atop your head. Shinsou recalls how you nagged him to actually swim with you, and you pretty much forced him to wear those green swim shorts - this picture was before he decided to run with you in his arms to the water. 

He sees your presence everywhere he looks in his room. After he reassured you that you weren’t a burden, you’ve basically turned his home into your home as well. The bottom half of his bookshelf is claimed as yours - it’s filled with your favorite stories, and your collection of Switch games is stacked next to the shelf neatly. Your laptop rests on his bed (you were no doubt doing homework before you got distracted and started playing Cuphead before he got home) with your Geology textbook open and notebooks filled with notes and highlighted phrases. Your clothes have been hung up in his closet, with your makeup and perfumes taking over three-fourths of his bathroom counter. If anyone else came to visit, they’d think you two were an item.

But alas, you two are not.

You push your schoolwork and computer aside to make room for you and Hitoshi, making your way towards the bathroom to grab a basket of skin care products and face masks. Shinsou knows how much you care about your skin - and by extension his skin - and he watches as you walk from here to there gathering what you need. You turn to him with a huge grin on your face as you hold up a matching cat headband in the color black, something you picked up from the store before you came home last week. He sighs, but turns around anyways to allow you to pull his lavender hair back into a loose ponytail and place the cat headband on his head before turning back to face you. 

He looks so silly wearing it, but for you, he’ll do anything. You grab your phone and open the front camera, sticking your tongue out while grabbing Shinsou’s face, squishing his cheeks as he makes an annoyed face at the camera. After taking the photo, you upload it to your now private Instagram and send the picture to Shinsou who does the same. He’s always been a private man, so you don’t worry about the public getting a hold of the photos and trying to make a story out of your life like with Bakugou. 

Tossing your phone aside, you motion for Hitoshi to turn towards you, propping yourself up on your knees in front of him as he sits cross legged. You giggle as he looks back at you, reaching to grab a jar of your favorite moisturizer and opening it. The smell is familiar to him - you always smell like it at night when you watch TV while sitting next to him in the living room. You start to apply the product to his face, careful to keep it out of his eyes and mouth. “You need to take better care of your skin ‘Toshi.”

“I know. I’ve been putting sunscreen on like you’ve asked.” He’s not lying, it’s become a part of his routine ever since you suggested it. 

“Good. You better be taking the time to eat properly at work too. I know you’re sleeping normally again since I’ve been here, so I won’t lecture you on that.” You glance at his arms, covered in scattered scars from run ins with villains. 

Most people look at heroes as an invincible force, unstoppable like All Might. Others may see Mindjack, but you just see Hitoshi Shinsou, your partner in crime.

“Thank you Hitoshi...for everything.” You blurt it out before you can stop yourself.

“I didn’t know this facemask meant so much to you.” You punch him in the shoulder as he laughs.

“‘Toshi, I’m serious. Look at all you’ve done for me. You let me crash here, listen to me complain, make sure I’m okay...without you, I probably would still be lying in bed all depressed.” You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. “I have to say it before I never get the chance to. You may be Mindjack, a hero, but you’re still Hitoshi to me. You do so much for me and you put your life on the line for others every day. I watch you and I’m proud of the boy who proved everyone wrong when they said you had a villain’s quirk. You being here for me after everything with Bakugou and always being there for me growing up makes me realize how much you mean to me. You’re my hero, ‘Toshi. But I need you to stay safe. Look at all your scars...” You pull back from the hug and grab his arms, running your fingers over his scarred skin. You’ve always known Shinsou’s job is dangerous - he’s a hero after all, he saves people. But he’s also your best friend. He’s a selfless man, a kind man. 

You love Shinsou. You truly do, he is someone you can never lose. To lose him would be to lose a part of you.

He says nothing in response, so you continue. “Remember that time you fought that villain in the subway? All the news stations said that the tunnel was going to collapse and I just felt like my heart was going to burst. I saw you getting trapped and I felt like…”

You trail off, feeling the familiar sting of tears as you hold them back. Hitoshi gazes at you, lilac eyes boring into your own. “I felt like my whole world was ending. When you came out alright I thought I would faint. I was so scared ‘Toshi… scared you wouldn’t come back. I don’t want to lose you.” Shinsou grabs your cheeks, gently moving his hands so you face him. He wipes a tear from your eye. 

“I’ll always come back to you.” You close your eyes, and press your forehead to his.

“You better. I’ll be waiting.”

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Bakugou wants to be anywhere else but here. 

He’s at Kirishima’s apartment - he’s been dragged out of his house by Mina and Kaminari for a night of drinking, with Sero and Jirou also coming along for the ride. The blonde would rather be in bed, wallowing in his misery, but his friends won’t let him stay inside. So he pouts in the corner, arms crossed and a permanent scowl painting his features. Kirishima gives him a knowing smile, and mouths “I’m sorry”. Bakugou clicks his tongue and looks away, grabbing his phone in order to distract himself from all the noise. 

He would rather die than admit it, but he’s been looking for your Instagram ever since you left. You must’ve unfollowed him or even blocked him - he can’t find a trace of you anywhere. He hates this pathetic side of him, one that makes him seem like a stalker, but he has to know you’re okay. If his pride won’t let him call you, then he needs to know you’re okay.

To his surprise, you pop up on his feed. He immediately inspects the photo of you, and breathes a sigh of relief to see your face. Your tongue is sticking out all playful, beaming as you hold Hitoshi’s face for the photo. You’re wearing that cat headband you always use when washing your face, and he can tell you’re almost ready for bed. He smiles solemnly, vermilion eyes staring at you, so far away.

He notices you’re wearing one of Shinsou’s hoodies and his blood boils at the thought - he knows you are friends but he hates the idea of anyone else having you - although he shouldn’t be one to talk after bringing home that girl from the club. He hates himself for doing it. He stares at your face before standing, saying a curt “I’ll be back” before making his way to the balcony. His friend’s voices fade as he stands outside overlooking the city, and he makes sure the coast is clear before dialing your number.

Fuck his pride. He has to hear your voice. 

[sagamemes]

the sheridan tapes  📼  part one.   here and under the cut, you can find a little under 120 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes one to three, edited for roleplay purposes.  tw: police, murder, supernatural elements, mentions of apocalyptic scenarios, near death experiences, injuries, vehicular crash, recreational drug and alcohol use.

❝  jesus, [name]. you’re not making this easy, are you?  ❞

❝  makes you wonder... do these things follow me because i chase them, or were they always following me?  ❞

❝  darkness and complete disorientation does a number on the human brain.  ❞

❝  i don't think he was a werewolf.  ❞

❝  i’d call it the customer service smile. you know, the one that says  ‘ thank you for shopping with us, please die now ’.  ❞

❝  i’ve found the more showy the text, the less impressive the actual phenomena.  ❞

❝  my job here is kind of… shaky at the moment.  ❞

❝  [name] was also engaged in the study of the impossible in his free time.  ❞

❝  so it’s just me who drives you up the wall then?  ❞

❝  well, you’ll be happy to hear i haven’t been having any fun. no weed, no ghosts.  ❞

❝  there hasn’t been a new lead on her case in more than half a year.  ❞

❝  so here i am, wrapped up in a blanket, staring at my little fireplace, so bored i actually decided to call my sister for once.  ❞

❝  it’s a little town near bandon. very little. nice little mini-market, and that’s about it.  ❞

❝  i doubt i’ll sleep much tonight. that’s okay. i just feel like looking at the stars for a while.  ❞

❝  it's probably for the best. i am simultaneously exhausted from the drive and absolutely wired from the coffee.  ❞

❝  i wonder if there will still be ghosts out there when that happens?  when the earth is gone?  ❞

❝  glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself, then.  ❞

❝  knowing doesn’t make things any easier, but it does make them a little less frightening.  ❞

❝  that’s all just a lazy way of saying that the real explanation is too difficult—or too horrible—for them to accept.  ❞

❝  it almost killed me, but in the end it settled for putting me in pt for a year while i figured out how to use my hands again.  ❞

❝  he muttered something about my time being up. or maybe he said it wasn’t up.  ❞

❝  i don’t really care that i didn’t get any writing done today.  ❞

❝  nothing. not a single idea worth writing down, no itch i needed to scratch or question i needed to answer.  ❞

❝  guess there really is no such thing as bad press.  ❞

❝  i have no idea what a writer’s  ‘ process ’  usually looks like, but i’m pretty sure it’s not this.  ❞

❝  see what i have to deal with?  god… siblings, am i right?  ❞

❝  what can i say?  i have a soft spot for gothic architecture.  ❞

❝  computers have never been very good at reconciling paradoxes.  ❞

❝  they’re pretty much over funding my little expeditions.  ❞

❝  that kind of smile doesn’t normally show that many teeth.  ❞

❝  you know, that’s only scary the first few times you do it.  ❞

❝  one day, it will be dead. one day all the stars will burn out, go dark and silent. one day, everything will be so dark and so cold that no new stars can ever be born. the old ones will blink out one by one, like candles going out, and then… nothing. silence. darkness. void.  ❞

❝  the simplest explanation is almost always the right one.  ❞

❝  i don’t remember getting in my van, putting the key in the ignition, or speeding away from that house, but i must have.  ❞

❝  no, no, i’m fine, i’m fine, just go bother someone else.  ❞

❝  i haven’t eaten, moved, or written anything all day.  ❞

❝  but maybe that's just the fact that it is two in the morning and my brain is running mostly on caffeine.  ❞

❝  given how good a [job] he is, i know it’s not the first time he’s done it.  ❞

❝  i escaped, but i knew that whatever was in that house has just marked me as prey.  ❞

❝  calm down. think. you’re just going to confuse yourself.  ❞

❝  just wanted to tell you a couple of us are headed out to marvin’s for drinks if you want to come.  ❞

❝  one of the most disappointing things about living in america is the lack of genuinely haunted houses. out of all the supposed haunts i’ve visited, maybe one in ten seems like the real deal.  ❞

❝  sounds… peaceful. not many distractions, then?  ❞

❝  something tells me this tape wasn’t played in court.  ❞

❝  one of the neighbours must have called 911.  ❞

❝  my infamous accident. it almost killed me.  ❞

❝  i just woke up to footsteps in the kitchen. i don’t know who, or what, but there’s someone in here with me!  ❞

❝  could you shut the door on your way out, please?  ❞

❝  uh, wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.  ❞

❝  the fire that i said went out?  yeah, it just started burning again.  ❞

❝  so i asked him to lie.  ❞

❝  it'd really be just a few of us. maybe me and [name] and one or two other tagalongs…  ❞

❝  apparently, the press had a lot of questions too.  ❞

❝  i’ve driven more than 8 hours and drunk enough bad coffee to give an elephant heart palpitations. i’m sure as hell going to get my money’s worth.  ❞

❝  oh sorry, am i bothering you now? what happened to  ‘ call anytime you want, [name] ’ or,  ‘ you’re always welcome here, [name] ’ ?  ❞

❝  i’ve forgotten to charge my phone. again.  ❞

❝  i… think i’m going to turn around now.  ❞

❝  well sorry if i wanted to have a nice talk with my sister for a change.  ❞

❝  will it just be left there forever? our legacy? look upon our works, ye mighty, and despair?  ❞

❝  no matter how far away from home you are, no matter how different the constellations might look from where you’re standing, you can always look up on a clear, dark night and feel like you’re about to fall right into it—the terrifying, endless expanse of nothingness.  ❞

❝  i know authors can do some crazy things to get out of writer’s block, but i’ve never heard of one resorting to arson.  ❞

❝  why do you always think there’s something wrong?  ❞

❝  ours is not to question why, ours is but to digitize and stay the hell out of trouble.  ❞

❝  so let’s try walking backwards. just keep an eye on it.  ❞

❝  i got lucky. or maybe i was just fast enough to escape.  ❞

❝  maybe there are secret passages behind the walls and corridors.  ❞

❝  no matter how far i walked, i couldn’t find the way i came in.  ❞

❝  well, i /know/ i’ve had worst nights. i just can’t think of any right now.  ❞

❝  i do want you to have fun, [name], i just don’t want you to get yourself killed doing it.  ❞

❝  i mean, obviously, i do care, that’s the whole reason i made this trip. to get away from the noise and focus.  ❞

❝  i might have… forgotten to tell anyone where i was going.  ❞

❝  before i get started, there’s just one thing i need to say. i have absolutely no patience for the unexplained, or the things people call  ‘ unexplainable ’,  ‘ supernatural ’, or  ‘ paranormal ’.  ❞

❝  i told [name] that i needed to get out, to get inspired.  ❞

❝  okay, if someone is messing with me, they’re going to be very sorry, very quickly.  ❞

❝  [name] lied his ass off to save yours.  ❞

❝  a crash like that does funny things to your head.  ❞

❝  i still don’t know how he got there without me noticing.  ❞

❝  any plans i had to travel abroad went up in smoke.  ❞

❝  i thought of pulling out the bad cop routine.  ❞

❝  strange how something so dead can be so beautiful.  ❞

❝  it hated me:  hated what i do, and more than that, hated who i am.  ❞

❝  lots of tall tales. and more than a few ghost stories.  ❞

❝  oh good, you’re still here!  ❞

❝  reviewers absolutely grilled it:  said it was a nonsensical rip off of the dark tower, whatever that means.  ❞

❝  i jumped out the window. cut my hands on the glass, but thankfully not bad enough to need stitches  ❞

❝  i told her, tonight.  ❞

❝  for a minute, i wondered if that would really be so bad. it was a fitting way to go, given my… well, everything.  ❞

❝  i suppose that’s a universal constant—maybe the only one.  ❞

❝  i never let myself get this turned around. especially not at night.  ❞

❝  i don’t know if it’s actually haunted. but if not, then it was sure as hell convincing.  ❞

❝  i’m not one of those people who thinks she’s the spawn of satan or something ridiculous like that.  ❞

❝  unless i’m prepared to accept that she was murdered by something that crawled out of a funhouse mirror, this isn’t much help with the case, either.  ❞

❝  i have to try and work some actual cases the rest of the time. you know, cases that might have some answers i can find.  ❞

❝  it's cold, damp, and dark as night. i'm in my element, at least.  ❞

❝  your place is waiting for you.  ❞

❝  yeah, i’m all good. great… hanging in there, you know?  one day at a time.  ❞

❝  oh, i see you. you think i’m still scared of [thing], huh?  think you can freak me out?  ❞

❝  trust me, i’ve had a hell of a day, and you do not want to mess with a pissed off…  ❞

❝  and tell my sister i'm sorry.  ❞

❝  oh god, it's cold.  ❞

❝  the night sky really is beautiful out here.  ❞

❝  tell him he shouldn’t have been such a good liar.  ❞

❝  i’ve been listening to this for the last two weeks now.  ❞

❝  it’s not even that i’m having bad ideas. i’m not having any at all.  ❞

❝  can’t get away from the work, no matter what i do.  ❞

❝  i made sure i switched off my phone before i came up here, just in case.  ❞

❝  god, these things smell of weed.  ❞

❝  yeah, well… just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you know?  ❞

❝  [name] is dead. that's all there is to it.  ❞

❝  no, i need to get out of here. it’s been a long day.  ❞

❝  a lot of the art i found was just paintings of a night sky full of stars.  ❞

❝  my job is to look the facts dead in the face and find an explanation. one that will hold up in a court of law.  ❞

❝  personal and career choices, i guess you’d call them.  ❞

❝  damn. i could’ve sworn i felt something strange about this place when i hiked through this morning… or maybe it was a different part. hard to tell this late at night, anyway.  ❞

❝  well, let’s just say a middle-aged man-child running out panicked and tearing at his eyes would hardly be a marketable image.  ❞

❝  i didn’t mind that i’d be alone—i always expected that to be how i went.  ❞

❝  i’m sure that’s on my personnel file by now, as if it could get any more problematic.  ❞

[genesisrose74]

A/n: This idea just popped into my head this morning and I needed to write it out, guess who finished in one day instead of focusing on summer school aha ha...so here’s the next edition of Class 1-A quarantine hc’s! I think I’ll include a bit of background for all of these, just for future reference if anyone likes them lmao. Today we have everyone’s favorite nitroglycerin king, Bakugo Katsuki! Hope y’all enjoy cause I’m honestly so soft for this one okay BYE-

Surprisingly, you’re initially part of the Dekusquad, but you’ve always been close with Kirishima and Mina and feel comfortable hanging out with their group as well so you start gravitating to the Bakusquad 

At first, Bakugo is really standoffish because, “You’re seriously friends with that damn nerd Deku” - wow everyone be hating on our cinnamon roll smh

But then he sees how much the rest of Bakusquad likes you and he starts warming up

It starts with small little things like not hogging all the space on the couches in the dorms and having you sit beside him

Then he notices that you’re very forgetful of your jacket and he ends up keeping a spare in his bag just in case the weather gets really bad

“I mistakenly grabbed two this morning, so lighten my load and carry the jacket—I don’t give a shit if you put it on, just hold it will you!” 

He’s acts all aggressive whenever he tries to be subtle and someone calls him out on it pffft- 

“What the hell are you talking about? You trying to get punched in the face?”

And his feelings are emphasized when the whole class is allowed to use the pool one afternoon and you’re pulling up with Mina and Momo

You’ve got a cute swimsuit and a sun hat on, and King Explosion Murder starts sweating a dangerous amount of nitroglycerin 

Bakugo Katsuki has a thing for soft girls who can pull a one-eighty and kick ass no I do not take criticism

The class wants to play chicken and everyone is choosing partners, but in the corner of his eye Bakugo sees you getting cornered by Mineta 

You’re usually able to handle the horny tornado but you’re feeling a bit too exposed in a bathing suit and start losing your cool

When I tell you the whole Bakusquad BOLTS to come rescue you-

Mineta is literally launched out of the pool by Sero like a rocket ship in orbit and the rest of the group is in this protective barrier formation around you (yes the squad has protocols for this kind of thing don’t even deny it)

Bakugo is beside you in a second with his hands secured on your waist because no one is coming near you like that when he’s around

“Why don’t you be my partner, yeah?”

And that's the story of how y’all destroyed everyone at chicken with absolutely no mercy and Bakugo finds your competitiveness that entire day attractive as hell

Walking back to the dorms afterwards, he pulls you away from the group and the look he gives you is  s e a r i n g

“For the love of God, go out with me” and he does not have to tell you twice

Literally the entire class is SHOOK because you’re actually pretty mellow and Mr. My Only Vocabulary Word Is Die is...ya know...✨volatile✨

But let’s be honest he’s actually a softie if you’re close enough to him (sorry Deku you’re the exception but we still luv u) and everyone ends up adoring y’all being together

When quarantine rolls around and you both have to live back at your respective houses, everything is decently calm for about two days and then you both start getting bored as hell

Honestly longer than you expected 

Bakugo hates social distancing with a passion but he agrees to abide by the rules and ends up asking you to Facetime at least twice a day

His bedroom is actually very tidy ‘cause Bakugo hates clutter, especially when he’s doing schoolwork

I wholeheartedly believe that Bakugo is a beast in the kitchen and y’all can fight me about it because his knife skills are canon and you best believe he learned it to be more independent 

He’s been experimenting with new cooking recipes and is a master at making something out of practically nothing in his fridge, which is really handy when a trip to the grocery store is long overdue

He sends you pictures of his dishes and your responses are all praise and none of it’s exaggerated either; this boy can COOK 

Netflix Parties with the Bakusquad — the chat gets loaded with Denki and Kiri spamming and Bakugo yelling at them in all caps to shut up

Your lock screen is a picture of the group on Facetime and you all have filters on (somehow you got Bakugo to use one don’t ask how); literal friendship goals

And then it’s been about a whole month since quarantine started and Bakugo wants to come visit you, but his mom shuts that down quicker than Barry Allen in the Speed Force

He’s pissed because he and his family feel perfectly healthy but his mother will not let him leave under any circumstances

So when his parents go to visit some relatives who were more susceptible to the virus and needed help with a couple basic tasks you decide to sneak out to see him (in good health of course)

Imagine his surprise when his typically rule-following girlfriend calls and is already standing in his backyard, bags of groceries in your possession

***

Bakugo shot you an incredulous look as you sat at the kitchen table. “You know I could have just opened the front door for you.”

“Yeah, but going through the window was way more fun,” you defended. “It’s not like I’m very rebellious at any other time, so might as well live it up while I have the courage.”

The blond snorted, sifting through the numerous bags you brought along to his house. They were filled with an assortment of foods: vegetables, meat, rice, sauces and the like. 

“What’s all this for?” he inquired, pulling out a bottle of teriyaki sauce.

You couldn’t help the small smile that grew on your face as your boyfriend curiously examined the items. “It’s for you to cook with, duh.”

“And how am I supposed to explain the new abundance of food in the fridge to my parents?”

“Say that I had it sent over through Postmates or something. Even I thought of that, Katsuki.”

He rolled his eyes as he placed down the last bag of items. “I can’t believe you snuck out and brought all this stuff,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. “Thank you, babe.”

A faint blush rises to your cheeks, despite the fact you’ve been dating the first year student for a few months now. Girlfriend or not, verbal thanks from the King Explosion Murder was rare. “You’re welcome.”

Bakugo turned to the stove and started organizing a number of ingredients on the counter beside it, pulling out kitchenware from cabinets as he went.

“Since you’re here and all, I suppose I could make your dumb ass something,” he remarked. 

Your eyes practically sparkled with excitement at the offer; you were hoping the blond would make you one of his iconic dishes eventually. A ghost of a grin was present on Bakugo’s face at the cheer that left your mouth, his back facing you as he got started. 

You were quick to situate yourself on top of the kitchen counter, Bakugo lifting you by the waist to place you farther away from the flaming stove but still allowing you to watch as he worked. His knife skills were almost scary when chopping up the vegetables, the pace at which he was cutting them astonishing you, and the overall aroma of the space had your mouth watering before he was even close to finishing the meal.

“I feel like a judge on Master Chef,” you giggled, and the boy shook his head at the comment as he eyed a timer he had set for the pork he put on the stove. 

“I’m pretty sure my girlfriend of a judge would be a bit biased over the contestants,” he pointed out. 

You hummed thoughtfully. “I mean, if he keeps looking this attractive while making food I think my bias is justified.”

He glanced at you perched on the counter top, and took a few steps in your direction, cupping your cheek in one hand to kiss you quickly. 

“You’re distracting me,” the first year mumbled, running a thumb over your jaw. “Quit being so cute, dummy.”

You saluted playfully. “Yes, chef.”

He let out a soft laugh before moving back to silence the timer that had started beeping, alerting him that the pork on the stove was ready to go. The blond shooed you away and had you sit at the dining table as he took the skillet and turned off the stove flames.

As you waited patiently for Bakugo to finish up, you sang under your breath and set two spots at the table directly across from each other. By the time he was done, two plates of steaming food in hand, you were already sitting down and twirling a fork between your fingers. 

“What did you end up making?” You asked as he set a plate of rice and pork in front of you. 

“Tonkatsu,” he replied nonchalantly. 

It smelled like absolute heaven, and your hunger was only emphasized in the midst of the fast food you had been surviving off of during quarantine. This boy was even good at presentation, and you began to wonder if he was just talented at everything he tried.

Bakugo took the spot across from you and watched as you took the first bite. He wouldn’t admit it, but he felt a bit nervous that you wouldn’t like what he made. But that thought dissipated as quickly as it came once your fork flew into the meal for a second time, and you shot him a wide-eyed look.

“So good!” you exclaimed with a stuffed face, a few grains of rice falling from your mouth and back onto the plate.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full or you’ll choke, stupid,” he reprimanded, but your praise had an evident effect on the male as a smug smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“I expect gourmet lunches from you at least once a week when school starts again.” 

“Not a chance in hell that I’m doing extra work in the mornings.”

“I’ll buy you all the ingredients you want~” 

“...I’ll think about it.”

Next thing you knew, all the food on your plate was gone, gladly relocated to your stomach. Rounding the table, you wrapped your arms around Bakugo’s shoulders as he also finished eating. 

“Thank you for dinner, Katsuki,” you hummed contentedly, resting your chin on his head. “It was seriously masterclass, especially after all the takeout I’ve been eating.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” he waved it off. “I think a movie of my choosing is in order.”

“After we clean up, hot shot. Your mom would kill you if she realized someone was over.”

“Why wouldn’t she kill you too?”

“Please. Your mom loves me.”

The blond barked out a laugh before standing up and holding your waist, ushering you back to the kitchen. “True.”

Cleaning up was quick and easy with the both of you working together, stocking away dishes and remaining groceries. The evening sky, visible through a large window in the living room, glittered with stars as you sidled next to your boyfriend on the couch, the kitchen and dining room returned to its normal prestige.

“Katsuki?” you murmured, voice laced with a touch of contented sleepiness.

He turned his head from the television screen to face you. “Hm?” 

“I missed you, silly.” 

An arm was thrown around your shoulder and you were pulled closer to the male, who gently kissed your temple. 

“I missed you too, dummy.”

[barleyshine]

two slow dancers // p. parkinson

F!Reader x Pansy Parkinson

hohoho... i hope you haven’t been expecting this from me ^^ ahaha! happy birthday! have this small pansy indulgent work from me ^^

remember when i asked u if u’d prefer fluff or angst? well this isn’t exactly fluff but it isn’t exactly angst either. LOL just read it. i hope u like it! listen to two slow dancers - mitski for the Feels

warnings: major character death

You were ten years old when you first met a young girl with jet black hair and snarky attitude.

She told you that her name was Pansy Parkinson and she was amazing, and all the others were worse than her. Naturally, the attitude threw you off, and you immediately hated her. She also told your friend, Hermione, “Why is your hair so frizzy? It looks like you have never heard of a comb”, which inherently made you want to curse her into the ground.

“Parkinson, Pansy.” 

You rolled your eyes when she stuck her tongue out to you, immediately remembering all her tall tales and “I’m not gonna get into Gryffindor because it is a stinky house that doesn’t deserve half of what has been given! Slytherin is the best house!” You prayed to unknown gods at that moment, so she can lick her own spit and get into-

“Slytherin!”

You groaned. This is gonna be a long ride.

-

You were thirteen years old when you decided not to hold all the careless and mean things you said against her. 

You heard from your mother that her co-worker was going to visit your sick mother, to hand off some important paperwork to carry back into the Ministry. Upon learning that your mother’s co-worker also was gonna bring her family over for tea, you bubble with excitement to meet a new person during holidays.

That is, until the said person actually comes over.

“Hello! My name is Pansy.” A familliar voice sounded from the living room, and you internally groaned as you mother called you over to say hi.

“Hi everyone,” You greeted lamely. You barely paid attention to what your mother and Pansy’s mother is saying, and you focused on how Pansy looked at that moment.

Her eyes were glazed over, looking over at the kitchen. “Do you want a drink, perhaps?” You ask, a bit irritated.

“Oh no, we wouldn’t want Pansy to cause much trouble,” Pansy’s mother sweetly denied. “Isn’t that right, Pansy?”

Pansy snapped back into the conversation, her eyes alert. You furrowed your eyebrows, confused. Pansy wore the typical arrogant grin on her face. “Yes, of course not!”

You’re confused when the Parkinsons abruptly left, the mother quietly glaring at the daughter, leaving before the tea kettle even boiled.

-

You were fifteen years old when you finally befriended Pansy.

Pansy was out and about in Hogsmeade with her friends, Theo, Blaise, and Draco, and you couldn’t help but notice that Pansy was wearing a genuine smile on her face while mocking her friends. It was nothing like the weird grin that she always had on her face during class, or the one she wore when visiting your house. 

You sighed and continued to trot all the way to Honeydukes, stopping to check out a very confused Harry Potter on a date with Cho Chang. You enter the shop, and-

“What are you doing here?” Your eyes blinked once and twice, adjusting to the lighting in the shop. A Pansy Parkinson looked at you, confused. “I thought the shop said ‘Closed’.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, exiting the shop to find that, indeed, Honeydukes was closed. You came back in, and come face to face with Pansy again. “Ah, well, what are you doing here?”

Pansy blinked, before opening her mouth, and shutting it.

“I’m gonna leave now,” You muttered. “Don’t want to be arrested for breaking and entering.”

Pansy snickered, before pulling your hand. “I don’t know why, but I trust you not to tell anyone about this,” Pansy said, before pushing open the door to the stockroom.

You gasped.

“They had nowhere else to go,” Pansy explained, carrying up a whole cardboard filled with a litter of crup pups. “It’s the store owner’s cruppies. They trusted me, somehow, to take care of the pups while they’re gone. Don’t ask me why. And I swear, if word goes out, I will end you.”

You chuckled. “Can I touch one?”

Pansy nodded.

You cooed as you scoop one in your arms, being as gentle as possible, and petting them slowly. “When is the owner coming back? I need some sugar quills. And aren’t you a little cutie? Who’s a good crup? Oh, Merlin, it pissed on my gloves!”

Pansy laughed.

You smiled, wanting her genuine smile to last forever.

-

You were seventeen when you understood Pansy for the first time.

You were about to take a walk down your neighbourhood when you saw Pansy running. She looked frantic and frenzied, and upon seeing you, she froze. You sighed, before running up to her and dragging her inside the house.

“Tea? Or water?” You asked, heading into the kitchen after sitting her down on your couch. Pansy didn’t respond, and you quickly assumed she just wanted some water instead. You came back into the living room to give her a cup of water, and sipped from your own cup of water.

Pansy looked rough. Her eyes were hollow and eyebags were heavy, and her hair was messy and not taken care of. You remember clearly that she always loved to tie her hair, but...

“I cut my hair.” Pansy spoke for the first time. “My mother wanted me to join the Death-Eaters. I refused to.” She laughed bitterly, no humor in her laugh.

Your heart started to break.

“She kicked me out for being a blood traitor.” Pansy’s voice was thick. “I didn’t even do anything- I just didn’t want to join Voldemort because I saw what he did to Draco.”

You set down your cup of water. “Can I hug you?” You asked, responded with a nod. You settled down next to her, tugging her into a hug and she started to sob.

“This will pass, Pansy. And I’m going to stay with you until it does.” You find yourself making a promise when her body was limp in your arms, breathing softly.

-

You were eighteen when you knew that you loved her.

You both knew that this was it; the war was going to end. With the existence of Death-Eaters in your school, you were always anxious, and so was Pansy. You both spend almost every night on the same bed in each other’s arms, comforting each other and hoping for a better tomorrow. 

You were half asleep at midnight when she brushed away your hair from your face, giving you soft butterfly kisses on your forehead, whispering to you a soft ‘happy birthday’. Your heart rate picked up quickly and you found yourself scolding yourself and trying to stay half-asleep.

“I’m sorry that you have to go through this,” She whispered to you, softly. “I’m sorry that we both have to go through this. I’m sorry that I can’t tell you how much I love you because, who knows? Maybe tomorrow we’ll be dead.”

What remains of your broken heart breaks into smaller pieces. 

“So I’ll say it now, when you’re asleep and you won’t hear this and reject me. I love you. I love you. I love you.” Pansy said, pressing a small kiss on your cheek. “And I’ll love you even though we both might die in the end.”

She slipped her head in the nook of your neck, and you hummed, before settling back in bed.

You wish you could say it back at that moment.

-

“Happy birthday,” Pansy said. Your friends had surprised you in the common room, taking turns to hug you and taking magical photographs. It was a dark time, but it couldn’t dampen the ambitious plan by your friends to celebrate your birthday by shoving you inside a broom closet with Pansy. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“Because you’re a dear friend to me, you arse,” You told her. She wrapped her hands around your waist, and you put your hands on her shoulders. It was soft and scary, but no one was watching. It was intimate.

You hummed a small tune, before moving and swaying to the tune you’re humming. Pansy followed suit, before finally the tune ends and you both are in each other’s arms.

“I should’ve told you this earlier, but... I love you too.” You whisper in her ear, still swaying.

Pansy’s grip on you hardened, before chuckling. “You heard that long ass paragraph I spouted out of nowhere? And you still love me back?”

“It’s because of the paragraph,” You laughed. 

-

Pansy was eighteen years old when she lost you.

-

note: i hope you like it! bro i swear i never meant to make it sad... it came out of nowhere and punched me in the gut and wrote itself i swear. luvluvluv sorry for the angst but i hope u like dat fluff

happy birthday, @shizarianathania !

edit: minor grammar fixes!

[julie1706]

Julie’s incredibly aesthetic incredibly autumny list of movies that she maybe recommends (part 2)

Oh sweet joy! It turns out that there are many more great, fantastic, cosy movies (and tv-series!) just absolutely perfect for autumn. By popular demand, I return with even MORE autumny recommendations, and this time, there might even be spell-checking. (Looking at you, “Silence of the Lamps”) (I won’t edit that, because that’s just funny.) 

Thank you for reading the previous one, and I hope you’ll enjoy this one too! We have some GREAT ones coming up. I hope! Maybe! But what I believe will really perfect this second list, is the fact, that autumn is close to being at its peak right now, with it being October! Woohoo! 

Pumpkins, Jack’o’lanterns, spooky movies, Halloween, tricks and treats, fog, rain, candles lit in the dark, delicious tea, and scarves, because the chill is back in the air! Amazing! The aesthetics are to die for! 

I’m on a small break from university, and have actually been having some allowed free time, to do autumny stuff. By this I mean I can do autumny stuff with my family and friends, and not feel guilty, because this time I’m not procrastinating. Well, I’m a little behind on some books, but it’s not that bad. You’re allowed free time on breaks! They’re supposed to be mostly free time, anyone knows that. I refuse to be a good student on breaks! 

This free time means that I have actually had time to watch some of these movies and tv-shows myself, and so I can feel a little better about recommending most of them, since I’ve actually seen them. Hehe. Still. I do have other, boring stuff to do, like reading for uni, emptying the dishwasher, cooking, vacuuming, etc., so there will be some of these I’m including, I have not watched, and those will be, again, backed by the power of optimism. Yay! Anyway! You’ve read enough not-halloween recommendationing, and is getting bored - Let’s get to it! (Also, these are still in random order, and I will put warnings at the end, again <3)

Coraline

I remember watching Coraline when it came out in theaters, years ago. I also remember that we had a little closet-thing in the wall, small and closed-up, but still very similar to the one she goes into, in the movie. Needless to say, this was not a favorite for little Julie, who was absolutely scared shit-less by this movie. I remember button-eyes, decaying puppets, and a very scary mom. Now, I have not watched the full movie since, but from bits and pieces through the years, I can wholeheartedly recommend this one. It’s stop-motion, the details are incredible, and wow, this movie is great. If you, like me, are no longer 9 years old, watch it! It’s wonderful, and surprisingly, very feel-good in the family aspect. A great movie!

Official synopsis: 

An adventurous 11-year-old girl finds another world that is a strangely idealized version of her frustrating home, but it has sinister secrets.

//Warning: do not watch this, if you are around nine years old. It will absolutely traumatize you about small closets in old houses. If you are not nine years old, I think you’re good! Just the right amount of spookyness, I believe!

Sense and Sensibility

I watched this with a good friend in february, I think. So I’m not sure why I think this has to go on an autumny list, but I stand by it! Maybe it’s the beige and brown, beautiful clothing, the many shots of nature, and the relationships between these characters, that fits very well with the cold and chilling air, we find ourselves in, here in lovely October. I don’t know. Food for thought. But this is a great movie, and I really think you should try watching it under a blanket, with tea and a good friend. We didn’t know the story before we saw it, and it had us guessing! And there is a part my other friend Sif told me, always makes her dad cry, and I think that should be taken as a compliment to this movie! It’s great! Love, sisters, crisis and period drama (and great clothes), this movie has it all! (also - Emma Thompson!)

Official synopsis: 

Rich Mr. Dashwood dies, leaving his second wife and her three daughters poor by the rules of inheritance. The two eldest daughters are the title opposites.

//Warning: It might make you cry. But I promise, it will be a good experience, in the end. It’s not scary, though.

Over the Garden Wall (animated series)

Well, this one, I’ve been dreading to add to my list. Now, you must not misunderstand, it’s not because I don’t like it. It’s because this series is so great, so weird, so beautifully drawn and made, that I’m afraid I could write a whole blog post dedicated only to Otgw, and still not feel that I have done it justice. It's just so good. It’s like the someone just decided one day, to make a series, that absolutely, perfectly encompasses autumn and halloween, and then did just that. The storyline is good, the art is good, the soundtrack is good. God, the soundtrack. I’ve also made sure to listen to this show’s soundtrack, since we left summer behind, and it’s just so good. There’s a reason tumblr went wild, when this show was first released. But since this is an AUTUMNY list, let me focus on those aspects. Big dark woods, scary noises in the dark, red and golden leaves, fantastical beings - this show has it all, and trust me, it WILL get you in the mood for autumn. I almost started puking leaves and pumpkins when I watched this with my friends, that’s how pumped it got me. This show has a special place in my heart, and if you promise not to tell all the other movies and shows on the list, I’ll admit something: this might be a favorite of mine. Maybe THE autumny favorite. 

Official synopsis:

Two brothers find themselves lost in a mysterious land and try to find their way home.

Warning: May be a little spooky, but I have it on good authority from a friend that is a true scaredy-cat, with nerves of whipped cream, that’s it’s fine. She  could handle it, watches it every year, and she’s fine. Good levels of scary.  

Corpse Bride

Believe it or not, that same scaredy-cat of a friend, I just mentioned, actually instructed a musical, based on this story. Is she a horror-fan or not? I have no idea, but her show was so well-done, that it actually made me like this movie a bit better. I have seen it before, but she convinced me, by telling me the original story behind this movie, that it’s pretty great. And by association, this movie became pretty great, too. It’s been some years since I saw this, but it’s a pretty good halloween movie, I think. Dead people tormenting the living. Classic autumn stuff, I would say. And it’s pretty well-made, I think, stop-motion again! I like the aesthetic of a corpse bride, though you have to admit the actual thing is pretty sad. The premise is haunting and scary, but it’s more morose, melancholic and depressing, I think. Poor Emily. But a good movie! Sorry, maybe that wasn’t a very enticing description, but I promise, it will do you more good than bad, to watch it. And then go google the original story, the movie is based on! 

Official synopsis:

When a shy groom practices his wedding vows in the inadvertent presence of a deceased young woman, she rises from the grave assuming he has married her.

//Oops, nearly forgot a warning! Warning: some people are dead, and therefore rotting a bit. If you’re squeamish, don’t watch. If you love sad love stories, definitely watch!

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone

Yeah, I’m not sure why this has to go on my Autumny List either, sorry. It just has to. I know it takes place over an entire year, but in my head, it jut fits very well with the whole magic, supernatural, foggy halloween times we find ourselves in. I mean, look at the cover! Maybe it’s the iconic scene, right before the troll is discovered in the girls’ bathroom (sorry, spoiler), with the floating jack’o’lanterns, and tables almost crashing undet the weight of candy and cakes, that convinced my brain, that this is a halloween movie. I don’t know. Just trust me on this, and watch the first Harry Potter movie. It’s pretty good. 

Official synopsis: 

An orphaned boy enrolls in a school of wizardry, where he learns the truth about himself, his family and the terrible evil that haunts the magical world.

//Warning: Nah, you’re good ;-)

Little Women (Important: 2019 edition)

Alright girls, we’re hopping genres again! This is another period-drama (sort of), about sisters, and wow, I cried to this. I bawled, I sobbed, I choked on snot, and was a little inconsolable, when I watched it with friends, at the cinema. One of the best experiences this year, and one of the greatest movies I have watched in a long time. I love everything about this movie: the family-bonds, the clothing, the many nature-shots, the developments of characters, (almost) all the characters, and just, wow. No good way to end that sentence, because I want to just keep describing all the good parts of this movie, because it's everything. It’s amazing, and yes, i’m exaggerating, but I can’t help it. I forgot to eat my popcorn or drink my water, when we watched this, that’s how mesmerized I was by this movie. I love Jo, I think I can empathize a lot with her, and if I could talk to her, if she was real, I would thank her for telling her story. This movie is great, you should watch it, because it makes you feel so warm inside. 

Official synopsis:

Jo March reflects back and forth on her life, telling the beloved story of the March sisters - four young women, each determined to live life on her own terms.

//Warning: Might make you break down crying. But in a good way. Very cathartic, actually.

Alien

I watched this for the first time last year, when I decided I was going to watch the classic older horror movies, and not freak the fuck out. I mostly succeed. And this movie was a joy to watch. That’s maybe weird to say about an alien horror movie, but wow I just love Sigourney Weaver, and the aesthetics of this movie. The story is thrilling, and I really did not like most of the characters, I thought they were hysteric and annoying, but I still rooted for them. It’s a different kind of horror movie, that’s for sure! But when I watched it, I totally understood why it has become such a classic.

Official synopsis: 

After a space merchant vessel receives an unknown transmission as a distress call, one of the crew is attacked by a mysterious life form and they soon realize that its life cycle has merely begun.

//Warning: Uh, yeah, Sif, this is not one for you. It’s gross and scary. Malin, I think you’ll like this one! Go ahead! Maybe we should see it together?

Edward Scissorhands

Haven’t seen this one! I want to, though. I think I’ve seen one scene, where this man accidentally pokes a water-bed, and younger me felt that was a very tragic thing, on more levels. Johnny Depp yet again, so it has to be good, right? I know this poor guy, Edward, has it rough, and was given some really not that practical hands. Man, he looks sad, huh? So maybe more sad than scary, yet again. Dont know! But I really do want to watch it. Winona Ryder is in this, too, so really, it’s a no-brainer!

Official synopsis:

An artificial man, who was incompletely constructed and has scissors for hands, leads a solitary life. Then one day, a suburban lady meets him and introduces him to her world.

//Warning: I don’t know? Maybe not that spooky? I think it’s more sad, to be honest.

Pride + Prejudice + Zombies

I mean, why the hell not - right? I love Jane Austen. I love Pride and Prejudice. And I really like halloween, so OF COURSE, I’m including this one. I’ve seen it, too. My friend Malin and I watched it a couple of years ago, and yeah, it’s good. It’s not high cinema, no, but I don’t need that. It was a fun, weird twist, and sometimes, that’s all you need. There is a very interesting scene with a corset, that was NOT in the book, and I think it really added something to this story. And Lily James. Whew. Great movie. Great for autumn. I will be watching this one again.

Official synopsis:

Five sisters in 19th century England must cope with the pressures to marry while protecting themselves from a growing population of zombies.

//Warning: I can’t really remember, but I think there’s some pretty gross scenes with zombies. Rotting flesh is NOT pretty. But just close your eyes for that, and  you’ll be good!

The Haunting of Hill House

I first watched this series when i came out some time ago. I never finished it, I don’t think my heart was in it, but by no fault of the show. Now, that the same creator has made another show, which my mom and I are hooked by, and almost through, I think I’ll be returning to this one - it deserves another chance! A great old house, ghosts, family secrets and INCREDIBLE aesthetics, mean there must be something here! Also, I think it’s based on a novel by Shirley Jackson, and it’s supposed to a classic horror novel, and Stephen King tweeted that he liked it, so yeah, it’s promising! The series I’m watching with my mom is spooky, but tumblr says the Haunting of Hill House is supposed to be much more spooky, terrifying, even, and I really want to find out if that’s true!

Official synopsis:

Flashing between past and present, a fractured family confronts haunting memories of their old home and the terrifying events that drove them from it.

//Warning: Very Scary! Faint of heart - Beware! Just enjoy this beautiful gif of Nell dancing by herself, and move on <3

Psycho

Another old classic! Woo! Have not watched, but really, I feel like that’s almost a crime by now. I HAVE to watch it. Soon, I’m planning to. Sadly, It’s old, and I grew up with the internet, so I’ve been spoiled oh so dreadfully, and knows all the bloody details and plottwists of this oldie but goldie. But I still want to watch it! It must be a classic for a reason - right? Also, I’ve never seen the full version of the famous shower scene, and that’s just embarrassing. Shame on me.

Official synopsis:

A Phoenix secretary embezzles $40,000 from her employer's client, goes on the run, and checks into a remote motel run by a young man under the domination of his mother.

//Warning: It’s a horror classic! It’s gotta be scary. Then again, it DID come out in 1960. Be careful about this one! Sorry, I have no idea, have never watched it.

Hannibal (the TV series)

It’s gross, it’s scary, it’s aesthetic, there is a danish elegant man eating people in snowy Baltimore, and you really shouldn’t pay him to be your psychiatrist. Hannibal! I first watched this as a young, edgy teenager, and all the blood and gore didn't get to me at all - I just enjoyed the cat-and-mouse game between Will Graham, our main character, very mentally unstable, and a dog-lover, and Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a renowned psychiatrist, elegant, high-society - and also, he talks like a mixture of the bible and an old greek sonet. What I'm trying to get at is that this show is weird. Good weird. But also, now no longer an edgy teenager myself, it’s really gross. A man’s leg is cut off and served to himself. That’s gross. I didn’t like that, and I definitely covered my eyes. Other than that, it’s a very vivid show, with great focus on presentation and symbolism. I would love for someone to analyse each episode, because there's so much attention to detail. It’s honestly impressive. And after having watched many, many shows about crime and murders, I must say, this show has THE most buckwild, creative, never seen before ways of killing people. How the hell do you come up with a murderer using people’s different skin colors to make a mural? I don’t know. It’s disgusting, but man is it different. I’m halfway through season two, and there is a lot to unpack! Also, have to mention, very homoerotic - that’s a plus. Don’t think I could’ve stomached all the blood, otherwise. I hate blood, and wow is there blood in this show.

Official synopsis:

Explores the early relationship between renowned psychiatrist, Hannibal Lecter, and his patient, a young FBI criminal profiler, who is haunted by his ability to empathize with serial killers.

//Warning: Yeah. You read how many times I wrote ‘gross’. Just trust me on this one, it’s gross. It’s good, but maybe don’t watch it. You don’t need to introduce your brain to this.

The Haunting of Bly Manor

Ooh boy. Ooooh boy. This series is very good. VERY good. I’m watching it with my mom right now, I think we’re at episode 7, and wow are we hooked. It’s spooky, it’s haunting, it’s thrilling, it’s mysterious, and wow is it scary. We both agreed to go together, the first night we watched this, and our dog had to be taken out on his night-walk. She didn’t want to go alone, and i didn’t want to stay back at the house, alone. So we went together, and I was so freaked out that I nearly peed my pants, when some kids screamed in our neighborhood. It’s so very much what I want a ghost-story to be, but it’s also a lot more, and much greater for it. I love all the characters, they’re all so well-rounded, and most of them are good. The big manor is spooky, and the woods surrounding it are foggy and dark, and yes, this is really a great series for autumn and halloween. It’s the second series made by Mike Flanagan. There are some similarities between the two shows, and surprisingly, some of the same actors! I think that’s very interesting, and it also made me very confused, as I watched the first episodes of the Haunting of Bly Manor, and could not, for the life of me, figure out where the hell I had seen these people before. It made it even more eerie in a way, and I appreciate that. I love this show, and I think I’ll be very sad when we’re through with it. I guess the natural thing to do, will be to follow up with Flanagan’s previous horror series, The Haunting of Hill House! Also, there’s lesbians in this one. Very nice. I appreciate that. Also, surprisingly - I love the children! They’re so cool and brave, and it would be very nice if especially Flora could go with me, the next time I’m going to a haunted house. Such a badass.

Official synopsis:

After an au pair’s tragic death, Henry hires a young American nanny to care for his orphaned niece and nephew who reside at Bly Manor with the chef Owen, groundskeeper Jamie and housekeeper, Mrs. Grose.

Warning: It’s spooky. It’s the perfect halloween series, so of course it’s very spooky! This gif I chose is spooky, and I promise the show itself is worse. But if you can handle dead people creepily staring in the background, and maybe has someone to watch it with, I think you’ll be fine!

Alright! We made it! Another spooky, aesthetic, autumny list, for us to enjoy this crispy season! Woohoo! Also, I’m sorry if there’s any spelling mistakes or whatelse, I hope you enjoyed reading anyway! Thank you! Now go drink some tea and relax, you’ve earned it. I recently tried chili-tea, and damn, that’s another recommendation from me! It was amazing!

Hope you have a great Halloween, it’s close now. Watch out for the cold weather, remember to bundle up, and don’t let the impending darkness get you down. Light some candles! And also, watch some of these spooky tv-series and movies with your family and friends! And have a great fall! <3

Love, Julie

[songtoyou]

Mr. Evans and the Congresswoman - Part 2

Paring: Chris Evans x Politician Reader

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1,858

Warnings: Political topics such as Biden, Harris, our current White House occupant and the current administration. 

Description:  It is the week of the DNC and Chris is once again interviewing you for A Starting Point. 

A/N: The DNC inspired me to write a second part for this story.  This is pure fiction as I do not know what Chris believes when it comes to politics and policy issues. This is a complete work of fiction.

I do not permit my work to be to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Note: Updated for grammar and punctuation edits.

"Hi, Congresswoman Y/L/N?" Chris Evans asked with a smile.

He was once again interviewing you for ASP. This time it was during the week of the Democratic National Convention. Chris and Mark had already talked to other politicians such as Senator Cory Booker and Representatives Ro Khanna and Alma Adams. You were the last elected official he was slated to interview to wrap up the DNC week.

Truthfully, Chris was happy to get the chance to talk with you again. Your previous interview for ASP was such a hit that it garnered a lot of attention from fans and the media. However, it was not because you helped bring more legitimacy and attention for ASP, but instead, Chris found himself genuinely admiring you.

"Hi," you said to Chris, giving a small wave through the Zoom screen. "I told you to call me by my first name."

"I know, but I still want to show respect," Chris responded with a teasing smile. Was he mildly flirting with the congresswoman? Yes, but he had no shame in doing so. "How are you? You are looking well."

"I am doing well. Thank you. How about you?"

"Same. Just trying to stay sane through everything. I'm actually currently in London. Working on a project." Chris admitted.

"Uh oh. You better be staying safe and following the right procedures and protocols," you lightly reprimanded him.

"My fans ratted me out. They found where I was just by the hotel door. Can you believe that? That is some FBI-level investigating, right there. I'd be impressed if I weren't also terrified of the lengths some of these fans will go to scout my location," Chris ranted. He did not understand why he was sharing this with you, but a part of him felt comfortable doing so.

"That…is quite impressive, I must say. Creepy. Scary. But impressive. You need to learn how to put in a Zoom background. It would solve all of your problems," you suggested to him.

"I would, but I'm technology deficient. Maybe I should look up some Zoom tutorials on how to do it. Give it a try."

"There is no try…only do," you advised cheekily.

"Now you're quoting Yoda. A woman after my own heart," Chris replied. He knew he needed to refocus. "So, as you can tell, Mark won't be joining us for this interview. I'm going to hit record if that is okay?"

"Okay. I'm ready when you are," you said.

When the record notification appeared on screen, Chris introduced you and immediately went into the first question.

"How do you think the DNC is going so far, particularly how this year is more of a virtual setting rather than in-person due to COVID-19?"

"Despite not having the big in-person celebration/gathering, I think the virtual setting is working very well. Better than I expected, actually. It gives off a more inclusive and intimate vibe to the DNC that we haven't felt before. I like the whole documentary approach and feel to it," you replied honestly.

"Were you excited that Joe Biden chose Senator Kamala Harris as his running mate?" asked Chris.

"Oh my God! I was so happy that Vice President Biden chose Senator Harris as his running mate. Like, my staff and I were beyond ecstatic. There is no one better to be Biden's running mate than Harris. She is amazing. Such an inspiration. I'm not going to lie, but I'm really excited for the debate between her and Pence."

That made Chris laugh. "Yeah, me too. Senator Harris really knows how to pull all the punches. Her nomination as VP has been met with overall positive response. The Trump Administration and Republican pundits appear to have a hard time painting a negative image of Harris. Why do you think Trump and Fox News are struggling to provide a negative image for her?"

"That is an excellent question. The public's overwhelming response to Harris' nomination is because 1.) she is the first black and south Asian woman to be on a major presidential ticket, and 2.) she is likable and charming. She has this exuberant energy that attracts people to her. You know, black and brown women and girls finally have someone that looks like them running for the second-highest office in the land. That is huge!

"I also have to wonder if people have smartened up in the last four years and won't tolerate the…hypocrisy, sexism, and misogyny…in this case misogynoir that is thrown towards Senator Harris from the media, political pundits, social media bots, etc. So, what we are seeing with Trump and Fox News struggling to attack her is because…well…they just aren't smart. All we have seen from Trump in his attacks against her is that she was mean to Kavanaugh when questioning him during his nomination process. But none of what Trump says holds up because we all know that smart, confident women intimidate him," you finished off your point.

"There is also the left…or more of the progressive left who are unhappy with Biden choosing Harris," Chris spoke up and continued, "They say she is a cop and put people away for weed. That she took kids away from parents when the kid didn't show up for school. That Harris is too conservative. What do you say to that?"

"All of that is…you know…. Senator Harris one of the most policy progressive senators we have. Her voting record is more progressive than Bernie Sanders. All people have to do is research her time as a district attorney and Attorney General for California to find out what she actually did concerning policy. But as we both know, people nowadays don't know how to critically think, which scares me. Progressives need to look at the overall big picture. This election in November is crucial. We are in the fight for our democracy, for our country, and for our lives…literally."

"I talk with my brother, Scott, all the time about certain political issues," mentioned Chris. "He is a tad more progressive than I am. I can admit that I tend to be more centrist. The district you represent is a mix of blue and red areas; how do you balance opposing views from your constituents?" 

You took in a deep breath before you answered. That was a loaded question. Representing a district that was not solely red, or blue could be difficult from time to time. You wanted to be respectful of the different viewpoints from constituents, but maintaining a neutral balance was hard and frustrating at times. 

"The majority of Americans are centrist/moderates. You need a balance of both liberal and conservative policies. Bipartisanship is crucially important when developing and passing laws. We are currently seeing an overt of one-sidedness while sabotaging the other side, which is detrimental to our country's growth. It is important to reach across the aisle to talk with those who may have opposing views than you. At the end of the day, people just want to feel that their concerns are heard and valued. We all want to feel that way. So, as an elected official, I make sure to take the time to talk with those in rural areas, along with urban areas, about their issues and concerns," you shared.

"Do you ever get any pushback from Trump supporters in the red areas?" Chris inquired.

"Well, it is important to note that not all residents in rural areas are Trump supporters. They just tend to keep that to themselves. I have actually talked to Trump supporters in blue areas. We can never and should never assume that one area has this type of person and vice versa. I learned that the hard way when I was campaigning for city council early in my career," you revealed to Chris with a small chuckle. "But overall, my constituents will talk with me and have been respectful. Some of the concerns that have been shared with me do fall under the QAnon conspiracy theories, which do disturb me, I'll be honest. Um…when being confronted with someone who has that extreme of ideals, it is important to remain calm and not to come off combative. Meaning that I have to remind myself that I am not quite dealing with a rational person. The only thing that I can do is calmly talk to the person and respond back with facts. Either they listen or brush me off and call me a radical lefty."

"The majority of people are good, like you said," Chris reminded you.

"That's right. It's a good mantra to live by. I think the American people are tired and have been tired for the past four years with this Administration. We need a sense of normalcy and decency. Compassion and empathy, which were two of the big themes during the DNC. This week was a nice reminder that we, as a country, can have that again."

"I agree. Very well said. You always end on a positive. I appreciate that. Thank you, Congresswoman Y/L/N, for taking the time to talk with me. You always provide great insight into the world of politics and your experience as an elected official," said Chris and ended the recording. "That was really great, Y/N. I know Mark, and I really appreciate you taken the time to do these interviews for ASP," Chris added.

"Oh, it is no problem. Like I said before, I like what you both are doing with the site. Are you happy with how everything turned out?" you asked him.

"Yeah… it's…it took a while to just get the website up and running. I know there is still work that needs to be done. Some areas need to be fixed, but with a project like this, we can adjust. There is more room for improvement and growth," Chris communicated to you.

You nodded in agreement. "Politics is a whole different ballgame. Not many people are willing to venture into the field. It can cause a lot of annoyances and headaches. So, hats off to you, my friend," you said, giving Chris a salute.

"Thank you. Well, I better let you go. I know you must have a million things on your plate."

"Ah yes, I have to go and save the United States Postal Service from corruption. Talk to you later, Chris. Take care," you waved goodbye and signed off.

Chris had to admit, he was in awe of you. There was something about you that fascinated him. None of the elected officials he and Mark talked to for ASP had the liveliness you had. You were not jaded or defeated by the system, at least not yet, since you were still considered a junior member of congress. Chris hoped that the energy and enthusiasm you had for politics and helping people would not diminish. When his Uncle Mike was still a congressman, he shared with Chris that D.C. can cause a lot of strain on a person's values and beliefs. "I have seen too many of my colleagues succumb to the pressures of dirty politics," Uncle Mike once said.

Chris just hoped that you would not succumb to those pressures.

[painted-crow]

I haven't been on tumblr in a hot century so it feels a little weird to be writing a submission to you... but I just bingeread most of this blog and your way of explaining the shc system is so gloriously comprehensible that I really want to pour my brain out at your feet and have you explain the bits to me.

I hope life is treating you well and thank you for the awesome blog you run. The way you describe things and the way you help people sort themselves is clear and clever and so very kind of you to do, and that's what I appreciates about you. :)

(This was a chunk of a submission from someone who ended up sending in a second version that I answered in depth, but the fan mail portion from this first version was so sweet that it seems mean to just delete it. So here it is, as a #cutie post. 😊)

[hitodama89]

I've had a quite an action-filled week, but in like... The most boring adult-way possible. I still wanna write about it because hey, I am a boring adult after all.

Most of my time has been spent working with my balcony. I've been cleaning it thoroughtly because despite having closeable windows it gathers a ton of this certain sort of nasty "city dust" in it (more on that later). The first incidence that stressed me to hell and back was when I was washing its floor and suddenly the neighbor who lives below me starts yelling that water is leaking to their balcony. I tried to ask several times where exactly was it coming from so I could actually do something about it, but instead of giving any sort of helpful answer they just kept mumbling about their annoyance as loud as I think is possible to mumble. After I had finished the cleaning I went to their door with a package of cookies in order to apologise, but they didn't even open the door. Finally I ended up just writing them an apology letter because there wasn't really anything else I could've done. Fortunately that whole ordeal hasn't escalated any further since that.

After that it was time to try to fix the issue of the city dust. The thing is my balcony hasn't always had windows, they were installed a few years ago when the whole house got some remodeling done. Buuut the windows weren't exactly a perfect fit: between their frame and the balcony's handrail is this weird ~5-10 cm gap that has let anything from bugs, snow, rain and that dang dust in. So after suffering from it for several years I, uh, took the matter into my own hands and filled the gap with this... Sprayable, hardening foam thing, god knows what it's actually called even in Finnish let alone in English. After hardening it resembles styrox quite a lot? It should keep the forces of nature out quite well but it can also be dug out in case the landlord for some reason hates it and wants it gone. (The apartment complex is owned by the city I live in, not by some individual person, and usually they don't really care what you do as long as it is reverseable. I highly doubt they will ever even notice it, especially as I'm not planning to move out from here in the foreseeable future. And if they do notice it and hate it, they'd either ask me to take it off and/or give me a fine of some sort, which, okay, I can live with that risk.)

So I spray the foam which is again scary and weird and stressful, but I get it done. And then I take the next day to tidy it up, scraping it off from surfaces it doesn't belong to. At this point I'm tired and exhausted more than in a good long while, but I'm far from being finished! So what the heck even is the point of all this: why am I doing it now exactly? Well, the first reason is that for the last week or so it has been abnormally warm in Finland, temperature rising to heights that normally belong to June. The second reason stems directly from that: it reminded me of how much I've wanted to spend more time in my balcony during summers, but I've just had really no comfortable furniture in it. And that reminded me of a purchase I already tried to make during last autumn, but I ran into SEVERAL online stores that claimed to have the product I was looking for in storage but when I had already paid for it, they sent me an email stating that they didn't actually have it for real and that they'd return my money.

Now that the season was more optimal, I decided to try again: I bought myself a sun sofa. I don't know if that's what it actually called in English because even in Finland stores sell it under various names, but basically it's this nest-like round sofa thing with a raisable canopy. It's meant to be kept outside so it should be perfectly fine to keep it in my balcony, especially now that the stupid gaps have been filled (which is the reason I did it). It costed A LOT of money, likely as much as the rest of my furniture combined, as the vast majority of them have been bought used or as the absolutely cheapest option available. But like... I've basically had a whole small room I have barely been using, so I figured turning it into actually comfortable space for me would be worth it.

Okay, so at this point I had cleaned up the balcony, fought with the neighbor, filled the gaps under the windows, tidied the filler foam and ordered the nest sofa. The sofa had already been sent but according to tracking it hadn't moved out of the capitol area yet, so I thought I'd have time to paint the foam to make it less noticeable before the sofa arrives. I was wrong - this morning a confused post delivery man called me that he can't find my house (I don't really know how because I heard the voice of a GPS on the background) so I went out to wave at him. He dumped the sofa out of his car, couldn't even bother to lift it into the staircase even thought it was raining outside, and left. And I was like okay let's do this, let's get this bad boy into the third floor where I live!

I couldn't fit it into the elevator. I tried, back and forth, for god knows how long. Finally my hands were so shaky and weak that I couldn't even lift the sofa anymore and I have literally no clue what I would've done if it wasn't for the fact that my parents live in the same city and I could scream for them to come and save me. (I don't exactly love doing that, but what else was I supposed to do?) So until they arrived I just sat there in my staircase, sweaty as a pig and faint from exhaustion, with a god damn sofa in the middle of it all. Finally they came and we managed to smash that problem child into the elevator and inside my apartment.

And then that fucking thing didn't fit through my balcony door. Oh believe me, I had measured everything meticulously and it should've fit through; I don't know if the packaging was different from the promised or what, but there was no way to get it in. But good thing I had plans B, C and even fucking D ready! They were, in that order:

Take apart this... Metallic rod thing that prevents the door from opening fully so it doesn't hit the wall behind it.

If that fails, take apart the hinges of the door and lift the whole door away.

If literally everything else fails, open the window that goes from my living room to balcony and lift the motherfucking sofa through the window.

At that point we couldn't even start from B because the door had some really fucking weird screwheads and I had no right sort of screwdriver for it. Thank the forces of the universe my father is the DIY man of all the DIY mans and has about every tool you can ever imagine, so we had to go get more tools from their place and try again. In the end plan B was enough and we didn't have to take apart half of the balcony, but we were both sweating bullets for the whole day even from imagining having to do it.

Now the sofa is in the balcony. The next time I have to move it from there is hopefully when the city remodels the whole house the next time, which will be in, idk, 30 years or something. At least I promised my (now 60 years old) father that at that point he doesn't have to come to move it anymore. ='D The ordeal is finally more or less over, unless the sofa was somehow damaged during all of this: I haven't yet taken it out of the wrappers because I want to keep it covered during the painting of the foam. (I did do some painting already after all this, so I should hopefully be able to strip it tomorrow and stash it to the already painted corner.)

Two bonus points that gave some extra spice to all of this: I also got my first Covid vaccine shot this week (I belong to one of the risk groups because of my health issues) so one of my arms was pretty hurt even before I had to start lifting the sofa around the apartment complex. Fortunately I the very least haven't had any other side effects*! And bonus point number two: that heat wave that hit Finland? It's gone by now. There is literal god damn snow on the ground again. =DDDDD

*(EDIT: NO WAIT, I just realized that I did likely get one other side effect! Please skip this if you feel icky about health subjects, but I do want to mention it in case it could be helpful for someone else. I thought it was just because of intense stress and quite a bit of exercise, but my body has produced some period blood even though it isn't a proper time for it. My body doesn't generally do that because of my hormonal medication, but these days getting weird new health-related symptoms mostly just makes me shrug and continue my life. BUT now I remembered reading that the vaccine has been affecting people's periods by making them more voluminous, so that's actually likely what's causing it??? That's interesting.)

[knightmaring]

tw self harm, blood, mentions of abuse, murder, death.

The stones were placed deliberately, a winding maze stretching out of the cave's mouth. He didn't know if Deimos was the god or hero of his people's religion, but it was a vital part of his identity and one of the only ways he could think to explain to his father.

Hudson sets the last stone in place and grabs his bag, pulling out a paper house. "Hey, Deimos..." he calls out to the night sky. "Dad or father. I don't know what you want me to call you, but, uh, it's me? Hudson. Your son." He steps forward into his maze. "I'm not really good with words and I don't know what sort of ...offering  you're expecting." He continues on, winding around and into the cavern's mouth, swallowed by its darkness.

"I hope you don’t mind if I explain a few things first.” This wasn’t an offering of fear, because despite the fact that his father was the literal god of fear, Hudson didn’t feel… scary. Sure, people were intimidated by his stature and sometimes his skin color, or the simple fact that he was a man, but for the most part Hudson felt like a hamster in wolf’s clothing. “It’ll make sense in the end, I hope.” His heels click against the hard rock of the cave’s floor, each step accompanied by a soft jingle of the bobs of his spurs.

“My life's been... rough." He murmurs, licking his lips nervously. "The first five years my sisters and I, we were on and off the streets, in and out of foster care. Until we met Craig," he pauses and sets the house down on the floor between his boots. "It was the first real home we had and he was real nice, at first." Pulling his dagger from his belt, Hudson cuts the back of his hand. Blood trickles down, spilling around the paper house. "I was five years old when he married mom, and once that happened, it was like a light switch went off on him."

Shuffling forward, Hudson continues onward, a hand on the cave's wall to guide him. "I met Mr. Floyd a few months after that. Really cool dude. Taught me and my sisters a bunch of stuff. He's got a raccoon, Dipshit." Hudson pauses again, rummaging through his bag until he finds what he's looking for: a paper raccoon figure. "Mr. Floyd taught me to shoot a bb gun." He says, setting it down between his feet and repeating the process of cutting himself.

"We used to practice behind his shop on pictures of famous people. I got really good at it." He grins at the memory, finger gunning the darkness with a soft pew.

The grin slips away and he's back to wandering the maze nature had built into the mountain, a hand pulling out another paper creation from his bag. Calloused fingers rub at the folded edges of a gun. "Craig got worse. Mom didn't want to leave because we'd be without a house or food, which meant we'd get torn apart again... I was scared he might kill her or my sisters one day." He drops the paper gun, pressing the knife to his hand until he feels the sharp stick and the wet slick of blood again. Hudson lets out a hiss of pain. "So, I killed him. Pew!" Hudson mimics the finger gun motion again. "Right through his left eye."(edited)

The demigod grows quiet, frowning in the darkness. "The cops came and took mom away. My sisters and I ended up in foster homes. Separated." He pushes onward, the sound of ruffling wings and soft chirps from the cave's ceiling draw his gaze upward. Bats, he figures. "I bounced around a few homes after that, but the worst house was the Young’s. They used to put stuff in my food at night." His voice dips down to a strained, barely audible whisper. "I dunno if it was so I wouldn't fight back or if they thought I wouldn't remember, but---" Hudson's voice cracks and he stops, heart hammering in his chest. "I remember bits and pieces of what they did to me. Sometimes, I'll remember new things."

Hudson drops a paper cross to the ground, letting more blood rain down. A gust of wind that brushes past him, a soft flapping of fleshy wings trailing it. "Don't worry, life got better after that--- Some law got passed not too long  after that and me and my sisters all got to go live with my grandma." He drops a little bird to the ground and continues with his trek. "Then, Mr. Floyd helped my mom get out of prison and they got married!" A blood slick paper ring is dropped.

"Things were good for a few years. For me, at least. My sister Denver had a harder time," he explains. "Craig had beat her real bad when we were young; got nerve damage in her leg. So, she was in constant pain... and," with his bloodied hand, he pulls out a paper hawk. "She lost hope that it'll ever stop hurting, that the chaos in her head will ever stop without the heroin." Kneeling to the ground, Hudson sets the bird down gently. "I got selfish, started spending more time with a girl in school---my first ever girlfriend---and I was barely home. Barely around to see Denver, to listen to her, to be there for her." He draws a fresh cut across his palm, wincing as he deepens it, almost as if he were punishing himself. "She got into a car accident. Killed some wealthy white dude who was out biking and drove off."

For a moment, Hudson simply sits there, letting his palm make a mess around the paper bird. It was one of the best years of his life, but all the good and happiness he experienced seemed small and insignificant when held up next to the heartbreaking events that lead up to his arrest and imprisonment. "We lived in Arizona, so you know, my sister coulda been tried as an adult even though she's just 16 and if that'd happened, then she woulda ended up on death row." A tear streams down his cheek. "So, I took the fall. I got that trial and ended up with that sentencing. She went to rehab, about four times. Then she overdosed five years later. I wasn't there for her again. I couldn't even attend her funeral.”

He sniffs back the avalanche of snot threatening to break free. "Prison sucked. Got stuck in the system for eight years, but thanks to a bunch of laws, my sentence was reduced to life in prison, then reduced again, and then commuted." He hisses as he pushes himself up off the cavern floor and presses onward. "Bounced around between jobs, bought my first house," if a mobile home counted as a house. "I was pretty active in the local anarchist community, and then uh, well, I ran for a city council seat... and I won."

He feels out the paper creations in his hand, and tosses the one he was fairly certain was a rainbow. "I jokingly proposed we legalize gay marriage in the city... as a publicity stunt for gay tourism, and uh... well, my bill passed." He lets out a laugh. "Yeah, the state government sued and apparently, that was the nail in the coffin for it to get bumped up to the Supreme Court." There's pride radiating off him. "Funny, huh? Bunch of scared old geezers suing us because they're afraid other cities in the state would copy cat and they'd be known as a gay state... well, their fear backfired on them real hard."

This was dragging on, and while he knew gods technically had all the time in the world, he suspected they also had the shortest attention spans in the world. "I met the love of my life a few years back," his grin softens into a pained smile. "Gideon, he's the most beautiful man I've ever met. He swept me off my feet with just a smile.” The lawyer was all sharp edges, cool as a cucumber, but there was a softness in his gaze when he looked at Hudson. Even his touches were soft, handling the demigod as if he were a delicate work of art. Hudson had never felt so cherished in his 30 years, and it hurt to think he might never experience that again. 

“Dude was a cop---well, a prosecutor, which is just a cop with a college degree. He didn’t want to be one, he wanted do civil rights stuff, but his dad wouldn’t let him. It got him killed---he got him killed." The memory of him trying to stop Gideon from bleeding out comes rushing back to him. He sinks to the ground, a paper daffodil and  heart  in hand and simply breathes. Moments pass in silence before he speaks again. “I’m not telling you this so you feel bad for me. Life isn’t life without a bit of pain.” Granted Hudson had a whole lot more than a bit. “I just wanted to show you that no matter how many times my life went to shit, I kept at it and I’ll keep fighting because I have hope.” Hope that he could beat whatever evils that threaten them. Hope that he can make the world a better place. And hope that he can get Gideon back, no matter what it’ll cost him.  He sets the last two of his paper creations down. “That’s what I’m offering.” He lets his head fall back against the hard cavern walls, staring up at the squeaking abyss above him. “I won’t stop no matter how hard it gets.” Suffering and hope went hand in hand. You couldn’t have one without the other. “I promise.”

A trail of  blood, sweat, tears, and fears turned into hope.

[oliveheart-worldbuilding]

Aster, Bee Balm, Daffodil, Dahlia, Laurel, Petunia, Rose, and Violet? I'd also add Gardenia but it's impossible to escape murder cats.

Hi there! Thank you so much for the ask! Once again, I’m sorry for taking so long to answer!

Adding a read more because this one is pretty long.

Aster- Who’s your least favorite character? Why?

This one is a bit difficult for me, I read many of the books a long time ago and I’m sure if I were to read them again my opinion on a lot of characters would be very different. Going only by memory I would say that Bluestar is one of my least favorite characters but then I would have to add many female characters that I now feel were completely mistreated by the authors and whose entire arcs where thrown under the bus in the name of forbidden love or man pain. I never liked Silverstream, but nowadays I know that whom I actually hate is Graystripe. I used to not like Leafpool or Squirrelflight at all, now I don’t. What I’m trying to say is that my opinion changes constantly and a lot. I read the books a long time ago and did so with a completely different mindset (I was 16 when I read Omen of the Stars and oh man was I edgy and stupid back then), most of my opinions nowadays are based on the potential the characters have rather than the actual character. So bearing that in mind:

-Bluestar: I know, I know, a lot of you love her a lot but even after reading people’s opinions on her I just… eh I don’t like her at all. She feels incredibly detached in the first books. To me she always treated Firepaw rather coldly. I know a lot of people talk about Bluestar as if she had become Firepaw’s adoptive mother but I just don’t see it. Reading about her losing her faith was very interesting, so was her crumping mind health but, I just gotta draw the line on how terrible she was to Brightpaw. In this house we love and respect Brightpaw and Bluestar was just very nasty to her. I really didn’t like her novella at all either. Based on her relationship with Whitestorm in The Prophecies Begin I always thought that she might have played an important role in his life after Snowfur died but, it doesn’t seem that way at all? The only moment we see them interact is when she tells Whitekit, in a very distressing way may I add, that her mother is dead and never coming back. To me, she also comes in as selfish and power-hungry, she spends a huge part of the book complaining about Thistleclaw (bear in mind, back then he was only overly ambitious, not a pedophile) and his relationship with her sister, even though she herself is spending time with Oakheart, a tom from another clan. When Goosefeather tells her about the prophecy he never specifies that she must be the one becoming leader, only that Thistleclaw is not meant to become one and yet she goes out of her way to become the leader so much so that she’s willing to risk her kittens’ safety (killing one in the process) just so she can be available for the position. She could have just uuuuhmmmm told Sunstar about the prophecy? Also I’m pretty sure Sunstar assures her that Thistleclaw would not have made a good leader multiple times so… he could have chosen literally anyone else? Rosetail? Thrustpelt? Don’t get me started on the whole Tigerkit dilemma! She chooses to believe Goosefeather prophecies when they strengthen her own personal bias but when she’s told about Tigerkit’s she just goes “aw man Goosefeather sure is crazy hahaha anyway back on me becoming leader”. I don’t know, there’s more to it but this is getting pretty long. Personally she’s just not my favorite.

-Graystripe: He’s a terrible friend, he treats Fireheart like absolute garbage, he chooses a molly he has known for exactly 2 days over his best friend and his entire clan, he leaves Thunderclan to spend more time with his kittens just to abandon them 5 seconds later, and yet the son of a bitch was somehow always meant to become deputy to Firestar??? Just because they are friends??? Dude went against the warrior code, endangered his clan by refusing to fight Riverclan, was incredible close to causing an all-out war with Riverclan, abandoned his clan, refused to see what was wrong about his behavior just because he was in love… How in the f is he a good warrior??? Erins I want answers; this man is garbage. When he gets captured by the humans and comes back to the lake he gets so SO mad at Firestar for not “waiting for him”, my dude you were gone for seasons, you were deputy, you really expect the entire clan to stop working so that you can keep your friendship bracelet position? Everybody thought you were dead Graystripe!! Was everyone supposed to keep vigil forever?? He’s also a terrible father to both his litters, his reaction to being told that Feathertail’s dead is “aw man… she was so beautiful… like her mom…” that’s terribleeee. At some point in Omen of the Stars, after Briarlight broke her spine, Millie complains about Graystripe not helping her at all and then they start fighting about it, Graystripe’s only answer is something along the lines of “yeah whatever dude”. I hate him so much. I stopped reading after The Last Hope, so I can’t talk about the rest but, I’ve seen some parts of Graystripe’s Vows and let me tell I want this man gone for good. He’s lived for too long.

-Lionblaze: He’s the most flavorless character in the history of flavorless characters. What’s his arc? That’s right. He doesn’t have one. I literally have nothing to say about him. How is this character alive and in his way to become leader when Hollyleaf could have been in his place? Disgusting. Also, dreaming about killing your girlfriend and bathing in her blood? Bad. Not showing not even a bit of remorse about after waking up? Terrible. Badly hurting her mentor when you were trying harm her? Just straight up fucked up. He’s badly written, boring and kind of very misogynist at times.

I have many other opinions because I’m a very judgmental person but I’m gonna leave it at that because this is getting very long.

Bee Balm- What’s your favorite novella or super edition?

I’ve only read three! So Crockedstar’s promise I guess.

Daffodil- When did you first start reading the books?

In the summer of 6th grade, that’s when I was… 11-12 years old? I think? So in 2012-2013, I started reading them in Spanish but I read through them super-fast and the translations were super slow to come out so I just started reading the books in English. It actually helped my English level quite a bit! My first English book was The Forest of Secrets I think.

Dahlia- Has any death scene actually made you cry? What was it?

Snowfur’s (Reading about Whitekit screaming at her mother to wake up was super messed up), Yellowfang’s (I loved that old woman. I wish they hadn’t written about her in Starclan, she’s so out of character in later books) and Hollyleaf’s death (yes, first and second time, young me loved her to pieces. I still can’t believe they let her die a second time when Lionblaze’s flavorless ass was right there…).

Laurel- If you could write the books, what changes would you make?

I would contemplate the idea of just, moving forward in time? The warriors’ series feels very stagnant. Young characters die while having no personality at all and older characters from the first series are still alive and very much immortal at this point. We need new fresh blood.

I would just set up a completely new series: maybe the stories of Firestar and his family have been immortalized, maybe they are now revered as gods or something, I would create an actual religion system, one based in nature, the death and rebirth of all things and the need to remember those who have fallen. I would change their entire culture so that elders are more important; medicine cats are not regarded as useless (I’m looking at every character that forced in this position instead of choosing it themselves) and the warrior code actually makes sense.

The setting of this new series would be the lake territories but a long time has passed since the time of Firestar and things have changed a lot. A kittypet joins the clans and through their perspective we see how they work and act, what makes every single one of them different, their culture and laws, etc. It would be a nod to the first series while being completely new. It would also allow to add new characters from the start so they all have personalities and relationships with each other.

I would also contemplate creating one last series set up in the time of the original clans where everything just goes to hell. You guys remember rabies? I want that + Starclan going crazy. A full out massacre of old characters that ends in only a few surviving ones. I want blood, and I want it to be scary. If children can read about Tigerclaw’s horrible death, then they can read what in my opinion would be a zombie/ghost apocalypse. And then I would start anew with this completely new series set up in the future.

I mean, I would rewrite a looooooot of things, but that’s a talk for another day.

Petunia- Which arc is your favorite? Which is your last favorite?

My favorite is The Prophecies Begin when it comes to the plot and the Power of Three when it comes to characters. My least favorite is the New Prophecy.

Rose- Do you prefer traditional naming or creative naming?

Traditional all the way! I like when things have meaning and each name having its own really helps the feeling of there being a pre-established culture! Creative naming just doesn’t make a lot of sense to me in this context but that’s just my personal taste.

Violet- What do you think is the worst trope in the series?

Already answered!

Gardenia- Do you think you’ll ever leave the fandom?

Probs not, I’m in too deep, warriors is always at the back of my mind...

[w-k-smith]

Chapter Three: Ghost to Ghost

Whoo! Penultimate chapter, everyone!

Beetlejuice and Lydia are almost to the Abyss, meaning Beetlejuice’s lies may soon be revealed. But first, they have to deal with the fact that living, dead, or demonic, parents just don't get it.

[This chapter took a while, but I hope the fact that it's on the longer side makes up for the wait. Then again, the length is part of the reason it needed extra writing and editing time.]

Chapter One: “It’s a Wonderful Afterlife” (6/19/20)   Chapter Two: “Worm Welcome” (07/03/20)   Chapter Three: “Ghost to Ghost” (07/26/20)   Chapter Four: “To Beetle or not to Beetle?” (upcoming)

Warning:  This story contains depictions of, references to, and discussion of  topics like suicide, untimely death, abuse, and body horror - you know,  like the musical does (though this probably has more). Know your  boundaries, and stay safe.

(This story is also available on AO3, under the username w_k_smith.)

New chapter under keep reading! B33tl3b4b3s DNI!

He watched in surprise as the ghost couple fussed over Lydia. He raised his eyebrows at Miss Argentina, but she just shrugged.

“Are you all right?” the man, Adam, pressed, grabbing Lydia’s shoulders.

“Lydia, you look terrible!” the woman, Barbara, said. “What happened?”

“It’s just a dead person disguise,” Lydia said. She rubbed her face with her sleeve, getting rid of most of the grave dirt. “These are the Maitlands. They died in their house, and they were still there when me and Dad and Delia moved in,” she said. She pointed at him, and he made sure to straighten his tie. “Guys, this is my guide, Beetlejuice.”

He floated to the Maitlands’ eye level and rested his chin in his hands. “Heeey. So, what brings two tall glasses of apple cider vinegar like yourselves to a place like this?”

“Beetlejuice?” said Adam. “Like the star? Orion’s armpit?”

“You’re named after an armpit?” Lydia asked.

“It suits him well,” Miss Argentina said.

“The point is,” he said, “Lydia, are these the ghosts who opened the Handbook for you?”

“We showed it to her, but we did not say she could use it to go to the Netherworld,” Adam said. “The three of us were working our way through it together, until yesterday when she up and disappeared.”

“And we’re here to take her home right away,” Barbara said.

“I can’t leave yet,” Lydia said.

“Honey, it’s not safe here. This place has demons, and giant snakes, and your father is going to notice you’re gone any minute.”

“He doesn’t even notice when I’m around.”

“I doubt that’s true,” Adam said.

“Besides,” Barbara said, “we notice.”

Lydia’s voice shook when she said: “Well…you can’t make me go.”

The three of them stared at each other in uneasy silence for a few seconds.

“A-a-hem!” Miss Argentina said, waving her clipboard around to break their gazes. “I’ll leave you two to talk sense into her – God knows, Beetlejuice won’t help.”

“That was unnecessary,” he said.

“I’m going to head Juno off at the pass,” Miss Argentina continued. “If that’s still possible.” She got in Lydia’s face. “You better go home while you still can. Juno doesn’t like breathers jumping back and forth, you understand? And even if she doesn’t catch you, you hang around with him, something might happen that you’ll both regret.”

Lydia set her jaw. “I know who he is, OK? He’s a total ass, but he’s my friend.”

Miss Argentina patted her head, though Lydia immediately swatted her away.

“Take care of this one, Beetlejuice.” Miss Argentina said. “And you? Take care of him. Maybe your two loves of disaster will cancel each other out. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to deal with a rampaging bureaucrat. This is in your hands, until later.” She tapped the Maitlands’ shoulders as she left.

“So!” he said, pointing from Adam to Barbara. “You had the Handbook. You read the Handbook. You know you were supposed to proceed directly to the Netherworld, but you didn’t. Why?”

“Well…” Adam cleared his throat.

“See, we love our house,” Barbara said.

“It’s a Victorian, with original crown molding,” Adam said.

“We poured our heart and souls into our home, though it turns out we should have paid a little more attention to the floorboards.” Barbara scratched her forehead. A horrific gash blossomed there, and shut as quickly as a blinking eye. She probably didn’t notice.

“And we, ah, ‘woke up,’ I suppose,” Adam said. “And this whole other family was moving in! With no appreciation for the building! Changing the wallpaper, getting rid of our favorite rug, throwing out the antiques…”

“Not even donating them,” Barbara said. “They could have donated that crib!”

“Of course we had to do something,” Adam said.

Barbara smiled at Lydia. “Though we’re so glad we met Lydia. I am starting to regret showing you that Handbook.”

“Let me get this straight,” he said, pressing his hands together. “You disobeyed the rules of the afterlife and delayed your eternal rest because someone rearranged your furniture?”

The Maitlands looked at each other, and nodded sheepishly.

“You hot little rule-breakers, you.”

“Beetlejuice is going to help me see my mom again,” Lydia said.

He was offended at how skeptical the Maitlands looked.

“There was nothing in the Handbook about that,” Adam said.

“In fact, chapter two said: ‘no human has ever come back from the dead, so never never never never never try,’” Barbara said.

Lydia frowned. “I didn’t say she could come back from the dead. But if you guys are ghosts, that means she can be one too, right? Beetlejuice knows where she is in the Netherworld.”

“I do,” he said, and it wasn’t a lie.

“He’s taking me there right now.”

“Is it dangerous?” Adam asked.

“Noooooo…” he said.

Barbara crossed her arms. “OK, this isn’t as scary as we feared. But Lydia, you shouldn’t have done this without talking to us.”

“You don’t have to scold me!” Lydia snapped.

He leaned between them. “But feel free to scold me any time,” he said to Barbara, pumping his eyebrows.

Barbara’s nostril’s flared. “Do you talk that way to Lydia?” she asked.

“What?” He reeled back, and raised his hands. “No! God, no! I walk the very fine line between lovably perverted and evil, but I do walk it.”

“Well, that’s something, I suppose,” Barbara said.

“Is there such a thing as ‘lovably perverted’?” Adam asked. “It really seems like you might have some boundary issues, sir.”

He raised his hands higher, in a gesture of surrender. “Fine. You want to keep this professional? I can be professional.” He plucked the pair of glasses he saw sticking out of Adam’s shirt pocket, put them on his own face, and affected his nerd voice. “I majored in Afterlife Studies, I graduated from Harvard Business School, I’ve been employed by the Netherworld for the past 3000 years, and I was named employee of the eon seven times.” He handed the glasses back to Adam. “Besides, do you think Miss Argentina would have just walked away if I was that much trouble?”

“She did seem authoritative,” Adam said.

“It’s the clipboard.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable leaving you alone with him,” Barbara said to Lydia.

“I’m fine,” Lydia said. “I promise I’m fine. You guys are going to love meeting my mom! She’s friendly. Probably the friendliest person in the family. You guys can show her how to be a ghost, since you’ve learned so much. She’ll catch right up.”

Adam turned to him. “Is it really possible to bring somebody back like that?”

Whelp, he was definitely starting to have a few regrets. Too late to back down now, though. “In the Netherworld, a lot is possible.”

The Maitlands had an apparent silent conversation with each other. Barbara pursed her lips. Adam frowned. Barbara raised her eyebrows. Adam gave a little shrug.

“If you’re gone for too much longer, we’re coming back,” Barbara said at last.

“OK,” Lydia said.

“And you are never going to do anything from the Handbook for the Recently Deceased without our direct supervision.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“As for you, Mr. Beetlejuice, if Lydia gets so much as a sprained wrist we’ll…we’ll…” Adam was obviously struggling to think of something threatening. “We’ll cut off your head!”

He was sure his hair was starting to turn bright green. “Oh my God, please do, that would be hilarious,” he said.

Adam wilted when it seemed to click with him that he didn’t know how to threaten a ghost.

“Stay safe,” Barbara said to Lydia. “No matter what.”

Barbara took a piece of chalk out of the pocket of her dress, and drew three lines on the rock closest to her. She knocked three times, and an impossible door opened up between worlds. Green mist obscured the space between realities. Adam and Barbara disappeared into it, and the door slammed shut and vanished behind them.

Lydia watched them go, sucking hard on her teeth. He worried she might be having second thoughts.

“We’re almost there,” he said. “One last push. By the way…thanks for lying to Miss Argentina back there, saying I was your friend. I can tell she was secretly happy to hear I’m going soft.”

Lydia gave him a reproachful look as they started walking. “I wasn’t lying. You’re my friend.”

“I…am?”

“Beetlejuice, you’re creepy and bugs come out of your ears. Of course you’re my friend.”

His smile felt like it was going to split his face. “I have a new best frieeeeend!” he crowed, and cartwheeled across Lydia’s path.

“Don’t be so needy,” she said, laughing. “I didn’t say best friend.”

“Right. I’ll bet you have a lot of cool friends, who hang out in the hot graveyards and try on each others’ shrouds. Let me guess – you and three other girls at school keeping talking about forming a coven, but deep down you know you’ll never do it.”

“I actually don’t have that many friends. Not anymore. I have trouble, sometimes,” she said. “I like being weird, and I never want to change myself just to ‘fit in,’ but some people don’t know how to deal with it. When my mom was sick, a lot of the friends I did have freaked out. My mom had cancer, and she got really bad, really fast. I guess they didn’t know what to say, but instead of saying anything it was like…like…what was Delia talking about the other day? Like I was kale salad. Then my dad yanked me out of school before the year was over and barely anyone said goodbye. It was like I was the one who died.”

Things were getting too real. Death, he could handle. Grief, he could not.

“Well, they can go screw themselves.” In his experience that was what people wanted to hear when they spoke in long, angry paragraphs.

“Yes,” Lydia said. “Yes, they can.”

*

One second, Saturn was the only thing visible in every direction. The next, the black line of the Abyss made up the horizon.

“Is that it?” Lydia asked.

“Yup.”

They stood near the top of a sand dune, looking out at the liminal space of the universe. He was getting…uneasy. When he’d first struck his deal with Lydia, he hadn’t pictured himself stringing her along this far. Granted, he hadn’t had any kind of exit strategy at all. He rarely did. And look at the great place that had brought him! Stuck in literal hell, working for his mother, pinning all his hopes of escape on a teenager he was lying to.

Maybe it was time to reexamine some stuff.

“Hey, kid…” he began.

“What?” she asked.

“Things might get a little rough in there.”

“Is the Abyss dangerous?”

“Not dangerous, per se. But there’s something I don’t think you understand –”

“I don’t care,” Lydia said.

“No, see, this isn’t a cute little rule to rebel against, this is important –”

“I said I don’t care.” She pointed at the Abyss ahead of them. “If my mom is in there, I’m going in, no matter what.”

“And that kind of inflexible, bullheaded thinking is admirable, and definitely not something you should discuss with a therapist, but –”

Lydia took a deep breath, and coughed. “Something smells terrible.”

He snorted. “It’s called musk, and if you were romantically inclined, you’d know it’s important for attracting –”

“I know that smell!” she said. “That’s one of Delia’s fake smudge sticks! She buys them from a super-white Gwyneth Paltrow wannabe in Arizona, and she waved them all over the Maitlands’ house when we moved in. They smell like burned sugar and farts.”

He took a deep breath, and considered. “Yeah, I guess it depends on whose farts you’ve been smelling. Wait – why would Delia be waving those around here?”

“Why would she be here at all?” Lydia dashed to the top of the hill, and looked down. “Oh. My. God.”

He looked where she was looking, down at the cluster of four adults just outside a door to the living world. The Maitlands were back, which didn’t surprise him. The surprise was that they’d brought two living friends along. One was a burly man with dark hair, who was holding a wooden cross aloft. The other was a redhead woman in a patterned dress, flinging the smoke from her burning plants around like it was going to do anything but annoy anyone within a fifty-foot radius. This had to be Dad, and the infamous life coach. Oh, things were about to get daytime-talk-show interesting.

“Dad!” Lydia yelled, running down toward the small crowd. “Delia! What are you doing here?”

All four adults turned to Lydia with relief so powerful it practically stirred wind through the sand. The live ones ran to Lydia and enveloped her in a desperate hug.

“Thank goodness,” said Lydia’s father, almost smacking her with the cross.

For his part, he sidled up next to the Maitlands. “So, you gonna cut off my head now?” he asked. They didn’t laugh, which disappointed him.

Lydia had wiggled away from the hug. “Dad, why do you even have that cross? You’re an atheist.”

“I’m a practical man. If there was a chance religious iconography could offer protection, I wanted to bring it along on the rescue mission.”

“Do you think this is a rescue mission? What did Adam and Barbara tell you?”

“Lydia, we’re sorry,” Barbara said, and he caught the tone of someone trying their best to be gentle. “We had no choice. We were going to wait for you, and try to stall, maybe, but in the end we couldn’t.” She lowered her voice, but he could still hear. “Charles and Delia found your note.”

Lydia frowned. “What note? I didn’t tell anyone that I was – oh no.”

 I was going to jump off the roof of our new house. Just yesterday. I wrote a note and everything.

“Whoops,” he said under his breath.

“I was about to call 911,” Charles said. “And then these people appeared in the middle of the room.”

“We were worried we weren’t going to be able to do it,” Barbara said. “No offense, Mr. Deetz, Ms. Schlimmer, but you don’t seem prone to the strange and unusual.”

“But we manifested!” Adam said, sounding proud. “We kept popping in and out at first, but finally, we made them see us!”

“It was certainly a surprise,” Charles said. “They told me you were unharmed, but that you’d traveled to…”

“The Netherworld,” Lydia snapped.

“The Netherworld?”

“The spiritual energy here is unsettling,” Delia said.

She was staring at him. He stuck his pointed, striped tongue out at her. “Boo,” he said, without enthusiasm.

She flinched, and dropped her plant bundle. The fire went out when it hit the sand. He picked up the smudge stick, and nibbled it. Not bad. He stuffed it in his jacket for later.

“The Maitlands, who I suppose you could consider our new neighbors, said you’d found some sort of guide, and that he was going to help you find – find –” Charles cleared his throat. “Ah. Excuse me. Anyway, I see now they must have been referring to this…rodeo clown who died of consumption?”

“Wow,” he said, straightening his tie. “OK. Wooooow. That’s actually a new one.”

“This is Beetlejuice. He’s my friend.”

His stomach jumped when she said “friend.”

“I’m a demon,” he said, holding out his hand for Charles to shake.

Charles gave him a firm, businesslike handshake. “My daughter hasn’t gotten up to any terrible misadventure, has she? No Satanism, bodily harm, drug experimentation?”

“She ate some Zagnuts and fought a giant worm. She’s fine.”

“How did you beat us here?” Lydia asked. “We’re almost to the Abyss.”

“Well, the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says you shouldn’t expect the Netherworld to have a consistent temporal and special relationship with the living world,” Adam said.

Ah, his future boyfriend was learning so much. “Yeah, hot stuff, that’s the basics. In addition, the four of you were pretty focused on finding Lydia, am I right? That’s some powerful psychic steering. It probably made sure you opened up the door close to where she was going to be.”

Charles rounded on Lydia. “I’m still – I’m still very confused, but I’m glad you’re alright.”

Lydia crossed her arms. “Good. You can go back now. I’ll see you later.”

“Absolutely not. We’re going home.”

“That house is not our home,” she said.

“This isn’t up for debate. You are walking through this door right now or there will be serious consequences.”

“What consequences? You’ll take me away from the friends and family I have left? You’ll make me move to a neighborhood I hate for a project you don’t have funding for? You’ll hire some woman you say is meant to help me grieve, but boink her in secret? Oh, wait, you already did all of that!”

“How…how did you know Delia and I were together?” Charles asked.

“I’m so sorry, did you say ‘boink’?” Delia asked.

“How long was it going to happen behind my back, Dad? Was it some kind of joke to you two?”

Delia put her hand over her mouth. Charles reached for his daughter, like he was going to put his hands on her shoulders, but stopped.

“Lydia…it wasn’t a joke. We should have told you a long time ago, and I apologize. But though it may seem sudden, Delia and I love each other. More than anything, we both want what’s best for you. Running around this world cannot be a good thing.”

She shook her head. “Why would you think I trust you anymore? We have the whole afterlife around us, and all you can think about is going back to burying your head in the sand!”

“Be sensible. I have never believed in the afterlife, but I am willing to concede that I was wrong. But if you could just bring someone back whenever you wanted, even as a ghost, even if it was difficult, we’d have heard about it by now.”

“Beetlejuice said –”

“Mr. Beetlejuice is wrong. Or he’s lying to you.”

“No! This isn’t about him, or me. You just want to forget about Mom!” she yelled at her father. “You don’t care that she’s gone!”

Charles flinched.

He looked from Lydia to her father, waiting to see what response she’d get. Whenever he backtalked Juno – which he would admit was often – he never got away with it without having to dodge at least a slap, usually worse. Most parents, he thought, he was pretty sure, weren’t as volatile as Juno, but Lydia was hammering on the family sore spots. He prepared himself to step in. It might be nice to teach a lesson to a crappy parent who didn’t have demonic powers to hold over him.

Charles didn’t yell. He didn’t lash out at Lydia. He just did a good impression of a statue.

When he finally spoke, there was the barest tremor in his voice. “Lydia. Through the door. Now.”

“I said no.” She pulled away from father. “Beetlejuice, do the thing!” she said, waving her hands. “Make them go.”

“They can just come back,” he warned.

“We’re almost there! Do it!”

He made a production of rolling up his sleeves. “Iiiiiit’s showtime. But not for you!”

He waved his arms like a conductor, and as one, Adam, Barbara, Charles, and Delia turned around and marched toward the door.

“What’s going on?” Delia asked.

“So long, farewell…” he sang under his breath. “Adieu adieu adieu – or however that song goes.”

“I think we’re being possessed!” Barbara said, and there was something curious and excited under her fear. “I read about this.”

“Did you read how to stop it?” Charles asked. He flailed his arms, like windmilling could stop his feet from moving forward. Adam walked through the door.

“Um, not yet…” Barbara said.

Delia went through the door, then Charles and Barbara followed. The door to the living world slammed shut and disappeared.

“I think that was pretty good, but – kid?” He looked over his shoulder, and Lydia was already gone, sprinting up over the dune toward the Abyss. With her head start, she was out of his sight in a second.

“Hey, don’t do that!” he yelled. “Wait!”

He got no answer. Damn it all to hell. He picked up speed, and if he hustled, he’d be able to catch her before she got to the Abyss.

His feet were yanked out from under him, and he was dragged backwards, facedown, through the sand, until an unseen force flipped him over.

“Where is the living girl?” Juno hissed.

The anger in her eyes was electric. He did his best to pull away, but all he could do was wriggle in her mental grip.

“Don’t lie to me,” Juno said. “I know you were with her. What does she want to do? Summon demons?”

“You know, it’s so weird, she actually wants to see her mom again. Not something I can relate to.”

Juno jerked her wrist. He flipped over and flew into the air, dangling right at her eye level.

“Tell me,” Juno growled.

“She’s my friend.”

“You don’t have friends.”

He tried to break free, his limbs flailing in the air. “You’re going to kill her, Ma!”

“This isn’t hard, Lawrence. She’s going to die eventually. Moving up the timeline to keep order in the Netherworld is reasonable, and you know it.”

“See, to me, that reaction is out of hand.” He sprouted as many arms as he could physically manage under the circumstances, all the hands reaching for Juno.

She batted them away, and grabbed him by the throat.

He choked. He was a damn ghost, and didn’t need to breathe, but immediately struggled for air as his throat crushed and burned with pain. Juno’s bony fingers didn’t relent. She let him go limp, looked him right in the eye.

“This is your last chance,” she said. “Tell me where the girl is.”

She gave him the barest freedom to speak. “One sec…” he croaked. He fumbled inside his jacket. “Lemme just grab something.”

He pulled out the fake smudge stick, and set it on fire. The dried plants and who-knew-what burst into stinking flame, and dragged the fire across Juno’s towering hairdo.

Her scream rattled his bones and threatened to knock his teeth out of his gums. But she dropped him. He hit the ground hard, but ignored the pain, got to his feet, and ran for the shadows ahead.

He could smell his mother burning. It was the smell of a tire fire, mixed with the smell of melting synthetic fabric, mixed with sulfur and hellfire and the cold knowledge at the center of it all that what he’d just done was beyond what she’d be willing to tolerate. She wouldn’t settle for giving him orders and knocking him around anymore. When she caught up with him, she’d tear him to pieces. She would drag him back to the administrative area and make an example of him. She’d make him regret being born, though that was all her fault anyway.

He couldn’t do anything about that now. Now, he had to make sure she didn’t catch up to Lydia.

The black stripe of the Abyss loomed before him. He expected it to either call to him, or repulse him. Instead, it just hung there in front of him, a simple fact.

“You’re not so tough,” he muttered.

Then he did the thing he’d sworn he wouldn’t do for at least another ten thousand years, and threw himself into the Abyss.

[scarlettsabetlondongirl]

Poet Scarlett Sabet

In conversation with poet Gerard Malanga for London Magazine.

The London Magazine is England’s oldest literary periodical, with a history stretching back to 1732. Today – reinvigorated for a new century – the Magazine’s essence remains unchanged: it is a home for the best writing and an indispensable feature on the British literary landscape-London Magazine  

See here

“After meeting at a French New Wave Cinema book launch in London in November 2019, poets Gerard Malanga and Scarlett Sabet have since kept in regular correspondence via email.

In this unique interview, conducted over several weeks while thousands of miles apart, the two writers discuss shared influences, the recent passing of the Beat Generation poet Michael McClure, and the grounding influence of poetry throughout the international lockdown. 

This interview is based on the poets’ original email correspondence and has been edited for clarity.”-London Magazine   

GERARD MALANGA: You ask how my week has been? I’ve been in lockdown now for 3 weeks or so, though I might’ve lost count. I have plenty to keep me busy in the house here, plus I have responsibility towards my 3 cats. And then there’s dreamtime, between 4 & 6 in the morning.

But suddenly I felt days back this ennui coming on, like, did the poetry suddenly disappear? Sometimes I’m concerned—but just for a moment mind you—whether I can match or even better the last one? There’s no way I can predict when the muse will appear. If I had the answer, it would vanquish the mystique.

Since I’ve been in lockdown, there’s no going out for me for the morning coffee and The New York Times unfolding on the table. Many a first draft has begun that way, but now with a physical displacement of sorts I can’t claim to be an habitue of the cafe life. The kitchen table serves me well – or wherever I happen to be outdoors – so long as I have a small notebook in my pocket. I even prop myself up in bed with a clipboard pressed against my knees. I follow where I feel a poem coming on. When I start, then I know I’m in for it, but don’t give it the slightest thought. I’m in for the ride.

SCARLETT SABET: Yes, I find sometimes walking in the morning, having a destination, getting into my body and moving get’s the ball rolling with writing. I can understand the ritual of going to a cafe. I’ve written on trains a lot, the motion and rhythm helps, and because I’m in a vacuum in transit I can’t be reached.

I love the image of your 4am dream writing, I think that’s a great ritual. Sometimes I write three pages first thing in the morning, and it’s just anything on my mind. I’ve also found meditation helpful, deepening my state of consciousness and then writing straight afterwards to see what comes out, kind of like automatic writing in the spirit of Austin Osman Spare.

We were both raised Catholic, I wonder if that has had any bearing on your writing or practices? I find a great sense of divinity in art, those moments of inspiration.

GERARD MALANGA: Funny that you would mention that. No one’s ever asked me about my spirituality, that I recall. People have weird notions about me, like I’m some kind of guy about town. I may have a little bit of that too. But spirituality for me is to be able to laugh at yourself. Even when I talk to my cats, I’m laughing at myself. I don’t mean physically laughing as such but going about life without being self-conscious. It helps when I’m writing a poem.

Back in 1970 or so, I had a spiritual conversion. One of my closest friends, a guy named Jim Jacobs, turned me on to the first two Carlos Castaneda/Don Juan books; so we were basically comparing notes and one of the themes that came through for us was to follow your nature to be happy. Suddenly we found ourselves wearing white clothing and calling ourselves the white lights. When we went to London we ended up buying an all-white 1939 Bentley convertible with one windshield wiper not wiping, and it basically gave us the freedom to go visit friends in the English countryside. It sounds hysterically funny when I look back at this, but we were quite sincere in our endeavors. If this was going to be our path we had to be true to the discoveries we made along the way.

During our travels we decided to split off and agreed to re-connect a couple of years later in the Massachusetts Berkshires where he’s from and continue where we left off. Jim ended up being one of the top dealers in the secondary art market handling the likes of Judd and Cy Twombly, and now he’s curating shows. I continued to write poetry without a care in the world and became more attuned to the pictures I was taking. I truly feel I’ve become a better photographer because of the experiences I had. You have to be courageous to suddenly drop out and then drop back in.

Back in ’74, I had this idea for a book of my spiritual poetry that would have as its cover one of those kitschy paintings of Jesus. I called it ‘Poems for the Fat Lady’. You know, the Fat Lady was a phrase I’d picked up from reading Salinger’s Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters, where he’s actually equating Jesus with the Fat Lady, that they were one. That’s pretty neat, I thought. It didn’t go over too well with my publisher who rejected the idea outright. He thought I was joking. So I settled for a kind of even-balanced title, Incarnations,’ and changed the poems around.

Perhaps, the Fat Lady was the closest I ever got to God, though I don’t give it much thought these days. It’s the inspiration and the love that come from it which is the driving force and source for much of what I’m writing nowadays, and that’s the joy when I finally finish a poem. A state of happiness sets in for me.

SCARLETT SABET: And what you said makes sense, I can understand it. Did you have a period where you rebelled against spirituality or Catholicism and were, say, atheist? Although it’s bizarre for me to admit it, once I left school I did swing to atheism, I guess as a way of rebelling or a reaction. School can be dogmatic.

GERARD MALANGA: In hindsight, to embrace atheism, Scarlett, would deny the spirituality within me which accounts for a lot of my poetry as well. There was no real rebellion on my part. I always felt that my guardian angel was looking after me when I was fated to become a poet. Who would I be, otherwise? It’s a scary proposition, come to think of it.

SCARLETT SABET: True, looking back I realise I’ve always had a Guardian Angel too. I’m so sorry for the loss of [influential Beat poet] Michael McClure, and I was moved by the picture you took of him in San Francisco, 1972. What was that day like?

GERARD MALANGA: If I live long enough, God willing, I may end up not knowing anyone because at this juncture a lot of my friends have already passed. Many of them in the obituary series of my most recent book Cool, which you have. I don’t want to slip into a consciousness of perpetual mourning. Yet I hadn’t anticipated that I’d be writing a poem for Michael, but then I opened up to myself and his consciousness flowed right in. Perhaps I had a vacuum to fill at that moment from an external point of view, taking Michael’s place for the poem that would talk to him and he to me.

I remember little of that when I came to visit with him and made his portrait. It was a serene afternoon. Just him and me. I remember distinctly that we went off in his car, perhaps to a restaurant. We were driving somewhere, and that made sense. But for the life of me I remember nothing of what transpired over lunch. With all the history—and it ain’t an awful lot—there’s still a history there to be acknowledged. You know, I performed the part of Billy the Kid in Warhol’s movie which we adapted from Michael’s play, The Beard. Hardly anyone knows this; perhaps in part because I believe the movie has never been shown. So the friendships last and last and continue beyond the grave.

SCARLETT SABET: I’m always struck by the structure of your poems. I was wondering what your approach to this was, whether there was any major influence from particular poets of your youth, or even whether the way that you frame scenes and ideas within poems has any crossover influence from your work in the wider art world?

GERARD MALANGA: Yes, there’s probably a very strict structure to my poems, but it’s casually applied in what the work proposes as possibility, which I don’t even notice when I’m starting out. For instance, for a very long time, the opening to the work begins with an indented first line of let’s say 8 characters. It’s my way of engaging myself and the reader into a form of poetry that’s a radically different departure from what may be normally perceived. Yes, it’s a poem, but I like to think of them as prose poems as well.

I left ‘influences’ behind decades back. I’m pretty much on autopilot. I’m my own navigator. I travel the journey alone. My earliest influence when I literally started was Gerard Manley Hopkins. I was enchanted by his system of ‘sprung rhythm’ which he basically invented with no imitators following. That would’ve been 1959 during the start of the high school year in my senior class. In 1962, I believe, John Ashbery made a profound influence on my early work with his book The Tennis Court Oath. That became my Bible. I’d carry it around my duffle bag wherever I went. But it was Ted Berrigan with his Sonnets in ’64 that unlocked the door for me into what Ashbery was doing and that was a sheer liberating factor. From there the work continued to expand on its own.

The only ‘crossover influence’ that I imagine, as you put it, in the ‘wider art world’ would be my own life, and not the art world, per se. So what we have here is the tendency to open almost all the work in the form of what appears to be a letter on the surface, but is actually a message. I’m addressing the subjects of my poems directly; they’re not ‘about’ the subject. I’m talking directly to them, as if they’re right in the room, whether it’s a person or a cat.

SCARLETT SABET: You mention you don’t write about your subjects but address them directly in your poems. I think this is what makes them so arresting and intimate, particularly in the ‘Lives They Lived’ chapter in your beautiful collection Cool & Other Poems [published by Bottle of Smoke Press]. Each poem is a visceral portal, allowing the reader to be present with you, and witness Christopher Logue against a snowing sky before warming his hands around a mug of cognac, and Anita Pallenberg a vivacious, laughing woman sitting opposite you at Cafe Flore. Also in that chapter you include a poem entitled ‘Gerard Malanga dies’. The poem contains the line ‘I am my only guide now,’ which I found so powerful. Could you tell us how that poem came to be?

GERARD MALANGA: Putting together that section, ‘The Lives They Lived’, I figuratively had to step outside myself. That’s how close I was with many of those listed and to the memories I have of them held dear. It was not an easy section to compile. By the way, ‘The Lives They Lived’, is borrowed from the New York Times‘s annual round-up supplement. I called my contact at the paper to get permission to use it and he saw no problem involved.

Writing ‘Gerard Malanga dies’ was a tricky situation in the need to make it work. It was one of the final poems in the section and it presented me with an opportunity to address certain issues surrounding death and to those friends I’d already acknowledged over a period of nearly 40 years. I also lapse into a bit of my own personal history, as if I’m contemplating how others might see me after I’ve gone: ‘The rabbit hole is waiting for my plunge.’ Somehow, that image of the rabbit hole has emerged in a few of my poems and also echoes back to Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, one of my favorite childhood books.

The rabbit hole is an image for both death and resurrection, as I see it. Here, I question myself, ‘Am I preparing for another life? A return to life?’ And so I treat this poem as slowly nearing its own end with a ‘journey’ back to life ‘…and on and on…’. I equate this with an actual journey I’d taken by train from ‘Glasgow down to Central London…’ back in 2014 where I’d been dreamily staring out the window at a passing landscape I might not ever explore at any other time.

‘Will I even find my way home to the Bronx’ alludes to a movie I’d seen years back I recall, called ‘The Swimmer’ adapted from a John Cheever short story. Starring Burt Lancaster, his character is swimming across a series of backyard swimming pools and encountering neighbors he knew poolside in attempting to reach home. And when he arrives in the pouring rain and runs up to the door, he discovers that the door’s locked and the house is empty. Such a potent ending and darkened cinematic metaphor, brilliantly done. And it’s these private memories in my life resurfacing that I feel nourishes my work.

SCARLETT SABET: We met at a book launch in London, and you were immediately swarmed, surrounded by people. I think that is a testament to the impact your writing has had globally and across generations. How has your home city of New York and its literary landscape changed and evolved for you over the years? Is it something you feel especially connected to?

GERARD MALANGA: Your question speaks volumes, but I’m going to try to be as brief and succinct as I can hope to be as the facts show. I’m seventy-seven now and there have been no accolades to show for it. Cool came out last year and Whisper Sweet Nothings two years prior and together they comprise the best of anything I’ve ever done, and yet they’ve been totally ignored by the New York literary press overall. In the five decades I’ve been publishing I’ve received not one grant or fellowship or any of the prizes totaling in the millions. Nada. Zilch. I can’t even get my memoirs published and I have thousands of fans waiting for this book. You would think that would count for something. I’m grateful for the European attitude towards my work. That’s what keeps the work alive for me. That’s where my audience is and they relate. I love what I do, and I know it shows through the work from the responses at the readings I give and that’s how my work thrives. I love my audience and that’s the truth of it.

SCARLETT SABET: A year ago today, I finished my waitressing shift, went home and listened to what Jimmy [Page] had produced from the recordings we had made of my poems. this became our spoken word album Catalyst. It was a joy to be able to give you our album as I am so moved by your work. It had a sense of synchronicity also, as years earlier, Jimmy had given me a signed edition of your beautiful poem ‘Devotion’.

You said that ‘Cut Up’ was your favourite track on Catalyst. I had christened that poem ‘Cut Up’ simply because it was the first time I had used the William Burroughs/Brion Gysin method. I always feel it’s a handing over, a leap of faith to a higher power, to introduce another energy to it, and it came out with it’s own dark, random rhythm. Burroughs said “when you cut into the present the future leaks out”, and in that sense it has a spell like quality or possibility.

Some poems I’ve written in one sitting, a sort of channeling, like ‘Fifth Circle of Hell’, which is also on Catalyst. But part of the reason I found the cut-up method so liberating that first time was that I was trying to write a poem to encapsulate that period. I felt cautious because the subject matter was focused on the events in Europe and the Middle East, and the horrors and blood shed of the Bataclan attacks in Paris. I think my own identity and ethnicity – my mother is French-Scottish and my father is Persian – gave this piece more weight personally. So really, the cut-up was a way of detaching through the process, which was effective. I suppose I wonder what your thoughts are on cut-ups?

GERARD MALANGA: Scarlett, cut-ups are a tricky business. They almost feel spontaneous, but with every move there’s no turning back. They’re the antithesis to parallel grammatical structures which is how we reform language to make things sound right. You see Bill [Burroughs] stuck with it all his life. Cut-ups were his language and he embraced the process. It’s okay to experiment with language so long as you come out at the other end with something that satisfies you and encourages you to want to do more, to go further. That’s a big commitment. The one thing you want to avoid is being self-conscious in the process, as you put it. There’s no room for self-consciousness in cut-ups. You have to operate on a more or less unconscious level like when you dream.

Of course, you realize this in dreams. I don’t need to tell you. In dreams, nothing really connects or relates. Dreaming is a series of visual and mental disconnects. One thing leads to the next but you don’t know why nor do you have time to stop to know why. It’s like you go with the flow. Excuse the corniness of this. Dreams are the cut-ups of the unconscious. You can’t go back to change anything to make it better. There’s nothing qualitative about it. When that happens to me, I try to maintain the balance of the good and the bad together. All of it. Yes, I’ve done a little tweaking here and there, but only because I’m now in the conscious state and I want to make the lines sound just right. So it’s okay to prune. Robert Lowell taught me how to prune. But you have to know what you’re doing. It’s trusting your instincts. That’s what I do. If I throw out a perfectly terrific line, it’s because I’m trusting my instincts. But, of course, only I know that. The reader doesn’t, nor does he need to.

One of my earliest poems was a form of the cut-up. My English teacher in high school, Daisy Aldan, who introduced me to the world of poetry, gave us an assignment in class to cut out words at random from the newspaper and fill a paper bag with them. The next step was to reach into the bag and pick out one word at a time and place them on a page, and then to transcribe those words into a text, including all the capital and lower-case letters. I did one better and glued them onto the page. This all had to do with chance. Remember, Stéphane Mallarmé, in his last poem ‘Un coup de dés’ said that a ‘a throw of the dice NEVER NEVER will abolish chance.’ Well, he was right about that. You take your chances, you trust your instincts.

SCARLETT SABET: I’ve started reading Gysin’s novel The Process. I bought it last year at Shakespeare&Co but started reading it now to feel closer to Morocco, a place that I really love, while still in lockdown. I wondered what places have meant the most to you?

GERARD MALANGA: I have Brion’s book on my shelf, but I’ve yet to read it. Perhaps I’m still not ready for it yet. Right now I’m immersed in Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. What I like about it is that it reads like it’s not translated but written directly in English. That’s probably the best kind of translated work.

The first place that comes to mind that has meant the most to me, although there may have been others, is the Cafe Flore. It was my first introduction to cafe life when I arrived in Paris in the spring of 1965. And henceforth whenever I’ve visited Paris, I would arrive punctually every morning during my stays. There’s no other cafe that does it for me. Of course, there’s the cafe in the Luxembourg Gardens, but that’s more like a restaurant; a different ambiance entirely. The Flore has a certain something, a certain charm about it that allows me to immerse myself reading the morning papers or writing a poem even. The food’s good too. The croissants, the omelettes, the cafe creme. Some years back, I started referring to it as my ’office’ whenever I had an appointment to meet with friends. And I’d be certain to book a hotel room within walking distance. Anyway, the Flore is the start of my day.

SCARLETT SABET: Well, I hope one day, when the lockdown is over, we can meet you at Cafe Flore.

Photos: London Magazine

[staticscreenwriting]

Love was just a word - Billy Hargrove

Synopsis: Billy wants to start fresh after Highschool. But that means facing the past and that’s scary. Also abandoned pools are romantic.

A/N: This is my entry for @hotstuffhargrove‘s Summer Writing Challenge.  I had the prompts "want a ride" and "is that your idea of flirting". This is over 8k words so, it’s long be warned. Also I’m gonna read through and edit this tomorrow morning I’m so close to falling asleep (forgive me small mistakes please). Feedback, as always, is appreciated.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

I thought that love was just a word They sang about in songs I heard It took your kisses to reveal That I was wrong, and love is real

The california sun burns down on his skin with familiar warmth as Billy leans against the outside wall of a tall brick building. There’s vines covering the front and a big white sign proudly displaying the name of the institution, “ Daisy Fields nursing home”.

His hands feel clammy as he takes yet another drag of what’s probably his 3rd cigarette in the matter of half an hour.  Every time he feels like taking a step forward and entering the building, his heart speeds up and it feels like his legs are made of solid concrete. If Neil could see him now, it would just confirm all the taunts he’s been throwing at Billy for years.

There’s people walking in and out of the big red doors. Most of them are smiling. He wishes so deeply that this is what things are like for him. That walking inside will end up in him smiling the way those people do. That facing the life he’s left behind means being welcomed home with open arms and friendly words. He’s afraid that is not how things are gonna be.

“ Hey,“ a voice speaks up from besides him as he blows the cigarette smoke into the open air. “ Can I help you ? “

There’s a girl who seems to be around his age. Her hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail and her eyes look exhausted but there’s a certain softness to the way she looks at him that makes Billy feel conflicted. People don’t look at him with soft eyes. They haven’t for a long time. It’s either rage or admiration or lust. There’s no inbetween. Those are the emotions he’s familiar with. The emotions he knows how to deal with.

“ Hello ? “ it’s when she speaks up again and raises an eyebrow in question, that he realizes she’s still waiting for an answer. But really, what can he say. Can she help? Not really.

“ No I uh — no. “

“ You sure ? Are you here to visit someone ? I can see if they’re ready to welcome a visitor. I work he—”

“ I said no!”

He doesn’t mean for it to come out like this. Mean and snippy and loud. It’s just too much right now. Coming back to California and facing the life he has left behind. All of it is crashing down on him all at the same time and it’s — it’s a lot.

“ Oh, okay. Well in case you change your mind... “ she trails off. Billy wonders if she doesn’t know how to end the sentence or if he’s supposed to guess how it ends.

“ If you change your mind and decide not to be such a fucking pussy and finally face the consequences of all the stupid decisions you’ve ever made, just come inside”.

Yeah that sounds about right.

He finishes the cigarette before getting into the car and speeding off. Back to Chase’s flat. The one that’s too small for even one person, let alone two. Billy sleeps on a two-seater couch he suspects is from sometime between the early stone age and 1950. It squeaks every time he as much as takes a deep breath. There’s springs painfully pressing into his back and he has to sleep in a fetus position so his legs don’t hang off of the couch from the knee down.

But really, beggars can’t be choosers now can they ? Chase doesn’t have to let him stay at his place and yet he does anyway. Sure they’ve been best friends since as long as Billy can remember, but that was never the friendship they had and it still isn’t the friendship they have. Things with Chase are easy. It’s all the fun and loyalty that the best friendships come with only there’s no expectations. No pressure to be someone you’re not. Neither Chase nor Billy had expected the other to get in contact during Billy’s stint in Indiana and yet they both knew that if things go real bad they could count on the other to be there. Chase is a good friend, Billy thinks, maybe the best. But he’s a god awful roommate and those are the fact.

Billy Hargrove is a lot of things but he’s not messy. Never was. Even as a child, being clean and tidy was something that had been drilled into his head like a fucking commandment. Neil hates messes. Physical ones and emotional ones. In the Hargrove household you learn to either put your stuff away or never see it again because Neil has gotten rid of it. In the Hargrove household you really learn to cherish the things that are exclusively yours and you learn to take the utmost care of them.

When Billy arrives back at the flat, he finds it empty. What else has he expected really ? Chase works full time at the gas station. It’s an exhausting shop and he has to work a lot of night shifts but it pays well enough and he has first hand access to all kids of booze. He’s also mentioned that a lot of chicks hit up the station on their way to the bar, to pregame or some shit like that. Billy has yet to test that statement on its actual truth.

As his eyes move around the room, glancing at what is his life right now, Billy starts to wonder if this is really living. Maybe it’s just existing. All his belongings are stuffed into two grey duffle bags. He’s lodging on his friends couch eating his friend’s food and acting as a silent side character in his friend’s life.

He’s got no job, no perspective and not idea where to go from here. This is not the life he wants to live. But changing means facing all the shit that’s gone wrong and Billy isn’t sure if he’s quite ready to do that.

- OOO - 

It’s 3 days later that he finds himself in the same position, leaning against the same building, smoking a cigarette and wiping his clammy hands on his jeans.

He watches as an older lady talks to a family. Her family, probably. They are smiling and laughing and the little girl that is with them, cuddles close to the older woman. Love is radiating from every corner as he looks at them. They all look so all consumingly happy. He thinks that maybe things here aren’t so bad. Maybe they’re good. Maybe they’re happy. That should ease his conscience a little, right ? Right ? Only it doesn’t. Not even a little bit.

“ Billy ? “

It the same girl from the other day, only this time her hair is down and she’s carrying a guitar case.

“ What ? “

“ That’s your name, right ? “ she asks, eyebrows raised.

“ Yeah. How to hell do you know that. “

She smiles at him and when usually is would make him angry, Billy can’t help but let her smile sooth him a little. It’s so soft and full of something Billy can’t put a finger too. It’s like she’s smiling because she means it not because she feels like it’s expected of her.

“ William Collins is one of our residents. He has a picture of you in his room. I thought you looked familiar the other day and I finally remembered. I mean sure, you’re like 8 in that picture and you’ve grown quite a bit since then — “ Billy almost can’t suppress the smirk trying to spread on his lips as she says that and glances towards his arms “ — but your eyes. Those are still the same. “

Billy loves his eyes. They’re the one thing about him that most resembles his mother. The only other thing he really ever loved in his life.

“ Is that your idea of flirting ? Cause it’s not working, sorry “

She laughs at that and Billy reconsiders his last words there for a moment. Maybe it is working. Her laugh is phenomenal, he thinks.

“ No. No I — that would be a tad unprofessional. So, am I correct ? “

She is. He knows what picture she’s talking about. It’s one that had been sitting on his grandparents’ mantelpiece when he was younger. It’s of him and their dog Charlie. He’s smiling at the camera. Smiling at his mother who’s behind the camera. That day, was one of the good ones. A day when things had gotten too bad at home and mom had packed him into the car and had driven them to his grandparents’ house. He was happy there because mom was happy there and because there were people there who loved him. Who wanted him around. Sometimes he wishes his mom had been smart enough to leave Neil behind. That she would’ve ignored her soft heart that still held even an ounce of love for her husband. That she and Billy had just stayed with Grandma and Grandpa. Maybe then things would’ve been different. Maybe things would be different now. Alas they aren’t. They’re as shit as they are.

“ Why do you even care “

It’s a knee-jerk reaction. One he displays every time someone asks too much, wants to know too much. It’s just easier this way. In the end, no one really cares anyway. People are just nosy assholes.

“ Well clearly you care too. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here, huh ? I just thought maybe you’d like to come in, see William. He’s doing well so — “

“ Look, you don’t know anything, okay ? So how about you don’t try to mendle in my family life, yeah ? Fucking ridiculous. “

Hearing that his Granddad is doing well, make him feel a little better about everything. Doesn’t mean it gets easier though. The weight still feels heavy on his shoulders. Like he’s Atlas and the guilt of his past is the world on his back.

“ I was just trying to be nice. I think he’d like to see you, that’s all I wanted to say. Have a nice day, Billy ! “

Her words are laced with an underlying fury and a very obvious disdain for the way he’s been talking to her. Billy thinks he liked the soft looks better. The smiles too. Then again, it’s his own fault really. People have their breaking points and they have every right to be pissed off at his attitude towards them. God he wishes he wasn’t such a fuck-up.

He can just hear Neil’s cruel laugh in the back of his mind. The constant scoffs at Billy. He wishes there was a way to make them shut up. To quiet his mind. Ways that don’t turn him into a horrible person. Like the alcohol did to Neil.

His eyes follow the girl as she hurries inside the building. One of these days he’s gonna muster up to courage to do the same. To face it all. Not today though. Not on a day that make him so painfully aware of all that is going wrong in his life.

Billy thought that once he was free of his father’s radical tyranny, life would be easier. He truly believed that as soon as he was back in California, back home, things would just work themselves out. Spoiler alert : They don’t. And maybe that’s the typical teenage angst talking but he feels so desperately lost. And maybe all teens do but most of them have someone to turn to. All Billy has is a father that detests him and a Grandfather he can’t bear to look in the eyes.

- OOO -

There’s moans coming from the bedroom when Billy enters the apartment. Apparently Chase had a point when he said his job at the gas station was great for picking up girls.

Billy tries to ignore it for a while but really the place is the size of a matchbox and it’s hard to focus on anything else. A look inside the fridge tells him that in favor of entertaining the girl in his bedroom, Chase has ditched on doing a grocery run.

That settles it for Billy. He grabs his keyes and jacket and rushes back through the door and out into the night, looking for a place to eat. A place of peace and quiet.

- OOO -

Billy walks out of the 7/11 and onto the parking lot. The ground is still wet from the rain that has swept over the town earlier today. The neon lights reflecting in the puddles create a ocean of reds and pinks and bright greens. And if it wasn’t such a mundane thing, Billy would almost thing it looks pretty.

Just as he is about to fumble his car keys from the pocket of his denim jacket, a voice from beside him speaks up.

“ Hey stranger. “

Billy lifts his head and glances towards the car parked two spots from his. There on the hood sits the girl from the nursing home. The one with the soft eyes. The one that talks to much. He hair isn’t pulled into a ponytail this time and she’s wearing a big grey sweater of some sports team. It’s quite that change from what Billy assumes is her usual uniform.

There’s a few boxes of food placed on her lap and it would be a lie to say that the thought of greasy fast food doesn’t make Billy’s mouth water. All he could manage to buy with the few dollars he has saved is a box of graham crackers and a bag of off brand nacho chips.

“ You know at this point I start wondering if you’re maybe stalking me “ Billy exclaims and walks towards her car. It’s a black Mercury Comet. It’s gorgeous.

“ You come to my workplace. So really who’s doing the stalking “ she laughs and takes a sip from the plastic cup clutched in her hand.

Billy only scoffs “ nice car “.

“ Thanks. She’s a gift from my dad. Ya know, it makes up for the emotional abandonment he put me through. “

Billy almost chokes on his spit at those words.

“ Your car ain’t bad either. Sooo, is that your dinner ? “ she asks and glances towards the bag of chips in Billy’s hand.

“ What about it ? “

“ That’s not very nutritious “

“ And onion rings are ? “ there’s a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. It’s involuntarily but it’s there.

“ No but they’re really delicious “ the girl replies before holding the box out towards Billy “ and I got a little too much food so it’s your lucky night I guess. Care to join my feast ? “

For a moment he wants to say no, but what’s the alternative ? Eat chips and crackers alone in his car or go home and listen to Chase bang some random girl ?

Maybe sharing fast food on the hood of a car with some girl he just met isn’t the worst way to spend his friday night.

“ What’s your name ? “ he asks as he scoots onto the hood next to her and grabs a few fries from the box.

“ (Y/N) “

“ I’m — “

“ Billy, I know. “

“ Yeah you do. I forgot “

“ So what brings you to a 7/11 parking lot in the middle of the night on a friday ? Didn’t expect to have company tonight “

“ You do this regularly ? “ Billy laughs and munches away on another onion ring.

“ Oh whatever. “

“ I’m staying with a friend and he’s got a girl over so — “

“ Yikes, awkward “

“ Yeah. What about you ? “

(Y/N) takes another loud sip from the plastic cup “ My roommate and her boyfriend are having some epic meltdown. They have those about twice a week. Then they usually end up either crying or fucking and I’m not particularly thrilled on being around when either of that happens. “

“ Yikes. “

“ Uh-huh. “

For a moment silence settles upon them, the only thing to be heard is the buzzing sound of the neon lights. Then (Y/N) speaks up again.

“ Can I ask about the hair ? “

“ Absolutely not ! We’re not doing that. “ Bill grumbles in return.

“ Doing what ? “

“ Backstory. I don’t do that kinda stuff. “

“ Oh I’m sorry, “ (Y/N) scoffs and raises her hands in mock defence “ didn’t know you were playing the whole silent and mysterious kinda role. “

“ I don’t. Just isn’t any of your business. “

“ That’s fair “ she agrees and shakes the plastic cup only to discover it empty. Her lips are pulled into a slight pout. It’s hardly there before it’s gone but Billy just about catches a glimpse of it.

“ Guess that’s my cue to get my ass home, huh ? “ (Y/N) jokes and rattles the empty cup once again.

“ You think your friends are done ? “ Billy asks, raising a brow in question.

“ God I hope so. What about yours ? “

“ Knowing Chase, yeah. “

And it’s when they both chuckle at his words, that Bill feels something unfamiliar settling in his chest. It feels warm and comfortable and even though it’s only faint, it’s there. Joy.

They wish each other a good night and it’s not just empty words like when he says it to Neil and Susan after dinner, it’s a true statement. He hopes she has a good night, if simply for the fact that she made him feel less alone in the last few hours she’s sure deserving of it.

When he’s just about to get into his car, (Y/N)’s voice calls out to Billy once more.

“ You know, I think he would really like to see you. Maybe — maybe come inside next time and say hello. “

He doesn’t answer. Just nods. Maybe. Yeah maybe next time he will.

- OOO -

He doesn’t. But in his defence, there’s a pretty valid reason for it. At least he likes to tell himself that. He’s got a job now, one he absolutely hates but one that makes it possible for him to eat actual proper food for dinner and rent a tiny apartment at the edge of town. Is it nice there ? No. But is it better than sleeping on a couch that is too small for him ? Absolutely.

After leaving Hawkins, Billy never thought he’d ever be a lifeguard again but here he is, doing exactly the thing he said he wouldn’t at the public swimming pool. And it’s not even an outdoors pool as he had hoped. It’s inside and it’s mostly visited by old people and groups of mothers trying to teach their toddlers how to swim. Billy hates it but it seems to be the only job people are willing to give him. The only one people are willing to trust him with. He can’t blame them either. It’s not like he’s got this great resume of talents and job experience to wow them with. And really, and job is better than being dependant on Chase for everything.

It’s 3 weeks later now and he’s still feeling the invisible force holding his legs down and keeping him from entering the building. It’s ridiculous really, deep inside he knows that none of what happened was his fault, that he was just a kid. And yet it does nothing to ease his conscience.

“ You’re back again. Thought I scared you off with my bad jokes and fast food obsession “

There’s a smile on (Y/N)’s face as she exits the building and comes to a stop next to Billy. She looks tired, he wonders if it’s the job or the late night trips to 7/11.

“ Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not scared of anything “

What a load of bullshit. Billy is scared of pretty a lot of things he’s just become very good at pretending that nothing ever bothers him. He knows it’s bullshit though and by the looks of it and the little smirk playing on her lips (Y/N) knows too.

“ You gonna come inside today ? “ she asks, voice laced with hope and excitement. He hates disappointing her but he just can’t do it. There’s so many voices in his head telling him to just get it over with. But there’s one that’s louder than all the others and it’s pulling at his arms, holding down his feet. Not allowing him to step any closer to the door. That one is pure and unfiltered fear and he hates it more than anything.

Billy Hargrove is afraid of a lot of things and mostly fear itself.

“ Nah. Brought you something though “

“ Me ? “ (Y/N) exclaims, pointing at herself in disbelieve.

Billy scoff around his cigarette and holds a paper bag out to her “ It’s not much, don’t make a big deal out of it. “

“ Oh it’s a big deal. “

“ It’s not. Just — fucking take it. “

Grabbing the bag from his hand, (Y/N) walks towards the little picnic bench and pulls out two grilled cheese sandwiches and a can of coke.

“ You brought me food ? Aw, that’s so nice. This is a big deal, no boy has ever brought me food before. “

“ I said it’s not — “

“ Yeah yeah whatever you say. “

As she’s sitting down and munching away on one of the sandwiches, Billy can feel his cheeks warm up. It’s not in the same way they do when girls whisper dirty things into his ear. It’s a different feeling. One that he is not entire sure about. People don’t usually think he’s nice. No one ever called him that before. Hot ? Yeah. Charming ? Sure. But nice ? Nah.

And Billy always thought nice wasn’t as much of a compliment as it was a soft letdown. “You’re nice, but- “ .

There seems to be no “but” following (Y/N)’s words. “Nice” sounds so genuine coming from her. “Nice” sounds like the best thing anyone could be, when she says it.

“ What, you just gonna stand there and watch me eat ? Sit down, dude “

Her words are accompanied by her sliding the other sandwich over to him and nodding towards the bench across from hers. “ You brought two sandwiches for a reason. Sit down. Eat with me. Please “

Her eyes hold something that Billy hasn’t seen in so long. It’s a certain warmth. A care that runs deeply. He doesn’t know why she cares about him nor what he did to deserve it but when life grants you a good thing, you don’t fucking ask any questions. You take it.

And so he takes the seat she offered and starts chewing away on the sandwich.

“ You from here ? “ he murmures between bites.

“ Huh ? “

“ I said are you from here ? “

“ Oh I thought we weren’t doing this. Backstory an all. What made you change your mind “.

He can see she’s challenging him. The softness of her eyes is overshadowed by a glint of mischief and her lips are pulled into a teasing smirk. If this was pre-Hawkins Billy, he would’ve taken none of it. Girl like that mean work. Girls who challenge you are exhausting. Girls like that didn’t interest him in a way that he wasn’t willing to put in any effort for a small dose of bliss that comes with a blowjob or a quicky in the back of his car.

But this was a new life right ? One where he got a job not to impress people but to secure a future. To make money and to get stuff done. To maybe, one day, have a life that he can be proud of. And maybe a future that’s fit for a girl like (Y/N). That challenges him and keeps him on his toes. One worth putting in effort.

“ Guess I changed my mind “

“ Oh we’re playing like that now. Alright, okay. Yeah I’m from California. Not here but further north. Came down south for a boy. Regret the boy but not the move. Now I work as a receptionist at a nursing home. I wanted to be a nurse but couldn’t afford nursing school. So this is the next best thing. I get to hang out with the people who live here and sometimes I play guitar for them. It’s all good. “

With the warmth in her voice and the softness in her eyes, Billy can imagine she’d make a wonderful nurse. Hell she’s only met him like four times and already shows more care towards him than his father and Susan ever did. It’s quite sad to think about it that way.

“ What about you ? “

“ California born and raised. Then my dad and his wife thought it was a good idea to move to the literal buthole of america. Fucking Hawkins Indiana. “

“ Seems like you loved it there “ (Y/N) jokes before opening the can of coke and taking a sip.

“ Oh it was great. Everything you ever want in life ? It’s there. Horny housewives. Loud teenagers. People who get in your business constantly. Everything! Oh it was — incredible! “

(Y/N) nods and for a moment it almost feels like she understand. He knows she doesn’t. No one ever really can understand what the move meant to him but she’s listening and that’s a hell of a lot more than anyone’s done before.

“ Sounds delightful. Soooo, can I ask about the hair ?” she says and looks up at him through her eyelashes, seeming almost shy.

Billy feels weirdly self conscious. He’s heard his fair share of comments about the mullet. And if he’s being completely honest, he knows it looks kinda ridiculous sometimes when the perm is fresh and the curls still bouncy. But it’s the complete opposite of what his dad deems a respectable haircut. It’s so far off from the straight buzzcut Neil wants him to wear. And pissing Neil off is reason enough for Billy to cherish the mullet. But through the years he’s grown to love his hair and how it makes him — kinda special. It’s his thing just like the Camaro is and the necklace and the leather jacket. It’s part of what make him well — him.

And the girls go crazy for it too so that’s an added bonus.

“ What is it about my hair ? “

“ I don’t know, I just think it’s cool. Really contrasts your sad eyes. “

Sad eyes ? Billy doesn’t have sad eyes, does he ? Surely not because Billy isn’t sad. He’s angry and grumpy and perpetually pissed off. But he’s not sad. Sad people are vulnerable and that’s the last thing Billy would ever allow himself to be.

“ I’m not sad ! “

“ You sure ? Cause you look mighty sad. “

“ I said I’m not sad. Drop it. “

“ Alright. Alright. Sorry. Just — your hair looks really cool. I like it. “

And once again, his cheeks feel slightly warmer at that.

“ Hey I got a job “ he doesn’t know for sure why he says it. It’s not like he’s proud of the job he’s doing. All he does is make sure no one’s running on the wet floor and the old folks don’t drown on his watch. That’s about it. And he’s only earning minimum wage, barely enough to afford the apartment and food. So he surely can’t impress her with money either. Maybe he just wants someone to be proud of him for once. Even if it’s this random girls he’s been infatuated with since he first saw her. Maybe especially when it’s this girl.

“ Yeah ? That’s great. What are you doing ? “

It’s then, that he regrets ever mentioning it.

“ I uh— I’m a lifeguard at the indoor swimming pool “ he’s sure his voice tells her exactly how much he enjoys that job, not at all.

But to his surprise, she doesn’t laugh at him. Doesn’t ridicule him for his choice of work. She just smiles and that means the world to Billy.

“ That’s cool. Saving people from drowning huh ? “

“ I mostly tell kids not to run. “

“ Well you’re keeping them from getting hurt. Good for you. Didn’t even know we have a public swimming pool. I should check it out sometime. “

And by the way she smiles he can tell she means it.

- OOO -

In the following months their little lunch dates become somewhat of a habit. Billy shows up at her work at least twice a week with sandwiches or burgers and sometimes he even brings milkshakes. And though neither of them will admit it, it’s secretly the highlight to both their weeks.

Billy still doesn’t come inside. Still doesn’t visit his grandpa. Guilt still feels too heavy on his shoulders to even consider that. But seeing (Y/N) for their lunch dates, makes that weight feel almost light for the short amount of time they’re spending together. She’s always genuinely glad to see him. She’s all smiles and soft eyes and Billy doesn’t remember a time when someone actually wanted him around in that way. That someone was happy to spend time with him. It feels good and it makes the guilt disappear for a while.

Fall turns into winter when Billy decides to shake up their little routine. The air is colder and Christmas is fast approaching. Though it’s still California and cold, Billy thinks, is relative. The California winters have nothing on Indiana. That place almost made his balls freeze off.

Billy doesn’t come around for lunch that day. Instead, (Y/N) is surprised to discover him leaning against her car as she gets out of work. It’s a late shift and she’s exhausted but seeing Billy waiting for her feels weirdly domestic. It’s a nice feeling. One she hasn’t felt in a while.

“ Want a ride ? “ he asks, signature Billy grin pulling at the corner of his lips.

“ Nooo, you’re leaning against my ride. “

“ Ah come on, play along. “

“ Alright sure. Where to ? “

“ It’s a surprise “

“ A surprise ? “ (Y/N) responds, her forehead wrinkling as she pulls a face of confusion. “ Are you taking me on a date ? “

Is he ? He wonders that himself. He likes this girl, there’s no denying that. Thing is, he’s been on many dates and none of them came from a friendship. None of them were with girls that made his heart feels warm and fuzzy and light. So what is this exactly ? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that it feels good. That it feels right.

“ Just stop asking questions and let me surprise you, alright ? “

When she smiles, Billy can’t keep himself from hoping this is a date. Because her smile, as he said before, is phenomenal.

- OOO -

“ Nooo way! Are we even allowed to be here ? “ (Y/N)’s eyes are wide with disbelieve as she enters the big hall of the public swimming pool. The place is glowing in a blue hue as the pool lies still before them. A perpetual smell of chlorine seeps through her clothes as she walks closer towards the water.

“ I work here I am contractually obligated to be here even. “

“ But not at night when it’s supposed to be closed, you’re not. “

“ Ah come on now, take a walk on the wild side. Thought you girls are into that kinda stuff ? “

“ Breaking and entering ? “

“ Bad boys. Also I have a key so technically — “

He trails off as he pulls his shirt over his head.

“ What are you doing ? “

“ Well I’m not gonna swim in my jeans and shirt. And you shouldn’t either. You didn’t bring a change of clothes “.

The way her eyes wander up and down his body as he slips out of his clothes leaving him only in his boxers, doesn’t get lost on Billy. Billy is familiar with that reaction. He knows he’s good looking and he’s surely got the ego to match. But seeing that he has this effect on (Y/N) makes him feel like a million bucks.

“ I’d love to let you ogle me some more but I’m here to swim “ Billy exclaims.

“ I’m not ogling —” but before (Y/N) can finish her sentence, Billy cannonballs into the pool, creating a huge splash.

When he comes up again, his curls cling to his face and (Y/N) thinks he looks a little like a wet cocker spaniel. She also thinks he looks absolutely adorable.

“ Come on in ! You scared or what ? “ Billy hollers out towards her.

“ Scared ? Please. “

Billy knows she likes this. The challenge. The teasing. It comes so easy with her. Billy wonders if this is what was missing from his life for so long. Someone that feels easy to be around. Where he doesn’t have to walk on eggshells. Where he doesn’t have to uphold a certain image. Where he can be — well himself. The version of himself he wants to be.

“ Turn around “ (Y/N) calls out to him, slipping off her jacket in the process.

“ What ? “

“ I don’t come prepared so please spare me the embarrassment of having to show you my ugly non-matching underwear “

Billy tries hard to keep the images at bay that those words stir up in his mind. He’s sure she looks perfect whatever underwear she’s wearing, matching or not. But he can’t let himself think about that now because he’s only in his boxers and there’s no way to properly hide a boner and now THAT would be fucking embarrassing.

“ Alright, look. I’m turning around. Just hurry up! “

There’s a rustling of clothes as Billy stands with his back towards (Y/N) and before he can react a splash of water washes over him.

(Y/N) shakes her wet hair as she comes back up to the surface and Billy thinks she’s never looked better. Her hair is a wet mess clinging tightly to her skin and she’s got mascara running down her cheeks but god, that smile. That smile could light up an entire town, he’s sure.

“ You look like a poodle. Your curls are so cute “ she says and softly tugs on on a strand of Billy’s hair.

“ A poodle huh ? That’s just what every guys wants to hear when on a date. “

“ So this is a date ? “ (Y/N) asks again, a spark of curiosity in her eyes.

“ Do you want it to be ? “ he says it in a way that sounds so casual. Like it doesn’t make his heart beat faster. Like it’s no big deal. It is a big deal though. It’s a huge deal.

“ I do, “ he swears his heart beat out of his chest at those words. “ I just wish there was music. “

“ You want music ? “ Billy chimes up.

“ Can you do that ? “

He only answers her by throwing her a wink before hopping out of the pool and walking towards the little lifeguard office. It’s mostly used to store the first aid kit and the lost and found box but it also holds the intercom system and the radio that has horrible reception and really only works for one or two stations. Billy only hopes that the gods or whatever higher powers people chose to believe in are on his side tonight and that the radio is gonna play some good stuff.

A static sound fills the room as Billy presses the button of the intercom. He sets it so the it stays on without having to press the button the entire time and clears his throat once before speaking into the little microphone. “ Ladies and Gentlemen, as requested by our special guest miss (Y/N), please enjoy tonight’s musical entertainment, provided to you by— “ he pauses and turns the radio towards the microphone, “ Billy Idol. Eh, could be worse “.

Billy Idol’s “Eyes without a face” echoes through the halls of the pool. (Y/N) can’t help but feel like she’s stuck in a scene from her very own romance movie. Sure, maybe splashing around in a closed public swimming pool isn’t everyone’s dream date but to her it seems perfect.

It’s her and Billy and things don’t have to be perfect. They don’t have to be everyone else’s perception of romantic. She thinks it’s very charming. It feels a little magical even. And in the end that’s all that really matters, isn’t it ?

Her thoughts are interrupted as Billy jumps back into the pool, creating yet another huge splash.

And before either of them can really process what’s happening, they’re caught in the bliss of the moment, splashing and jumping and pushing each other into the water. It’s like for a moment nothing else matters. It’s light and easy and fun. They’re allowed to be the teenagers they are. For a night they get to forget about work and money and all the other shit weighing so heavy on their hearts and just — be. Just be silly teenagers playing around in a pool. Unbothered. Free.

Billy tries to remember the last time he got to feel like this. It’s been a while.

He wants to stay in this moment forever. Capture it in a freeze frame and never leave. Because the walls of this pool hold only laughter right now, and it’s all he ever wants to hear. All he ever wants to feel.

Billy’s chest is heaving from exhaustion. Exhaustion caused by fun. By laughter. As he leans against the side of the pool, (Y/N) surfaces right before him. There’s a shine in her eyes and he wonders if he’s the one who put it there. He hopes he is.

She’s so close now, nose almost touching his and it sends a flutter right to his stomach. Really, it’s silly. He shouldn’t be this nervous. He’s been with a lot of girls, has done a lot of things. Why does this feel so different ? Maybe because this isn’t a mean to shut up the voices. To take his mind off of all the shit going on around him. This one feels different because it is. Because it means more. Because it means so much more.

“ Hi “ she whispers, water droplets pearling down her face. She reminds him of a mermaid then, like she jumped right out of that movie Splash. Not that he’s seen much of it or can remember the plot very well, but he does remember Daryl Hannah alright. He thinks (Y/N) looks even more beautiful.

“ Hey. “

From then on, it’s heavy breathing and speeding hearts and hesitant soft touches. And then his hands find the way into her wet hair and onto her cheek and her lips brush against his. It’s merely a whisper of a touch but it’s sending little electric shocks straight through his heart and all throughout Billy’s body.

And then he pulls her as close as he can manage and kisses her just like he’s been wanting to kiss her since they hung out at the parking lot and he realized just how wonderful she really was, all bright eyes and big smiles and all.

And then — then she pulls away. The shine in her eyes is gone and is replaced by a look of utter uncertainty and hesitance.

“ You alright ? “ he asks, hands still cradling her face.

“ I like you “

Those words send another shock to his heart. He can feel the smile tugging at the corner of his lips but something about the way she says it makes him hold back.

“ I like you too. “

“ No, you don’t understand. I like you. I — I love spending time with you. You make me smile and laugh and my heart feels all gooey when you’re around but — “

There’s always a but isn’t there.

“ But ? “

“ But I feel like I don’t know you at all. I understand that you have a hard time talking about certain things and I am trying to be patient but how can I let myself fall for you when I don’t know who you are. Like — who you really are. There’s clearly things in your past that make you sad and that weigh down on you. Those things shape you in a way, they make out part of who you are and I feel like you’re purposely keeping those things from me. But how can I know you if I never get the full picture ? I want this so badly, Billy. I’m just afraid that you’ll always be a riddle to me in one way or another. “

No one’s ever asked that of him, really. There’s been girls that had this weird idea of being some kind of savior. They wanted to fix whatever they deemed broken about him and thought that their adoration could in any way lessen his greive. Though they never outright asked him about any of it. They got their gossip from whatever nosy bitch dug deep enough to figure it all out and spread it through the high school hallways. But no one’s ever asked. Until (Y/N).

And it makes all the difference.

“ My mom is dead and my dad is an abusive asshole. That’s the beginning and the end of my personality. And it turns me into a mean person. An angry one and I — I don’t want to be that person. I come with a lot of baggage and I am sorry if that’s too much but I want to be with you too. You’re the first person in a long time to actually give a shit and I am fucking ecstatic that you do. Because you’re hot and beautiful and a little weird and I’m so into that. Look I want to tell you everything but I don’t even understand half the things myself. I’ll try though. I’ll fucking try my best. If that’s good enough “.

“ That’s all I’m asking. “

He’s never been good enough. It’s a strange feeling to be told that this time he is. A good feeling. And really, he’s unsure of how to handle this. How to react.

So he reacts in a way he knows very well.

With a kiss. And another. And another.

And when he pulls away to take a breath, foreheads still touching, she takes his face in between her hands. They’re soft and gentle and it’s a complete contrast to the harsh slaps against his face that he is so painfully used to.

“ Sad boy, you’re making me fall so deeply in love with you.”

If only he could put into words how much that means to him.

If only he could articulate how much she means to him.

- OOO -

The world shift a little after that night. Billy still comes around for lunch dates but he also brings her around his flat and they spend a lot of time just lounging on his tiny couch, sharing kisses and watching Cheers.

Billy soaks it up like a sponge. The love and affection she showers him with is so foreign to him but it feels too good to deny himself to relish in it.

It’s a few weeks later, Christmas lights cover the little bushes in front of the retirement home, as Billy sits on the bench as usual, taking long drag from his cigarette.

(Y/N) mentioned once, how much she enjoys the christmas time and kept gushing about the twinkling lights that Billy’s neighbours have strung up in their front yard. Billy thinks he might have to drop by a store and get some for his place. She’s  over there a lot and he’s sure it will make her smile. Her smile is worth all the hassle.

He watches an older couple sit by the little gazebo in front of the building. The man is softly holding onto the lady’s hand, keeping them warm in the chilly winter air. Up until this point, Billy hasn’t really given any thought to what his life might by like in the future. When he’s old and gray. It never really mattered. Now that he watches the couple, he hopes that his future resembles this someday. And he hopes it’s (Y/N) hands he gets to hold, wrinkles and all.

(Y/N) rests a soft hand on Billy’s shoulder. She’s always gentle with him, something he’s infinitely grateful for.

“ Hey Babe, I — “ his words get stuck in his throat as he turns around to face his girlfriend. Her eyebrows are furrowed and there’s a unsure smile on her face but that’s not what makes him stop. It’s the old man standing beside her. The one he hasn’t seen in so long. He looks exactly like Billy remembers him. The same gentle smile. The same wrinkles around his eyes. The same grey hair.

The same eyes. His eyes. His mom’s eyes.

“ Billy “

There’s no resentment in his grandpa’s voice. Nothing but kindness. Billy can’t take this. He doesn’t deserve this. This is not how he wanted this to go either. To be pushed into this situation. He was supposed to live life on his terms.

His hands are shaking as familiar rage curses through his body. (Y/N) knew he wasn’t ready. She had no right. It’s in the way he looks at her when he gets up. The way all the warmth has escaped from his eyes and is replaced by an icy glare. It’s in the way he walks past her not sparing her a single look back over his shoulder. Pure and utter disappointment.

He stalks past the gazebo and across the parking lot before coming to a halt next to his car. Maybe he was too quick to trust. It all was too good to be true anyway. Right ? Because good things don’t happen to Billy Hargrove. They never do. They never did.

Awkwardly he fumbles for another cigarette, pulling on out and dropping the rest of the box in the process.

“ Fuck.” a curse leaves his lips as hot tears are threatening to fall. He’s used to people letting him down but this one hurts more. He honest to god believed her words, believed that she would let him go at his own pace. Even if that means never entering the building.

The lighter won’t fucking work and it all comes together in an emotional meltdown washing over him like tidal wave.

(Y/N)’s feet create a crunching noise as she hurries across the gravel and toward Billy’s car. For a second he thinks about leaving. Just driving off and forgetting this ever happened. She ever happened. But he knows that is bullshit. She means too much to him. He fucking loves her and that is both his redemption and what seems like his ruin.

“ Billy I’m — “

“ You had no right ! ”

(Y/N), for the first time, sees the version of him she’s only ever heard about before. The one that is entirely made of anger and rage. It scares her a little and Billy almost feels bad. Almost.

“ I’m sorry ! I just thought — “

“ Well you thought wrong ! I told you. I told you (Y/N) “ he has to bite his lower lip to keep the tears from falling. “Boys don’t cry, Billy ! “ Neil’s voice ghosts through his head. You can’t show vulnerability. It makes you weak.

(Y/N) however, doesn’t care about any of that. He tears are freely rolling down her cheeks and Billy really wants to reach out and wipe them away. Though he can’t bring himself to do it. There’s a storm of emotions raging inside him and he has no idea where he stands in that moment.

“ I didn’t meant to betray your trust, Billy. I promise you that. I just thought that maybe you needed a little push. He talks so much about you. Billy he loves you so much. I love you so much ”.

There’s a confession there of great gravity. He hears it loud and clear though in that moment it gets overshadowed by everything else that’s going on.

“ I don’t want him to see the person I am right now, (Y/N). Mean and bitter and sad. It’s bad enough I never came around to visit after grandma died and he was sent here. I am a horrible person and I don’t want that to be the image he has of me. I — “ he takes a big breath. “ I can’t go there and look at him and see my mother’s eyes and see how disappointed he’ll be when he realizes what I turned into. He’s the only one who loved her as much as I did and I can’t live knowing I disappointed him. That I disappointed my mom”.

That’s when his self restraint breaks. The floodgates open and big tears pearl down his cheek. Sobs escape him and he’s only glad Neil can’t see him like this. Weak and vulnerable and —

(Y/N) wraps her arms so tightly around his middle that it knocks the wind out of him for a second. She’s warm and soft and (Y/N). She smells like fresh cotton and spearmint chewing gum. Like home.

Weak and vulnerable and in love.

“ Billy. You might think you’re that person. You might feel like it, but trust me when I say that you are so much more. You are not just anger and sadness. You are incredibly sweet to me. You are attentive and gentle and funny. My god you are so funny. You are smart, even if you don’t like to admit it. He’s not gonna be disappointed in you. He understands, Billy. You lost your mom when you were so young. He understands, trust me. And he loves you. So much. I love you. So much. Let yourself be loved. You deserve it !”

When he kisses her then, it feels like no kiss has ever felt before. She loves him. She loves him. No expectations and no conditions. Holy shit, she loves him.

“ I love you (Y/N) “. He really really does.

- OOO -

Billy is so nervous he could throw up on the spot. Though that would indeed make a horrible impression so he tries not to let it get to him too badly.

His grandfather gets up from the bench when he sees Billy approaching again. Before Billy can say anything, he’s wrapped in a warm hug. It’s so familiar. It feels like home.

My god, he missed this so bad.

“ Look at you kid, all grown up. No wonder miss (Y/N) has taken a liking to you. Except for that strange haircut maybe. “

Billy looks over his shoulder and catches (Y/N)’s glance before throwing her a wink,

“ Well she’s pretty spectacular too. “

“ She is yeah. So tell me what I missed, kid. It’s been a while.“

And so he does. Everything. The good, the bad, all of it. It’s hard and it’s emotional but once it’s out there, it feels like the guilt is finally take from him. The weight on his chest feels like it’s only half as heavy as before.

Then his grandpa smiles and pulls him into another hug and whispers the words that Billy wanted to hear for so long “ Your mom would be so proud of you. “

He hopes it’s true. That his grandpa knows what he’s talking about. That maybe his mom is smiling down at him from wherever she is.

But there’s another woman in his life now. One that comes with warm smiles and soft touches and laughter and eyes so bright they could light up an entire town.

And that girl is not his past. She’s no baggage. No sob story. No shadow of perpetual grief hovering above him.

She’s his present. He hopes she’ll be his future.

Because she’s everything. And he’s enough.

[ofmara]

*record scratch* *freeze frame* yep, that’s me. BVCNJ hey lads ~ i’m ally, i’m twenty2, my timezone is est, i use she/her pronouns & full disclaimer: i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing! just keep that in mind when you read this.. trash lmao. anyways! if u wanna plot, feel free to hmu on d*scord at HE IS SO BIIIIG 😩👌🏼🧡#2581 or yk use the lil chat thing on tumblr if u wanna start small or w/e FDCNK no pressure. moving on..

mara’s pinterest: here!

content warning: ..none?? who am i???

( ariana grande & cis female. ) oh my god look, it’s mara de luca! she is a 24 year old singer/songwriter from queens, new york. they were first associated with the met cartel 3 years ago, and the tabloids are always saying she is so impulsive & irreverent, but their stans on twitter say that she is actually really magnetic & passionate.

first thing’s first.. i haven’t written a coherent intro in a fucking Minute, so i’m offering premature apologies for the shitshow that’s about to follow, especially since i really waited til the last second to type this out even if this blog’s been Done for a week smh ANYWAYS!

ok so! mara is what i like to call ‘a textbook new yorker’ in that she’s Loud, she Loves Her Family and she’s Unapologetically Herself. my character inspirations for her are joey from netflix’s the circle, fran fine from the nanny, molly gunn from uptown girls and a little bit of cher from clueless sprinkled in there ( mainly bcos of this gifset lmao ). since i came up with her a few weeks ago, i really had so many different personalities for her but like.. let’s keep reading to see that literally all of them were apparently Not True ~

she was born into a very tightly-knit family & grew up constantly surrounded by them. she’s got three older brothers, meaning she’s the Baby of the family, so she’s been uhhhhhh doted on all her life! we stan! that said, she’s never known what its like to be on her own, especially considering that her family was right by her side every step of the way as she slowly grew her career from childhood. she got her start singing the national anthem at a knicks game when she was 8 and slowly built from there. her parents were always suuuper supportive and did all they could to help her achieve her dreams, even though they were struggling to make ends meet.

her parents own a small bakery in queens that they started when her oldest brother was little and have been a staple in the city ever since. though they’re a somewhat popular spot for tourists and locals alike, ny real estate isn’t cheap, so paying rent both for the store and their apartment above it has always been a struggle, especially once they started dedicating a good portion of their money to plane tickets and agents and all sorts of necessities mara needed in order for her dreams to come true. the extra expense was difficult on her brothers as well, though they made a point never to complain when they had to get a second or third job to help pay the bills.

ANYWAYS she grew up veryyyy close to her family and the sacrifices they made on her behalf didn’t go unnoticed, so the first thing she did when she finally Made It was buy them a bigger space for their bakery ( since her parents Love working it even if its rough sometimes, buddy ) and a new house so ;) we love a Family First mentality!

HOWEVER!! when mara first moved to LA in like?? 2015 or something?? idk timelines.. but anyways when she first moved to LA she was.. how u say.... Depressed cos like even though she was Living Her Dream as the artist she’s always wanted to be ( she lived in queens w/ her family up until after her first Big Break cos she’s a big time daddy’s girl ) .. she was essentially on her own since her family stayed in nyc :/ yk, where they live? yeah. so she was on her own for the first time... Ever & it was scary and stressful and essentially, she wasn’t doing great mentally or emotionally, even if she put on that *ari vc* fake smile.

that was untiiiiiiil she got her first ~ hollywood boyfriend ~ aka someone famous who helped both with her career and as a salve to the constant loneliness the bitch always feelin. long story short, he didn’t last long, but she Needed to feel Wanted so she got Another ~ hollywood boyfriend ~ until it became, like, Her Thing to Always be attached to someone in the tabloids and the press and on Entertainment Tonight. we love a codependent bitch! that’s also kinda how she got to be part of the met cartel cos she immediately attaches herself fully and completely to everyone she meets & falls a little bit in love with every person who has ever said hello to her, so.. Yeah! most of her friendships were likely formed because she just would not leave them alone ( she’s clingy and needy As Fuck, but she knows she is, so she’s constantly worrying about it aka she’s always wondering if people really like her cos she’s been said to be “too much” and “annoying” by some people who.. weren’t interested in being her friend ) anyways.. feel free to lmk if u want ur chara to hate her cos she will fully have her feelings hurt but still want them to like her cos shes a, say it with me kids, people pleaser ~

its v clear why i thought of joey & fran for inspo ( espeeeeecially fran, now that i think about it: i.e. constantly searching for love, lovingly obnoxious ) but as for why she’s like molly gunn... bitch is uhhh naive as fuck and will trust anyone who is even a little bit nice to her so peep her constantly seeing everyone through rose colored glasses and immediately feeling like her heart is broken when they turn out to be someone completely different lmao! also yk in the little mermaid when ariel was like “but daddy, i love him!” ??? YEAH, that’s mara to a fucking T, m8!

i could quite literally go on and on for hours, but to keep it short and sexy, here’s her stats page & i’ll follow up with a list of some little tidbits of info.. some Quirks, if u will..

she hiccups when she cries & BOY does she cry often BVJNCDKM

cannot cook a single mf thing to save her life? yeah.. her parents wanted to let her work in the bakery but .. she burned everything so she was cashier ;)

can quote the entirety of bring it on: all or nothing & as a segue from that, she is very chatty during movies if she’s with even one other person but Silent when she’s alone

will challenge anyone and everyone to mario kart wii as long as she gets to play yoshi ( she has a vendetta against baby peach )

is Constantly Freezing, so she’s always in thick socks and turns the heat up high when she’s at home

has a cavalier king charles spaniel named piper ( yes, i'm using a fc for her dog )

i’m gonna b p selective with which ari songs she’s released both bc i dont like All of ari’s songs & for character purposes ( rip in peace, sweetener )

is classically trained on the piano and sometimes just plays classical music for fun, making up silly lyrics at parties and whatnot lol she’s just Fun & Quirky like that

owns every season of the o.c. on dvd

she has a car but i havent decided if she ever drives it ( or what kind it is, tho i assure u my virgo ass will be researching it at some point ) since she really just barely passed her driver’s test

is constantly in the tabloids for one dumbass thing after the other mostly as an excuse for me to make tabloid edits but like... i love that for her & will 100% be down to include any and all of u if u lmk u wanna be in one

and many more, but i’m really just sitting here rambling UGH EW so lms for plots cos i’m unprepared & i don’t have any wc’s! very on brand for me, i must say

[aion-rsa]

Warrior Nuns Through TV History

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

TV nunning is a broad church. Sometimes, it’s all gunfire, demon-dissolving punches and running through walls, as in Netflix’s latest comic book adaptation Warrior Nun. In that show, a mystical artifact gives a non-believing teen superpowers passed down the generations from holy sister to holy sister. Defeat the demons, protect the world, praise the Lord, and so on.

Other fictional TV nuns lead quieter, more cake-focused lives, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t also fighters. You might say that like superheroes, not all warrior nuns wear capes. You’d be wrong – nuns definitely wear capes. They’re called mantles and though roomy and practical, likely represent a significant time commitment with regard to ironing.

Warrior Nun‘s superpowered teen follows in the echoey footsteps of a whole conventful of fictional TV nuns remembered here – some good, some bad, some inordinately fond of biscuits, but all, in their own way, warriors.

Sister Mary Loquacious in Good Omens (2019)

Played by: Nina Sosanya

Allegiance: Satanic nuns of the Chattering Order of St Beryl

Warrior level: Novice

Weapon of choice: Infantilising baby talk of hoofikins and widdle demonic tails

Specialism: Biscuits with pink icing

Most likely to say: ‘Fancy me holding the Antichrist! Counting his little toesy-woesies!’

Getting into heaven? Absolutely not

Demon Crowley and angel Aziraphale may have been Good Omens’ major players, but Sister Mary Loquacious kicked off the whole mess by accidentally confusing the infant Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness with the human child of a couple from the Oxfordshire village of Tadfield. Easily done.

Sister Agatha in Dracula (2020)

Played by: Dolly Wells

Allegiance: The Army of the Faithful, St Mary’s Convent of Budapest

Warrior level: Intellectually? Top Tier. She’s Dracula’s ‘every nightmare at once: an educated woman in a crucifix’

Weapon of choice: Wooden stakes and double-barrel wit

Specialism: Scientific rigour and one-liners

Most likely to say: ‘A house of God is it? Well that’s good, we could do with a man about the place, eh sister?’

Getting into heaven? Ja, if she cared to grace it with her presence.

Unfazed, brave, funny and intellectually curious, Dutch-born Agatha put both her faith and folklore to the test when she took on Count Dracula, meticulously gathering research on his powers and learning the rules of the beast to try to use them against him. A true scientist and quite a woman.

Sister Michael in Derry Girls (2018)

Played by: Siobhan McSweeney

Allegiance: Our Lady Immaculate College/Rawhide

Warrior level: Untested in battle but doubtless lethal

Weapon of choice: Apathy, withering sarcasm and eye-rolls

Specialism: Judo (on Fridays)

Most likely to say: ‘Sweet suffering Jehovah’

Getting into heaven? I wouldn’t be the one to stop her.

You won’t find an ounce of sentiment beneath this wimple, Sister Michael’s dry disdain for the pupils at Our Lady Immaculate is expressed only through cutting remarks and declarations of boredom. Not a fan of priests, the French, love songs or… most things, she’s an authority figure for the Derry Girls. Every so often though, like when she turned a blind eye to Erin and co. distributing their banned lesbianism-focused edition of the school magazine, she’ll surprise you.

Sister Jane Ingalls in Orange is the New Black (2013)

Played by: Beth Fowler

Allegiance: Catholicism

Warrior level: Basically nil as she’s a committed pacifist, though she does punch Gloria in the mouth at one point for PR

Weapon of choice: Civil disobedience and the Good Book

Specialism: Activism

Most likely to say: ‘I was afraid nunning was going to be boring!’

Getting into heaven? Sure

As a young novice in the 1960s, Ingalls fell in with the bad nuns and got a taste for non-violent activism. A bunch of protests and a memoir later (full points for the title: Nun Shall Pass), and the church didn’t want anything to do with her, neglecting to cover her legal fees after she handcuffed herself to a nuclear facility, landing her in Litchfield.

Sister Harriet in Hunters (2019)

Played by: Kate Mulvany

Allegiance: Anti-Nazi, Pro-Quip

Warrior level: Top level. A highly capable operative.

Weapon of choice: Gun, blowtorch, you name it

Specialism: Threats of extreme violence delivered in the voice of a Downton Abbey marchioness.

Most likely to say: ‘I will set you aflame, child’

Getting into heaven? There’s some intrigue as to her real deal but she certainly seems to be on the right side of history.

This MI6 agent/Nazi-hunting nun from Amazon Prime’s Hunters is something of a Scary Poppins. She does an excellent line in death threats and action-movie quips. She’s deadly, has a shady backstory, speaks in a cut-glass English accent and is fond of biscuits. In other words: our kind of nun.

Matron Casp in Doctor Who ‘New Earth’ (2006)

Played by: Doña Croll

Allegiance: Sisters of Plenitude

Warrior level: Merciless eugenicist

Weapon of choice: Cat claws and science

Specialism: Incinerating conscious and begging-for-help human cloning experiments without a spark of fellow-feeling.

Most likely to say: ‘Who needs arms when we have claws’

Getting into heaven? Nah. Space prison more like.

The Sisters of Plenitude, healers on New Earth, may have called their work ‘the tender application of science’ but ‘the incredibly painful application of bastard cruelty’ better sums up their human cloning farm. This order takes a lifelong vow to help and mend, but clearly not to do no harm. And their hospital doesn’t even have a shop.

Abbess Hild in The Last Kingdom (2015-)

Played by: Eva Birthistle

Allegiance: Uhtred of Bebbanburg/the Lord

Warrior level: Advanced (but retired)

Weapon of choice: Dagger

Specialism: Throwing buckets of cold water on a sleeping Uhtred and sawing through the necks of dead Danes

Most likely to say: ‘I have killed, and I will kill again I’m sure, but hopefully not today’

Getting into heaven? Big yes.

Hild’s journey in The Last Kingdom took her from nun to warrior and back again. Rescued from attack by Uhtred, Leofric and Yseult, she swore to become a fighter and more-than earned the title. Eventually, her vocation called her back to the church, where she now remains as the Abbess with whom you don’t mess.

Sister Jude in American Horror Story: Asylum

Played by: Jessica Lange

Allegiance: Catholicism and the teachings of Monseigneur Timothy Howard

Warrior level: Complicated

Weapon of choice: Forced commitment to an insane asylum,

Specialism: Guilt

Most likely to say: ‘All monsters are human’

Getting into heaven? Bad things happened under her watch but she does try to atone

The head of Briarcliff, an institution for the criminally insane, Sister Jude is a complex character with a complicated trajectory. She mistreats, but is also also gravely mistreated.

Sister Monica Joan in Call the Midwife (2012-)

Played by: Judy Parfitt

Allegiance: Raymond Nonnatus, patron saint of childbirth

Warrior level: Yoda

Weapon of choice: Forceps and fey literary quotation

Specialism: Sniffing out and emptying hidden cake tins

Most likely to say: ‘My first responsibility is to ensure the consumption of this cake’

Getting into heaven? Hundo P

AKA the best Call The Midwife nun, and an OG resident of Nonnatus House ever since the BBC One series began. Owing to her advanced years and developing dementia, Sister Monica Joan is now retired from midwifery, but in her prime there wasn’t a birth canal in Poplar that hadn’t welcomed her up to the elbow. She’s highly educated and extremely well-read with an instinctive love of beauty, poetry, cake and Doctor Who, which makes her the patron saint of all our hearts.

Sister Sybil in Camelot (2011)

Played by: Sinéad Cusack

Allegiance: Shady but ultimately loyal to Morgan

Warrior level: Witch

Weapon of choice: Dark magicks

Specialism: Child sacrifice?

Getting into heaven? Nah.

When Uther Pendragon banished his daughter Morgan in Chris Chibnall’s 2011 Camelot, she was raised in a nunnery by a sister who was no stranger to the dark arts. When Morgan (played by Eva Green) returned to claim her birthright, Sister Sybil was the one whispering poison in her ear and teaching her how to channel her powers.

Sister Bertrille in The Flying Nun (1967)

Played by: Sally Field

Allegiance: El Convento San Tanco in San Juan

Warrior level: Negligible

Weapon of choice: Not so much a weapon, but her flight-enabling cornette was the big thing.

Specialism: As the title suggests, flight

Most likely to say: ‘When lift plus thrust is greater than load plus drag, anything can fly.’

Getting into heaven? Si señor.

A creation of Tere Ríos’ book The Fifteenth Pelican, Sister Bertrille was the fresh-faced nun-next-door whose cornette combined with the Puerto Rico coastal winds allowed her to fly in the 1960s TV series. According to Sally Field’s excellent memoir In Pieces, the whole experience was more drag than take-off.

Miss Clavel in Madeline (1988-2001)

Voiced by: Judith Orban & various

Allegiance: An old house in Paris/the Catholic church

Warrior level: more sentry than prize fighter

Weapon of choice: Education! (Read: day trips to the circus)

Specialism: Waking up in the middle of the night with a nagging sense that something’s off kilter with her young schoolgirl charges, then singing a song about it.

Most likely to say: ‘Vite, vite mes petits’

Getting into heaven? Mais oui

The headteacher at Madeline’s Parisian boarding school in the Ludwig Bemelmans’ books and their various TV and film adaptations, Miss Clavel is a kindly sort. She gives her young boarding school pupils warm moral instruction and generally manages to extract Madeline from the mouth of whatever tiger she’s crawled inside that week. Not ferocious, as warriors go, but kind and dependable.

Septa Unella in Game of Thrones (2015)

Played by: Hannah Waddingham

Allegiance: The Faith of the Seven

Warrior level: High Bastard

Weapon of choice: Wooden spoon and ignominy

Specialism: Torture and bell-ringing.  

Most likely to say: ‘Confess!’  

Getting into heaven? Not in one piece she won’t after what Cersei did to her

The Geneva Convention didn’t reach the Seven Kingdoms. If it had, then the supposedly holy Septa Unella wouldn’t have beaten Cersei Lannister with a water ladle and made her drink from the floor like a dog before parading her naked to jeering crowds around the city. Not a nun to mess with, unless you’re a Lannister.

Also-Nuns

Sister Assumpta in Father Ted (1995)

Sister Boniface in Father Brown (2013)

(Briefly) Olive in Pushing Daisies (2007)

Mother Superior in Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005)

Kassia the Byzantine nun in Vikings (2019)

Warrior Nun is available to stream now on Netflix.

The post Warrior Nuns Through TV History appeared first on Den of Geek.

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