#i remember back when i was learning to read i always asked my parents what the sign said

[astrangetorpedo]

IN INTERVIEW

Julien Baker, the interview 6/8/2016

At just 20 years old, Julien Baker gave us last year a first album of intense and rare emotional force, the superb Sprained Ankle reviewed here . A moving record that left a deep and lasting mark on me. It was therefore impossible to miss the young American's arrival in Paris and not to take advantage of the opportunity to try to get to know this outstanding artist a little better. A meeting was thus organized thanks to the invaluable help of Sean, her manager, in a café in the 12th arrondissement, two hours before the young lady's very first Parisian concert, on May 24. A one-on-one meeting that revealed to me an adorable and voluble young woman, incredibly touching and sincere, and above all determined to seize life with all her might! A moment of exchange and sharing that I am not ready to forget.

Hello Julien!

Julien Baker : Hello!

First of all, thank you very much for granting us this interview. I am a big fan of your music and it makes me really happy to meet you!

Oh, thank you! It's a great pleasure for me too, you know! I still can't believe that people like my music enough to want to meet me to talk about it. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, really!

Perfect! Let’s start at the beginning of your story. I read that you’ve been making music for a while now. Could you summarize the journey that led you to where you are today?

Yeah, sure! I started listening to music in middle school. It was rock, I was really into it with painted nails, black eye makeup, all that stuff! [laughs] Then I started playing in bands, punk bands mostly. Then I joined Forrister which is the band I still play in today. We were playing shows in cities around our area. Then I went to college and a friend of mine who worked in a studio there offered me to record with him for free. Since my band couldn't be there, I did it solo, without any specific plans. I put the album out on Bandcamp for $2 or $3 a copy.

That's when Sean [Julien's manager] contacted me and suggested we release the album in a more official and professional way. I told him that I was actually in a band, Forrister, and that no one would be interested in me as a solo artist. He insisted and even though I didn't believe it at all, I agreed to give it a try. I'll always remember the day he called me to tell me that NPR [National Public Radio] was going to play my single. I hung up crying and immediately called my mom all excited to tell her the news! But then, as things seemed to start to take off for me, I started to doubt myself. I felt guilty towards the rest of the band, thinking that they would resent me for doing this project without them. So I called the drummer and asked him what they thought and he said they were just proud and super happy and not mad at me in any way. So I kept going and here I am! I never thought I would come to Europe and do all this, it's crazy, really!

During the band's time, did you already have this desire to write your own songs?

I don't think I had any real unfulfilled desire to do this.

But you were writing?

Yes, I wrote my own songs. But not because the band was holding me back or preventing me from doing it within the collective. It's just that sometimes you write songs but they don't fit the moment. So I put those lyrics aside, like that, without any specific goal. I've always written and played in different bands. There was enough space for all that, things didn't have to be done exclusively in one framework or another.

Were your parents musicians?

Not really. Well my dad bought me a guitar and showed me how to play it. So I started playing by practicing at home on my own. I also took piano lessons but for a very short time. My teacher didn't really like me because I didn't work hard enough. I just played by ear without wanting to learn to read music and he didn't like that. So I taught myself. But my parents were big music fans. They played records all the time at home. When I was younger I wanted to go to a concert, my dad would come with me to make sure I was safe! He was the only adult in the middle of all these tattooed and pierced kids! [laughs] Oddly enough it never bothered me. When he made a surprise appearance at the Bowery Ballroom for my concert in New York, I was so proud! He and my mom have always been a great support!

This is really great!

Yes I know !

In addition to being an author and composer, you are also a student. Are you still going to university?

I just finished my semester. It's currently summer vacation. But I think I'm going to take a break in the fall. I completed the theoretical part of my literature course thanks to online courses. The last thing I need to fully validate my teaching diploma is the practical part, in school with students. I tried to do it last fall but it's complicated to carry out both projects at the same time: give lessons during the week then take a plane to California or New York on the weekend to play a concert, before returning to teach on Monday morning! So I'm going to take a break to devote all my time to music.

Do you want to teach one day?

I think I would really enjoy teaching. I love it. As a teenager I was a summer camp counselor, I love children. So yes it would be really cool to teach!

You studied literature. Did that influence your way of writing?

Yes, totally! I try to feed myself as much as I can from all these different ways of perceiving life and emotions that I find in books. It enriches me intellectually speaking. I have the feeling of learning new things about myself each time I discover a new author and this is then reflected in my writing I think, consciously or unconsciously.

Are you familiar with French literature?

Voltaire! I often joke with my professor friends that I would really like to have a big Voltaire and Cervantes tattoo! I already have a Gabriel Garcia Marquez tattoo [Julien then shows me his 2-part tattoo on the inside of his 2 wrists]…

Is he your favorite writer?

One of my favorites, I can't choose just one! And so when my students would complain that Voltaire is an old man who's not cool, I could show them my Voltaire tattoo and prove to them that it's really cool! [laughs] Reading Candide really changed my life. It was incredible! I think the translation of the title is The Optimist , which is quite ironic. Cervantes wrote Don Quixote and we have this word in English, "quixotic" which means optimistic but optimistic to the extreme, to the point where even if everything is going wrong in your life and you know it, you continue to believe in it despite everything. There is a really romantic and admirable dimension to that attitude I find. Same for Candide where there is this quote that I always come back to when I feel really bad and which says: "I wanted to kill myself a hundred times, but I still loved life" . I think I cried when I first read that sentence. Anyway, I could talk about literature for hours, don't drag me down that dangerous path! [laughs]

Haha, ok. So back to the music! Listening to your album I couldn't help but think of two other artists I really like: Sharon Van Etten and TORRES…

I love TORRES!

Me too! I even did my very first interview with her!

Wow! She's amazing!

Do you agree with this comparison even if the artists in question do not come from the same scene as you?

I totally agree with this comparison! As a teenager I only listened to punk and thought that anything that wasn't punk was worthless. Then I grew up as a musician and learned to appreciate all styles. When you really love music, you love an artist as long as their music is honest and good, no matter what the style. It doesn't matter if it's hip hop or country or whatever!

I totally agree!

And so I'm a big fan of TORRES! I loved her first album, the one before Sprinter . The song Honey is the very first one I heard from her.

The same !

And oh my god, what a song! I played with her in Chicago, I was added as the opening act at the very last minute, I felt so honored! On my way to the dressing room, I ran into her and as I was saying "Oh sorry, I don't want to bother you" she said "No, come on, this is a shared space, you have as much right to be here as I do" and she kindly invited me in. As for Sharon, it's funny because the first time I met her, she asked me to have lunch with her, can you imagine having lunch in New York with Sharon Van Etten! And she told me she was also going to invite her friend Mackenzie [Mackenzie Scott aka TORRES]. But our phones died and we couldn't get a hold of her. So in Chicago TORRES couldn't make the connection, I was just the little girl at the door!

Excellent! Are there any other musical influences that you would claim?

Do you know David Banzan?

Nope…

Ok. There's a band called Pedro The Lion and David Bazan is the lead singer. He influenced me quite a bit. And do you know Death Cab For Cutie?

Yes of course !

They were the first non-punk band I listened to. At the time I only listened to loud and fast music, but when I heard Transatlanticism for the first time it was a shock, everything changed. They really meant a lot to me.

Your texts are very strong and very personal. When you wrote them, did you think about the impact they could have on those around you first and then on the general public?

Well, at first, I didn't imagine that this solo album would lead me anywhere, I was convinced that my music would only be made with my band Forrister. So when I released the album on Bandcamp, I really thought that only my friends would listen to it. So I wrote all these songs like that, just for me, without really thinking about the scope of the lyrics. And I'm ultimately happy that I didn't think about it because if I had known what was waiting for me, I think I would have most certainly changed things, I would have probably been more reserved in my words. But if it's difficult for me to show my vulnerability, I realize that it's totally worth it when young people come up to me after concerts to tell me that my music has helped them in difficult times in their lives. It's of course a little embarrassing for me to share such intimate things but if these things make others feel good, then I think it's worth it in the end.

But isn't it a little scary to expose yourself so completely naked and transparent? It's so brave, I don't know if I could do it myself!

Well, you see, it's exactly the same for me, I'm not sure I would have been able to do it if I had known everything in advance! But now that it has happened, I feel that from now on I have the right, the license to be brave. Perhaps it was the plans of destiny or God, something like that.

And isn't it too difficult for you to sing songs every day that inevitably bring you back to painful moments?

I think there are two options. Option one: I can sing these songs every night, let them take me back in time and feel sorry for myself. Option two: there is the quote from this poet that I love who says that all the horrible things in life just need to be seen from a different and courageous perspective. Things that seem bad can indeed turn out to be good in the end. So I have chosen to let the dark and sad aspects of my songs become pretexts to be positive and happy. Because yes, all these things have happened to me but if that had not been the case, I probably would never have written these lyrics and I would not be here today in Paris talking to you, Laurence! In the grand scheme of things, everything has a meaning and works for our good in the end.

That's very beautiful what you say! [laughs] To talk about lighter things, this is your first time in Europe, isn't it?

Yes !

How do you feel?

I love it! I have such a good time. Well I don't sleep much... [laughs]

Is it the time difference or the excitement?

Well now it's the excitement! But a week ago it was also the jet lag [laughs]. Imagine, we traveled for over 30 hours straight to get here! I first took a plane to Richmond and then a train to Washington DC. We then took a flight to Iceland where we took another flight to Copenhagen. Once there we took a train but due to a problem on the tracks we had to take a bus that took us to another train! When we arrived at the hotel, we were totally exhausted! [laughs] It was 11 o'clock in the evening but at that time of year the sun hadn't set because we were so far north and my body didn't understand anything at all! But hey after a good night's sleep everything was better! And now if I don't sleep it's just because I don't want to miss anything, not a single minute you know! I thought I would never be able to afford to travel and once again it seems that Destiny's plans are extraordinarily kind to me. I feel so grateful and lucky!

And that's just the beginning!

I hope so! But you know, even if everything had to stop, well in any case it would have been much, much more than I could have imagined! I am so grateful for everything that is happening to me!

Are there any particular places you want to discover?

Sean has been here before and wants to show me places he liked. Today he took me to see the Sacré-Cœur which is beautiful. On my side, there are also places I would like to visit, especially in Barcelona, ​​because I am majoring in Spanish literature. I would like to go to the café where Picasso had his very first exhibition, long before he was famous. I would also like to see the Sagrada Familia, Gaudi's work, visit a museum, buy a Viva Cataluña t-shirt and eat paella. I am so excited to be able to do all these things!

That's great! But it's going to take you some time to do all of this!

We are staying there for the whole festival [Primavera Sound Festival]. So we should have some time. Of course we won't sleep much because in the evening I also want to attend the concerts!

You'll sleep when you get home!

Exactly! Since I am a big coffee drinker, one of my friends gave me a badge for my jacket that says "I will sleep when I am dead" ! [laughs] There are indeed so many things to experience in one life! [laughs]

And what are your plans for after the European tour?

We're actually going to be touring until the end of the year.

Will you come back to Europe?

We're going to Australia in November I think. I can't wait! We're also going to tour the States so as for Europe I don't really know... And then I hope to have some free time early next year. I'm always writing new songs that I play live. I must have 30 demos on my computer and I'd really like to record them. So it would be great if I could get into the studio early next year!

Last question: do you have one or more musical recommendations to share with us?

Lucy Dacus!

Oh I love it!

We played together in Washington DC. I had never heard her songs before Washington and I remember hearing the lyrics to Map On A Wall which say "I hope good comes from good and good comes from bad anyway" and I started crying all by myself watching her play. Her music is so beautiful, so powerful! And we have so much in common: questions of spirituality, sexuality and faith, questions about gender too and the place of girls in rock music. We are really like two halves of the same person. We have the same booker and were approached by the same label. And when I saw her again in Richmond I knew we operated exactly the same way. So our biggest fear is that we will one day become jaded and arrogant. We want to remain grateful, sincere and enthusiastic. There are so many people who do this for a long time and end up jaded. It's really great to find someone who feels exactly the same way you do, and that's the case with Lucy. We're platonic soulmates! She's a very, very dear friend.

You must tell her at all costs to come and shoot in Europe and in Paris because there are people waiting for her here!

Promise! I'll send her a message as soon as I have wifi!

Lucy Dacus! A perfect choice! Thank you very much Julien!

Thank you! It was great!

photos by jean-marc ferré 📸

interview by lolo from paris (who has great footage of that paris show on his youtube account) 📝

wayback link for the interview 🔗

[louiswilliamtomlinsons]

forgot to talk about this but, even though i have my qualms with it, i’m so so happy about the fact miss universe 2023 was held in my country el salvador 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

[ak319]

Yan Socialite brother x reader

Ezra Alvarez , your younger brother, has always been your number one supporter. From a young age, he was taught that tradition dictated the older sibling would inherit the business and the farms—essentially, everything. This meant all the power would eventually be in your hands. But Ezra wasn’t a moneygrubber seeking favor, he genuinely admired your intelligence, strength, and the way you cared for the family, especially him. From the moment he gained consciousness, he aimed to be your everything, best friend and sole confidant. He longed to be the person you turned to for counsel, and slowly but surely, things were unfolding just as he wanted.

Let's start from the beginning. Ezra and you were quite different in many ways, largely due to the contrasting upbringings you had. For example, while you cherished solitude and indulged in expensive hobbies like horseback riding, archery, and swordsmanship within the privacy of your estate, not to mention almost always busy learning and handling the business with your father. On the other hand, Ezra thrived in social settings. As a fashion designer, it was his job to attend lavish parties and stay connected with the latest trends. However, his socializing had a deeper purpose, to monitor the people in high circles and gauge their intentions toward his family, especially you.

Ezra was always vigilant, keeping tabs on potential rivals and meticulously recording this information. He made sure you were aware of everything you needed to know, and thanks to his discreet tactics, you were advancing. The way he giggled looking up at you when you patted his head in praise was endearing, if he were a puppy, his tail would surely have been wagging.

Ezra would do anything for his older sister because you're the best sister in the world! Despite being used to receiving expensive trinkets, he always gets teary-eyed when you gift him something special. Given your usually stoic and aloof demeanor, he can't help but cry tears of joy when you show him affection and smile at him. He ceaselessly rambles on about his latest projects and clothing line while you sit there, reading a book and nodding along, often clueless about what he’s saying. Yet, he still cherishes these moments because it’s only HIS sister who takes time out of her busy schedule for HIM. How could he not be grateful? That would be a crime. No other sister would ever do this for their brother! Anyway, back to designing some jockey apparels for you. You really need new ones.

As much as he dislikes your boisterous hobbies, he uses them as an excuse to spend time with you. He eagerly asks you to teach him, no matter how dirty his nails or clothes get, or how much he might risk getting sunburned. Every bit of it is worth it when someone like you is his mentor.

Your parents reprimended you for spoiling your baby brother but you always shrugged it off saying "How can I not spoil my only baby brother?." That's right sister, I am and will be always your only brother. He always makes sure to pass a victorious smirk to his parents who could only sigh in defeat at both of you.

Whenever it rains, he remembers how you love the rain while he hates it because it's all muddy but on the other hand memories of him as a kid getting scared of the thunder and you holding him in your bed in your protective embrace always warms his heart. Maybe this is where the habit of cuddling you has developed. Even now when something in his life goes wrong or he is having a tantrum , only your the one who can calm him or otherwise he is crying screaming and complaining for days and yes this is a true incident , the whole estate was close to becoming deaf if you hadn't come back from your academy bringing some new jewels and his favourite pastries for him.

Speaking of the academy, Ezra had to swallow the urge to throw another tantrum or cling to your feet when the time came for you to leave for further studies. He knew you had to do this for your own sake and the future of your family business. So, instead, he became like a second mother to you, sending letters to make sure you weren’t skipping classes—even though he knew you weren’t that kind of a person. He frequently asked about your meals and sports activities, but the part he hated most was even thinking about you having a potential lover. God, he couldn’t help but crumple up the third letter when he wrote about it, but he had to know. The thought of being secondary in your life, in everything, terrified him. What if you brought home a gold digger?! That’s how he saw anyone who came close to you. They didn’t care about your personality or charm, they were after that KA-CHING! And him being one of your top prized assets, he wasn’t about to let that happen.

His heart however calmed down when you replied with a simple 'No' about the question. Yay! Whenever you came back from academy , he was even more excited than your parents, who always found his enthusiasm adorable. How he ran back and forth scolding the servants for not cleaning your room properly , not having your favourite dish up to notch like DO YOUR FUCKING JOBS PROPERLY! He wouldn't stop yapping when you sat for tea after dinner but no matter how much you were exhausted from your journey , you still listened to him.

As cunning, witty, and sophisticated he was, Ezra made mistakes too, and in his mind, the worst mistake was failing at a task you assigned him. He would cower under your anger, fully aware that he had messed up. He was still learning the ins and outs of the tedious household budget—something he would have to manage for you one day—but it was boring, okay? Numbers just weren’t his thing. Even if you scolded him, he always waited for your apology, which you offered in your own way—like taking him out to his favorite café or silently sharing a cup of tea in his room. Moments later, he’d be hugging you, petulantly whining about you getting angry at him. He hated how you chuckled at his childish attitude, but deep down, he loved it too.

Life was going well until, one day he received a letter that you were unable to attend father's funeral due to work back in the academy. He knew it was a lie , you WOULD NEVER abandon your family like this , even your mother was skeptical. But since there was no sign of you coming back, he handled his grieving mother and the arrangements himself as much as he was dying inside due to your absence. Where were you? They needed you. You were their head now. He was worried sick.

After the guests left , it was only his uncles and aunts who sat in the living room while he came down after putting his mother to sleep.

"Ezra, dear boy. You must be tired, but there is something we need to discuss with you." The words made his blood boil, and he fought the urge to slap the indifferent looks off his father’s brothers and sisters. He knew exactly why they were still here—they were nothing but vile, disgusting pieces of filth, circling like vultures after the family’s money. He had always seen the malicious intent in their eyes when they interacted with you, and it broke his heart how you treated them as family while they plotted to push you out of the way. But he kept up the façade of a nice, obedient nephew, knowing that it would be handy for a moment like this. Where were they when he was struggling to handle everything? They only arrived at the last minute for their sibling's funeral. His poor father had died surrounded by snakes. But he swore he would never let the same happen to you. He would never betray you, his blood, like these filthy excuses for humans.

He wanted to throw up as they offered their insincere condolences, but he remained firm. They inquired about your absence, talking shit about your cold behavior for not being there, and this was his cue to play his cards right. Slipping into his favorite role as the bimbo younger brother, he wept, agreeing with their criticisms, and even cursed you, despite how much it made his heart ache. Eventually, they began to open up, believing in the hate and jealousy he pretended to harbor for you. While they didn’t reveal your whereabouts, they made it clear they deemed you as an unworthy heiress. He fake-laughed through his tears, gaining their trust the best that he could. They even had the audacity to suggest dividing the property among themselves, without even considering his mother as the rightful owner of anything. Oh, they were going to be obliterated.

He then promised to hand them the papers during a party he was going to arrange that too in a ferry. Acting on the information you once gave him, he contacted some gunmen for emergencies, making the necessary arrangements. Oh what a sight it was to see the ferry filled with the corpses of his treacherous relatives. One of the assassin came and informed that they had you abducted and thrown into a mental asylum on your way back to the estate for the funeral. His mouth hung agape at the revelation, his whole body seething with fury, and without wasting a moment, he set out to bring you back. But not before ordering the ferry to be blown up in the middle of the sea. He cackled maniacally from the dock as he watched the explosion, then leaped onto the back of one of the hitmen like a kid, gleeful at the destruction of those who had wronged you.

Once you were back and grieved a bit which only lasted for a few moments before you had to take care of covering up the bloodshed your baby brother did. But at the end you did it and currently Ezra was beside you on the arm of the chair while you worked on your late father's study table , now yours. "You are not mad at me, are you?" He asked softly, voice almost breaking at the end.

"You did what had to be done. I would have done the same to anyone who came after my family like this," you said, hearing him sniffle beside you. You gently caressed his arm, your gaze still fixed on the parchment. "Don’t cry, you know how much I hate seeing you cry, Ezzy." You felt him lay his head on your shoulder, his soft brunette locks brushing against your ear.

"Thank you… I couldn’t fucking stand them anymore, doing such… such a horrendous thing to you."

He suddenly burst into giggles, his feet dangling. "But it was fun! You know, before his death, Uncle Auden wore that hideous yellow sack coat. I saw it through the binoculars—God, he looked like a penguin getting on the ferr-!"

"Ezra." Your warning tone almost made him flinch. "What did I tell you about speaking ill of the dead?"

"I think they deserve a pass." His pout was defiant yet playful, and you couldn’t help but smile. His laughter was light, a contrast to the heaviness of this week.

He couldn't be more blissful than this. You looked as if you were made to sit in that chair, and he felt immensely proud to have cleared the path for you. He always would. As his heart pondered the future, a frown creased his brow. The thought of a day when you might stray, bringing a partner into the estate, unsettled him. Though that day seemed far off, he was already prepared to make their life hell. After all, the chances of you siding with a partner over him were slim. He has got his older sister wrapped around his manicured pinky.

➺Ezra x reader x hubby

[alicesivory]

I was all over her.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female! reader

warnings: angst, sad Aemond, minor spoilers from hotd s2 ep 2, 3, and 4, not much smut but MDNI!!

WC: 4517

summary: when the world turned their back on him, she didn’t.

Don't know what I wanted, I have a memory

Throughout Aemond’s life, he remembers how much he wanted to be seen. 

By his father,

by his mother,

by his brother,

by the whole world.

He wasn’t the heir to the throne, he didn’t have a dragon like his brothers or sister. He was weak and nothing. He spend his days being teased and bullied relentlessly by his brother and nephews. They had venomous tongues and big sharp teeth. He hated the way he is.

But when the world turned their back on him, one person remained. 

She was a Tyrell, born not long after his mother gave birth to his youngest brother Daeron. His grandsire and mother are close to her parents since the Tyrells and Hightowers are two houses that are closely related. 

When he first met her back in oldtown, he saw her as a meek and shy young girl. He hated it. Because it reminded him of himself. But his hatred grew when he saw how well she gets along with Aegon, Daeron, even Helaena. Maybe he doesn’t hate her, maybe he just hates how he’s nothing like her. 

Likeable. 

Then it all changed in one summer evening. 

He was reading at the great library of oldtown, away from the world as he read about his great ancestors of old valyria and dragons. Dragons he longed to have. Like Aegon with sunfyre, Helaena with Dreamfyre, even Daeron with Tessarion. Then he heard a thud. 

Looking back from his seat, he saw no one was in the empty library but him. 

When he returned to his book, he heard another thud. 

Shutting the book with frustration, he began to look for the source of the sound that disturbed his peace. Walking deeper between old tall shelves, he took a turn to the left and saw…her.

Younger and smaller than him, but the Tyrell girl grunts as she climbs the bookshelf. Strong but mighty. The way her silly tongue sticks out as she’s so persistent to reach a book at the tallest shelf. He cleared his throat as he looked down, noticing many books had been scattered around the floor for her to climb.

She turned to him with a surprise stare.

“Prince Aemond!” 

As a child, she squeaks like a squirrel

Aemond thought to himself.

“What are you doing up there?” Aemond asks curiously. “I..I’ve been trying to reach that book!” She says as she still tries to reach the book at the highest shelf. 

“You will hurt yourself,” Young Aemond sighs. 

“Can you help me, my prince?” she asks as she jumps down from the shelf. 

“No-“

“Please!”

“Absolutely not-“

“You’re far much taller than me!” She says pointing at his height. 

Even as children, he has always been taller than her. 

Aemond sighs, knowing what he’s about to do. 

And he did it. 

Not for his own pride, but for her.

“Oh thank you!” She thanked him with a smile when he easily reached and took the book she’s looking for. The girl hugged the huge book in her arms. “It wasn’t a big deal, whatever,” Aemond says, acting nonchalant while he dusts off his clothes. “It is though, I wouldn’t have been able to reach that book if you weren’t here!” She says with a bright smile.

Heat rose up to his cheeks. No one ever ‘relied’ on him before. 

“Biarvose,” he muttered under his breath, not wanting her to know. But she heard him and tilted her head with curiosity. “Are you speaking high valyrian? It sounds lovely! Can you teach me?!” She asks cheerfully.

“What, no I’m not-“

“Please! I want to at least learn something new!” The girl says excitedly. Before he could answer, she grabbed his arm and dragged him to their seats in front of the fireplace. “I’m a fast learner, I promise!” She says as she sits down beside him with a smile.

Can’t believe he’s doing this.

But…it felt nice. The way she wanted him to teach her. She could’ve asked Aegon or Daeron…yet she chose him. 

“It’s…”

He mentioned her name. He liked how her name rolled off his tongue.

“…Tyrell, right?”

She nods. 

And since that day, and for the whole summer he taught her high valyrian in the library. Word by word, he was patient to teach her. He hates to admit it but she actually was a fast learner. 

She was his first true friend.

She was the first person who makes him feel like he has a purpose in life. 

Until they took his eye.

Just a year after he knew her, by the time he turned 10 he had claimed Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragon in Westeros. But for a price, which was his eye.

He became the same boy who hated the world. 

Never came back to oldtown or any places except the red keep. Afraid what the world might say about him. How ugly he looked with his scar, one of his eye missing, but most of all he was afraid of what SHE might say about him. Afraid of rejection, how she’ll stop spending time with him.

His thoughts were interrupted when his mother came inside his chambers. Bringing in the young Tyrell. 

“Aemond, she’s here to see you,” Alicent says, in a slight pleading tone. For he has shut himself out from the world when the maester stitched him. It hurts and it will hurt even more if he knew that all that people will see in him was a monster. 

“Go away,” he says coldly, his chair facing away from the door.

“Are you feeling any better?” Her sweet gentle voice asks as Alicent has her arm around the little girl.

Sometimes he just wants to run and hug her for comfort. For she was his escape from this cruel world. Her optimism makes him alive. He didn’t want to lose that.

“I said go away,” his hands gripped the arms of the chair.

“I brought you-,”

“I SAID GO AWAY!” He shrieks, stepping down from his chair and throwing his cup at her direction as he turns around, accidentally showing her his scar. His true self.

Alicent quickly tried to shield the young girl as she screamed. Shielding her from him.

From him.

“Aemond!” Alicent scolded her son. 

Yet his mother’s scolding didn’t matter to him. He saw his friend’s…his only friend terrified expression. He scared her. He hurt her. Just like how the world hurt him.

He took a step back. 

“I…I’m sorry,” he says lowly before returning to his chair.

He wanted to cry. But it hurts if he does.

Then he heard slow and tiny footsteps.

And she…she placed a toy dragon at the table. As her hands tremble. 

“I carved Vhagar for you…father taught me how to carve.”

The young girl says bravely. Yet Aemond wasn’t brave enough to meet her eyes. Not after he hurt her. So he says nothing. 

“Get well soon, my prince,” she curtsied and hurriedly returned to the Queen. Leaving him alone in his cold and empty room. Only the sound of crackling fire filled the room. Aemond loved silence but this time…he hated it. 

So he reached out, taking the wooden figure of his dragon into his hands. And by the time Queen Alicent returned to his chambers, she found her son asleep in his chair.

Holding the little dragon in his hands, close to his chest.

-

Back at that party, I was all over her

The death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon was at his fault and he couldn’t deny it any more. 

Kinslayer. Thats what they call him now.

His betrothal to one of Borris Baratheon’s daughter came to an end once Vhagar snapped her sharp teeth onto Vermax’s body. No one wanted to marry a Kinslayer.

A crippled and a kinslayer. 

What a fucking combo. 

But he firmly believed that everything that has happened to him was meant to be. Because if it weren’t for it, he wouldn’t be shaped as he is now. And he has to be better. Every sword training, every lessons, and at every war..he must be the best.

But that little boy inside of him still clings onto him till this very day.

Especially when his mother mentioned her name.

For he shall now marry her to strengthen the allieagance between their house and the Tyrells. They needed this. And he shall do it for them. 

He convinced himself it wasn’t personal and he doesn’t wish to meet her and just arrange the marriage ceremony. Secretly afraid for what she’ll think of him now.

A kinslayer, a cripple…a monster.

For they have not met again since that very night in his chambers. 

And when he saw her gain at the grand sept for their wedding, may the gods help him. 

She has grown into a woman. Not a young child anymore. 

She smiled to her family, giving them a nervous thin smile. 

Does he makes her nervous?

Does he scare her?

The ceremony was done in the sept. Not a grand wedding like any royal ceremony would be for they are at war and it’s ignorant if they host a grand wedding in the midst at war.

He couldn’t help but to stare how different she is now. How reserved and mature her body language is as she gracefully walks around with her long dress dragging through the cold stones of the sept. She was…beautiful.

“My prince,” she says as she curtsied. Even her voice has changed. Now it felt as if honey were dripping down her tongue.

“My Lady,” he greets back stoically. Not wanting her or anyone to read his mind. 

“How are you, my prince?” she whispers as the ceremony begins. Still making small talk as always, yet he yearns for it. He’s deeply grateful that she still wants to talk to him. Yet it has been awhile since he properly talked to her, it made him nervous. “I am well,” he whispers back. His healthy eye looked into hers as they were pronounced husband and wife. He finds nothing but nostalgia in her eyes. She is just how he remembered her.

-

We didn't make out or do anything

I just remember I was lonely

He didn’t like the idea of a bedding ceremony.

Where people would see him…and her.

It’s unnatural…and unfitting. 

So he ordered for the bedding ceremony not to be done. But he promised that he shall take her that night and they can inspect the bedsheets in the morning.

When he stepped into her chambers, he found her anxiously standing beside the bed. A weird tense atmosphere swept the room. 

“I..,” she wants to speak.

“I would like to say thank you for…not letting the bedding ceremony to happen-“

What is this? Does she not want everyone to see us together?

His anxious mind and overthinking took power over him.

“Who said it was done for you?” He snapped at her as he closed the door. 

Shit. He did it again.

And she was quiet once more.

I scared her again.

“But…still…I still want to thank you…my pr-“

“Husband,” he sternly says walking past her.

“Pardon?” 

He took a jug filled with wine and poured it onto his empty cup. He at least needed a cup of wine if he wanted to bed her right.

“I am your husband now, am I not?” He asks, not looking at her. 

“Oh yes…husband,” she says with a nod, fiddling her skirt.

Aemond turned around and took off his attire and was left with his tunic, yet she just stood there beside the bed, not being able to move. 

She was nervous.

He looked at her, unsure what he should do. Should he comfort her? Should he take her quickly so they didn’t have to endure this pain together? No- no no no he didn’t want to hurt her.

Then he saw her slowly opening her nightgown. Her hands trembling like when he hurt her as a child. She slips her nightgown over his chest-.

It’s been awhile since he saw a woman’s body.

The last time was…..was…

“Stop.”

She curiously looked up to him, only halfway through from being naked. “I-is there something wrong?-.”

“No,” he quickly answered, looking down with shame.

Yes. There is something wrong.

When Aegon took him to that brothel…at the age of 13..he…he couldn’t- it scarred him. 

She’s not like them. She’s not like that whore.

It’s only her, it’s just her!

His mind battling inside his head as he stood at the other side of the bed. He blamed Aegon for ruining something that should be meaningful for a man and woman. Ruining something that should’ve been meaningful for him and her. He blamed the brothel, he blamed his brother, and foremost he blamed himself. 

He can’t bed her.

Not like this.

“We must…do our duty,” he says, trying to mask his insecurity and vulnerability in front of her. Trying to mask the same 13 year old boy who was terrified when he stepped into the brothel for the first time. 

He didn’t dare to look up. He didn’t want to see her being disgusted by hi-

“Yet you don’t want to,” her voice was gentle and kind. Not a hint of mockery at sight. 

“I-“

“I don’t want to do this either.”

He looks up, finding her shielding her chest with her nightgown. That sight aroused him terribly. He wanted to touch her, wanted to make her happy and satisfied. He wanted to make her smile. Yet he saw the same little girl that admired him as a child. He didn’t want to fuck her, he wanted to make love with her. 

But he didn’t know how to.

So he just…stood there. The two of them stood there and said nothing. 

Just as he thought all hope was lost, she puts on her nightgown and stepped away from the bed. 

She’s leaving.

She’s disgusted by me.

“What are you-.”

She took a butter knife and roughly slits her palm, letting blood drip to the bed. 

He stared at her.

“There. They’ll think I lost my maidenhead,” she says with a little smile plastered on her face. “No one will know.”

His eye drifts into her still bleeding palm. He groaned walking towards her, ripping a cloth and wrapped her bleeding palm with it. “Mittys,” he muttered under his breath. She chuckles, “You haven’t taught me that word yet.” 

And for the first time in a lifetime, a genuine amused smirk was plastered across his face. “Stay still,” he ordered, tightening the cloth on her palm. 

When he was done, she gazed up at him for a moment. “How long has it been?” She suddenly asked. “I have not been counting,” Aemond replied, still holding her scarred hand. She slowly then pulled him to bed, sitting down. “You must stay for awhile. Or else they’d be suspicious.” 

Gods be good.

She was too kind for him. 

And he joined her, laying on the bed side by side. He wonders if she’s still afraid of him as their hands brushed against each other. He never realized how much he craved for her touch. Wondering what it feels like to be held by her. Would she be gentle? Or would she push him away? 

“Usōven,” he muttered, looking at her. Apologizing for that night.

She turned her head to look at him. And smiled.

“I forgive you.”

-

I guess I am always, it's not a problem

It's just something, I got used to it

It got worse.

His yearning for her.

He was afraid to touch her, for he did not want to touch her like a whore. She was his equal. He didn’t want to hurt her.

So he lets all of his frustration to Madame Sylvie. He was attached to her even before his wife returned to his life, yet her presence made him worse. With the war…and his guilt for the death of Lucerys…and now the presence of her…it frustrates him. Every single time he fucks that whore, he thinks of her. He imagined that it was her in bed.

Imagined that it was her holding him.

At Least he could keep her safe from him.

He didn’t mean for it to happen. He never meant for it to happen in the first place.

But when he returned from his sins back to his sacred sanctuary, he finds nothing but horror in the keep.

They murdered his nephew. 

Prince Jaehaerys. 

A son for a son.

It was his fault his nephews were dead. 

It was supposed to be him who’s dead. Whose head should be beheaded. Not his nephew. Not anyone. 

After inspecting his chambers, he rushed to his wife’s room. Finding her in bed, holding Helaena and Jaehaera as the three girls cried. He saw how terrified the three of them were, but he noticed how she cradled his sister and his niece. Whispering nothing but reassurance to them. “It’s okay, they’re gone now…you’re both safe,” he heard her. She has always taken care of Helaena and the kids well. 

Noticing his presence, his wife looked up, finding him unable to move from the doorway. She lets go of her grieving sister in law and niece as she walks to him. Her eyes were teary and red. 

Oh how he hates to see her cry.

He looks down at her, cupping her cheek with one hand.

“Where were you?” Her question rang through his ear as her voice cracked on the last word she spoke. Guilt consumed him- no. Guilt starts to eat him slowly but surely. Eating him alive as her wife, her sister, his niece, and his brother grieve for the death of the young innocent prince. He couldn’t say a word, instead hugging his wife tight as she cried into his chest. Sobbing loudly as the castle was filled with darkness. Not a light of hope in sight.

“No one will hurt you. I swear it to you. I’m here..i’m here,” he whispers to his wife as she cried.

He might’ve gotten used to the pain people put on him, but he realized that he would never ever get used to seeing her cry. 

He would never let anyone hurt her.

He would protect her from the cruel world.

Even from himself.

-

Every stranger makes me feel safer

And every person seems more beautiful

“I do regret that business with Luke, I lost my temper that day. I am sorry for it.”

“They used to tease me, y’know? Because I was different.”

He knew he should be seeking comfort from his wife, but he couldn’t. As much as she makes him feel like him…he was still afraid his wife would see right through him. To judge him. So he couldn’t. Not to her. 

He feels safer in the arms of a whore, who has no power over him. While his wife, she had all the power to control him if she could. 

Nights went on and he sneaked out secretly. And no one knew. He was safe. His secret was safe.

Until Aegon…had to ruin everything like he always did.

Humiliating him was always his brother’s hobby.

Blinded with anger, he stomps and storms back to the keep. Wanting his brother and the world to disappear. He wanted to be alone. He hated everything. Yet he didn’t realize that a certain someone was still awake.

Closing Helaena’s bedroom door, lady Tyrell exits the queen’s bedroom for Helaena finds comfort from her sister in law. Just as she wanted to call it a night, she’s standing face to face with no other than her husband.

“Aemond,” she says in surprise.

He froze. He didn’t know what to say. All the rage and humiliation were gone in an instant. His face was covered with guilt and fear. “Wife,” he answered with a hint of anxiety dripping down his tongue.

“Where have you been?” She chuckled, thinking that he was just out for a walk or something. In her mind, she would never ever even think that Aemond would be doing things like that behind her back. 

Aemond stiffened, unable to answer. Before his brother always had to ruin the show.

“Look who it is!” Aegon says as his kingsguard follows behind him. “Your husband here…well, how do I say it..ah yes, was in the whore house, dear sister,” Aegon cackles, nudging Aemond’s arm before earning a hard punch from Aemond. 

He saw red. He saw red in his eyes. He hated his brother. He hates him. He should’ve shut up. He never should’ve brought him to that place in the first place, he should’ve never returned to that place!-

“What..?” His wife’s voice slightly trembled.

Even when Aegon was in pain on the ground, he cackled. Obviously still drunk. “You heard me! He was fucking that whore like a hound!” Aegon continues to say and starts to make howling sounds. 

Aemond saw how she started to grip her nightgown, her hands trembling. Her eyes were teary, not wanting to cry.

He disappointed her.

Disappointing the only person who has faith in him.

“I…I must go…sleep well your grace and….husband,” she says nervously as she curtsied at the two brothers before walking away. 

He watched her walk away. Not daring to chase after her or call out her name. He wouldn’t dare, for he knew he disappointed her deeply. He hurt her again. Like how he did as a child. And now he’s sure she won't come back to him. This was the start of him losing her.

-

She hasn't talked to him since then. What used to be civil and peaceful. Her small talks and smiles weren’t present at his presence. She avoided him at all times. To the point where enough was enough. He couldn’t live like this. He needed her to talk to him. He doesn’t want his marriage to end like his father and his mother. He cares for her…he…he…he loves her.

And when he blinks, he finds himself standing in front of her chamber doors one morning. 

He knocked gently.

“Come in,” he heard her sweet voice that he missed from her room. 

When he enters, he received her sad and surprised expression.

“Husband,” she greeted stoically, looking away.

He then realized how her closet was wide open and empty. Her clothes scattered on the bed as he saw her stuffing her dresses onto her..

“What’s this?!” He protested.

“Mother said it’s not safe for me to be in kings landing. War is coming and…I must go home,” she says in a sad tone.

His heart sank deep hearing her words.

She’s leaving.

She’s leaving him.

“You are not going anywhere,” he insisted, roughly taking dresses out of her hands. 

“Aemond-“

“Not on my sight!-“

“But Aemond-!”

“You are safe here! With me! With Vhagar!” He exclaims roughly, taking out of her dresses from her trunk. 

“Aemond, stop it!”

Yet Aemond does not answer. 

“I will keep you safe. Vhagar will keep you safe, no one will never hurt you-“

“But you did!”

Silence.

Gods, he hated the silence between them.

“You don’t understand,” he grunts as he grips the bedsheets. “How can I understand if you never let me in?!” She protested, tears streaming down from her eyes. He doesn’t even want to look at her. He didn’t want to see her cry.

“See? You wouldn’t even look at me! You wouldn’t touch me, you wouldn’t kiss me, you…,” she points out. 

Aemond sighs in defeat. 

It was all his fault.

But then he roughly took off his eyepatch, towering over her, gripping her wrist as he showed his sapphire eye to her. “And would you? Would you touch this monster, hm? Kiss this husband of yours who’s the reason why two innocent boys are killed? The reason why this war STARTED IN THE FIRST PLACE?!” 

She flinched.

She closed her eyes, scared…waiting for him to do something to her.

It broke him. 

“I…I..forgive me, I..,” Aemond lowers down his voice and hand, releasing her. Now guilt and shame has finally eaten him whole. He hurt her. Again and again. She deserved better. 

Then came a knock on the door.

“Sorry for interrupting, my prince but..the council awaits your presence,” A guard said to him.

“I’ll be there.”

-

Aemond took his time and walked out of her chambers with her as her trunks were carried out from her room. It was present how there’s a gap between them. He wanted to hold her hand terribly, but he couldn’t. Not after what he did to her.

He felt how people were looking. Eyes on them as they walked through the halls of the red keep. He tried one more time to reach his pinky finger to hers but when they touched, she pulled her hand away to rub her other arm. 

He lost her.

He probably never had her in the first place.

When they reached her carriage, he didn’t want to tear his eyes from her. 

“I would, y’know?” She suddenly says with her gentle voice.

“Pardon?”

“I would…kiss and touch you,” she repeats. “The monster you said of…is still my husband. You’re still my husband,” she emphasizes.

Her words touched him somewhere in the deepest parts of his heart that no one has touched before. It made him frozen and unable to move a single muscle or bone in his body.

“I know that I am not what you needed, and I know that I’m nothing to you-.”

She was terribly wrong. How wrong she was. She meant the world to him.

She was…everything to him.

“I hope you will find what you’re looking for in the future.”

He didn’t want anyone but her.

They looked back and saw people watching.

They’re waiting.

They’re watching.

She has always been far much braver than him. So she walked back to him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, just beneath his eye patch. Beneath his scar. 

“Geros ilas, my love…avy jorrāelan,” she whispered to him before pulling away and stepping into her carriage without looking back.

And little did Aemond know, that will be the last time he would ever get to see her. 

In his heart, he blamed the world again. 

He blamed his brother.

He blamed everyone and everything that took her away from him.

Maybe in another life, the war wouldn’t have happened, Aegon wouldn’t have took him to the brothel, Lucerys didn’t take his eye, and maybe.. he could hold her like a normal person would. Maybe they’d have children…and maybe…maybe she’d stay. 

But right now, he walks back to the keep to assemble their army. To rook’s rest. To prove his brother and the whole world. To win this war.

For her. 

a/n: Hello everyone! I’m Alice and thank you so much for reading! Fyi I used to write on tumblr but my old account was like semi suspended? Idk I couldn’t interact with people, I couldn’t comment on people’s post so now I’m here and uhh hi🥹I hope you enjoy this one shot and I’m only gonna write fics mainly about the Ewanverse so you’re in for a ride🫶🏻🤗 I’m gonna write more in the future and thank you for sticking around until the end of this fic! Thank you once againnn💞💞

[ltleflrt]

Figuring out I'm on the ace spectrum was so difficult because I have always been a horny bitch. I knew what sex was at a fairly young age, because I'd asked my mom and she's one of those good parents who'll answer questions like those, and as I grew older and would ask more complex questions, her answers would evolve along with my curiosity and understanding of the world. And I remember having fantasies as young as 9 or 10 years old, even if they were hella vague and nothing close to what sex actually is lol

So as I became a teenager, and all my friends' focus turned from playing with dolls to flirting with boys, I automatically thought I was attracted to boys. And I paid more attention to Cute Boys than I did to Cute Girls, because girls were just nice to look at while boys were People To Have Crushes On. Because of heteronormativity. Looking back on it now, I know there were girls I liked to stare at just as intently as boys, although less often because I wasn't trying to pay attention. And I certainly didn't fantasize about girls because I started reading romance novels in 5th grade, so I was fantasizing about male romantic partners because that was the fiction I was consuming. I didn't even realize fantasizing about girls was possible until I was 17, and I had a few "am I a lesbian" internal crises for years because of it.

So when I did start having sex, I had A LOT OF IT with SO MANY different guys, and eventually a couple of women once I started accepting that bisexuality was real. But it was never really fulfilling. Not like my fantasies were. Not like my books were. I was slutty because sex was fun, I was horny, there were plenty of options so I kept searching for that satisfaction I was craving.

Getting married was a relief (even though it turns out I'm aro-spec too lol) because I was tired of hunting, and even if sex with my husband was meh, at least I had someone around to scratch that itch if I had it, and he didn't mind if I occasionally took care of things on my own because I'd read an especially hot scene in a romance.

I learned about asexuality in my early 20s, but I brushed it off. Couldn't be me, I'm far too horny for that. But I think that comes from the fact that everything you hear about Aces is attached to sex-repulsion or sex-indifference. I wasn't either of those things. I was horny all the dang time. I was fantasizing about sex all the dang time. I figured actual sex was meh because my imagination was so vivid that real life could never match up. Which could be true to an extent, but I think not as much as popular opinion would have us believe. If fantasy was really that much better for everyone, then I think we'd have less incels and unplanned pregnancies than we do.

In my 30s I finally saw people talking about The Spectrum, and I started examining my past, and I figured out I wasn't really attracted to anyone I had sex with. I do occasionally find someone attractive; there are men and women and enbies who make my skin feel tight and give me a little wave of lightheadedness lol... but it's always always the fantasy that gets me really going. If given the opportunity I wouldn't have sex with any of those people. Thank you, but no thank you, I'd rather just imagine it than physically participate in the act with them.

(Ok I might go down on them, but that's less about wanting sex, and more about being able to add them to my Tally. Hell yeah I want to brag about making *insert hot person* have an orgasm. There's PRIDE in that kind of accomplishment lol)

I have a lot of respect for aces that are not horny. I understand it even if I don't share the sentiment. And I feel like most of them understand me even if they don't share the sentiment. There's a solidarity between us.

Until I go into a fandom tag for a character that the aces have glommed onto because they're canonically ace or headcanoned as ace. Good lord, the non-horny aces can turn into downright vicious bastards if a horny ace sexualizes their blorbo.

This post is for them.

Horny aces exist. Please look up "autochorissexual, lithosexual, and aegosexual."

Refer to those definitions in regards to romantic attraction as well as sexual attraction.

Some aces may not fall into one of those definitions, because asexuality is a spectrum, but they may still be horny.

Horny aces are not disrespecting you by enjoying being horny on main. We promise we'll wash the stickiness off our hands before we hold your hands in queer solidarity.

And most importantly: Your blorbo is fictional and does not need to be defended from icky sexuality. They exist in an infinite multiverse, so your blorbo and my blorbo are not the same, even if they appear to be on the surface.

AND:

This post is also for the people who are confused about themselves because they're horny but don't actually feel attraction. You're not crazy, you're not wishy washy, you're not "waiting for the right person to come along" (unless you are, in which case I hope you find them). You're just a thin strip of color on a massive rainbow that holds more unique shades than anyone can perceive at a glance.

You're valid. You're one of us too.

And don't be mean to the non-horny aces. Tag your smut so they can avoid it. (But actually so I can find it lol)

[moonsgemini]

cinnamon girl - rafe cameron

summary: hating rafe cameron was easy to do when you were both teenagers, but after years a part and time spent thinking about one another one thing leads to another. Secret rendezvous between kook prince and kook princess ensue, finding any spare minute to be with each other without the judgey eyes of outer banks.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, fem reader, she/her, p in v, praise kink, semi public sex (a bunch of people are downstairs), fingering, oral f receiving, dirty talk, sneaking around, secret relationship, cussing, alcohol, enemies to lovers kinda

wc: 3.5k

an: another smutty smut. I have had this in my drafts for a bit & I just needed to finish it. It started out as being inspired by cinnamon girl by lana but I like don’t know what happened. also two posts in one day ???? who am I.

masterlist

In high school when y/n read Romeo and Juliet she fell in love with the tragic romance. She was astounded that love could be so intense and passionate. So much so that they were sneaking around behind everyone’s backs and the miscommunication ultimately leading to their deaths.

When she was sixteen she met Rafe Cameron. When her father introduced her to the tall blonde she didn’t think he would eventually be her Romeo. Especially not since he didn’t even smile or show the slightest interest in her. Their fathers had recently worked on a business deal together and had got along so well they wanted their families to get together.

She knew who he was and what he was like. Rumors run rampant on the figure eight. He constantly had snarky comments and remarks to make at her. Whether it be about her outfit, her likes, and especially about the boys she dated. y/n would be talking to Sarah about the boy she just went on a date with and Rafe would butt in with his two cents. He was a year older than her and he always made sure to act like he knew better because he was older.

“Fabian? You do know he like has dated half the cheer and volleyball teams,” Rafe scoffed as he stood in front of her and Sarah who were sat on the pool chairs outside. He had overheard y/n talking about the new guy she was seeing and Rafe couldn’t believe who the guy was. He also couldn’t believe she was dating at all.

Y/n looked at him with a glare, “I don’t remember asking for your input.”

“You could really use it though. Seems like you’re pretty fucking clueless at the fact that you’re a lot better than that asshole,” He rolled his eyes annoyed at the fact she couldn’t see how this escapade will end in heart break. He was only looking out for her so he doesn’t understand why she was so annoyed.

She chuckled bitterly, “Yeah like you care, besides I can find out for myself Rafe. I don’t need you telling me what’s good for me or not.”

Rafe rolled his eye because to him he did know what was good for her and Fabian was not. “Well when he ends up hurting you I’ll be ready to tell you I told you so,” He smirked taking a sip of his beer and walking away.

Sarah scoffed muttering, “Hate him.”

Y/n sighed watching him walk away and talk to her dad, “Couldn’t agree with you more.”

The first few years she knew Rafe she hated him. As much as you could hate him. He had always been extremely handsome, something she definitely noticed, and as he got older he became even hotter. In front of her parents he was charming and they interpreted his cocky demeanor as confidence. Whenever she complained about the Cameron boy being a prick they said they liked that Rafe knew what he wanted and always went for it, something that y/n could learn from him.

After she went away to college these family dinners became much smaller with only the parents and younger siblings. The kids having grown up and gone their own ways. Rafe was always on the mainland taking care of his dad’s business. Sarah had gone off to college so it was practically an empty nest. Occasionally during holiday breaks Sarah and y/n would join them for game night or dinner but Rafe still wasn’t around much.

She couldn’t lie and say he didn’t swim in her thoughts every now and then. Okay maybe more often then she’d like. Especially when he’d post on instagram and his bright smile would infect her mind on the nights she couldn’t fall asleep. She wondered if he ever thought about her but she doubted it since they never liked each other.

Rafe thought about her every day. Whenever he’d see her dad he’d find a way to bring her into conversation. He knew she was coming back soon and he made a note in his calendar to free his schedule on family dinner day because he wanted to see her. He needed to see her. Even if she probably didn’t want to see him because he remembers her hatred for him when they were teenagers. It makes a smirk appear on his lips as he thought about y/n rolling her eyes and sending witty comebacks his way.

-

It was winter break of her junior year of college when she made if back to the outer banks.

Y/n was surprised to see him drinking a glass of scotch with her dad and Ward as she walked downstairs. Her family was hosting dinner that time. Her first thought when she spotted hime was person he was even more handsome. His boyish look almost completely gone now that he was a man. She noticed he had been working out because his chest and shoulders seemed broader. Could have even gotten taller?

“Hey there she is,” Ward said as she made it all the way down the steps.

She smiled politely and joked, “Here I am, hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

Rafe smirked taking a sip from his glass. After Ward asked her more questions about college and the internship she was starting on the mainland that following summer. She could feel Rafe’s eyes on her as she talked to his dad. Seeing him had felt different that time. There was something different in the air.

During dinner they both stole glances at each other. Sometimes when she’d catch him staring at her he wouldn’t look away. Locking his eyes with her smirking and sipping on his second glass of scotch. His long fingers wrapped around the glass grabbed her attention. She watched his adams apple bob as he swallowed. No guys she knew in college drank scotch, because none of them were men like him.

He couldn’t believe how much more beautiful she had gotten in the last three years. She was a woman now and she held herself with so much more confidence than when she was seventeen. Rafe liked that.

“Oh honey give Rafe a tour of the new wine cellar. It is so magnificent our architect is amazing, maybe you’ll like him for a new Cameron employee,” Y/n’s mom said to the young adults who had been eye fucking for the last forty minutes. Y/n’s mom had been feeling her second glass of wine now which led to her being all giddy and generous. It’s always what her mom did. So whenever they went to charity events her mom just needed a glass of wine to sign a check for $10,000.

She was also an avid wine collector so for the last year they had been building a wine cellar under the house. It turned out beautiful. All wood and the lighting was moody. There were racks of wines all around the room and a few in the middle creating ailse. There were also a few big wooden support beams.

“Sure mom. Follow me,” Y/n said nodding her head towards the back. He smirked standing up and following her a few paces behind so he could stare at her back side. She led him out to the side of the house where the entrance was. If her mom knew what she ultimately helped happen she’d kill the both of them. Mostly for committing such a sin next to her most prized possessions.

Ten minutes into the tour Rafe had y/n pinned against one of those wooden beams. Her legs wrapped around his waist with her hands in his hair tugging whenever he’d hit that spot she could never reach on her own. No college guy she had been with was ever able to hit that spot either. Their breaths mixed together as their faces were close together, y/n’s skirt bunched around her waist. One of his hands was under her shirt tweaking her nipple.

His dick inside of her smoothly sliding in and out as he fucked her. Rafe knew he would never forget this moment. Never forget just how wet she had been, all the noises she was making sounding heavenly.

The first time was erotic. Years of built up sexual tension was finally getting released and it felt so good. His hands, his lips, his body felt better than she could ever have imagined.

When they were done Rafe kissed her, lips slotting naturally with her like they always belonged there. She was worried it was a one time thing but he wasn’t acting like it. That bubble of anxiety in her chest popping as he continued to be sweet to her. He had slowly pulled out and set her down gently. Tugging her skirt back down and helping her step into her panties he had tugged off in a frenzy. He fixed himself as she fixed her hair and makeup.

“That’s not the last time that’s gonna happen,” He said breaking the silence, “I like you too much to let you go.”

-

Since the first night they hooked up they have been sneaking around behind their families backs seeing each other. Rafe flew and road tripped to her apartment more times that winter and spring than he can count. When she came back for the summer he was practically living at her house. He’d sneak in at night like they were teenagers and he’d sleep over or stay up talking with her until she fell asleep then he’d sneak out. Or sometimes (a lot of times) they’d be doing something else that involved rafe’s mouth on her.

When y/n got her internship he’d meet her for lunch. They’d hangout in secluded areas on the beach and whenever they wanted to have a nice date night they’d stay a few cities over for the weekend to be alone and be a couple in public. For her birthday Rafe took her to the Amalfi coast for a few days where they spent most of the time on a boat, in a pool, or in bed having amazing sex. Y/n told her parents she was going to the lake for the weekend where she’d barely have service. Somehow they believed it.

They kept it a secret not because their families would be upset. It’s the opposite actually, they’d be too excited. Then there would be all this pressure on their relationship. The mom’s and Ward would be urging Rafe to propose because their families merging would make them look incredibly good and powerful in the developing industry. They’d want a huge wedding with a bunch of people they don’t know. There’d start to be talk about grand babies. All of figure eight would be talking about the kook prince and princess dating and on their way to live off their trusts. It would just be too much.

It was the last dinner party of the summer and Y/n was giddy. She hadn’t seen Rafe in two weeks because he had gone away on a business trip with his dad and then she had gone on to see her grandparents in New York. It was the most time they had spent a part in the last four months.

Tonight would be the last night they see each other for another couple weeks while y/n moves into her senior year apartment and settles into school. Rafe knew how important school was to her so he wanted to give her space to settle which she was grateful for because pre law was not easy. It would also be too suspicious if he randomly showed up to help while her parents are there.

This was a big dinner party so it was perfect. Y/n’s parents were hosting so it was all perfect. Every big family on Figure Eight, even the ones who only summer there, was at her house. The house was filled with many distractions since her mother also loved collecting art. No one would see them sneak upstairs to her room, especially with all the wine that’s being consumed.

Rafe had been dreaming about touching her since he last saw her. Oh and when he saw her he didn’t even waste a moment. As soon as he saw an opportunity to drag her upstairs to her bedroom he did. It was when appetizers were brought out and everyone had gathered outside. Y/n smirked the whole time knowing he wanted her as bad as she wanted him. Her short dress definitely did the job it was supposed to when she spotted his hard on when he first grabbed her.

His eagerness showing when he practically slammed her against the inside of the bedroom door. His lips on hers with fervor. They moved expertly against each other. Immediately finding their rhythm, no matter how many times they have each other it’s never enough.

His hands sliding down her waist and slowly going under her sundress. That’s when he feels nothing. She wasn’t wearing any panties. He instantly got harder and groaned into her mouth.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” He mumbled as he began trailing kisses down her neck.

Her hands tugged at his hair, “I missed you Rafey,” she whined not even feeling the slightest bit embarrassed about her eagerness. She had missed him so much.

He began walking her towards the bed. His lips still latching onto any exposed skin on her chest. They kicked their shoes off in the process, Rafe undid a few more buttons of his shirt. His tanned broad chest making her breathing uneven. When her knees hit the end of the bed she sat back crawling backwards towards the pillows. He followed her his knees spreading her legs.

“I missed you baby,” He gently cupped her face and stroked her cheek softly, “I can’t wait to make you cum.”

The soft gesture with the dirty words made her cheeks feel hot. That devilish smirk appearing on Rafe’s face like he knew that would happen. And that’s because he did know. Rafe knew her body and he knows just what to do to make her squirm. He looked too hot for her to even care how dirty he sounded. Sometimes she’d shy away but other times it made her putty in his hands. Y/n reached forward kissing him not so gently. They’d have time for the lovey dovey stuff later.

He began kissing down her body. Her chin then her neck, paying attention to that spot that made her hips jerk up for relief. His hand were gliding up her legs pushing her dress up around her waist in the process.

Rafe kissed her shoulders as he pushed her straps down in a teasing manor. He kissed her collarbones then her chest. Finally moving to her stomach and her pelvic bone. Oh had he missed this. His hands moved to her knees spreading her legs wider.

Y/n’s hands were in his hair already tugging. Giving an even harder tug when he reach forward giving her a teasing lick. She had to cover her mouth with one hand to not be loud.

Rafe wanted to tease her but he just couldn’t resist. He dove right in. His tongue finding her clit immediately, moving his tongue in circles. He alternated between that and licking down her slit. Tongue teasing her entrance. It was all so euphoric.

Her back arched off her bed. Y/n tried her best to keep quiet but a few moans slipped out. She hoped the chatter and music playing downstairs was enough to cover her noises. Rafe hummed against her core making the feeling even more intense.

“Oh god Rafey,” She sighed dreamily, “I missed your mouth. Know just what to do.”

He lives for the praise. It boosted his ego and encouraged him to do better and outdo himself. Hearing her breathy wins and moans muffled by her own hand were making him impossibly hard.

As he sucked and licked her clit he reached around and abruptly slipped a finger into her wet center. Her thighs practically suffocating him as he moved in and out of her touching that perfect spot inside of her. He always made her cum and he always did it fast. Before she met Rafe she had only ever finished with her own hand or vibrator.

“I’m gonna cum!” She whisper shouted.

Rafe moaned, “Cum for me baby.”

It felt like electricity was going through her body as she came. His movements relentless until he knew she was satisfied. He began to slow down as she came down, leaving her with one final lick. He kissed the inside of her thighs softly before crawling up to her again. She pulled him forward needing his lips on hers. She moaned at her taste on his tongue.

“I need to be inside you,” Rafe groaned as he felt one of her hands reach down and palm him through his pants.

“Please fuck me,” She batted her eyelashes at him knowing it always got her what she wanted.

He groaned again before sitting back on his feet so he can unbutton the rest of his shirt. Y/n sat up pulling her dress all the way off. Rafe made quick work of his pants pulling them down his legs.

His member slapped against his stomach, her mouth watering at the sight. Rafe was created with care, everything about him was perfect to her. He grabbed his length pumping it a few times before he rubbed his tip through her folds. Spreading her wetness around, his eyes rolled back at the feeling.

“Oh please please put it in,” She whined, “I need you so bad Rafey.”

“Baby your wish is my command,” He smirked and thrusted into her slowly pushing in inch by inch.

“Yes yes yes yes,” She chanted in pure bliss. Y/n didn’t care how desperate she sounded.

Rafe sighed as he began moving slowly. She was so tight and warm, even better than he remembered. He knew he wasn’t going to last long but he would make sure she came again before he did at all. He hit that spot inside of her that made her eye’s roll back and toes curl.

“Taking me so good my love,” Rafe encouraged as he picked up speed.

He grabbed one of her boobs and brushed his thumb over her hardened nipple. He leaned down and placed the other one in his mouth sucking and licking gently. All of the stimulation had her body feeling like it was on fire. He released it with a pop and went back to capture her lips in his. Y/n’a hands gripped his hair and clawed his back

“I’m gonna cum babe,” She moaned, “Yes right there, oh oh god.”

“Yeah baby cum for me,” He sighed, “Fuck I’m gonna cum too.”

Her eyes rolled back at his words, “Please cum in me, fill me up please please,” she blubbered feeling overwhelmed by the orgasm that was about to take over her body. The sounds of his deck sliding in and out of her wet pussy made him reach the edge. Everything about her was so sexy from the noises she made to the way she looked sprawled out below him.

Her words made him pick up his pace pounding into her. He felt her clench around him knowing she was coming. She moaned and scratched his back as she came. Biting her lip to not let anymore loud noises slip out of her. He came inside of her with a groan. Rafe continued to pump in and out of her slowing down as he came down from his high.

He swore he could cum again just looking at her all fucked out. Her hair all over the place, lipstick smudged and probably all over his face.

After a few minutes of catching their breaths Rafe pulled out gently. A whine leaving her lips at the empty feeling. Rafe got up going to her bathroom to get a towel to clean her up. When he came back he dabbed her center cleaning up.

“I missed you so much Rafe,” Y/n said breaking the silence.

He leaned forward kissing her knee, “I missed you more my love.”

“You think anyone heard?”

He shrugged, “Don’t think so. If they did then oops.”

She laughed, “Don’t say that Rafe, then we will get caught.”

He smirked as he laid next to her again opening his arms as an invitation that she gladly took. Resting her head on his chest and he leg wrapped around his waist. One of his hands stroking her hair and the other rubbing up and down her body slowly feeling all her exposed skin.

“Lets lay a few minutes then get back to hearing my dad talk about business for hours,” Y/n said savoring the feeling of laying with him.

“I love you,” He kissed the crown of her head a few times.

She smiled, “I love you. Sneak over tonight?” She asked looking up at him hopefully.

“Read my mind,” He smirked.

[sanjisblackasswife]

Gojo Hearing “I Love You” for the First Time

I gen. have no clue if anywhere in the series anybody has said they loved gojo. Whether platonic or not. Its interesting and I was just thinking.

CW: Mentions of Gojo’s Past(some canon some not…so spoilers ig if you haven’t read the inventory arc), Established Relationship, Mentioned Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Some Angst(?), Soft Gojo, Reader speaks Spanish because I’m projecting 😋, Kisses

Blk!Fem Reader in Mind

“AND THAT’S WHY I DO NOT LIKE PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES!..IT WAS VOMIT EVERYWHERE!”

“Can’t believe you managed to eat 6 boxes of cookies in one sitting.”

“Hey! Don’t judge it was a marathon of Digimon playing all day…good times. Not as good as the time—“

And there he goes again, your big over 6’6” boyfriend laying on his back on the couch having another yap fest after a long trip. It started off with a quiet evening of you both eating and watching a childhood movie to then actually sharing stories of your past.

You really couldn’t be more enamored by how excited Satoru gets when he speaks to you. His smile is wide from ear to ear and his dimples grow deeper. He’s also so expressive with his hand gestures you really don’t know where to look as you lay comfortable on his big broad chest.

Usually when he begins to speak about his life before you, you try to absorb and savor every moment. Since your friendship in high school Gojo wasn’t much of a talker (ironically) about his life, but as you both grown closer since his big mission with Geto to watch over Riko he managed to get a bit more comfortable with telling you more about himself.

It’s been 11 years since then and after some therapy sessions with you, Geto, and Gojo three of you managed to learn how to express yourselves in a healthier way with each other.

You watch now, almost 1 year into your official relationship with him and noticed he doesn’t talk much about his parents. Nor an adult in his life that was like a parent to him at the very least. Even when in High School you never met his family. You knew of his clan and that was all.

You always wondered where did he get his wild energy from? His dad? Where did he become so affectionate through touch? His mom? It was all a mystery you wanted to understand.

You’ve even asked Geto, his closest best friend what does he know about his mom and dad, but he always ends with “It’s better you wait until he tells you himself.”

You didn’t question it more, you respected the decision so thats exactly why you’re here. Watching and listening attentively to what your boyfriend has to say. It makes you happy seeing how much he has grown more comfortable towards you towards the years.

“And when I was 8 I remember my folks always gave me free range to use my technique whenever to practice, but boy they regretted after an hour because I—-baby.”

Without noticing your eyes blinked back at him as if you began to come back to reality again, Gojo seen the relaxed look you given him as he spoke, how your eyes were on his, but he just knew you—

“‘ not even listeninggguhhhh.”

Putting your thumbs on his pouty bottom lip, they’re so soft you smile at him, it wasn’t really something you’d expect to say to him, but his pretty big smile, his deepened dimples, everything about him caught you in a moment of venerability you just decided to softly speak at him;

“I love you.”

…just like that it was a pause.

It just slipped off the tongue. You meant it, but finally saying it out loud was a bit of a shock to not just you, but more Satoru. He had an unreadable look on his face, almost as if he didn’t catch what you said, but he definitely did. He couldn’t miss the way his body tensed up hearing those three words.

“What?”

Gojo didn’t say anything, almost as if it was a staring contest you rise from his chest to straddle him, “Are you okay?”

You jumped feeling the pads of his thumb dig into the fattiness of your hips, almost as if he were trying to massage you….very painfully. He got up though, placing you down on the couch and walking to the nearest bathroom without saying a word or looking at you. You could’ve sworn he wiped his face momentarily.

“Go—?”

He didn’t mean to, it was almost a reflex. Your words though, kept replaying in his head . He felt a bit silly being so dramatic , ironically but he couldn’t properly process what you said.

“Satoru?” You knock on the door breaking him away from his thoughts, “You okay, papa? I—oh.”

He opened the door, putting back on his eye mask and giving you one of the fakest smiles you ever seen him do.

“What are you doing, you okay?”

“yeah yeah I’m fineeeee. Let’s go get something to eat.”

“W-wait!” You playfully scoff at his eagerness as he pulls you to the front door, “I’m sorry if what I said made you uncomfortable….I know it was sudden and random, but I meant it.”

Gojo turns and exhales, clearing his throat he begins to scratch the back of his head, you can tell he is scrambling for words so you continue; “I do love you Satoru. A lot. I think I always have since we were younger, but I don’t know…today made me realize I should verbalize it.”

He wants to speak, but for one of the first times you left him wanting to just listen to you. Honestly you took advantage of it because who knows when you’ll be able to get him this quiet.

“I love your smile, I love your laugh, I love the way you explain things, I love the way you are, I love the way you care, I love how you can get on my nerves.” You ends the last part with a giggle making him finally chuckle with you, and he brings you closer to his chest. “I love you, Satoru. You are an amazing person and I am very blessed to have you as not only a friend but a partner.”

It was all too much, he felt overwhelmed he had to lift his mask to wipe the tears welling on the side of his eyes, he chuckles again, the free hand on your waist tightening, “Well damn if I didn’t know better I’d think you have a crush on me.”

You laugh, “Maybeeee…..Now. “ You smooch his cheek before grabbing your phone, “Let’s go get some food—-“

You tried walking past him towards the door but he grabs you from behind to hug you close, you can hear his shallow breaths in your ear. You’re used to his tight squeezes from behind but this one was firm. Almost as if he let you go you’ll fly away.

“Say it again.”

You smirk, his voice quivering but trying to be masked by a fake pouting tone, “I love you, Satoru.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again, but in Spanish.”

“Oh brother.”

“C’mon you sound hot when speaking Spanish.”

“Te amaré para siempre, Satoru…”

If words could explain how he felt right now with you, the closest would be a weight being lifted off his shoulders. For a moment he no longer was Gojo the strongest sorcerer, he was Satoru.

Just Satoru.

Something he wanted to be for a long time, and now you are helping him take the first step into that.

You inhale his scent; mint, expensive cologne and his natural musky smell you love so much and rub his head as he is still buried in your neck. You turn to face him and grab his cheeks, almost hesitantly to cup them because you weren’t sure if he’d left you see him cry. Though you felt your shoulder dampen.

However he let you, his big blue eyes surrounded by a tint of pink, he tried laughing it off and he actually broke eyes contact with you, “I …um…heh..fuck—“

You knew what he was trying to say but you don’t force him, instead you place your lips on his, you felt him exhale, his body relaxing in your touch, “I know, Satoru. I know.”

Gojo couldn’t properly register why he was so overwhelmed with whatever he is feeling right now but he wouldn’t trade this feeling in the world. He honestly wanted to replay the moment you said you loved him on repeat all day.

Later that day you both go out and have your own last minute date for the evening, he wanted so badly to tell you he loves you back by trying to incorporate more of the word “love “ in his vocabulary, by saying things like “I know you LOVE this.” Or “Wouldnt you LOVE for me to take you here.” but it was hard and he sounded silly.

Satoru wanted so badly to tell you he doesn’t just love you, but he has fallen IN love with you.

Gojo finally found just one more person that gave him something he didn’t realize he needed;

To feel human.

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | An apology is definitely at hand, and Eddie cements it when he drunkenly appears at your house despite your clear disdain.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, descriptions of depression, self-deprecating thoughts, alcohol consumption, driving while intoxicated, mentions of neglectful parents, mentions of childhood abuse, mentions of domestic abuse, brief allusions to eating disorders, and brief mentions of predatory behavior.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | So sorry for the confusion, I was simply updating the color scheme of this chapter when an error was found in my tag list, which I had to edit. I had to remove the tag list, but everyone who was already in the list or asked to be will still continue to be tagged as new chapters are released.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

You stayed in your bedroom. Not studying. Not reading. Not eating. Barely even moving. The concavity of teals and pastels with trinkets and knick-knacks that constituted the room you found solace in for the last twelve years of your life had swallowed you whole. The bookcase. The vanity. The dying plants begging for life in a personified reflection to your state. Your knees. Your fingers. Your sullen face in the smudged mirror. You listened to the sounds around you. The cars. The birds. The buzzing bees of the blistering spring. So lively, not you. Your father, the whirring indication of the coffee machine that kept him alive, the clearing of his throat, and the crinkle of his newspaper, as if he didn’t proclaim the nastiest words of failure and disappointment against the child he fathered neglectfully. But you had everything—food, a roof, money—who were you to complain, right? Your bladder is full, it hurts, yet you don’t dare to move. You suck in a breath, forgetting to do so innately. Everything has become manual. Your breathing, your thinking, your will.

You’re eighteen, a senior in high school, and you want to go to college. Which one? The farthest one. You’re merely a girl, a teenage girl, a teenage girl deemed a slut because you were nice to a boy. Nothing more, nothing less. Until the next day, where you would be deduced to a whore, because that was the inevitable step for a teenage girl who was nice to a boy. And that’s all you think of. All you repeat. Because you don’t want to remember more. You just want to wait. For what? You don’t know. So you think, you sit, and you wait. Just waiting until there’s nothing more to wait for.

Maybe when you learn to let go, you’ll finally be free. 

-

Perhaps it was the jocular facet of Wayne Munson’s personality that humored the struggling reality of his life, or maybe it was as superficial as he liked to quip an occasional joke here or there, either way, the same teasing line declaring his rambunctious nephew to be the cause of his exceeding aging—the one that always got a good chuckle out of his buddies while sharing a beer or a shy giggle from the tired waitress who worked the overnight shift just to serve him his coffee in the early hours of the morning—was vastly proving to be a coping mechanism, because Wayne Munson swore he could feel a new wrinkle brandishing his forehead as his nephew was on the verge of getting suspended… and failing… and arrested. 

Eddie Munson truly did age the poor man into oblivion. 

“…Twenty-two tardies, fourteen absences, thirteen detentions…”

Wayne briefly freed the indented grays of his head from one of his many beloved trucker hats before securing it back on. His calloused fingers splayed against his stressed eyebrows at an attempt to alleviate the impending pain with a heavy sigh. It was midday. He should be resting for his coming shift at the plant. But here he was, having a parent meeting with the principal for his twenty-year-old boy.

“…Persistent insubordination, frequent public outbursts, and repeated offense of inappropriate comments made against staff…”

That one made Eddie giggle. Oh, Mrs. O’Donell.

“Okay, okay,” Wayne politely interjected with a tight-lipped smile, “I think I get the picture here.”

Principal Higgins scoffed incredulously, as he dropped the particularly heavy file of Eddie’s extensive high school record. “Respectfully, I don’t think you do, sir.” Eddie rolled his eyes, as he apathetically slumped in the chair. “Your nephew has been tormenting the sanctity of my establishment for six years, six years, sir, and he’s in for a seventh after assaulting a fellow student on school grounds!”

“Oh, please, Carver deserved it-”

“Ed.” Wayne gritted with sternness. 

“Mr. Munson, I specifically warned you of the potential consequences of another detention or suspension, and you went ahead and disobeyed my word! Now, charges are being threatened! This is monstrous! Vile, even! Blasphemous-”

“I told you, that jockstrap deserved it!” Eddie sat up to defend his stance, blatantly ignoring his uncle's plea to calm down. “Why aren’t you getting him in trouble, huh?! He’s the one that started all this shit! Going around and spreading lies about Y/N!”

And maybe this is when Eddie should have shut up, because the way Principal Higgins eyes bulged at the revelation honestly kinda freaked Eddie out a bit. 

“Ms. Y/L/N?!” Higgins spit odiously. “This is about Ms. Y/L/N?!”

Wayne blinked between both men. “Who’s Y/N Y/L/N?”

The poor man’s presence had long been disregarded. Once again, this had been extrapolated into a battle between Higgins and Munson, a long six year war that seemed to have no ending. And you, well, you fell victim in the crossfire, left unaided, to die, vulnerable to the vultures of Hawkins High that got to pick you apart free of consequences. Because that was human nature for a small town that capitalized the American Dream with infiltrations of conservatism and conformity for the need to prioritize normalcy. And Eddie Munson was not normal, therefore you were not normal. Because you took his fucking picture. 

“In my years of administration, I have never, and I mean never, have had this much havoc from two students!” It became quite astounding how much a single vein could protrude from a reddening forehead of a forty-seven-year-old man. 

“This isn’t her fault!” Eddie burdened to emphasize. “Why are you always blaming her?! You used to love parading her achievements around as if they were yours, and now that she’s friends with me,” you weren’t friends with him, “you suddenly got your little feelings hurt?! You’re unbelievable!” Eddie sneered with a heavy breath and condescending laugh. 

Now, Higgins had been far too familiar with Eddie’s bite, but the abrupt revelation had the man searching for words that would excuse his exaggerating behavior. “I-I, uh, well, I… t-this- this isn’t about Ms. Y/L/N, this is about you, Mr. Munson, and what you did!”

Wayne had reached his wits end, “Alright, alr-”

“What? Rightfully put Carver in his place? Yeah, I did-”

“Alright.” Wayne’s jaw was heavy with tension as a stern scrape of his teeth was gritted to end the commotion. “Look, I truly do not have the time to be doin’ this, so we’re gonna run this quickly.” He sighed with a hand massaging his stubble. “I’ll have Ed apologize.”

Eddie made his annoyance evident with a loud groan and scoff, as he waved his uncle off. 

“But,” Wayne interjected, knowing his nephew would spew out more words that would worsen his consequence, “you said it yourself, sir, that Ed’s been “disrupting” your school for a couple years now, so I don’t think another repeated year would do anyone any good. Right?”

“I- I… well, I, uh, I suppose so…” Higgins mumbled. 

“Perfect.” Wayne perched out of his chair with a groan from his aching back. “I think a… sincere, heartfelt apology will teach my boy a valuable lesson here.” He patted Eddie on the shoulder before yanking on his denim vest to pull him from his seat. “So, no detention, no suspension, that way Ed will get to graduate, he’ll be out of your hair, and all’s good in life.”

“I, well, I think we’re being a little too lenient-”

Wayne shoved his working hand in front of Higgins. “I appreciate your understanding, and I’m glad we were able to come to a consensus.” Dumbfoundedly, Higgins shook the man’s hand trying to process everything. “Now, I’ll get in touch with the other boy’s parents, hopefully talk them out of charges, and Ed and I will have a long talk as to why we shouldn’t hit people. Right, Ed?”

“U-um, uh, yeah- yes, sir, I’m so sorry.” Eddie nodded, faux guilt casting his face, as he pressed his lips in and threw his round eyes of disappointment to the ground. 

“Well, then” Wayne sighed, “I better get going, sleep’s not gonna catch itself.”

“Mr. Munson, uh, sir-”

“Again, thank you for understanding.” Wayne shoved Eddie past the office door, before sending a polite wave to Higgins, left speechless and open-mouthed, yet no protest could be formulated, as the Munson men were out quick with a slam to the door.

Upon reaching the empty halls of the school, Wayne wondered how ethical it would be to lean against the cold, metal lockers and light a cigarette, because he had no willpower to wait until he was outside. Wayne Munson loved Eddie, he truly did. It may not have been affectionately shown for the majority of his guardianship, but it was there; through every cracked joke, every greasy late-night dinner shared, and every moment when he would miss work, because Eddie always waited last minute to finish the algebra homework that he knew he struggled with, and Wayne was there to help. 

But parenthood, itself, was a troubling journey, and when abruptly placed onto a man who had no desire to ever have kids of his own, it became devastatingly unfathomable. It became worse when the kid in question knew nothing but abuse, no hugs no kisses, simply fists and swears to condition his mind with the wrongful notions as to how to express his emotions. It was grueling. 

Wayne cleared his throat. “Ed.”

“I know, I know,” Eddie was quick to explain, “but I swear, it really wasn’t my fault.” His eyes pleaded to avoid the wave of disappointment he knew he brought to everyone in Hawkins. 

“Boy, if this Carver kid and that girl, Y/N, are giving you trouble-”

“No, no, she’s not!” Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat, and huffed. “I-I mean, he is, yeah, but it’s nothing I’m not used to, so it doesn’t matter. But her, she, uh, she didn’t- I, fuck, look this is all stupid! He’s stupid, she’s stupid- I, no, she’s not stupid-”

“Eddie.” Wayne was seeing the younger boy Eddie had once been. Struggling with emotions, struggling with words, unable to process and formulate because he was scared. 

“She fucking hates me, alright!” Eddie heaved. “All of this is stupid, and it doesn’t matter, because she fucking hates me! And I can’t even blame her, because I’m an awful fucking person!”

“You’re not awful-”

“I am!’ Eddie sighed to catch his breath. “C’mon, Wayne, you know I am. I nearly fucking failed for the third time in a row, because I have no self-control and apparently no fucking emotional intelligence, and now I may end up getting arrested in the middle of the fucking school day. And she fucking hates me, Wayne, she hates me!”

The quietness of the hall became deafening after Eddie’s tangent. He knew his uncle didn’t understand half of what he just uttered, but it sure as hell felt good getting it off his chest. And by now, a cigarette was looking real good to the older gentleman. 

“I- shit, I’m sorry, just forget all of that.” Eddie groaned, a tense hand running through his tangled hair.

“No, no,” Wayne shook his head, “say what you need to say. It’ll do you some good.”

Eddie suspired. “Look, Jason was saying some really gross shit about Y/N that wasn’t true, and the only reason why they said all that shit was because she added me- uh, Hellfire to the yearbook.” Wayne raised an eyebrow. “I know, don’t give me that look, like I said, this is all fucking stupid. Anyways, I felt bad, he was literally causing a scene in the middle of lunch, and well, I punched him-”

“Well, see, you’re not an awful person.” Wayne pointed. 

“You didn’t let me finish.” Eddie, now highlighted with genuine guilt, casted down to the floor. “When she first took our picture, I kinda yelled at her, because I thought she was just being some two-faced cheerleader, which she wasn’t, but, uh, after the whole cafeteria scene, well, she told me to just leave her alone, and um, I got defensive and called her… a sl- look, I just really fucked up, alright.”

Wayne puffed out a big breath of air. “Okay.” He really didn’t remember high school being this cursory, granted it was over thirty years ago for him. “Uh, well, did you at least apologize to her?” He truly didn’t know how else to approach this problem. 

“Well, no, she got suspended yesterday because of the whole yearbook thing. Highly doubt I’ll get a chance.”

“Well, make a chance.” Wayne waved off simply.

“What?”

“You care that much about what she thinks of you, make the chance happen. Don’t just sit around, do something. And if you really don’t care, then just let it go and focus on graduating and not getting in trouble.” Wayne pulled out his pack of Camels. “Either way, I need sleep and you need to get to class.”

“It’s lunch time.”

“Then eat.” Wayne sighed, as he began walking away. “Just stay out of trouble, because there’s only so many free car repairs I’m willing to offer in order to keep your ass out of jail, boy.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

-

“I can’t believe this! I totally don’t look like this!” Dustin shrieked. “This is a terrible angle! And I specifically told the guy to get my good side!”

Mike laughed with a mouth full of greasy pizza. “You look like the orcs from our campaign.”

“Who looks like the orcs from our campaign?” Eddie announced his arrival, as he took a seat at the head of the table. 

“Dustin!” Gareth guffawed. 

“But, hey, if you really wanna feel better, take a look at Stanley Godwin who literally sneezed in the middle of his picture.” Jeff stole the yearbook from Dustin’s grabby hands. “Poor kid and his sinuses.”

But before Jeff could thumb through to find the sneezing sophomore, Eddie had forcefully yanked the brand new book from his friend. “Where the hell did you get this?!”

“I bought it.” Dustin answered. “The Yearbook Committee is already selling them. But, if you want my advice, don’t bother asking Nancy for a family discount.”

“You’re not family.” Mike sneered with a playful shove.

And in true Dustin Henderson fashion, the boy audibly gasped. “Have the last ten years meant nothing to you?”

“Is our picture still in here?” Eddie interrupted. 

“Yup!” Gareth smirked. “Front and center.”

Eddie flipped through the extracurriculars, filtering through the numerous clubs before his eyes bestowed upon their photo. There they were. All of them. Their faces and names representing the Hellfire title. 

“Hey, how’d the meeting with Higgins go?” Jeff snapped Eddie’s attention. “Your uncle dish one out to ya?”

“Uh, no, actually.” Eddie signed. “Got let off the hook.”

“Wait, Higgins isn’t suspending you?” Mike questioned, and Eddie merely shook his head in confirmation. 

“Wow, you’d think punching his precious star athlete would get you expelled.” Dustin laughed. “I mean, even Y/N got suspended for something less. Wish she was here, so I could thank her for the photo.” 

Your name had sparked something within Eddie. He quickly turned the pages to reach the senior class of 1986, and flipped until he found your face. Your fucking beautiful face. So pretty and proper, dressed in your best clothing, pearls shining around your neck, eyes glinting with perfection. You were perfect. Perfect. Down to the last minute detail. Your teeth, your lips, your skin.

Make a chance.

Eddie tore the page with much fervor in mind. 

“Hey, what the hell?!” Dustin whined. “That cost me forty-five bucks!”

“Sorry, kid.” Eddie muttered, as he stood from his chair, stuffing the torn page into the leather pocket of his worn jacket. 

“Where are you going?” Jeff catechized. “We’re in the middle of lunch.”

“To find Chrissy Cunningham.”

-

Chrissy Cunningham was a lot harder to find than Eddie had expected. She had been in the same lunch period with him for the entirety of the semester, but the one instance he actually needed to speak to her, she wasn’t sitting with the gaggle of cheerleaders and jocks that claimed the best seats in the lunchroom. The girls’ bathroom had been his best option, now he obviously didn’t enter, but after he begrudgingly called out her name through the doorway, he felt like a creep and left rather quickly. The gym was his backup, but after peering through the small windows of the double doors, all he saw was Coach Monaghan loudly instructing scrawny freshmen through enervating suicide drills for the sake of physical education. And the health room was no luck, as the guidance counselor was enforcing teaching the importance of abstinence to a group of girls—only girls—for the sake of sexual education. More like purity culture. Eddie was running out of luck. His watch indicated the mere five minutes he had left before he’d be obligated to endure Mrs. O’Donell. But, by the grace of whatever god may or may not be out there, Eddie caught sight of the strawberry blonde sitting alone upon the writhing wood of an old picnic table just outside of the cafeteria. He walked all around, just for her to be a couple yards from where he originally was. Sometimes Eddie could only scoff at himself. 

Appearing to be caught up in her own world, Eddie’s heavy footsteps went unnoticed, until he materialized into her peripheral, a startled shriek making him surrender with hands up in the air. 

“Woah, hey, sorry.” He raucously chuckled, looking around to make sure no one could fabricate some false story of harassment against a cheerleader. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

But his words brought no ease to her- clearly, it was just yesterday she was cleaning up her boyfriend’s lip, because of Eddie. “I, uh, I- well, if it’s alright with you, I, um, liked to talk- well, ask you for something.” He softly assured, as she eyed him timidly. 

“Um, a-about what?” Her voice could barely be picked up by the breeze of the afternoon. 

Eddie took it as an invitation to sit down across from her with a tight-lipped smile. It was awkward. He took notice of her uneaten lunch, merely picked apart but not savored—well, as savored as school lunch could be. “So, uh, what brings you out here?” Perhaps an attempt at conversation with someone he never even spoke to was too bad of an idea, but he simply chose the politeness path, as he ask was pretty hefty. “Finally got tired of Jessica’s big mouth?” He laughed.

Chrissy didn’t. Jessica had made a comment, one that sounded too much like her mother’s own words. 

So when Chrissy sadly shrugged, he dropped the small talk and diverted the conversation. 

“Okay, look, I’m just gonna be up front.” Eddie sighed. “I need you to give me Y/N’s phone number and address.”

Her thinly groomed eyebrows creased her forehead in confusion. “Um, what?”

“Look, it’s a simple ask, alright, I just need her phone number and address.”

“No, I hear you, Eddie, I just- well, I just don’t know if she would want me to-”

“No, and I understand that, I just really need to talk to her.” Eddie pleaded. “And obviously I can’t do that at school.” Chrissy stayed quiet with contemplation. “C’mon, you guys are friends- or were friends, right? I really just want to make it up to her after all the bullshit she’s been through. Us being partially at fault because of it, y’know.”

Chrissy’s guilty round eyes met his. “I just don’t want her to hate me more.” she whispered. 

Eddie’s mouth fell slightly agape, not knowing how to comfort. See, lying and saying all was good and merry between you and Chrissy in order to get what he wanted would have been his first solution—the asshole way of thinking. But being that Eddie being an asshole was the start of all your misery in the first place, he fought the urge to choose the easy way out and rubbed his face with agony. 

“Yeah, no, I, uh, get it.” He huffed. “And if it’s any consolation, she fucking hates me, too. Probably more than she hates you.” He smiled. And luckily, a sadden smile curled her lips, which was a start. “And I mean, rightfully so, we were jackasses to her.” He laughed.

“I should have stuck up for her.” Chrissy sighed. “She always has for me. I mean, she’s been my best friend for four years. But Jason, he just gets so far into this idea of what people will say and think, and he doesn’t want me or him hurting from others' judgment.”

“So you judged her instead?” He couldn’t really be one to speak on the morals of virtue, as he judged, too.

“I know, it’s so stupid.” She dropped her head into her palms with shame. “And I’m not trying to excuse it, I just want her to know I’m so sorry, but I haven’t had the courage to tell her.” She groaned. “Plus, her dad is really strict and really hard on her to be so successful, that I doubt he’ll want me over after she got suspended.”

Chrissy drowned with dejection. Four years of the purest bond between young girls had been cemented into a cascade of hateful rumors and a lack of clear discernment that severed their loving connection that persevered them through the pinnacle of teenage years. As naive fourteen-year-olds, you both had stolen the locked up booze from your father’s office, and cheered one another on as you took a sip, to ensure you both appeared to know what you were doing when you arrived to Bradly Leminski’s party. Turns out, you both had accidentally drank too much in the comfort of your bedroom and missed out. You’d even watched giddily, as Jason Carver asked Chrissy out, after you ran him through the basis of what she loves, because he was determined to get her on a date. But through the woes of boys and high school parties, you’d both been there for one another through the deepest of tribulations, like when Chrissy called you bawling, because her mother’s words manipulated the way she saw herself in the beautiful dress she’d been so excited to wear for the winter formal. Or when she held you tightly after saving you from the harsh grasp of a senior, Jimmy Saunters, who forcefully shoved multiple shots of tequila down your throat, and attempted to drag you into his friend’s bedroom when you were merely a baby freshman. 

Her comfort had saved you, just as yours did to her.

“Well, I mean, you can’t just not try.” Eddie reasoned. “Look, I fucking hate that she hates me, and I want to at least try to apologize to her, too, which is why I at least need her number and address, please. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you, too, whenever you get the chance.”

The school bell that Eddie had been all too familiar with screeched for the coming of class, and he jumped in hurry. “C’mon, Chrissy, please, you gotta help me out here.” The desperation became palpable. Chrissy turned and watched numerous students flood into the halls through the glass doors of the building. Caving in quickly, she rummaged through her backpack for a pink pen she’d nearly worn through after the excessive notes from her third period. But she simply grabbed Eddie’s jacket sleeve, and utilized the back of his veiny hand as a canvas for her information. 

He’d ache his neck with a contorted twist of his head to watch the fading ink print what he wanted. A seven digit number lined the back of his hands, a small smile consuming his face, but then Chrissy started capping her pen away. “W-wait, uh, her address, too.”

“Um…”

“Please, I swear, if she asks, I won’t say it was you.” Eddie rushed.

Chrissy sighed, before quickly scribbling the number and street name of your home. Eddie cursed under his breath. “Christ, Pinecrest Acres? I got hired to mow some dude’s lawn in that neighborhood one summer, and some prick called the cops on me for trespassing.” He scoffed, and poor Chrissy didn’t know how to respond at the irrelevance of his news besides with an awkward chuckle. “But, anyways, thank you. I’ll, uh, leave you to it.” Eddie saluted, as he headed towards the door.

But then he abruptly turned. “Wait! Uh, tell your boyfriend I’m sorry for the, uh, whole, y’know…” And Eddie laughed, as he mimicked the shocking punch that loosened Jason Carver’s front teeth. 

The entire reason why he hadn’t showed up to school that day. 

“Um, don’t you want to tell him yourself?” Chrissy sweetly proffered. “I’m sure it’ll mean more.”

Eddie could roll his eyes. It was Jason Carver. Nothing Eddie did could mean shit to him.

He winced with a hiss. “Yeah, see, I totally would,” no, he wouldn’t, “but since he’s not here, and you’re the next best thing, I trust that you’ll pass on the message for me.” He smiled so sickly, Chrissy couldn’t see the drenching lies of his words.

“Oh, okay.” She agreed. 

“Oh!” Eddie perked. “If Higgin’s asks, I totally did apologize to Carver, okay?” Well, maybe there was still a little asshole left in Eddie, but at least he wasn’t actively hurting anyone. Yet.

“Uh, o-okay.” She hesitantly smiled.

“Thanks, Chrissy.” He lifted his balled fist to bump with hers. It was telling of the fact that Eddie Munson had little interactions with girls his own age- or any girls for that matter. But she hesitantly bumped him back, nonetheless. “Y’know, you’re a really cool person, you should get better friends.” He affirmed, before waving a goodbye.

“Th-thanks.” She meekly watched him enter the school building. 

While uncomfortable at first, the overall start of the budding friendship between Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson was one to look forward to. While they evidently had nothing in common, it was quite comical actually, they could find reassurance in one another that improvements needed to be made within themselves in order to speak to the one person they both genuinely cared for. You. They at least had that in common. And luckily for Eddie, in six hours, Chrissy Cunningham would confide to Jason Carver to drop any potential charges, and he would listen, because he loved her. 

-

“Fuck.” Eddie mumbled under his breath. He shook the nerves from his hands, and rolled his neck in preparation. “C’mon, you can do this.”

“So, uh,” Wayne snapped Eddie’s attention. His uncle was staring at him circumspectly, as he shrugged on his jacket, “you preparin’ for a marathon, or somethin’?”

“What?” Eddie blinked through his messy bangs. “No, I’m about to make a phone call.”

“Right.” Wayne cleared his throat, studying the newfound nervousness of his nephew’s demeanor, which he hadn’t seen in- well, ever. “Ima head out to work, see ya tomorrow morning.” It was clear Eddie was waiting for his uncle to leave, as Wayne caught sight of how quickly Eddie grabbed the handle of the phone as Wayne, himself, grabbed the doorknob. “Is this about that Y/N girl?”

Eddie’s shoulder’s dropped. “Shouldn’t you be heading off to work by now?”

“Alright, alright,” Wayne mumbled, “just askin’. Be sure to eat dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it, Ed. Eat.” 

Eddie, in fact, did not eat. 

In order to not succumb to the nauseating feeling that was churning in the pit of his tummy, he came to the concurrence that a cold beer would extenuate the ferment that made his heart skip a beat every ten seconds. Now, in typical sense, Eddie had consumed enough beer in his lifetime, that a single one shouldn’t have affected him to the extent at which this one did. But see, Eddie didn’t listen to the wise words of Wayne Munson, and his gurgling, empty stomach rocked him to the edge of tipsiness far quicker than he was used to. 

And before he knew it, his cold fingertips were jamming the buttons to the sequence of Chrissy’s faded pink handwriting, and soon it began ringing- shit, the phone was ringing! Eddie began panicking in place, wavering between hanging up and bringing the phone back to his ear. He hadn’t even planned out what he would say to you. Well, he technically did, it was all that he could think about for the entire day, but each idea seemed unworthy to the standards you deserved, so he’d move on to the next thought, but then suddenly every thought was determined unfit by Eddie. Should he apologize? Fuck, of course, he should apologize, but for what first? Calling you a miserable bitch? An attention-seeking slut? Making a scene in the cafeteria? Yelling in your face? Making you cry? Jesus Christ, thinking it out loud, why on Earth would you ever accept his apology?! He should just hang up before it’s too late-

“Hello?”

Eddie Munson’s knees buckled.

He carelessly gripped the edge of his wooden table, and slowly steadied himself into the chair below. He should speak, but no words were coming out. His knuckle flew into his mouth, where his teeth brandished the tender skin with harsh indents. It was painful, but he couldn’t stop. 

You spoke so featherly soft, too delicate for his usual orotund tone. The one he’d use to berate you. “Um, hello?”

“H-Hi…” He pierced out, immediately cringing at the sudden loudness he uncontrollably spoke in. “It’s, uh- well, it’s me, um… Eddie.”

It was dead quiet for what felt like an eternity. 

No word, no squeak, no air. You were obviously holding your breath, and the mere thought was tearing at Eddie’s heart. “Please.” It came out so weak. “Please, Eddie, I don’t wanna start anything.” 

His stomach dropped, and his hands shook with how scared you sounded. You were scared of him. In the couple of instances he interacted with you, he scared you. Because to you, he brought harm. It may not have been physical, but it was detrimental, nonetheless. And you were scared. He was becoming the sole person he did not want to become, because he knew what it was like to be scared. 

“No, no, sweetheart,” he let out a shaky sigh, “I’m not gonna do anything. I promise.” He wanted to profusely vomit. It was the same words his dad had uttered to his bruised mom in order to sweet talk her out of leaving.

“I told you to leave me alone, Eddie.” You choked quietly. It was dinner. Your father was downstairs enjoying his takeout. Not yours. He stopped caring to ask the minute you refused to leave your bedroom. “I don’t even care how you got my number, but I need you to not call-”

“No, I know, sweetheart, but I really just need to talk to you.” His knuckles were casting white upon the tight grip he clutched the phone, as his lips brushed the bottom speaker in whispers. His other hand began insistently picking at the old wood of the kitchen table. Wayne would have a word with him about that. “I- what I did, I really need to tell that I’m sorry, because I truly am sor-”

“Eddie,” You gently interrupted, no energy to scream at him like your mind was begging you to do, “I don’t want your apology.” You sniffled. “If it really meant that much to you, you would have never done it to begin with, because I- I would have never done this to you. I would have never done this to you.”

His eyes clenched shut to mitigate the profound stinging of his eyes from the welling of tears his heart was urging to spill for you. He knew the probability of you accepting his apology was low, but his mother always seemed to accept his father’s after he sweet talked his way out of a domestic abuse charge. This is what was supposed to happen, right? You should be loving his words and running to forgive him, right? It was what he saw. It was what he experienced. It was what he was conditioned to believe. But you weren’t his mother. And he’d desperately do anything to not be his father. Yet everyday, the image in the mirror was sneering back that sickening smile that destroyed Eddie’s childhood. So you weren’t going to run in his arms. You were going to stand your ground, just like he wished his mother had done to his father. 

“Please, sweetheart.” A gritted through his tense jaw, as a tear stained his reddening cheek. “Please.”

“I don’t want anything to do with you, Eddie.” There was no admonish to your words, in fact, you were so demure, holding back tears of your own, because he knew the ugly truth that you were well aware of the fact that if you screamed, he’d scream. And you’d, once again, be scared. “Just let me be, please. I don’t want you near me.”

The buzzing of the cutting line shot his bullet in his heart.

Your voice was gone, and yet, the phone stayed glued to his ear in hopes that he was just imagining it all. You didn’t hang up. You were still on the line. You would take back your words. You would accept his apology. But your euphonious voice never appeared again, and Eddie aggressively slammed the phone back on the hook with a grunt of frustration. The heel of his palms stabbed into his weeping eyes, as his shoulders assertively shook with every choke of his tightening breath. Rejection, heartache, vexation, and patheticism rampaged his mind from any calamity, and before he knew it, the characteristics he so badly hated about himself were being proffered up to the surface of his being. 

In truth, this was the scary aspect of Eddie Munson that resembled the harm he was verbally and physically ingrained with as a tragic child who knew of no hope. All rationale was gone, and wrongful devotion rooted in his deepest fear of being neglected with disregard had overtook his judgment. Standing with all fury, his finger’s strained through the excessive flexing of joints before his balled fist broke through the drywall of his trailer. His knuckles split with blood, but it felt deserving to him. Who was Eddie Munson without the infliction of pain? Absolutely nobody, he affirmed in his mind. He was meant to suffer. 

Chest heaving, beads of sweat pebbled his forehead, and the fridge door broke open. His truculent, battered hand grappled onto the torn yokes of the remaining three beers, hauling them, as his other hand reached for the keys to his van.

Eddie Munson was about to cause more harm. 

-

“Please, jus hol’ on f’me…” His drenched lips slurred with beer, as his hand crushed the empty can he haphazardly threw into the passenger seat, where his growing collection stacked. 

In the grand scheme of things, Eddie knew he was attesting to the predisposition of his role in this town, but he couldn’t help it. A lowlife, criminal, an irascible danger to society. Would you actually accept him? No, you wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t blame you. But he couldn’t stand the pre-conceived notion he’d confirmed about himself to you, and he was in desperation to speak to you. Unfortunately, Eddie had panicked, and this was happening in the ugliest, most horrifying and sinister state he’d ever been in. And you would see it all.

As lucky as one can be under the influence while driving, the cracked roads had fortunately been desolate, as nuclear families gathered around their pristine tables to lavish in the draining emotional labor of home cooked meals by their underappreciated wives. He rejected all red lights and street signs, stampeding through neighborhoods, drifting past turns, and steadily accelerating until he’d approached the spotlighted sign of Pinecrest Acres. The affluence—actually the beer and sharp curves—made his stomach turn in disgust. The aristocrats of Hawkins housed together, where they frolicked with no worries in the prolific assortment of two-stories, pool houses, parterres, and vintage cars, all while the struggling families of Forest Hills had to huddle with worn blankets to survive the blistering winters of Indiana. Ronald Reagan’s conservatism sure had an ascendancy on this place. He came to an abrupt stop after his headlights reflected the engraved 630 of your mailbox. “6… 3… 0 Pinecrest fucking Acres.” He mumbled.  

His tire ran over the curb of your street before he pulled the keys from the ignition. For a second, he stopped. His breathing was becoming suffocating, as his chest fervently raised with each depth of an inhale. His hand found the door handle faster than his mind could process, and soon he was stumbling on inebriated legs to the front lawn of your house. Honestly, if your dad had found him, he would have shot him, but the man had driven himself into bed after downing the entirety of his rum. 

Eddie’s eyes scaled the height of the house. “Fuck me.” Maybe he shouldn’t have chugged four beers. He cleared his throat. His joints echoed in a rhythmic sequence of pops, as he pressed and twisted his fingers to loosen up. A guttural groan escaped as his neck was next, snapping it left to right to ease out any crooks. His breaths stammered in unprecedented waverness, as his ears ached through the thudding sounds of his beating heart that seemed to be amplified in his mind. Jaw ticking. Hands shaking. Mouth dried. Body sweating. What the hell were you going to do when he’d shown up without your consent? In fact, you explicitly said to leave you alone. “Shit, shit, shit.” Eddie wanted to cry. Should he knock? No, your dad would call the cops. Would you call the cops? He sure as hell would if a drunk man harassed his yard. 

But then, his stomach sank to his ass. 

The one room that had been illuminated by the glowing overhead light had accentuated your silhouette. You. It was fucking you. In your room. Where you stayed, where you studied, where you slept, where you’d been crying and chose stoicism to numb the pain of everything around. But everything had happened quickly, and soon, you were gone with a sharp close of your curtains. 

Eddie’s legs began working without thought, and he’d swiftly aligned himself with the window to your room, tramping the trimmed garden of crumpled rose bushes beneath his dirty sneakers. Your house had been complemented by the standing trellis that had been wrapped by vines of delicate nature. If there was any sign of either moving forward or leaving, the intricate trimming of your house perfectly starting where your trellis ended meaning Eddie had leeway to make it to your window, meaning Eddie’s intoxicated mind saw it was a passage to see you. “Jus do it f’her, do it f’her…” Regrettably, the rational part of his brain had fallen under the influence, which was screaming at him to just leave you alone. 

As stealthy as a drunk man could, Eddie prayed the trellis could hold his weight, as he began scaling the flimsy wood against your wall. All he could think about was you. Every step was for you. Every splinter was for you. Every stumble was for you. Yet his clouded judgment could not process the fact that you didn’t want any of this. But the bottom of his shoe was already scuffing the white trimming of your house, and he was hoisting himself to stand upon the hipped edge roof. Crouched and begging his intoxication didn’t drop him from the second story, he quietly approached the dormer of your window. 

His fingertips gently caressed the glass with great scrutiny. It was now just dawning on him as to what he’s just done. The danger he’s put himself and others in. The disrespect he’s inflicted upon you. The hurt. The knock was soft, barely comprehensible. You had ignored it, there was always noise. You tightly cuddled a bundle of your duvet, sinking yourself into the wallow of your bed in hopes of willing yourself to a serious need of sleep. But the noise continued. More apparent. More concerning. 

You jolted at the clearest indication of a set of knocks cascading against your window. 

Your heart began racing beyond compare, as the noise followed just outside. It was night, no one should be coming to your house, let alone your window at 9:27 p.m. And the one man you should have had full reliance on was currently passed out in his locked bedroom, where you knew awakening him would lead to a revile of the burden you’d become in his life. He said it when you were nine, and he’d freely say it again if you gave him a headache from his usual hangover. 

But suddenly, the trembling of your body succumbed when you heard it. 

“H-hello…”

Blindsided by the simple greeting, you stumbled out of bed with stupefaction that he would actually show up. Eddie. You ran to your window, swinging the curtains open to reveal him. Round, reddened eyes oozing with plead, as his hand pressed against your window. His heart sank at the look of disgust that his face garnered from you. He hated it. He hates your disheveled hair, your bagging pajamas, your wobbling lip. He hates you. He hates how perfect you were. Why the fuck were you so fucking perfect? 

You made out the shaky “please” that left his mouth. 

Opening the window swiftly, the cold breeze of the night engulfed you, as he helped you lift. “What are you doing here?!” You were quick to spit with spite.

“I-I,” upon seeing you, his eyes had an instant reaction to start welling for the shit he was putting you through, because he knew what he was wreaking was pure havoc in the normalcy of your life, “I just really needed to t-talk to you.” He managed to choke out.

His hot breath hit you like a truck, proffering memories of what a humid house party smelt like. “Are you drunk right now?!” He could only shamefully nod with closed eyes. “And you drove here?!” Another disgrace to his character. “Are you insane?!”

“M’so sorry… M’so fucking sorry, please, I-I jus- I jus-”

“You could have hurt somebody, Eddie!” Though whispered, it carried all the beratement of your anger. “You could have killed yourself!”

“I know!” He wailed with guilt. “I jus- I feel like m’losing my mind, because I need to fucking fix what I did. What I did to you! M’so sorry.” Your hands caught your head in anguish. You hated him, every being in your body wanted to shout at him, and yet, your heart was tormenting at the state he was in. And you fucking hated that you couldn’t hate him how you wanted- how you deserved. “M’sorry, I-I can leave and I swear I won-” 

“You’re not fucking leaving like this, Eddie, you’re gonna get hurt.” You began tearing in frustration.

“Nonono, p-please don’t cry-”

He tried to reach out to you, but you slapped his comforting hands away, forcing him to lose his balance, before you had to steady him yourself. “You’re just saying that because you know you’re the cause.” You mumbled far too low for his drunk brain to process, while you held a tight grip around his wrist.

At an attempt to pull him in, his heavy, limp body contorted trying to bypass your window alcove, brandishing it with the streaks of his dirty shoes, and it took all your strength to stumble him onto your bed with a huff. Having him sit in place, you kneeled in front of him to get a good look at his face through the peering moonlight. He looked beyond exhausted, a testament to the agony of contrition he’s been eaten by for what he’s done to you. His eyes wholly swollen with irritation and tears that stained his flushed cheeks, as everything around him felt like it was burning hot. You couldn’t yell at him. At this state, ambushing him with an onslaught of curses and shouts would only project him into a disposition of vindication in order to protect himself. And that side of Eddie Munson was scary.

“Eddie,” you sighed, as his hanging head managed to meet your round eyes and quivering lips. “You cannot do this again. Do you hear me? You’re scaring me.” He vehemently shook his head, as his hands were quick to cover his face with shame to shield from the embarrassment he was consumed by. You pulled his arms away. “No, Eddie, I need you to say it; that you won’t do this to me again.”

“I-I… I won’t do this to you a-again- m’sorry. I won’t touch you, I promise, M’not my dad.” He sobbed. 

You sighed in defeat. “What- why would you even do this in the first place? What are you talking about?” You pleaded to understand, as tears constricted your eyes. 

There’s so much he wanted to say, but he didn’t know where to start. “I fucking need to fix what I did to you. I didn’t mean it, any of the shit I said to you. Being around is just so nice that I get afraid. I don’t want to lose you… a-as a friend, because- because nice things don’t happen to me, and I don’t know what I would do if I lost-” His breath had caught up to him, making him retch on nothing but tears and snot.

“Breathe, okay, Eddie, just breathe.” You quietly instructed, as he endeavored to follow suit. Your hands softly took hold of his, trying to ameliorate the violent shakes of his stiffening body, fingers delicately locking to find solace within his. And he held back so tightly. 

“Nobody- nobody’s ever cared like you have.” He whimpered. 

“So why treat me like this?” You mewled, sinking your teeth to discontinue the incoming sobs that stung your throat. 

“Because I don’t fucking deserve you-” You were quick to immediately shush him, as your father was merely a couple doors down. “Sorry, but I can’t fucking like you, Y/N.” He murmured through a quivering lip. His mind was spewing his feelings, the one he so badly wanted to ignore, but alas, his intoxicated state was regrettably telling all. “I can’t, it hurts too much. Knowing- knowing you don’t belong with me, I-I can’t fucking hold you, hug you, I c-can’t.”

“Eddie, you could have just talked to me.” You softly cried.

“No.” He looked so terrified. “I can’t fucking hear you ignore me. I-I know you don’t like me-”

“You don’t know that-”

“Fucking look at me, Y/N.” He bawled. “Look at what I’m doing to you. You don’t fucking deserve this. M’not a good person. I hurt you. I fucking hurt you.”

“I just wished you would have given me a chance, and talked to me, Eddie.” You squeezed his hands.

“No, I don’t want to burden you.” He cried with heavy breaths. “There’s things I wanna say to you- do with you, but I should just be letting you live free from me. No one cares about what I have to say, and you know it.” He begged for you to get it. “All that bullshit about communication doesn’t mean anything when it comes to me. No one wants to hear me. No one wants me.”

Your heart shattered at the revelation because it was beyond the definitions of truth. From childhood, Eddie Munson knew he was nothing if not a punching bag to his father, a therapist to his mother, an obligation to his uncle, and a burden to everyone. It became unwarrantedly embedded into a six-year-old boy and vandalized into his twenty-year-old self. He recognized it. Everyone affirmed it. 

You raked your hands from his hold, choosing to sit next to him on your bed, where your arms inundated him into a hug he had not received in years. The last close touch given to Eddie Munson left him weeping with a broken nose. He immediately fell into your embrace, shoving his head in the comfort of your neck, where his cries only amplified with the desperation of being touched lovingly. Your own tears had dampened his unruly head of hair, as you caved into him. His heavy arms constricted you tightly. 

At this moment, you were not scared of Eddie Munson. You’d seen his reasoning and you understood. Not excused, but understood. A lot of people had simply scared him first.

“I hear you, Eddie. I want to keep hearing you.”

-

“Eddie?” You whispered into his curls.

It’d been an hour of nonstop wails of distress, years of pent up emotions, and the realization that his being could be accepted. Even if it was just for tonight. His eyes had endured a rollercoaster of feelings, and they soon gave up on holding him awake. You didn’t move. He didn’t move. A tight hug that was necessary for both of you after heavy stoicism from neglect in your own unique ways. 

You caressed his head. “Eddie?”

He was out. You let out a shaky breath of relief. Carefully maneuvering his body, you gently laid his head onto your pillow, prying his strong arms from your waist where they refused to let go, bunching the fabric of your sweater. But you managed to escape his needy hold. Huffing lightly, you carried his legs onto your bed, deciding to let his shoes dirty your clean blankets. His arms had subconsciously gotten comfortable, splaying out against your mattress, where he fell into deep relaxation in comparison to the lumpy bed he’d succumb to back home. You took sight of the fading ink across his hand, your information decorating his alabaster skin with the all too familiar pink of Chrissy Cunningham’s pen. You wondered how the hell that conversation had gone down. You tenderly eased his arms from the malaise of his jacket, bringing the denim and leather infused with cheap cologne and cigarettes up to your nose. It was Eddie. Soothing the beloved jacket against the back of your desk chair, a small paper had dropped from the nearly torn pocket. Reaching out, you picked up the torn page from Dustin Henderson’s yearbook.

Though, no other student could be seen. It was ripped haphazardly to only focus on your picture. 

You.

Eddie Munson had now seen you, as you had now seen him. 

Softly placing the photo back, you rummaged through your closet to retrieve another set of duvets and blankets, where you preciously placed them onto the floor of your bedroom. Your bed had now been stolen, but you weren’t complaining—that much, at least. You’d quietly taken another pillow from your bed, placing it onto your newfound cushion of the floor. There was a reason why you shoved this particular blanket into the closet, it made your skin itch uncomfortably, but you’d withstand the terrible material of the woven covers if it meant that Eddie could get the peace he needed. 

Because if Eddie was okay, you’d be okay. 

Because similarly to Eddie, who were you if not catering to the needs of others in order to keep sanity in your life. You just wanted stability. True stability. 

Cuddling into your blankets, you heard the snores of the past out man next to you. You sighed. In the mere three days of knowing Eddie Munson, you accepted the emotional labor that came with his damaged self. But that was okay. Because Eddie Munson seemed ready to do the same for you. Accept you.

But how willing were you to tolerate the impulsivity of Eddie Munson who knew nothing of stability?

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | Again, there was an error in my tag list, which led me to removing it. Luckily, it’s been a couple days, so I believe most who wished to be tagged already read this chapter. My tag list will continue, I just simply had to remove it for this chapter in particular. I’m terribly sorry for any confusion.

[bamfkeeper]

Religious Differences

RQ: 'Hiiii if you're comfortable could you write some angst/hurt/comfort where a non-religious reader finds comfort in Kurt's religion and teachings during a hard time? If that makes sense? I've never been particularly religious myself (on the fence about spirituality), but in the past I've found great comfort in friends/family and their religious beliefs when things went awry. Idk something about the mutual comfort and respect towards eachother's ideologies and just talking about different religions and ideas brings me comfort when I'm feeling down :)' - @citiirose

Warnings: GN!reader, religious themes, unedited.

A/N: I felt this rq. I am not religious, but I've had religion shoved down my throat by my parents. For a long time I resented religion, now I don't care as long as it's not pushed on me. I always thought this would be an interesting dynamic with Kurt. This was a little hard to write, but I hope I did a good job getting that comfort in there. I kept the troubles vague, so you could possibly come back and get comfort in any scenario.

WC: 1.4k

Faith in something unseen is almost cruel.

Especially when life threw you curveballs and you had no idea how to swing back.

You never felt the need or desire to believe in teachings spewed from a book older than you could imagine, especially not with all the science and proof saying otherwise. Everything contradicted each other, and a belief in any kind of faith felt confusing. Even learning, you never felt that pull that others do, your faith in an invisible force didn't exist.

Lately, life had been hard. Events were happening that effected you in such a way that you began to feel as though you yourself were crumbling. Nothing was helping you, you felt completely and utterly alone. You were always so strong, yet...you wished you didn't have to be. Or that you had someone around that would help you through it. You were just too stubborn to reach out on your own.

The only person who could always help you feel better was Kurt. He always knew exactly what to do and say to lift your spirits. The kind-hearted Catholic was always the shoulder you needed to cry on, offering you a safe space to express your emotions. His entire presence was incredibly calming for you, wrapping you in a sense of peace and understanding. Kurt could read you like a book, intuitively sensing your needs and providing the comfort you sought. In times like these, when everything felt overwhelming, you could really use that kind of compassionate support.

As if right on queue, the blue German teleported to you with a loud BAMF and purple smoke. He looked at you, his usual charming smile displayed on his face. "Ah, liebe!" he grinned, those fangs poking out of his lips, "I thought we could..." his smile faded slightly as he took in the sight of your sad form. "Ach....what's the matter, liebling?" his voice quieted with his question and he sat down beside you.

"Talk to me, ja? What's going on?" he asked gently, his arm wrapped around your waist and he let you lean on him. His tail wrapped around you too, brushing your leg. He was always so patient with you, his presence was grounding in the swirling thoughts you were having. You almost felt like you were caught in a typhoon, and he had become the shelter you needed for safety.

You slowly opened up and told him of what was going on. You spilled it to him, he was so easy to talk to. Kurt, being the wonderful listener he was, sat quietly and nodded along. He acknowledged everything you said, remembering bits and pieces he would ask about later. Your rant and vent made you feel so lost.

"I just...don't know what to do anymore. Or how to feel. I am...I feel as though I can't control my thoughts or help to think about what happens once everything is gone." You turned to him, "You are always so secure...how do you do it?"

Kurt smiled back, "Ah, I always find comfort in my faith. God is always there, so I am never truly alone. Sure, I cannot see him, but I can always talk to him. My faith is my light and it will always guide me through the dark." Kurt always spoke kindly about his faith, and it made sense. He had his rosary, always, and whenever he needed to, he'd fiddle with it.

You felt bitter. For some reason. Why was Kurt so secure, why weren't you? You were always so sure of things but something as unknown as faith irked you. Kurt was so sure and devoted, you were so upset with everything in your life it made you want to snap at him. You knew that wasn't right, so you held back. He didn't deserve that. But you couldn't help but feel mocked by the very thought of it.

"How are you so sure?" The sharpness in your tone was obvious, "I mean...you can't talk to him really. He doesn't respond back. And, how are you so sure he is real? The books have been rewritten thousands of times, lost in translation. How are you so sure you're even following what he wants? If you believe that." You asked him, you weren't sure how he was so devoted to something that seemed impossible. "Science explains everything the book does. How are there dinosaurs, but no people for millions of years? Or, if they did exist, how did humans survive? Humanity didn't start happening until way later in life. You can't just ignore the facts life has."

He didn't look offended by your questions, he had been asked them many times. He smiled and held his rosary, rolling the beads between his fingers. "There are ways to look around it, God's teachings can seem confusing with what science can explain. Sometimes, faith extends past what you can see with your eyes, and you have to see with your heart and soul. Then you allow it to guide you."

Your brow furrowed with confusion, you couldn't imagine doing that yourself. You just couldn't believe it, and thinking on all the stories that come with Catholicism, you just couldn't pair them with what you knew. Science was there, the stories were vague and the teachings didn't make sense to you. "I still don't get it. There are so many things that tell you the truth. Explanations that don't rely on God, who's essentially an invisible, flying orb in the sky."

Kurt nodded, "Ja, that is true, but as I said, you have to open your heart and allow it to come in to understand it." He rubbed your arm and smiled, "Not everyone can, and that's okay. I know how you feel, and how it might seem...odd. That I am so devoted to something you don't understand. I'm happy to teach you, or talk to you about it..."

You thought for a bit, looking to him and fiddling with the end of the rosary he still held. You weren't sure if you could touch it, but he hadn't moved away. "This might be a weird request but...can you tell me some?"

"Tell you some what?" Kurt tilted his head.

"Some stories. I don't know I just...I think that even if I don't believe like you do...it would help me feel better." You muttered, feeling embarrassed for asking him this, hoping he wasn't offended. He heard the hurt in your voice, he was surprised you asked this, knowing you weren't faithful like he was. Still, who was he to deny you such a simple thing? His grip on you tightened and he leaned into your hair. "Of course, liebling..." he situated you both so he was sat back on your bed, pulling you to lay on him.

After you were cozy, he rubbed your back and told you all the common stories first. Of Eden, of the Ark, the Lion's Den, the Giant, all the classic known ones. As he spoke, he told them in such detail, his voice calm and even. He spoke of the teachings, of the great splitting of the sea, he told both the kindness and power. He told of the faith and love. He was passionate without overwhelming you.

For the most part you listened, letting your eyes close as he spoke and hummed to you. But you of course had your thoughts and questions. Kurt happily answered them, glad you seemed interested. He respected your ideologies, even if you didn't believe like he did. He was still happy to teach you and tell you stories when you felt down like this. He had such understanding, he was respectful and didn't push his faith onto you.

"We are never truly alone, he watches over all of us. He protects us and provides us with comfort. He guides us, helps us through the difficult decisions we may make or is there for us when we need someone. We are of God, even with our...unique...abilities, or appearances. We are the same on the inside, and we are all loved." Kurt looked down, seeing you were close to sleep.

"That's it, liebe..." he smiled and kissed your forehead tenderly, "You will always be loved, even if you don't believe. He loves you, as do I. Rest, your troubles will fade away...I will be with you throughout them. If you don't feel like trusting in God, then trust in me." he hummed gently to your sleeping form, keeping you close and secure, his arms wrapped protectively.

He wished he could take the pain away, but what he could do was be there for you, and he would be no matter what happened.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[leth-writes]

yandere Tim Drake x meta reader

This is the first part, I'll probably post a second tomorrow!

Summary: you're a meta who struggles to be seen, and Tim thinks you're the most interesting thing he's laid his eyes on for a long time.

Warnings: none, though as always my blog is 18+.

Tim was the only person to really see you. You’d been born a meta, though your powers slowly ramped up through your early childhood; unfortunately you didn’t even get a cool power. You weren’t even fully invincible, just slightly… fuzzy. It was frustrating, how no one would look you in the eye as a kid, at least until it progressed to most people not even being able to look at your face. You felt like half a person, like a silhouette without the details penciled in.

Then, as you got older, it got worse and worse. Suddenly, your own parents were forgetting you. You’d go to get dinner only to find none left, they almost gave your bed away, most of your clothes got donated… you learned quickly to keep your personal possessions close to your chest to avoid them being given out at the first chance. They could barely remember your name even when they could see you, always messing it up by a few letters. It was even worse at school. You found yourself often having your desk given away to new students, being forced to sit on the floor and try to get your work done, and your teacher always managed to misplace your homework. Eventually, the other students would attempt to walk right through you, as though you were a ghost and not a real person.

Maybe you were a ghost, maybe there was something wrong with you. Maybe you’d died and gone to hell after a life of sin… you couldn’t imagine God being good if they’d condemn you to this living, waking, purgatory. Eventually, you’d been completely kicked out of the house. You’d come home one day, only to find your whole family gone; they’d moved without you. The realization that you’d been erased from their eyes at the snap of a figure only left you hollow.

The hunger to be seen, to be known, left a giant gaping maw in your stomach, all teeth and gnarled, twisted flesh. It was horrid, this living, breathing, monster eating away at you until you couldn’t breathe or blink, curled up in the small, ragged blanket you’d found one day after dumpster diving. You often spent hours just laying on your side in an alley, praying to be released from your suffering, only to fail over and over again. It was horrible, but it was your life.

Everything changed when you met him. You’d been sneaking into Gotham Academy, mainly to use their bathrooms to shower and change into some spare clothes you planned to steal. You took the shortcut through the library, looking for something good to read to distract you from the gawping hunger growing steadily, trying to feed it so it wouldn’t consume you whole, when you heard the clearing of a throat. As always, you assumed it was just some rich kid with a mild case of the sniffles ditching class to read magazines in the corner.

You were wrong.

Suddenly, there was a hand on your shoulder. A hand, on your shoulder! It was the first time you’d been touched in 2 years. You whirled around and threw yourself into the chest of the boy who’d grasped your shoulder, the force of you colliding with him causing him to take a step back and readjust his weight, letting out a soft “oof!”. Tears streamed down your face, the hungry maw gnawing at you practically overtaking you.

The boy let out a gentle sigh, slowly raising the still outstretched arm to pat at your back awkwardly.

“Hey, are you… okay?” He asked, tentatively.

You realized you were still clawing at him like a wounded animal, and quickly stepped away, clearing your throat and looking down.

“Sorry, it’s just… been a while since someone hugged me, I guess I forgot what it felt like?” you said sheepishly, looking down and away.

“It’s alright, I was just wondering if you were new here? I haven’t seen you around campus before…” He started hesitantly, stepping closer. Shit, you couldn’t let him know you didn’t attend the school, or he’d call the cops on you! Who knows how long you’d be left in a quiet, dingy cell, hands cuffed together, before they remembered they’d put you there!

“Yeah, yeah, I’m new. It’s my first day and I got a bit lost… Silly me, huh?” You said, laughing awkwardly and rubbing your arm.

You looked up at him for the first time. Shit. It was Tim fucking Drake, heir to the Wayne and Drake empires, and practical king of the school. He ruled with an iron fist, blackmailing bullies and solving problems; even as an outsider, you couldn’t deny the power he held. The way he acted, you knew he was aware of his power as well. He was dressed in a rumpled uniform, something that would normally be a suspendable offence, but he managed to get away with it. He was leaning back, tie loose and shirt untucked partially, hair messy and fluffy. The sun filtered gently through the arched windows, a rare sunny day, illuminating the soft brown undertones of his hair and shining on his pale, exhausted looking face. He had deep eye bags but was otherwise unblemished, and the lightest green eyes you’d ever seen, almost sickly green.

Looking at him made you uncomfortable; it’d been years since you’d been able to talk to another person. His eyes glinted and his face slackened, looking stern and serious.

“No you’re not.” He said, voice low and threatening.

“W-Yes I am! I just don’t have my paperwork in yet!” You stuttered, backing into the bookcase and holding your hands up as if to defend against a physical blow. He sighed and shook his head, once again stepping into your personal space. “No you aren’t. I would’ve recognized you. I know everyone in this school; you don’t even have a uniform on.” He continued, glancing out the window as if uninterested.

Fuck, what should you do? You could run, but you had the feeling he’d be able to catch you… Or you could try and lie again, but he did seem pretty certain… Maybe you should just confess?

“Fine. I don’t go here. I’m just… I just need to use the bathroom, okay?” You hedged, looking away as though embarassed. It was best not to confess your status as a meta, for fear of Batman showing up to arrest you; you’d heard he had a vendetta against metas for some reason.

Tim nodded, looking satisfied. “Finally, the truth. Let’s go.” He stepped away, grabbing your wrist and pulling you gently along. You dragged your feet, sputtering, trying to stop him. “where are we going?” You asked him, incredulously. “We’re going to get you some clothes, my treat, and a shower. I can’t have you wandering around like that, you’ll never fit in. Besides, you’re the only interesting thing I’ve seen all month.”

You were so excited to finally be seen you didn’t even question why he referred to you as a thing instead of a person.

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (6)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One | Two 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One | Two Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two | Three Leverage Crew One

Hi it's been a fucking minute since I updated this one orz thank you so much for your patience, y'all

Anyway, this fic was line-jumped, and it's one of two jumps I received on kofi. If you'd like to learn more about line-jumping your favorite series, you can read this post

There are three memes at the end for you <3

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :^)

---

The first time Steve got expelled, his father picked him up from school while his mother stayed to chat with the principal. He was twelve at the time, confused about what he'd done wrong, and feeling validated by his father's ecstatic praise of his initiative.

He'd wound up in Grandmama's kitchen, sitting cross-legged on the island while Wednesday added spider legs to a mixing bowl. Fester had gone off the find Gomez after telling Wednesday to keep an eye on Steve. She'd immediately turned away after Fester left the room.

"So," she said, idly stirring, "you've been expelled. What for?"

"I brought rattlesnakes to class."

"Why?"

"We were learning about snakes. I thought the teacher would appreciate live examples."

"How many?"

"Twenty seven. One for each student."

"Did they bite anyone?"

"No," Steve said, frowning and not bothering to conceal his disappointment at the fact.

"That's a shame."

Steve nodded, watching Wednesday for a few minutes before asking, "What are you making?"

"A cake for Joel."

"Why?"

"He insists on celebrating our anniversary."

"What kind is it?"

"Cinnamon with walnuts."

Steve thought for a moment, trying to figure out why that specific combination sounded familiar. Finally, he said, "I thought Joel was allergic to those."

"He is allergic to many things," Wednesday said, looking over her shoulder to smirk at Steve. "But especially cinnamon and walnuts."

"How come you're making it then?"

"To make sure he remembers how breathless I made him when we first met."

Steve thought that might be one of the most romantic things he's ever heard. He carefully filed the idea away in the back of his mind, hoping he'd one day find someone with an allergy severe enough to use it.

-------------------------

Eddie can't stop looking at Steve's parents, his gaze moving between the two as he tries to figure out how the fuck they ended up together. He feels like someone is about to jump out and tell him he's on a prank show. What else could describe the sheer polar opposite natures of Steve's parents?

Debbie looks exactly like the kind of woman who'd live in a Barbie Dream House: blonde, perfect makeup, pastel dress, the refined air that just hovers around her. Fester, however, looks like he belongs next door. Eddie had noticed how pale he was the first time they met, but he's positively corpse-like now that Steve and Debbie are around for comparison.

He'd almost believe Steve wasn't their child if not for the fact that Eddie can see every way he is. Steve might look like Debbie on the outside, but he's undoubtedly an Addams on the inside. He has Debbie's fashion sense and air of elegance. his eyes get the same crazed light sometimes that Fester's do when Debbie speaks, and the words they speak are similar.

"Eddie," Debbie says, snapping him out of his thoughts. At some point, he'd started staring at Steve, and he feels his cheeks flush at getting caught. "Steve tells me you play guitar. Did you recently learn?"

Oh. Eddie feels his shoulders relax some at the familiar topic. "My mom taught me when I was younger. She used to play for me whenever I had nightmares."

"She doesn't play for you anymore?" Debbie asks, spearing a piece of chicken with her fork.

"Oh, uh, she died a few years ago," Eddie says, smiling apologetically for such a downer of a topic. "Cancer, you know."

"That must have been excruciating," Steve says, a soft sigh accompanying his words, and Eddie isn't sure if he's sympathetic or jealous.

Debbie nods as she inspects her chicken closely before putting it in her mouth, her eyes narrowing slightly as she chews. "I said no poisoning the food, dear," she says, looking at Fester with a somewhat strained smile.

"Aww, it's just a nightshade reduction, Mother. We didn't even put any on Eddie's plate," Steve says.

Now that Eddie is actually paying attention, he realizes the dark sauce drizzled across their chicken is missing from his own. "Why don't I have any?" he asks, figuring it can't really be a nightshade sauce.

"You haven't worked your way up to nightshade yet," Fester explains, his eyes lighting up as he adds, "But don't worry! We're getting you started with just a dash of chalk in your rice."

Eddie blinks, glancing down at the half-eaten rice on his plate. He didn't notice anything weird about it, so maybe they're joking. But then he hears Debbie's put-upon sigh. "Fester, dear?"

"Yes, Pumpkin?"

"I'd make you sleep in the doghouse, but you'd just enjoy it."

"Eddie doesn't mind, I'm sure," Steve says, looking at Eddie with a smile that makes his heart speed up and his palms sweat. "It's okay if you do, though. Just be honest."

"I don't mind," Eddie replies, wondering where the words come from. If he'd been anywhere else, with anyone else, he'd definitely be losing his mind over a light poisoning. Somehow, though, he can't bring himself to be that upset about it. Maybe, if he tries hard enough, he'll even build enough of an immunity to kiss Steve when he's wearing that raspberry lip gloss.

The blinding smile he gets in return eases any lingering doubts he might have. Steve leans close enough for their shoulders to brush, Eddie's skin tingling through the fabric of his sleeve. "We Addams are experts at acclimating people to poisons. You'll be enjoying nightshade in no time," he says, his voice light and reassuring like Eddie was somehow impatient.

And then, without thinking, Eddie's eyes glance down at Steve's lips. They have a suspicious sheen to them, and Eddie's only half-certain he's not imagining the artificial raspberry scent. "What, uh, what about raspberries?" he asks, the words tumbling out before he can stop them.

If anything, Steve's smile just gets wider. "I'm sure we can figure something out," he replies, his tongue briefly swiping across his bottom lip.

Eddie looks away and grabs his glass, gulping down half the water inside before he says anything monumentally stupid in front of Steve's parents.

"Steve, stop torturing Eddie. You know that's dessert conversation," Debbie says, her voice light and breezy.

Steve sighs and pulls away. "Sorry," he says, not looking the least bit apologetic at all. In fact, he even glances at Eddie again and smiles, eyebrows raised slightly, and Eddie thinks he's about to die of thirst.

"Eddie," Fester says, mercifully giving him a reason to look away from Steve and try to gain some semblance of chill. "What are your interests?" Fester glances at Debbie, practically preening when she smiles and offers him a subtle, approving nod.

"Well, uh, music. I like heavy metal and play in a band. Dungeons and Dragons, too. I play that with my friends."

"Dungeons, you say?" Fester asks, suddenly looking more invested in the conversation. "What's your favorite kind? I'm partial to the French Revolution era dungeons myself."

"You just like the guillotines, Father," Steve says.

"Now that's an instrument of death. Nothing inspires fear like the glint of the blade in the sun, don't you think, Pumpkin?"

"Yes, dear, but you know I'm partial to electric chairs myself."

Steve leans closer again and says, "Mother nearly killed Father's family with electric chairs, you know."

"A splendid attempt it was," Fester adds, looking over with a bright smile.

Eddie glances between all of them, taking in their expressions and trying to figure out if they're being serious. He watches Debbie drag a carrot through dark sauce on her plate; he briefly looks into Fester's eyes and sees the manic joy lying in them; his heart speeds up at Steve's soft and contented smile. Eddie then glances around the dining room. He notes the shotgun placed on the wall with a little plaque beneath that reads "Attempt 12" in flourishing cursive. He looks at the window and sees the black, molded wood of the house next door. He thinks of Nox the spider and Kas the taxidermy rat and the ornate dagger and everything else he's found in his locker.

And he realizes something.

They're serious. They're all completely serious about everything. Steve and Fester weren't joking that first time he came over and they talked about the oven being big enough to fit him and a roast. Steve really has fought all of his siblings and was gifted a trident at his bar mitzvah. Pubert doesn't protect his kidneys.

Okay that last one maybe isn't as important, but it's one Eddie savors nonetheless.

He has two options here. One, he gets the hell out of dodge, makes some strained excuse to leave after dinner and avoids Steve in the hallways and hopes he doesn't wake up buried alive. Two, he embraces it, starts eating a little chalk with every meal, and lets Steve introduce him to whatever freaky shit will earn him another blinding smile.

"So, how did you two meet?" Eddie asks, looking at Fester and Debbie with a smile as he shovels more rice onto his fork.

-------------------------

"I approve."

Steve blinks, and then his mother's words process, and he stands a little straighter. "That's good. Though, I would've been happy to follow in Romeo and Juliet's footsteps if you hadn't."

"You wouldn't even need poison," Fester says, his voice ringing from the kitchen as Steve helps his mother gather up dessert plates. "Just wear the raspberry stuff."

"No star-crossed suicides for you, mister," Debbie says, playfully tapping her finger against Steve's forehead. "Anyway, he's a very nice young man, and he adapted rather quick, don't you think?"

"He thought it was a joke before, but he doesn't think that now. And he didn't run away screaming!"

"Not that you would've minded, I suspect."

"Well, no," Steve agrees, flashing a grin as he puts the plates on the counter next to his father. He then pulls down Tupperware, ready to pack up the leftover chicken and rice.

"He seems like a tough nut to crack, but he's nearly there," Debbie says, leaning against the island with a thoughtful look. "I mean, he seemed ready to do whatever you said at the dinner table."

"Then why hasn't he done anything? Am I being too obvious? Should I play hot and cold?"

"No, I don't think that would work here."

"Just tell him," Fester suddenly says, looking at Steve as he washes a plate. "Wouldn't that be best?"

"Would it?" Steve asks.

Before Debbie can do more than snort derisively, Fester nods. "Just think about it, son. You tell him, but leave it all up to Eddie after that. He'll torture himself trying to build up the courage to even hold your hand, especially if you catch him when he's midway."

Steve can't help the way he lights up at the thought. "That's a great idea! Thanks, Father. I'm gonna go plan my confession right now," he says, disappearing from the kitchen not a moment later.

"When did you get so good at this?" Debbie asks, a little pride tinging her words. When Fester lights up, she decides to reward him that night with an extra ten minutes of cuddling before bed.

----------

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And now, some memes:

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

You know I had seen some headcanons about ghostflower as parents, and here is a bit of my take on that.

Miles is the responsible dad, Gwen is the fun mom.

And that assumption has entirely to do with this.

Yep, I think the roles would be reversed for them, hear me out.

Miles was raised by loving and present parents, they have room for improvement but I don't doubt that Jeff and Rio knew how to establish healthy boundaries, knew when to be strict and when to be more permissive, and are all overall supportive, amazing parents.

Now, the thing about Gwen's parents-

Mom we know nothing, Gwen's mom is never mentioned in the spider-verse movies and again, I haven't read all of her comics, but if that woman was mentioned I don't remember. I normally assume she died when Gwen was very young so she doesn't have too many memories of her.

This leaves us with George.

So, I don't think George is the worst, I have my issues and I would scream at him until he goes deaf- but you can see at the end that he loves Gwen, and while he doesn't know what he is doing, he is trying.

We haven't seen much of him, but what did I notice?

He is not good with emotional intelligence; he doesn't realize that telling Gwen how the case is doing will not make her feel better (and it has to be a while since Peter died, he should know this by now.) Clearly doesn't know what to say to cheer her up. Tries to talk about his job and his duty when he doesn't know how to proceed.

And then he leaves because there was an emergency with the police; and is obvious this is not a rare occurrence. As someone who was basically raised by a single parent doing a lot of hours at work, I can tell you by this interaction that Gwen probably spend hours or entire nights alone.

So, how does translate to their parent styles?

Miles would feel a lot more confident in his role as a parent, he would definitely read a lot of books and would have his parents on speed dial; but Miles he is also a natural. He would thinking back on how his parents raise him, looking back in their decisions and understanding where they are coming from, and overall end up finding a middle point between how he grew up, and what he thinks is right for him and his family.

I will share what he does when the kids are older while sharing Gwen's approach.

Gwen on the other hand? Extremely anxious, Miles needed to reassure her a lot specially at the beginning. She can barely remember her mom, and her dad wasn't the most present. While I think by this point the relationship between her and Miles's parents would be better, I think part of her would also be afraid looking incompetent in comparison to Rio.

Later when the kids are older, Gwen defaults more to let the kids play and do things that they probably shouldn't "Is just one day/night," "Oh when I was their age I was trying to imitate the gymnasts on the TV, at least they are a lot more resistant that I was!" and "Hmmm, maybe this is something we should ask your father too."

Gwen's laxer approach was thanks to not being heavily supervised and not realizing when is too much at times, or thinking these is one of those things kids should learn and it would be fine.

Thanks to this, Miles is normally the one who needs to more strict and reasonable. "No, we can't have popcorn and ice cream for dinner, it doesn't matter if is Friday and summer is starting"; "I DON'T CARE IF YOU CAN HANDLE FALLING 6 FEET TO THE GROUND, YOU ARE NOT PRACTISING TIGHT ROPE!" and "I told you no, and don't go asking your mother just so she can say yes, I will find out."

Miles is still, the one parent to go when the kids are sad, upset or need to be hear out. While he may be stricter of the two and tries to stop anything that he deems too far; he knows the best how to de-escalate a situation and see reason.

Gwen while a lot of times doesn't know what to do, their kids always go to her when they just need a hug and be comforted. While Gwen a lot of times doesn't know what to say to make things better, or what advice to give; she never shy's away from telling her kids that sometimes they will make mistakes, and she would do too, but that never means they deserve any less love or compassion; no matter how hard the world is or the mistakes they make, Gwen promises to be there at any point, and that Miles and her would never stop loving them.

There is a lot of adjustments and discussions, but they balance it out.

[rentumblsstuff]

Random Hatchetfield Headcanons

The first time Alice Woodward ever smoked weed was when (after much inner turmoil) she asked Deb to shotgun it with her.

Max has two snaggletoothed incisors which is why people swear to god he has fangs.

Deb also has a snaggletooth which is what inspired the vampire part of Alice’s vampiric sapphic play. Alice also thinks it’s ironic she made a vampire character when Deb is a vegan.

Ruth as a Sophmore hit on Senior Alice a lot. Alice thought it was funny and she and Deb “adopted” her. Max and Steph also put the PANIC in bi panic for Ruth.

Max would find it weirdly hot that Grace wears bathing suits under her clothes because of the idea that he gets to see what her body looks like before even she does.

The hospital is downtown, so Becky Barnes definitely got infected in TGWDLM. Despite never wanting to do it again, Becky climbs the tree as someone calls the HFPD to save Kathy’s cat because she’s still infinitely compassionate even under Pokey’s control. Plus, Pokey knows she wants to get over the trauma associated with climbing trees, so he makes her do it to give her a big number about finally overcoming her past. She accidentally flings the cat as soon as the song starts, which is why in Show Me Your Hands, the cat dies so quickly even though it JUST got called in.

Peter infected Steph who infected Deb who infected Alice in TGWDLM. Pete and Steph would have been Sophomores and Deb and Alice were Seniors, but I always imagine Steph and Deb knowing eachother because MRFC said Steph is in the Smoke Club on Twitter at some point. Assuming Steph’s been a little punk for a while, she’s been in the smoke club since at least Sophomore year, and probably a new inductee the same year as TGWDLM (2018).

Alice and one of her parents (maybe Bill) were also raised in purity culture because we know the Woodwards and the Chastitys go to the same church. The Woodwards probably take it with a grain of salt though (Alice has expressed dislike over Grace’s prudishness)- either that or one of her parents (probably her mom) wasn’t originally from said church and also raised Alice with “this is what you’re learning here, but here’s also what I learned at my church at your age.” Bill was likely the one raised in purity culture because he does NOT LIKE DEB and thinks that if she HAS TO date a girl, she should date someone like Grace Chastity, implying she’s an exemplary teen girl. Ms. Woodward lets Deb sleep over and probably knows she smokes and likes her anyways; three points for Alice’s mom not being the puritanical one.

Ted reads romance novels. He’s a former geek turned sleazeball- you know he reads the smuttiest novels ever and calls them “his research”. He refuses to read any book with the friends to lovers trope because it’s too upsetting to think about. (Side note Time Bastard gave us a definite date that timelines don’t branch/reset before depending on whichever theory you believe because the homeless man is in every timeline, meaning that Jenny’s death is fixed in time and never changes: October 7th 2004, so the timelines change anywhere between October 8th 2004 and 2018.)

In whatever timeline Emma finally gets to have her weed farm, she meets Paul when he tells her he was prescribed that marajamij for his anxiety and he was too scared to try Xanax. She thinks he’s kind of cute for a wet cat of a corporate slave. “Fuck the patriarchy? Yes please.” (Side note Paul seems so uptight and unfuckable like bro gotta be blank down there like a Ken doll and has no discernible kinks from what I remember while Emma is laid back and chill asf and like… normal in comparison so yeah sure Paulkins canonically fucks but does Emma enjoy it?? Like dude even Pete’s more fuckable than him come on.)

Pete and Steph don’t kiss when they admit their feelings for eachother even though one of them would die before ever getting to kiss each other because they both think it’ll only make it that much harder to go through with sacrificing the other. One of the reasons Pete also chooses to be the one to take the bullet because he doesn’t think he even COULD pull the trigger on her. Like it’d be physically impossible for him, in his mind.

TGWDLM was originally meant to be an allegory for the institution brainwashing us. Show Me Your Hands and America’s Great Again: examples of people in power working for and fulfilling the evil wishes of some almighty, otherworldly, inhuman THING (be it aliens, be it those in power). It’s clearly meant to satirize the way that power corrupts and tries to convince you its way is better. Even Hidgens, THE FUCKING TEACHER, tries to teach his student that it will be better for everyone to join in that corruption and give in to the hive mind. This reminds me of how the school system in America tries to paint our history as something glamorous; manifest destiny instead of genocide of the indigenous populations. The people in power convincing those under them that the deaths of countless lives is a good thing and it will pave the way to a better future. Cool motive, still murder. Which is why Emma “Fuck the Patriarchy” Perkins is the last one to be infected. She was incapable of being brainwashed , and even when she was the last one left, she saw that the people watching didn’t care, and the all-consuming threat of corrupted power closes in on her until the very last moment.

The Lords in Black were going to try to convince whoever sacrificed their most treasured something to do more work for them, but Grace required very little convincing. Like Wiggly spoke into her mind like “Gracy-Wace! You forgot my booky-wook! Look in it, see any thing you like? Wanna kill all the pervy-wervys?” And she’s like “holy cow I can kill all the pervy-wervys with this book?” Pete would have needed the most convincing because he’s just lost the only girl who will ever love him (in his mind) and so he’d think these things took away his one chance at true love and NEVER want to deal with them again. Even if they offered him a way to get her back, he’s too smart to know that won’t come without an even bigger price AND too paranoid to think she won’t come back wrong like Max did.

If the Green-Foster family ever did get to move to California and Lex got to be an actress, her interview attitude would be a lot like Reneé Rapp and if she ever got asked about why she’ll openly shit talk people in an interview, she’s like “I used to work retail I learned pretty fast that nothing gets done if you keep your mouth shut.”

[just-aake]

Boundless Devotion - Part II

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Warnings: slight angst, violence, abuse

Words: 2582

The carriage leaves the castle gates, carrying the two noblewomen inside.

“I don’t understand why I can’t be outside with the other knights,” Kate pouts as she looks out the window at the guards riding their horses beside the carriage.

Her dog mirrors her position, resting its head sadly against the opening of the window.

Flipping to the next page of the book Queen Melina gave you earlier today after your meeting with her, you respond without looking up at her.

“Because, Kate, even though you chose to become a knight, at the moment, you are still the daughter of a noble family."

You finally glance up at her with a pointed look as you continue your explanation.

"That means you still need to have some form of protection until then.”

Kate groans in disappointment as she slumps back on the seat across from you, crossing her arms as she sulks. 

After numerous pleas and persistent requests to her mother about her desire to join the Royal Guard, she finally gained permission to begin her training, though under a lot of conditions and restrictions. 

Quickly bored with her sulking, Kate glances at the book in your lap curiously before asking.

“Chronicles of the Red Room? Why are you reading about that?”

With a nonchalant shrug, you reply casually, “I just wanted to learn more about my family’s involvement in the war.”

The book in question recounts personal stories from the previous war between the Romanov Kingdom and the Stark Kingdom.

More precisely, it focuses on a place known as the Red Room, which was apparently under the control of your family's house during the war.

According to your findings so far, this place was mainly used for interrogating captured enemies, and it appears that during the war, the Dreykov House gained considerable recognition for its effectiveness in infiltrating enemy ranks and securing strategic advantages for the kingdom through the Red Room.

The queen graciously provided you with some books on the subject when you inquired about it.

Kate hums in casual interest before commenting curiously.

“Wasn’t your old governess also a general during the war? What was her name again…?”

Kate snaps her fingers when she remembers. 

“Madam B!” 

Your hand pauses mid-flip at the name, but Kate doesn’t notice your sudden discomfort as she continues.

"She's always been by your side since you were young, but I haven't seen her around for a while now. Where did she disappear to anyway?"

You compose yourself quickly when Kate looks at you, giving her a faint smile before replying, “I believe she moved to the countryside.”

Kate nods in acknowledgment, accepting your words.

As you're about to return your focus to the book, Kate's next words cause you to tense once again.

“It's odd that she decided to leave you now. You'd think she'd want to stay close, considering what happened."

Kate looks at you cautiously, knowing how sensitive the subject of the incident is for you. 

You sigh internally at her words.

Despite her cheerful and carefree demeanor, you sometimes forget how observant Kate can be about certain matters.

“Madam B has been a part of my family's employment for many years. It was just simply time for her to get what she deserved,” you explain vaguely.

Noticing Kate nervously biting her lips—a telltale sign of her uncertainty—you anticipate there's something else she wants to say.

Eventually, she gives in with a sad expression.

“That wasn’t the only thing that changed.”

Letting out a deep sigh, you're already aware of what she's referring to.

“I already told you, Kate,” you reassure her gently. “Just because we don’t spend all of our time together anymore doesn’t mean Natasha and I are not still friends.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you return your attention to your book, commenting, "We just…each have our own responsibilities now.”

Kate sighs sadly, slumping back into her seat, “I know, but it just doesn't feel the same. We miss having you with us like before, especially Natasha.”

Choosing not to reply, you pretend to concentrate on your book, ignoring the tightness in your chest at her words.

The truth is — you miss Natasha too.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The carriage stops at the entrance of your family’s manor.

Your gatekeeper, Pietro Maximoff, waves at you as you enter. When he opens the carriage door for you, you see your lady-in-waiting, Wanda Maximoff, rushing down the front steps. 

“Welcome back, Lady Y/n.” 

The twins stand side by side when they greet you.

You give them a warm smile and nod at them graciously.

As orphans from the remnants of the war, Wanda and Pietro were brought into your family’s house by some of the staff members.

Due to their young age when they joined your household, the three of you practically grew up together.

As a result, you genuinely see them more like siblings than anything else, and they reciprocate the same sentiment.

However, in the presence of those outside the manor, they still try to maintain a respectful attitude toward you.

“Thank you,” you say before gesturing to the back of the carriage. “Pietro, can you help bring in the box?”

He nods at your request, moving to reach for the item.

When you’re about to go up the stairs, Wanda places a gentle hand on your arm, stopping your movement.

Her face holds a tense smile as she speaks.

“Your father has come home early from his meeting,” she states in a casual tone. Though, her eyes dart behind you with a meaningful glance.

The news causes you to freeze, your eyes slightly widening. Swiftly, you turn around and intercept Kate's path, stopping her in her tracks.

She tilts her head at you curiously in confusion. 

You offer her a reassuring smile, dispelling all the tense emotions that had crossed your face just moments ago.

“I think I’m just going to rest early today, Kate. It's probably best if you head home," you suggest.

Kate begins to examine you carefully, her expression turning worried.

“Are you okay? Do you feel sick?”

You shake your head, turning her around and lightly directing her back to the carriage before responding.

“I’m fine, just a little tired from reading during the ride.”

Kate casts a skeptical glance your way as she ushers Lucky back into the carriage.

“Okay…,” she says, her voice trailing off. She bites her lip again with uncertainty, remembering something. Then with a deep breath, she speaks again.

“Yelena and I plan to have a picnic at the usual spot by the lake tomorrow,” Kate hesitates briefly before continuing. “Natasha will be there too. I could come in the morning, and we can go together if you’d like?” she proposes with a hopeful tone.

You give her an apologetic look and shake your head, denying her offer.

“I can't, Kate. I have a meeting with Lady Maria tomorrow.” 

Kate acknowledges your response with a disappointed nod, retreating back into the carriage with a sad goodbye.

You wave as the carriage disappears through the gates. Once you're certain she's out of sight, you hurry up the front stairs and make your way into your family’s manor. 

Wanda and Pietro fall in step beside you. Together, the three of you move swiftly along the hallways, taking a less direct route to your room within the manor.

“Where is he now?” you ask, turning slightly to Wanda.

“He was in his study before you arrived,��� she replies.

You glance at the box in Pietro’s hand, which contains other books that the queen gave you today. These books concern subjects that you don't want your father to know you are researching.

“Can you keep that in your quarters for now?” 

“Of course,” Pietro replies, nodding without hesitation.

You turn the corner toward the staircase that leads to your floor. 

“What do you think you are doing?”

The booming voice from above causes you to freeze, and you look up to see your father, Lord Dreykov, standing at the top of the staircase. His gaze is fixed on the three of you, examining you critically before shifting his eyes to the person behind you.

He points at Pietro, ordering, “You, take that box to my study.”

Pietro doesn’t move at the command. Instead, he turns his attention to look at you for direction. 

Dreykov watches the interaction with narrow eyes, and a flicker of irritation crosses his face. He descends the steps slowly, clasping his hands behind his back. 

You hold your breath nervously when he stops in front of you, your eyes watching him cautiously.

The sound of a sharp, echoing slap rings out in the room, and your head snaps to the side from the impact of the hit.

As you instinctively bring your hand to your cheek in shock, you cry out in pain when he harshly grabs your wrist and pushes you forcefully to your knees. 

You hear some movement from behind you. Glancing back, Wanda and Pietro both have shocked and concerned looks as they step towards you.

“Don’t move,” Dreykov commands threateningly.

Your father twists your wrist in a painful direction, causing you to cry out in pain again.

In response, Wanda and Pietro come to an abrupt stop, freezing in their tracks.

Dreykov chuckles darkly at them.

“So, the two of you can follow orders after all.” 

He observes your two obviously loyal attendants, seeing a mix of restrained anger and concern etched across their faces. Annoyance tinges his expression as he clicks his tongue in irritation.

“It seems that in my absence from the manor, some of the staff have forgotten who’s the one in control here.”

He turns to Pietro threateningly, his hand still holding your wrist in a deathly grip.

“Am I going to have to repeat myself?”

Pietro clenches his teeth in anger, his gaze shifting between you and your father’s vice-like grip on your wrist. With a reluctant bow, he hurries away toward the study with the box in tow. 

When Pietro disappears around the corner, your father finally lets go of your wrist.

You swiftly pull your hand back, cradling it protectively against your chest. 

Immediately, you sense Wanda’s presence behind you. Her hands grasp your arms, pulling you up and drawing you closer to her, creating a safe distance from your father. 

Dreykov sneers at you, turning to leave.

“Don’t ever disrespect me like that again, daughter,” he warns, his tone threatening.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“The nerve of that man!” Wanda fumes as she holds your injured wrist in her lap.

You could see the purplish discoloration on your skin, indicating that a bruise was already forming.

“He’s absent for most of your life. Now, suddenly, he decides to stay and terrorize you and everyone else in the manor!”

Though her words are angry, Wanda is gentle as she applies the medical salves on your wrist. 

She's also not wrong about your father. Throughout your childhood, he was rarely at home, always away on trips and meetings to other kingdoms.

Honestly, any memories of moments when he was actually at the manor are hazy to you. 

For some reason, he has chosen to stay in the kingdom for a full year now. His return happened shortly after the incident that unfolded on Natasha's birthday.

However, it's hard to believe that his presence is solely driven by concern for you.

Wanda continues, “Not to mention those creepy guards of his that hide in the shadows.”

You wince when she begins to wrap the bandages around a tender area.

“Which is why you should lower your voice, Wanda,” you warn her.

A familiar knocking pattern sounds at the door before Wanda can respond. 

Knowing who it is, she calls out, “Come in!”

Pietro slips inside quickly, his gaze immediately focused on your wrist in concern.

“How is she?”

You respond before Wanda can continue her rant.

“I’m fine. Both of you calm down.”

Wanda huffs at you, crossing her arms, before noticing Pietro’s slightly disheveled hair and asking, “What took you so long anyway?” 

Pietro's expression shifts into his usual mischievous grin as he pulls out the bundle of books from behind his back.

You recognize them as the ones the queen had given to you from the box.

“I ran to the library and switched these out with some of your geography books,” he explains proudly. 

“Pietro!” you chastise before reprimanding him with a sigh. “Thank you, but please don’t do something that risky again. Who knows what my father would do if he caught you.”

Noticing Wanda and Pietro communicating silently to each other with their eyes, you ask them knowingly.

“What is it?”

Wanda's gaze turns sad and uncertain as she speaks, “We can’t really help you much given our position, but maybe if you tell Princess Natasha…” 

Wanda gives you a knowing look before confidently stating, "She wouldn’t let this happen to you."

Sighing tiredly at the repeated reminder of the princess’ absence from your life, you adjust your sleeve to conceal the bandages as you explain.

“Her coronation is in a couple of months. I’m not going to burden Natasha with problems of a single noble family when she’s going to have to worry about an entire kingdom soon.”

The twins give you sympathetic looks, already aware of the real reasons for your reluctance to involve the princess.

With a sigh, you remind yourself of the decision that you made after that incident last year.

It was the best option.

The further you stay away from Natasha, the safer she will be.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The following afternoon, accompanied by Wanda, you go to meet Lady Maria Hill at her manor.

The purpose of the meeting was to see the compatibility between the two of you.

In other words, it was sort of like a first date.

The Hill family is renowned for their significant contributions to the kingdom's military. A majority of their family members hold distinctions as decorated soldiers or knights in the kingdom.

In fact, her cousin is the Captain of the Royal Guard at the castle. 

Even now, Maria wears her commander uniform while she sits across from you. Her posture remains perfect and attentive as she places her cup down on the table before addressing you.

“To be honest, Lady Y/n, I was surprised that you still wanted to meet with me today, given the recent news.”

Confused, you glance at Wanda in question, wondering if she knew what Maria was referring to. She shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders in response.

With a polite smile, you return your attention to Maria.

“I’m afraid we haven’t heard any news,” you tell her. 

“Well, it’s more like a rumor, just something Steve heard amongst the castle workers,” Maria comments casually before leaning forward slightly as if whispering a secret.

“Apparently, Princess Natasha disclosed last night that she’s in a secret relationship.”

You ignore the new uncomfortable feeling in your chest at the fact that there was something concerning Natasha that you weren’t aware of.

You manage to conceal the surprise and discomfort on your face as your hands cradle the cup in front of you, its warmth offering you little comfort.

“Oh? And did she mention who it is?” you ask, curious to learn more.

“That’s what makes this meeting so strange,” Maria pauses before nodding at you.

“She said that she was in a relationship with you, Lady Y/n.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you for reading! Hopefully the tags work, just let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this series.

Taglist: @lightwhoranoutoflight, @taliiiaasteria

[mirai-e-jump]

Uchusen Vol.184 (Spring 2024) Bakuage Sentai Boonboomger | Detail of Super Sentai ft. Main Cast & Staff Interviews (translations below)

Publication: April 1, 2024

Iuchi Haruhi x Hayama Yuki x Suzuki Miu

"First, regarding the three of you, we'd like to ask, what motivated you to pursue the entertainment industry and acting in the first place?"

Iuchi: When I was in my second year of middle school, I saw the TV drama "Death Note" starring Kubota Masataka-san, which motivated me to become an actor. When I was in elementary school, I was really lacking confidence and always wanted to be someone other than myself, so when I saw Death Note, I felt that I could become someone else if I was an actor.

Hayama: I joined my current agency at 16 after being contacted in Osaka. At the time, I wanted to become a hairstylist, and at first I was thinking of turning down their offer, but the agency contacted me for over six months, and my mother said, "Since they're going this far, why don't you take atleast one audition?" And so, I took it and passed, and now I'm sitting here (laughs). I can say this now, but I did my first job without knowing what I was doing……But as I did it, I learned to enjoy the work, and from there I decided to become an actor.

Suzuki: When I was little, I was a regular reader of "Nicola," a fashion magazine for middle schoolers, and I'd carry it with me everywhere I went every day. It started when my sister recommended that I audition as an exclusive model. I applied when I was in my fifth year of elementary school and made it to the final round, but was rejected there. I was so disappointed, that I applied on my own the following year and was accepted.

"Why did you decide to also pursue acting after joining as a model?"

Suzuki: It started when I took acting lessons at my agency. At first, I wasn't very good at the lessons, but after 2-3 years, I had a moment where I felt that acting was fun. It all started with something trivial during a lesson, but from there I wanted to become better, and now I'm working hard at acting.

"Have you watched any of the previous Super Sentai or other tokusatsu productions?"

Hayama: I loved "Kamen Rider Kabuto," and had the transformation items for all the Kabuto Riders and I used to play with them with my younger brother.

Iuchi: I also watched alot of them. My house was full of Kamen Rider toys and my cousin's house was full of Super Sentai toys, so we used to play with them at each other's houses. I remember "Kamen Rider Wizard" being my favorite.

Suzuki: My older sister liked Super Sentai, so because of her, we used to watch "Mahou Sentai Magiranger" together. The other day, when Director Watanabe Katsuya asked me, "Have you seen any of the older tokusatsu shows?" I said, "I watched Magiranger!" and he said, "I used to film that too." I was deeply moved and happy to think that I'm now creating new heroes together with the people who created heroes for me to admire when I was a kid.

Hayama: Someday, we'll also become the ones who people admire.

Suzuki: I want to become one!

Iuchi: There's no doubt.

"What were your first impressions of Boonboomger?"

Iuchi: When I saw the materials for Boonboomger at our meeting, I felt that the designs and naming were back to the "taste" of the old days compared to the recent Super Sentai (laughs).

Hayama: When I read the script, my impression was that Boonboomger would be a cheerful and easy to understand show that both parents and children could enjoy together.

Suzuki: When I first saw the visuals, I thought it was quite original (laughs). It's like it was etched into my mind at first sight. The tires being slapped onto their faces leaves an unprecedented impact.

"How do you feel about the characters you're playing?"

Hayama: I had heard that he was a really cool character, and that's what I thought when I read the script, but as the story progressed I couldn't help but wonder……Is Ishiro really that cool? (laughs). My impression of him changed.

Suzuki: Mira is an innocent, energetic and cheerful mood maker, and I get the impression that she's similar to me. I think it's very easy to play, and that I'm able to project what I have into the role.

Iuchi: My first impression of Taiya was that he was interesting but difficult. When I read a script, to form my first impression, I often think about how the character's personality is similar to that in an anime or movie, but that didn't come out at all with Taiya. Gradually, I'm trying to find my own version of Taiya.

"What were your first impressions of each other?"

Iuchi: I've been together with Yuki-kun since the audition. I was Red and Yuki-kun was Blue, which is a common combination, and while everyone at the audition was nervous, my first impression of Yuki-kun was that he was sharp, cool, and very much Blue. It's completely different now (laughs).

Hayama: Hey?! (laughs).

Iuchi: Once I got to know him, there wasn't a hint of coolness (laughs).

"What about Suzuki-san?"

Iuchi: My first impression at the meeting was that she's someone who pays close attention to her surroundings, and she gives off the image of treating each person in the way they'd like to be treated.

Suzuki: That was your first impression?! I'm glad (laughs).

Iuchi: My impression of Suzuki-san hasn't changed (laughs).

"Hayama-san, what about you?"

Hayama: As Haruhi mentioned, I often worked with him from the early stages of the audition. I wasn't aware of it at first, but Haruhi had also passed the audition, and I was happy that the partner I was competing with for so long was there. My first impression of Haruhi was that he was a quiet person. But when it comes to acting, his voice changes, or rather, the way he speaks changes. His on and off switch is amazing. Now that I can see more of Haruhi's natural side, the image I get is that he acts appropriately for his age (laughs).

"What about your impressions of Suzuki-san?"

Hayama: The four male members of Boonboomger are surprisingly shy, and when we're unsure of what to say, Miu-chan will talk to us and bring the four of us together, so I have the image that she's a caring person. Now, she's surprisingly outspoken and is showing new sides of herself.

"Suzuki-san, what are your impressions of these two?"

Suzuki: Haruhi-kun has a very distinct voice. I got the impression that he was someone who spoke in a very calm and comfortable tone. Also, at the first costume fitting, when they asked if anyone had any problems with their costume, Haruhi-kun raised his hand and said, "I don't know how to walk in these sneakers." The heels on Taiya's sneakers are about 6cm high, and I was really impressed by the way he walked in a very unusual way, without bending his knees, he looked like a penguin (laughs).

Iuchi: They had a high bottom like heels. I've never worn heels before, so I didn't know how to walk in them (laughs). I ended up having the insoles lowered so I could walk safely.

"What about Hayama-san?"

Suzuki: My first impression was that he was a cool person. It's different now (laughs). He's very silly, very meddling, and an interesting Kansai person.

Hayama: How strange (laughs).

"Filming has progressed and we think you've gotten a feel for your characters, but what parts of your performance are you mindful of?"

Iuchi: As mentioned earlier, I still haven't fully grasped Taiya himself yet, but I decided to create Taiya not by thinking about him, but by thinking about the kind of character he is when he's with "this person." I'm getting to know Taiya through his relationships with the people around him, such as the sense of distance between him and Ishiro, and between him and Mira.

Hayama: There are many things about Boonboomger and our character's pasts that I can't talk about yet, but I've had the opportunity to learn more deeply about Ishiro's relationships and the way he interacts with people, and thanks to that, I feel I have a better grasp on my performance as Ishiro.

Suzuki: It's a small detail, but when I speak with a loud voice, my voice tends to come from higher up. However, Mira is an aggressive kid who's always moving forward on her own, so I try to act with the image of putting her voice forward as much as possible. When I saw the broadcast of the first episode, I felt that my voice came out too high, so now I'm trying to express Mira's momentum by bringing my voice forward.

"Did you two get any feedback on your performance from watching the finished footage?"

Iuchi: Taiya's a character who isn't overly emotional, but the Director pointed out that I was too conscious of this and that there was little intonation in my line delivery. When I watched the first episode again, I realized that when the sound effects and BGM were added, my dialogue was drowned out and lost. My voice is loud during battle scenes, but I thought it sounded kind of monotonous in other scenes. I felt that alittle more inflection and speed could be added from the time I'm Taiya before transforming into BoonRed.

Hayama: For me, it was more a reflection than a new discovery. At first, there were parts where I didn't fully understand what the Director was saying, but after watching the footage, I finally realized what it was he was trying to say. I'd like to make the most of it in future shoots.

"After watching the footage, It seems that everyone's performance may change in future episodes. So, is there anything you'd like to challenge yourself with in Boonboomger?"

Iuchi: I'd like to act with more emotion. Like Mira, she's happy, angry, or sad to the fullest, Taiya hasn't had a scene like that yet, so I'd like to try it.

Suzuki: I'd like to try the so called "swapping episode." The other day, we all practiced for a possible situation where our roles have been swapped. For example, I tried predicting what Ishiro would be like in Mira by saying certain lines. So, if there was a swap, I think everyone would be able to do it at a pretty high level (laughs).

Hayama: For me it's action. The first time I practiced action, it was so difficult that I couldn't imagine what it would be like to film it while acting and saying lines. But, I think I can learn alot from it, so I want to give it a try.

"And finally, please tell us some key points to watch out for to make Boonboomger even more enjoyable."

Hayama: Some may feel that Ishiro is a cold person based on his attitude toward Mira at first, but he's a character kinder than anyone else. He doesn't view things with a biased perspective, and is a man who treats people with respect. So, as the story progresses, please pay attention to the relationships between Ishiro and the people around him. I especially hope people look forward to his relationship with Mira.

Suzuki: The five of us are all unique, and if we were in the same class, we would never belong to the same clique. What will happen to these five going forward? I think we may clash with each other when we're together, but how will we change and "become one color"? I'd like you to pay attention to that.

Iuchi: I'd also like you to pay attention to the battle scenes. The staff told me that they place importance not only on coolness, but on how to incorporate a comical touch to the coolness. The voice actors adlibs are also amazing, for example, in the first episode, Mizuki Nana-san, who plays Ittasha, adlibbed "Ka-click" before saying "Ignition," and Matsumoto Rica-san, who plays Bundorio, also adlibs, which is always fun. Because I've read the scripts, I can see that there are alot of lines that aren't in them, and I think you can especially see that in the battle scenes. I'd be very happy if you could pay attention to the comical side within the coolness.

Saito Ryu x Soma Satoru

"First, please tell us how you both became interested in the entertainment industry and acting."

Saito: When I was in my second year of high school, I won the Grand Prix in the Junon Superboy Contest, and that's when I entered the entertainment industry. When I was in middle school, I had the opportunity to think about my career path, but at that time I couldn't find what I wanted to do. However, I admired heroes and wanted to do something to help others, and after that I studied to become a high school teacher. Still, since we only have one life, I wanted to do something even bigger, so I applied to Junon, and that's when I decided to pursue a career in the entertainment industry.

"Does that mean you admired (super) heroes? Did you watch tokusatsu shows?"

Saito: I watched Super Sentai and Kamen Rider. Heroes who purely fight for the sake of others are cool, I admired them. Boys like that kind of thing even after they grow up, don't they? I thought that I wanted to get a job where I could protect people, like a firefighter, policeman, or a school teacher who leads people.

"BoonBlack, who's also a police officer, is a perfect role for Saito-san."

Saito: This character is the very embodiment of my dream!

"Soma-san, what about you?"

Soma: When I was in high school, I was thinking about what I wanted to do, but nothing came to mind. I thought that I might be able to change if I came to Tokyo, so I moved to Tokyo, found employment, and worked in sales for four years. I had alot of connections during that time, and as I worked at my current agency, and was given the opportunity to do things like model, my desire to do acting grew stronger……and that's how it all started.

"What kind of roles do you want to play?"

Soma: I'd like to play characters who are psychopaths (laughs). Genba Bureki isn't a psychopath, but he's a mysterious person whose true identity is unknown, so I think there are some similarities. I've always wanted to take on a role like that, so I'm really looking forward to discovering many new things about myself by playing the role of Genba.

"Saito-san, you said you admired heroes, so can you tell us about the tokusatsu shows you watched during your childhood?"

Saito: I'm from the generation of "Engine Sentai Go-onger," but I was really into "Kamen Rider Ghost." I love historical stories, especially "Romance of the Three Kingdoms," so I was waiting to see if any generals from the Three Kingdoms would appear in Ghost.

Soma: I used to watch "Kamen Rider 555" and "Kamen Rider W," and for Super Sentai, I still have the "Ninpu Sentai Hurricanger" book that I got in preschool at my parents house.

"Soma-san later made an appearance in Avataro Sentai Donbrothers……"

Soma: After playing the role of a playboy (the one who tried to pick up Sononi in episode 8), I finally became a hero this time (laughs). The first filming location for Boonboomger was the same for me in Donbrothers, so I thought, "This is where I was picking up women!" It's kind of inappropriate to say though (laughs).

"When it was announced that the two of you would be appearing in the next Super Sentai production, including your family, what was the reaction from those around you?"

Saito: I didn't tell my family until the very last moment before the production announcement. On the day of the announcement, I told them in a video call that, "I'm going to be playing the role of Black in the next Super Sentai." My father, mother and older sister froze for a moment and then burst out laughing for some reason (laughs). They congratulated me, but then my mother immediately said, "More importantly, there's no snow in Akita, so we can't make snow huts (kamakura)." I thought, "What do you mean more importantly?!" (laughs). No matter how hard I tried to explain it to her, my mother kept talking about snow huts. Especially since I don't come from a family that makes a living off building them (laughs). Still, rather than them expecting too much, I think I preferred it being this easy, so I didn't feel any pressure.

Soma: I think my mother was particularly pleased. Also, my older sister has a 3 year old child, so I'm hoping that when they're older, they'll watch Boonboomger. I want to tell them that their uncle is a Boonboomger.

Saito: If my nephew asked me to "Henshin!" I think I'd do it immediately (laughs).

Soma: I'd call Ono Yukimasa-san (BoonOrange's Suit Actor) to transform for me (laughs).

"What were your initial impressions of Boonboomger during the auditions?"

Soma: At the time of the audition, I didn't even know the name "Boonboomger" yet. However, when I read the script, I felt that the atmosphere would be alittle different compared to recent Sentai.

Saito: I went into the audition thinking that I wanted to be Red, but my image of Red was that from older productions……I imagined Red as a super hot blooded and serious character, but Taiya isn't like that at all. Rather, I'm more like Jou, and as a result, I perfectly fit into his character (laughs).

Soma: Since I'm 27, I didn't aim for Red. I have the impression that recent Sentai casts include older members among the younger ones, so I was auditioning with a pinpoint aim for that position.

"Did you two meet each other at the audition?"

Soma: We met in the third or fourth round of the audition, right?

Saito: I remember my impression at that time. Satoru-kun was really mysterious and I didn't know what he was thinking. Because it was an audition, everyone was very intense, but for better or for worse, only Satoru-kun was just mysterious. He was so laid back, but he had such a strong presence that I thought, "Who is this guy?" That's why I was scared of him at first. But when I talked to him, I found out that he wasn't like that at all (laughs).

Soma: He spoke clearly and had a fresh feel to him, and I felt at ease knowing that he wouldn't be playing the same role as me.

"What are your impressions of Red, Blue and Pink?"

Saito: To be honest, from the beginning of the audition, I felt that Haruhi and Yuki-kun were Red and Blue.

Soma: That's for sure.

Saito: Haruhi's voice and way of speaking are truly Red. The moment I heard his voice at the audition, I immediately "shifted gears" that Haruhi was already Red (laughs). It's not good to focus solely on Red, as Yuki-kun's way of speaking and personality are also Blue. Then I thought about what I could do and gave it a try.

"What about Suzuki-san?"

Saito: I'm not very good at remembering women's faces and names, and I don't really remember much about Miu-chan from the audition……However, I was impressed by a girl who gave me a fist bump, and later I found out that that girl was Miu-chan (laughs).

"Now, please tell us about the characters you're playing."

Saito: Jou's a character with a high amount of freedom, and I'm often asked to adlib or "try something" on set. It's a really incredible role, but it's difficult. The other three male members are cool or mysterious and don't show much emotion. Jou shows his emotions, so I try to express them through my face and body, but it's still difficult. I'm learning how difficult it is to express myself, because I sometimes feel that I'm not expressing myself well, or that it's unnatural. I hope to bring out more of the pitiful and clumsy, yet still lovable character of Jou.

Soma: Up to the current episode that's aired, there are many aspects of Genba that even I don't understand. However, he's the kind of character who will reach out to you when you need him, so I hope I can express both his sketchiness and kindness. He's a character I've never played before, so it'll be difficult.

"What are you mindful of when playing your roles?"

Soma: I'm the oldest of the Boonboomger members, and Genba is also older than the other characters, so I'm conscious of giving off a sense of seniority by speaking in a calm manner. And then there's being suspicious (laughs).

Saito: I feel that Jou's a character that's as close to me as possible, and I think it'd be good if I could bring him closer to me. However, when I try to express Jou's straightforward feelings, I find it difficult to do so. Because the character is so close to me, it's difficult to express the parts of him that are different from me.

"Was there anything that the Director told you during filming that left an impression on you?"

Saito: Director Watanabe Katsuya told me, "You're a rugged and passionate guy like the old Reds, give it your all." I was happy and could feel the Director's passion.

Soma: Genba's hair is orange and permed, so the Director's first order to me was, "I don't want him to come off as a player." I was conscious of the way I spoke and the tone of my voice, keeping my voice low so it doesn't sound too loud.

"Have you spoken with the post transformation Suit Actors?"

Saito: At the beginning of the story, when Jou doesn't appear much and doesn't transform, I didn't have much of a chance to talk to Shige-san (Ito Shigeki). However, I had alot of performances where I was suspended by wires, and Shige-san gave me advice on how to move.

Soma: I can't talk about BoonOrange in detail yet, but I'm trying to make him look more mature while talking with the Suit Actor Ono Yukimasa-san and the Directors. Other than my own role, I'm paying attention to the performance of the Nejiretta. Within Boonboomger, I like the Nejiretta the most!

Saito: Satoru-kun imitates the Nejiretta any chance he can get (laughs).

"Going forward, is there anything you'd like to do in an episode of Boonboomger, or is there anything you'd like to try as an actor?"

Soma: I'd like to do a swapping episode, which may become an annual thing. I'd like to play a character that I'd never play, someone like Mira.

"In our interview with Suzuki-san, she also mentioned that she'd like to do a swapping episode. However, she predicted that Ishiro would be in Mira (laughs)."

Soma: She's been taken (laughs). But, it'd be fun to swap characters with anyone.

Saito: You love the Nejiretta so much, that you'd swap with one of them (laughs).

Soma: I'll go all out when the time comes! (laughs).

"Saito-san, what about you?"

Saito: I'd like to do a battle scene before the transformation. Of course, I want you to see Black's battle after his transformation, but I also want to fight myself. I've been taking action lessons and I think I can do some basic things, so I'd like to do some pure action scenes. I hope the time will come when I can show you the results of my daily muscle training (laughs).

Soma: When changing clothes, everyone else changes in the dressing room, but he changes his clothes on set and shows off his muscles (laughs).

Saito: I'll pull myself together and make sure I'm ready for you all to see me without being embarrassed (laughs).

"And finally, could you tell us about some key points to watch out for to make Boonboomger even more enjoyable?"

Saito: I think Super Sentai in recent years has had many heroic action scenes, and the Robo battles are also very powerful. I hope you'll enjoy the real thrill of tokusatsu. And then there are the Sanseaters. They're not just villains, but rather, lovable characters who are somewhat clumsy, so I think you'll enjoy it even more if you pay attention not only to us Boonboomgers, but also to the enemy characters.

Soma: Don't forget the Sanseaters and Nejiretta (laughs). The members of Boonboomger have distinctly different colors and personalities, so I think you'll be able to discover new aspects of each character every time. I'd be happy if you enjoy discovering these new aspects of every character each time you watch.

Producer Kuji Yoshito x Main Writer Tomioka Atsuhiro

"Kuji-san has been involved in the production of many Super Sentai series, but this is his first interview with this magazine. May we ask about your background?"

Kuji: I joined Toei in 2011, and was one of the rare new employees at Toei who loved tokusatsu (laughs). I was involved with "Space Sheriff Gavan The Movie," and for Super Sentai, "Zyuden Sentai Kyoryuger" and later "Shuriken Sentai Ninninger," but after that, I was transferred to the Educational Video Department and was separated from tokusatsu. Last year, I heard about the use of LED walls in King-Ohger and was very interested, so I gathered information within the company and visited the filming location. I don't think this had anything to do with it, but I was later transferred to the Drama Planning and Production Department and joined the team as a Producer for King-Ohger. As a tokusatsu enjoyer, this was something I couldn't have hoped for, but on top of that, as I was entrusted with the job, I was told that, "You'll also be the Chief Producer of the next Sentai…"

"In addition to the production currently being aired, he'd soon take charge on a new one…! Did you have an idea who the Main Writer would be at that point?"

Kuji: I originally loved "Battle Spirits," which Tomioka-san wrote for. Because of that impression, I was hoping to work with him someday. So, as soon as I started thinking about the new project, I consulted with Tsukada Hideaki, who had worked with Tomioka-san on the anime "Fuuto PI" as Chief Director, and said, "I'd like to meet Tomioka-san! Please introduce me!"

Tomioka: Suddenly, I received an e-mail from Toei, so I assumed it was a request from Toei Animation.

"Tomioka-san has participated in many productions by Toei Animation, such as ONE PIECE and Dragon Ball Super."

Tomioka: When I read it carefully, I was so happy that I jumped up and down because it was a request for a live action production, which I had longed to do. However, there was no mention of the "to" character for "tokusatsu" in the e-mail, so when it was decided that we would meet……I wondered if I'd be able to write about "Kasouken no Onna." After hearing about the Super Sentai series, I wanted to write a live action drama, which is why I originally entered this industry, and furthermore, I wanted to write a tokusatsu hero story, so I said, "I'll do it!"

Kuji: He was very enthusiastic. I was also very happy because we were taking a chance. Joining in on Tomioka-san's high motivation, the conversation proceeded at a rapid pace from there.

"What was the reason you originally wanted to write tokusatsu?"

Tomioka: I love toys! Even when I was working on my debut work in anime "Brave Exkaiser," I was collecting toys of the Gattai Robos. I always wanted to write a tokusatsu show that's closely intertwined with the toys, but I could never find the right opportunity to do so. And then, Kuji-san approached me. I had written stories for various productions in the past while keeping pace with the toy release schedule, so there was no trouble in creating the story. When I heard that the motif this time was cars, I was excited and thought, "I can do car action!" but then I calmed down and realized that you can't really do car crashes in the city nowadays. Nagahara Hideichi-san, my Scriptwriting mentor, wrote "Seibu Keisatsu" in which they drive an armored car through Ginza and had car action, so I'd like to create a world like that someday (laughs).

"It was decided from the beginning that cars would be one of the motifs, right?"

Kuji: Although the keyword was ultimately decided after discussions with TV Asahi and Bandai, I originally wanted to use "creative" as a keyword. Of course, there are many Sentai productions that use cars as a motif, but if we were to upgrade them to modern values, I thought it would be possible to incorporate the "manufacturing" that children are familiar with from videos and games. For example, in the past, the super machines would be given to them by a large organization or an unknown entity like, "We'll give this to you guys!" So instead of that, I thought that building and riding machines from their own hands would be an easier choice for admiration in the modern day. From there, I expressed to Tomioka-san this desire to portray a team doing something creative while gathering together for a mission.

Tomioka: In other words, it's like "Fast & Furious" (laughs). In addition, it's tempting to make cars talk as a way to appeal to younger viewers, but if you're really conscious of the fact that they're cars, it's better not to make them talk. I wanted to express that a machine is the best it can be because of the awesome power of the human driver. Also, in addition to the Boonboom Cars, the five of them would've had a car (through production), and I suggested that their occupations be car related, but that didn't work out……As you can imagine, we can't send out five cars all at once.

"At the same time as Tomioka-san, was pilot Director Nakazawa Shojiro also sent an offer?"

Kuji: When I was thinking about the image of the heroes I wanted to create, I wanted a Director who would take the direction I had created with Tomioka-san and push it even further beyond our imaginations. I think that Nakazawa-san is a Director who adds twists to the story, not just pure coolness. I asked Nakazawa-san to direct the pilot because I wanted him to take Boonboomger to a place where my sensibilities couldn't go. Besides, Tomioka Atsuhiro x Nakazawa Shojiro was the combination I most wanted to see. This combination is "alchemy" at its finest.

"Because of the use of LED walls in the previous work King-Ohger, we think there was more filming on set than on location. On the other hand, in this production, there's alot of filming on location due to driving cars. What were your guidelines for filming?"

Kuji: They really pushed King-Ohger to the limits to see how far they could go with their technological capabilities. This allowed the staff to share the work "calories" for each process. As Tomioka-san mentioned earlier, it's difficult to produce five regular theatrical cars. However, I had alot of discussions with the staff about the possibility of producing many Boonboom Cars by using assets (3DCG model data). Live compositing is used to represent the Boonboom Cars cockpit, the highway space, and the maintenance room. While considering sustainable work calories, I thought about how to produce the best image in a timely manner.

"In the first episode, Mira joins the Boonboomger and the story begins with a three member team. How did you come up with the story?"

Tomioka: We were thinking of doing something that would be most pleasing for children, our main audience, in other words, the classic battle hobby for boys. Taiya and Ishiro, and even Bundorio were already a team, and were strong from the beginning. In my experience, this structure, where it's important to be strong from the beginning, and then add the newcomer Mira to further strengthen them, is something that children feel good getting into. When I heard Kuji-san's idea of each person being a car related professional, Shirakura Shinichiro-san, who happened to be present at the meeting, said, "It's like the Hissatsu series." Actually, I love the Hissatsu series, and Shirakura-san's words made me really excited, thinking, "I can do something that I've always wanted to do but haven't been able to do!" I hope I can portray adults that children will admire to become. The style that's often depicted in the Hissatsu series is that a newcomer (Mira) joins the professionals, and the pasts of the other members are slowly revealed. Then it naturally becomes a story about the bonds of the team. The story line of Boonboomger is moving in an increasingly interesting direction as we incorporate ideas from other Scriptwriters one after another.

"Looking back at the Super Sentai series over the past few years, Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger, Avataro Sentai Donbrothers and Kikai Sentai Zenkaiger have been written almost exclusively by a single Scriptwriter. Tomioka-san, you're working with multiple Scriptwriters to create Boonboomger, what's your goal?"

Tomioka: I believe that by incorporating ideas that come from other people, not just myself, the characters will be able to develop. I'd love to write all the episodes by myself, but I think it's more appropriate if this production is written by a team of multiple people. Besides, it'd be boring to keep the heroes I've always wanted to myself. The style I like is to call my friends and then we all go wild in this new world together. First, since I was approached for "Fuuto PI" by chance, I was sure that Higuchi Tatsuhito-kun, who was in charge of the composition for the Fuuto series would be invited. Additionally, I approached Yamaguchi Hiroshi-san, who worked with me on "K-tai Investigator 7," once the project had been decided to a certain extent. Yamaguchi-san also writes to the extreme at full power. When I came to the Toei Tokyo studio with Yamaguchi-san, he said, "You're always on the opposite side, right? (at Toei Animation)" (laughs). Also, we have a younger man named Morichi Natsumi-san participating. Higuchi-kun and I are inspired by each and every tokusatsu scene, and our members have a deep and reassuring love for the characters. I've also reached out to Konuta Kenji-san, a former Writer for "Uchusen," and I'm hoping to work with this team until the final episode. There's also the fact that each of us wants to write only for the characters we have a strong attachment to (laughs). Like the Sanseaters……

"We'd like to ask you about the enemy characters here, but the Sanseaters seem to have a formation that we've seen in a production that Tomioka-san has worked on…….?"

Tomioka: Team Rocket from "Pokemon," right? (laughs). This time, due to various restrictions, the enemy doesn't have a hideout, so I wondered what kind of enemy I should make…..When I thought about it, I suddenly remembered the Greeed from "Kamen Rider OOO" and Heart and the others from "Kamen Rider Drive." Every time they're in some unknown place, they're talking to each other. When I thought about if I could get any inspiration from that……I came up with Team Rocket. I thought, "Villains who sleep outdoors!" (laughs).

Kuji: It was Tomioka-san's idea. There was no reason to hit the brakes anymore. We all stepped on the gas during the meeting.

Tomioka: To begin with, Yamaguchi-san and I grew up watching "Himitsu Sentai Gorenger," so when we think of Sentai enemies, we got the impression that they're monsters who are abit stupid and do interesting things.

"Listening to his story, we can see that Tomioka-san, who is an authority in children's productions, is putting into full use what he's cultivated. However, you haven't worked on a tokusatsu show since K-tai Investigator 7, and this is your first time working on a Toei tokusatsu production. Did you feel at a loss in that respect?"

Tomioka: In "K-tai," the enemy wasn't monsters. The main focus was on fighting hackers, and the only thing "tokusatsu" was the cell phones (Phone Braver) moving. In contrast, in the Super Sentai series, there are monsters, they become giant, the heroes announce themselves, they transform, and…..alot of other things. I thought I knew what I was getting into, but when it came time to actually write the script, it was difficult.

"There's something you have to do each time."

Tomioka: That's right. On top of that, in order to create something interesting, we received a variety of ideas from tokusatsu Director Butsuda Hiroshi for the giant battles, as well as feedback on what to do with the regular sized battles from Directors with past experience. The interesting part is the drama part, where the Directors don't often express their opinions. Therefore, when thinking about the drama part, I prioritized what Kuji-san wanted to create. I think this is the biggest difference from anime.

"Do you mean that you put the Producer's opinion first?"

Tomioka: In my experience, it's rare for a Producer to lead a production by himself, because in the case of anime, the opinion of the author is important if it's an original story, and the opinion of the Director or series creator is important if it is an original production. However, when Toei's tokusatsu shows are first announced, fans are always wondering who the Chief Producer is, aren't they? It's refreshing to know that fans are also paying attention to who will lead the production.

Kuji: That's what Tomioka-san says, but from my point of view, I'm being too dependent on him. Normally, the Chief Producer of Toei tokusatsu productions usually leads the discussion in meetings, but Tomioka-san took my opinions into consideration and organized the discussion by saying, "This is what you want to do, isn't it?" By incorporating the opinions of other Writers, he makes it even more interesting by saying, "This one's more explosive!" I think this is reflected in the footage in a good way. Maybe this is a style that hasn't been used in the past 47 series.

Tomioka: Come to think of it, in anime, a series composition chart is created to show what happens from the first episode to the final episode, but it seems that they don't usually prepare one for the Super Sentai series.

Kuji: Even though we have a rough idea of what we want to do, it has a strong "live" feel, so there's a possibility that we'll have to adjust the story halfway through.

Tomioka: I couldn't help but be anxious about that……So, before writing episodes 3 and 4, I told Kuji-san, "I want to decide how the story will develop until the end." Of course, taking into consideration the scheduled release of items and Robos, I made a series composition chart, and decided to some extent how many episodes with Taiya would be depicted in the series. But basically, we hope that everyone will enjoy each week's explosive episodes. And then, I'd be very happy if you thought, "That was fun! Let's play with toys too!"

"Boonboomger is finally airing, and it's going to be a year of excitement. We'd like to ask you about some key points of interest that readers who are looking forward to Boonboomger can enjoy even more."

Kuji: Boonboomger is a show that'll cheer you up when you watch it. The staff has put together what they think is "cool," so whether you're an adult or child, there's sure to be a key point in each episode that'll stick with you. We're working diligently on this production, hoping that it'll be a show that'll allow people to absorb the exciting energy on Sunday mornings and look forward to the following week. We'll continue to rev our engines so that we can provide excitement to everyone of all ages and genders!

Tomioka: I see this production as a story of friendship between Taiya and the alien Bundorio, and a growth story depicting the relationship between the Boonboomgers. In addition, as a toy lover, I'm excited to write about how much I can make the Boonboom Changer and Gattai Robos more appealing. Of course, we'll do our best to bring out the charm of the untransformed actors and make this a production that'll make children want to play as Boonboomgers. Now that they've finally started running, where will they go from here? I'd be happy if you look forward to watching them all year long!

[amourdivine]

୨ ♡ ୧︰ TAROT 101: developing your intuition.

Hello lovelies, welcome to the first post of my Tarot 101 series! After receiving a few questions, I decided to incorporate a series of tips and tutorials for other self-taught readers. Today, I'm answering a follower's asks sent in my DM's. I'm tackling it separately, so it makes more sense to other people to read it. PS: Since this is a major work in progress and I'm not an all-knowing, almighty entity, please provide feedback, comments or concerns you might have! Thank you.

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How you develop your intuition and psychic abilities while reading tarot?

There is not one size fits all. While many readers recommend connecting to oneself, that's just the basis of it, really, but the main concept is to look at yourself, compassionately. Without the judgment of our everyday lives and the chaos of getting things right in the first attempt. You cannot be honest with yourself (or your intuition), if self-denial is the state you're living in. Or worse: if you view the truth as punishment.

It's always going to be a journey of discovery, and the first thing about spirituality is that you need to keep an open heart to the magic. Skepticism may get you far ahead in your career or financial matters, but when it comes to intuition, you can't grasp onto logic all the time.

With tarot, it's a little more practical: learn and lean into the cards. Notice I didn't say memorize, because many of us are busy enough with our everyday schedules. Just tap into them. Look at them. What does The Lovers remind you of? Maybe it takes you to the story about the Garden of Eden. Or- maybe it reminds you of your parents, their golden youth before marrying.

Again. No judgement. Let your stream of consciousness free. A huge part of reading tarot is allowing your imagination to run wild. Although the Devil card can symbolize obsession or addiction at first, take into account the spread, the topic. The context. What is your body telling you about the images you see?

We often underestimate the symbolism behind the cards. Without considering the traditional meanings,take one card out of your deck and just look at it. What colors are prominent? What do these colors represent in modern society? Do these people look happy? Are there any people at all? Where are they? Let your mind weave a story.

As a tarot reader, what you do on daily basis for intuition and tarot reading? What practices, book, or some kind of information which help you for tarot readings?

There are many things that have helped me, personally, but I'm going to mention some of the best practices I've seen, both for myself and for others.

› Stay creative. If it means drawing, writing, or painting, then stay creative. Find whatever little (or big) ways you can express your creativity. Remember you don't have to be "good". You can just be. Creativity exists in a lot of ways.

› Engage with other readers. Observe them. You can find a tarot reader that deeply resonates with you and watch how they read. Test if it works for you. Remember this is your practice, it's your sacred space, so you don't have to follow someone else's rules.

› Read, if and when you can. I personally recommend the book "History of Tarot" by Isabelle Nadolny, but not everyone can afford books or the time to read them. There are plenty of Youtube tutorials and free guidebooks on Biddy Tarot, for example. I also love Servant of The Fates' blog. They're both different and great, reliable sources.

› Start small. You can pull one card a day. Get a journal, write its meaning (or what it means to you) and record your progress. In a few months, when you return to it, you might find it surprising.

› Let yourself not know everything. No one does. Sometimes, you'll need to pause, go back to a guidebook and read the meaning all over again. Other times, you'll look at the spread and feel nothing. That's okay too. We're not meant to know all the answers.

Is meditation really important for reading tarot? Why? How much time do you spend daily for tarot readings and spiritual practices?

Since this is more of a personal matter, I'll be talking about myself. I don't meditate as often as most readers. Three times a month, maybe? I have a busy schedule and I can only meditate before bed, if I'm not too sleepy. Many people find that meditation makes them anxious or they're not able to fully let go. Other people find it that being in silence or taking a walk is more useful to them. Relaxation and meditation come in many, many forms. The important thing is to nurture your body and soul more than to adhere to rigid rules.

However, when it comes to saving time for readings or spiritual practices, I don't set rules for myself. It never works for me.

I let it flow. Sometimes, I go weeks on end without really consuming tarot content and I bond with my decks occasionally. And other times, I'm reading daily, journaling and trying to improve my skills. Since I have a billion other things to care for, I'm not always able to prioritize tarot as much as I'd like, but the important thing is to stay passionate, stay curious and get back to it. Better late than never.

When you're getting started, let yourself try. If you get it wrong, at least you'll be one step closer to getting it right.

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