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capricornsims · 7 months

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Some headcanons featuring screenshots from my Sims 3 Strangetown game.

PT9 and Jenny met in 1985. Based on the Sims 2 memories, she found him drowning in the pool since he dived head-first into the shallow end. While everyone was running away in fear - she rescued him and fell in love at first sight. PT9 vowed loyalty to his savior and gifted her with knowledge about Sixam.

Jenny and Lyla were roommates until she married Buzz Grunt. She doesn't get Jenny's attraction to PT9 but she was supportive. Meanwhile, Jenny tried her hardest to break up Lyla and Buzz because she deserved so much better!

The Curious Brothers were forced to cut contact with Jenny since she 'betrayed' their father by marrying PT9 ( valid honestly - thinking about it makes my head hurt )

Pascal having Tycho brought the family back together.

5. Glarn was an emotionally absent father who paid no attention to his kids. Pascal was Glarn's favorite which was why he went to private school. He was also responsible for looking after his younger brothers when they moved out.

6. Pascal is " Well achually" incarnate. He loves to talk about theories and science. Aliens and Astro physics are his hyper fixation

7. Vidcund and Lazlo spend their time joking about how Pascal takes himself way too seriously. They were best friends throughout school and Vidcund was the one who helped Lazlo get his degree.

8. Lazlo is a genius, he passed school with no effort because he was just that smart. Glarn didn't see his genius because he was too busy scolding him for being messy.

9. Lazlo takes Vidcund out to hang out with his friends and works overtime trying to set him up on dates so he can get over Circe.

10. The Curious Brothers weren't that close - and often butted heads but since Tycho was born they are closer than ever. ( UNTIL VIDUND SOLD TYCHO)

11. I know Vidcund was mind-controlled, but imagine if he wasn't. He's in serious debt and these blue aliens offered him like a billion dollars if he sold his nephew. The Dudes in Black wanted to run experiments on him idk.

12. Pascal never really recovered after his kid was stolen and was overly protective of Tycho. Tycho grew up anxious because of the overarching threat of being kidnapped again.

13. Olive Specter is not a serial killer (allegedly) - she just has really bad luck, but she kept up the bit so people would leave her alone! She is really superstitious because she's connected to the supernatural. She makes good luck charms and ensures that Ophelia is really cautious and wears all her charms.

14. Ophelia has a serious anxiety disorder - partially because Olive raised her to be scared of everything for her own safety. She makes sure Johnny and Ripp don't go under ladders, cross poles, or step on cracks. She gets really stressed out when Ripp makes dark jokes.

15. Olive was a good mom until she was wrongly accused of being unstable which led to her baby being taken away. She tried to get him back but there were too many roadblocks and Nervous was already given away.

16. She loves the Grim Reaper and longs for the day she can see him again. Her partygoer job entails her going to funeral memorials.

17. Nervous met Annie Howell in foster care and they are really good friends to this day. He missed her because she was adopted by her older brother and left alone in the orphanage. 18. Nervous was a constant runaway and ended up in the Beaker's house as a teenager with the promise that he wouldn't have to go back to a group home. Unfortunate :(

19. I like how most people agree on how rude and not nice Nervous actually is. He's standoffish for good reason and gives Vidcund a lot of snark for being into Circe. He's chill with Lazlo though.

20. Nervous is the fun dad, and lets Tycho do whatever they want. Meanwhile, Pascal is pretty strict about his schooling ( which doesn't matter because Tycho has alien intelligence) and being safe. 21. Tycho grows up to follow in Pascal's astrophysics footsteps, mostly to build a ship and hunt down his Pollinator dad.

#headcannons #strangetown #pt9 smith #jenny smith #pascal curious #nervous subject #tycho curious #johnny smith #ophelia nigmos #olive specter #loki beaker #circe beaker #vidcund curious #lazlo curious #simblr #lyla grunt

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

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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 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 ao3

Eddie helps Steve upstairs, lets him go in the bathroom first. By the time Eddie has gone in there himself, has finished brushing his teeth… he overhears Steve on the phone in his bedroom.

Eddie pauses. He hadn’t heard the phone ringing, but he might not have been able to catch it under the sound of running water. He will never know who called first.

Then he wonders why that even matters so much—or more, what kind of difference it would make. Whether it makes a difference at all.

He doesn’t know whether to leave Steve to it, but his gut tells him to follow the sound of Steve’s voice.

Steve is sat on the bed, the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder. His hands are in his lap; he’s pinching at the skin just before his thumb again. Pinching hard.

“No, no, I’m good. Yeah, the… no, the news must’ve exaggerated, mom. Well, a window broke here, but… yeah, lucky escape, right?”

He lies so easily, lies with a smile… even while he’s crying.

Eddie thinks that if he closed his eyes and just listened, he might never have known. Steve’s tears are perfectly silent, his voice steady.

“Yeah, I’ll let you go. Hey, mom?” And Steve’s breathing hitches just once. Eddie wonders if he’s the only one who can really hear it. “Thanks for the tapes.” He laughs, voice wavering for only a second. “Just came into my head, that was all. Thought I’d better say.” He swallows. “Love you, too.”

It’s only once he’s hung up that Steve allows himself to let go, and even then he’s quiet—passing a hand roughly over his eyes, sniffling very occasionally. Then he looks over at Eddie, left frozen in the doorway.

“They don’t know, okay? I don’t want you thinking…” Steve sighs. “I changed my emergency contacts ages ago. Hopper, Joyce, Robin—hell, I even put Claudia down ‘cause Dustin’s a nosey little shit and I know he’d pick up. It’s… easier this way,” he says.

And Eddie suspects that while Steve’s ostensibly talking about The Upside Down stuff, he also means something more.

Eddie thinks of Wayne, of how easy he makes everything—how all he said was Try me in the hotel room, right before his understanding of the world was changed forever. How Eddie has never, not once, had to doubt his love.

Steve wipes perfunctorily at his eyes then reaches for his crutches.

“Come downstairs with me? I wanna show you something.”

Steve directs Eddie to a video tucked behind the musicals collection. Eddie puts it in to play before taking a look at the cover.

Simon and Garfunkel - The Concert in Central Park.

“You educating me on more music, Steve?”

But instead of taking the opportunity to make a joke, Steve hesitates. “Yeah… if you like.”

Another pause, like he’s readying himself, lining up to the edge of a diving board.

Steve breathes in and out. Nods at the screen. “September 19th, ‘81. I was there. And I, um…” His hand briefly rubs over his sternum, like he’s not even aware that he’s doing it, then taps more deliberately on his temple. “I ran there, too.”

Eddie’s breath catches at the implication.

“Worked for a bit, too. But it was—everything was hard to, like, hold onto. Like water slipping through your fingers kinda thing.”

Eddie nods. Clears his throat. “You don’t have to… to say, but. Why were you in New York? Late vacation?”

Steve winces, clearly tries to cover it up.

But Eddie sees. He sighs and closes his eyes in mortification. “I’m an ass.”

“No, you’re—” Steve shakes his head, laughs a bit. “No, you’re not. How were you s’posed to…? No, not a vacation. My Grandpa, on my mom’s side—he lived in New York. And, um… my Grandma, she died a couple of months before, so my mom was already… struggling. And then, when he died, she… there was a lot left for to do, I think. I don’t remember what—just that she was left trying to clean his big house, and my dad was being an asshole, and her brother—my uncle—he might as well have not been there. So she booked a hotel room for me, just so I wasn’t caught up in the screaming match and stuff, y’know? And that day, I just kinda… wandered.”

Eddie can picture it: Steve, a little lost, perhaps, while trying to appear anything but. A boy trying to be a man.

“And I saw whole groups of people heading to the park, so I asked about it. The concert was free, so…” Steve looks off to the side, sighing. “And I just thought… they were my mom’s favourite, y’know?” His voice goes just slightly higher in pitch, strained with emotion, like he’s that kid all over again, unable to solve his mother’s problems. “Her favourite, and she couldn’t even go see them ‘cause it… it was just so shitty. Shitty situation all round. Figured I might as well see them for her. Like that could make things better. Sounds stupid out loud, but…”

“No,” Eddie says, “it doesn’t.”

Steve’s mouth ticks upwards in brief acknowledgment. “It rained while we were waiting, off and on. But, man, I got a great view. There were these two girls—God, they seemed so much older to me at the time, but they were probably only mid-twenties or something. Anyway. They saw I was alone, got kinda concerned I hadn’t brought a jacket, so they gave me one, let me sit on their picnic rug.” This time, his smile has more strength behind it. “Guess they kinda babysat me, huh?”

Eddie smiles back. “Makes a change.”

I’m glad they were there. I’m glad that you weren’t alone.

Steve laughs to himself when America plays, as the lyric, “She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy,” is sung.

He answers just ahead of the words that follow, delivering them with a grin as if he’s having a conversation with someone: “I said, ‘Be careful, his bow-tie is really a camera.’” He snorts at Eddie’s questioning look, says, “At Starcourt, Dustin had me looking for Russian spies through a pair of binoculars, it was fucking ridiculous… I loved it. Anyway, he didn’t get the bow-tie reference, just went on about how ‘this isn’t James Bond, Steve, this is serious.’ What a butthead.”

And Steve laughs even more as a cover of The Everly Brothers begins: Wake Up Little Susie.

“Oh, dude, I gave Dustin so much shit with this song, you don’t even know. Told him he brought it on himself, like, don’t tell me your girlfriend from Camp Know Nothing’s name, that’s just giving me ammo.”

But as Steve imitates Dustin whining, all Eddie can think is that he’s seeing something far more than just Steve delighting in riling Dustin up. That what he’s really seeing is Steve showing how deeply he cares… How he does it so easily, so inconspicuously, as if it’s just a little thing, just I heard a song and thought of you—like he can’t help it, that’s just how he loves: his mind making connections that spread out everywhere, as large and generous as his heart.

They chat leisurely for most of the setlist, Eddie gasping when someone storms the stage during The Late Great Johnny Ace.

“Shit, I forgot that happened. And you were there, man!”

They both keep quiet all the way through Bridge over Troubled Water. Eddie’s heard the song before, but now it suddenly seems like he’s hearing it for the very first time, his throat tight. Like it’s only now that he’s truly understood it.

From the silence, maybe Steve is thinking something similar. Maybe.

The room lightens with 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover.

“This one always makes me think of Robin,” Steve says, smiling as the brass kicks in, miming like she does: a little wiggle of the fingers to simulate pressing down on a trumpet’s valves.

“Thought you’re meant to be helping her find a lover, not lose one.”

Steve chuckles.

“No, I meant… like at work, if we’re arguing over who takes out the trash or whatever, I’ll call her Jack, y’know, like ‘slip out the back, Jack’? Or ‘make a new plan, Stan.’ Stuff like that.”

That’s fucking adorable, what the fuck.

Out loud, Eddie says, “Cute,” just so Steve makes that abashed sort of half-smile.

In the middle of The Boxer, Eddie briefly plays his guitar. He gets the melody down by ear—it’s not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, his fingers clumsily moving through the chords.

But Steve watches like he can’t notice any of the obvious stumbles made, gives a soft, awed, “Wow,” when Eddie is done. Then he adds, almost a whisper, “Was it… did you learn it like that back when…?”

Eddie pauses. Remembers hearing that faint whisper of My Little Town as his head nodded in spite of his fierce efforts to stay awake. Seeing the hint of a frown flicker across Steve’s face. The slimmest hope.

Learning Steve’s song had been unlike any other. All he had to go on, lying on the bed of that hotel room in the early hours of the morning, was that little snippet he had heard—just that, and perhaps faint memories he had no concrete hold of, ones that felt dreamlike: a snatch of Wayne humming along to it on the radio, when he couldn’t have been more than ten or so.

Eddie sang the words that he could, skipped the ones he didn’t know—prayed that it was enough; it had to be enough.

It had felt like time didn’t exist, just him and the song, slowly getting stitched together—even now, he can feel it under his fingertips, as if the notes are like splinters forever embedded in his skin. But not painful, never that, just an inevitable part of him.

Eddie looks into Steve’s eyes.

“No,” he answers softly. “It was… easier, almost. Had to be.” He smiles, a little bittersweet, as Steve’s brows knit together in thought. “Couldn’t afford any mistakes, Steve.”

“Oh,” Steve says. “Sorry.”

Eddie laughs, light but disbelieving. “What the fuck for?”

Steve glances between Eddie and the guitar. “‘Cause you love playing, Eddie. And I… I don’t know, I didn’t want you to have… like, pressure? And, um… bad memories tied to it, I guess.”

Eddie shakes his head and sets the guitar aside. “Okay. You better listen close, Steve.”

Steve huffs through a smile. “Listening.”

“It’s… all of that, Steve, s’not tied to a bad memory, man, not even close. It brought you back, that’s… words can’t even fucking…” Eddie shakes his head again. “And fine, even if it had, even if I really thought after this, I can never play again, guess what? It would’ve been worth it. Fuck, I would’ve chosen it a thousand times and never regretted it. Got it?”

Steve stares at him. He blinks, and for a moment it looks like he might cry, but then he just nods, chin wobbling ever so slightly.

“Got it,” he says hoarsely.

They’ve talked right through the encore. Eddie distantly hears Paul Simon yell at the crowd, “Let's have our own fireworks!”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says, and Eddie can see a memory spark in his eyes.

You’re so beautiful, Steve Harrington.

“I remember this. They were gonna use, uh, pyrotechnics but they weren’t allowed, so—look, see how everyone’s getting lighters out? I didn’t have one, but one of the girls gave me hers. And I remember…” Steve’s voice softens. “It was dark, and when I got the flame going, I just—I saw it out the corner of my eye. The girls, they were holding hands on the rug. And like, I knew it… it wasn’t for me to… y’know, and I didn’t say anything obviously. I didn’t really know what to… what I was feeling, right?” He chuckles self-deprecatingly. “Fucking rare for me to know anything about what I was thinking, back then. I was kind of an idiot. More than.”

Eddie says, gently, “I dunno, Steve. If you ask me, being a kid isn’t the same thing as being an idiot.”

Steve hums, tilts his hand back and forth as if to say debatable. “God, I talk a lot. Didn’t plan on… guess I just.” He shrugs. “Guess I just wanna tell you things.”

“Fine by me,” Eddie says. “I like listening.”

I always like listening to you. Tell me everything, if you want. I’ll be here.

There’s another shot of the crowd on screen, and Eddie crawls forward as he asks, “Where were you?”

“It’s too dark to see, man.”

“Try me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, chuckling. “You think I haven’t tried to find myself already? Ugh, fine, fine. We were kinda near the front, so…” He thinks, clicking his tongue, then points to just a few rows back from the stage, near the far-left of the screen. “Thereabouts.”

Eddie follows Steve’s direction, presses a fingertip there. Feels the warm static of the screen. And though he can’t really see anything, doesn’t even know if Steve is right with his guess or not, it’s like he can sense it anyway; he doesn’t need proof. Like he’s reaching back in time to a boy from five years ago, and he thinks…

Hey, Steve Harrington. The world’s gonna get… fucking crazy for you soon, but it’ll be fine in the end, trust me. You’re one of the bravest people I know. You’re gonna be okay.

During the final encore, Steve inhales like he’s about to say something, but he yawns instead—covers his mouth with the back of his hand a beat too late, like it’s caught him by surprise.

“Mm, sorry. Used to put this on when I couldn’t sleep. Guess it still works.”

Eddie looks over at him, at how his eyes are drowsy, like a child lulled by the gentle rocking of a car journey. Feels his heart give a little twist at the sight.

He ejects the tape, turns off the T.V. When he turns back, he sees that Steve has made room for him on the couch without saying anything about it.

Eddie slips over the arm of the couch, nestles in so smoothly that the couch barely sags at all, so Steve’s leg won’t be bumped; it comes so naturally now, the two of them slotting together like the easiest jigsaw puzzle in the world.

There’s a short silence, and then Eddie speaks in an undertone, just in case Steve has already fallen asleep.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Your, uh… your song. It didn’t play at that concert.”

He glances over, catches Steve’s fleeting grin, as if he’s thinking well spotted.

“Good, um, what is it Henderson says, in D&D? Good perception thingy.”

Eddie laughs in surprise. “Sure, something like that.”

Steve smiles at him. The silence stretches out, but it’s not uncomfortable, more honeyed. Slow.

And Eddie feels a warmth atop his hand: Steve’s fingers overlapping with his. For a moment, he thinks it’s just an accidental brush, but then Steve doesn’t move away.

And neither does he.

Steve sighs. Squeezes Eddie’s hand, like he’s trying to reassure him of something, but for the life of him Eddie can’t work out what it is—just knows that Steve looks almost sad, and he wishes he wouldn’t. It’s breaking his heart.

“I just… I need some more time.” There’s something in Steve’s eyes that’s so vulnerable, suddenly. “Is that… is that okay?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Eddie says immediately, because nothing would stop him from saying so, even as his mind whirs in thought. “Don’t need to ask, Steve. Yes.”

Steve smiles, squeezes his hand again. Eddie can hear what he means this time: Thank you.

“Think I’m gonna fall asleep on you now,” Steve says with another long yawn.

“That’s fine. I’m kinda used to it,” Eddie says, letting out a huff of amusement when Steve mock glares at him through heavy eyes, fighting to keep them open.

“Shut up. Can’t help it.”

“Oh, so I am boring?”

“No. Told you b’fore. No.”

Eddie slowly reaches out—smiles when Steve’s eyes close before his hand even touches his forehead.

“What, then?” he asks quietly.

Steve hums. Sighs again. “You want the… all cards on the table kinda answer?”

Eddie breathes in. Holds it. Breathes out as silently as he can. Feels Steve’s hand still on his, fingers trailing over his knuckles, slowing as sleep approaches.

“Only if—if that’s what you want, too, then… yeah?”

Steve smiles. “Hmm, ‘kay. Here it comes.” His breathing deepens, and for a moment Eddie thinks that he’s already drifted off, but then Steve says, “I really… really like you, Eddie. You’re… safe.”

Eddie’s nose stings. Shit, he might be on the verge of crying. He bites his lip to keep himself from making a sound.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

And the thing is, he knows he’s said it before. But it feels different now—feels louder, somehow, even though he’s only whispered it. Because Steve isn’t asleep, not yet. Eddie knows that he’s heard.

Steve’s finger taps softly on the back of Eddie’s hand, spaced out slowly. Three times. Like heartbeats.

“Mm. R’lax, Eddie. Don’t need to… stop yourself.”

“…Stop?” Eddie asks, voice small.

“Been called worse things, y’know?” A yawn, almost silent. Slow and sweet. “I don’t mind it.”

A minute, maybe more. And then Steve falls asleep just like that, looking so…

So peaceful.

“You’re… safe.”

Eddie’s eyelashes are wet.

Here it comes, he thinks. It’s like the tide coming in.

Here it comes.

“I love you,” Eddie murmurs.

He says it even though he knows Steve is sleeping, says it right through the inevitable aching of his heart.

#the self sacrificial steve agenda #steddie fic #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #thank u for all the kind words & messages as ever ❤️#steve and dustin #steve and robin

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powderblueblood · 1 month

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I'm sorry. Eddie's 15 year old WHAT now???? 🤯🤯

HAHA YEP! YEP!

things happen when you're 21.

and sometimes things are self-described spiritual iconoclasts like mary lee oliver, the professional groupie. eddie met her at an iron maiden gig in chicago, where she told him he had an incredible aura and then said these fated words...

"do you wanna come backstage?"

basically, what you need to understand is that franklin oliver munson was conceived on an iron maiden tour bus, which sounds cool in theory, so eddie's going to keep speaking about it in theory.

but the fact of the matter is, mary lee disappeared off the face of the earth after that night. until about three years later, when eddie had settled in indianapolis working a shitty job at a dive bar that catered to the college student crowd. he got a phone call from mary lee (who had saved his forest hills number, who had been redirected to his current number by wayne) telling him that she'd be passing through town and did he want to meet his son?

just. like. that. casual as a breeze. do you wanna meet your son? we could get some chinese food or something.

mary lee, just as breezy, batted eddie's pleading to help out with kid with a single hand. she wore this crazy expression as she watched him, who'd help create this little lump of coal with the crazy big brown eyes that eddie carried like a genetic curse. like she didn't really care one way or the other.

"i don't really care, one way or the other," she, in fact, said. "i just felt like... the universe was giving me purpose with this little guy, you know? and you, like, don't really have to be part of that if you don't want to? and i think maybe you shouldn't?"

eddie stopped cooing at the kid, which she'd coincidentally called franklin (his mom's maiden name, any of you guys looking for extra credit), for a half a second. "why not?"

"well, you're a little square, eddie."

square, according to mary lee, included wanting to try and forge a relationship with his son, even if they did live in different states-- eddie, still in indiana and mary lee and franklin, wherever the next tour bus took them.

apparently, franklin's formative years were spent at an ayahuasca retreat that mary lee's boyfriend ran. eddie had, again, pleaded that she just keep in contact so he could see how this kid grew up. and also, "anything you need, anything at all, i need you to let me know. okay? there's nothing i won't do for this little guy, mary lee, i swear."

a couple of sporadic letters came through over the years. a phonecall or two when franklin finally got to grips with forming full sentences, but he always sounded distant and confused whenever eddie spoke to him--because eddie was a ghost. he would have bet that his own son couldn't pick him out of a lineup. eddie never meant for it to be that way. he kept asking mary lee, and later frankie, "so when are you comin' out my way?"

"we don't know, eddie. midwest's a little... well, midwest."

but he'd have flown to wherever that kid needed him, if he asked. and if he had the cash.

fast forward to the cresting finality of 1999.

eddie munson's planning on a wedding.

or, okay, thinking about it. thinking about proposing to lacy doevski finally, for real this time, as it seems they've finally stopped digging out the shrapnel of their pasts from their tender flesh and all that.

in a dilapidated house by a lake, there's a bang on the door at three in the morning. he hears a hammer cock before he even feels lacy uncurl from around him.

"wait, hol' on-- don't get hasty with that thing."

"that's what it's for."

"could be a raccoon or som'n'..."

"in your dreams..."

eddie leans out their bedroom window to see a mop of curly, dark hair atop a lanky frame. identical dark eyes stare up at him from the front step.

"shit. i'd apologize for the unsociable hour, but you don't seem to know how to answer your fuckin' phone, dad."

#powder room talk #Anonymous #listen this trend of answering every ask with a blurb...... one day the gladness will end but its not this day #WELCOME TO THE FAMILY FRANKIE #f. munson by powder #e. munson by powder #lulal

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jesse-eisenberg-interview · 3 months

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A list of Jesse Eisenberg's writing

I made a list of Jesse Eisenberg's writing.

2009

NOV 30 Manageable Tongue Twisters.

2010

FEB 24 Marxist-Socialists Jokes

2011

JUL 21 A Post Gender Normative Man Tries to Pick Up a Woman at a Bar

DEC 07 ACTOR & PLAYWRIGHT JESSE EISENBERG ON THE THRILL OF THE STAGE

2012

JAN 25 Courage Is Just an Act

FEB 15 Jeremy Lin Has Helped Me Through Some Pretty Tough Times

MAR 12 Jesse Eisenberg on His Lifelong Aversion to Youth Culture

MAY 24 Sushi Nozawa

JUN 06 Masgouf

JUL 09 The Whiskey Blue Bar at the W Hotel

AUG 01 TCBY

AUG 20 Robert Frost Elementary School Cafeteria

OCT 02 Organix vs. the San Gennaro Street Festival

NOV 21 Thanksgiving With Vegans

DEC 11 Body Rituals Among the Lauxesortem

2013

FEB 22 Matthew’s House

MAR 17 Marv Albert Is My Therapist

APR 15 The League, Passed Down

APR 17 I Didn’t Win Any Pulitzer Prizes This Year

APR 25 A Marriage Counselor Tries to Heckle at a Knicks Game

JUN 03 Fuddruckers and an Unreliable New Friend

JUN 24 Separation-Anxiety Sleepaway Camp

AUG 06 A Crawfish Boil and Dad’s New Family

SEP 09 A Bully Does His Research

OCT 02 A Post Gender Normative Woman Tries to Pick Up a Man at a Bar

OCT 07 Final Conversations at Pompeii

NOV 01 The Museum of Natural History and Making Compromises

NOV 12 Alexander Graham Bell’s First Five Phone Calls

DEC 12 The Ashram and Mom

2014

JAN 20 If I Was Fluent in . . .

JUN 10 Carmelo Anthony and I Debrief Our Friends After a Pickup Game at the Y.M.C.A.

2015

MAY 25 Men and Dancing

SEP 01 My Nephew Has Some Questions

SEP 09 My Spam Plays Hard to Get

NOV 22 THE GUY WHO HATED NOW YOU SEE ME, A SHORT STORY

NOV 23 An Honest Film Review

2016

JAN 27 What Do You Do When Your Mother Won’t Shut Up at The Ballet?

FEB 04 Act Like You Know

FEB 12 Why I Broke Up with the Little Mermaid

MAY 19 My Cousin Recently Became A Realtor

NOV 04 SELF-DEPRECATING HEROES

DEC 11 LOW TALK IN HIGH PLACES

2017

JAN 23 YOU NEVER REALLY KNOW

JAN 25 My Very Good Friend

FEB 01 发现肉——致中国读者

MAR 04 HAVE YOU DINED WITH US BEFORE?

NOV 14 Mongolia

2018

JAN 15 Sad Stuff on the Street

MAR 20 Thanks, Giving

MAY 14 My N.B.A. Knowledge Comes In Handy

MAY 18 One Small Blow Against Encroaching Totalitarianism: The Natural Order of the World Depends On It

MAY 31 Jesse Eisenberg on the Relentless Work Ethic of Philip Roth

DEC 05 The Cast Members and Their Crew

2019

JAN 03 MY SISTER PUSHES THE LOBSTER

NOV 21 My Two-Year-Old Requests Just One More Song Before Bed

NOV 23 Jesse Eisenberg: Recommends four contemporary plays

2021

MAR 02 Writer Courtney Zoffness and Jesse Eisenberg on the Radical Compassion of Art

2022

NOV 07 Content Warning

2023

FEB 20 A G.P.S. Route for My Anxiety

#jesse eisenberg #writing

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 5 months

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Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 9: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (2/3)

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t! One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia. A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns. So here you go! Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 2545

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Notes: This story was originally written in 2014.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

“Looks like your boyfriend learned about Christmas,” David said dryly as he pushed open the sheriff’s station door.

Emma elbowed her way past her father to have a look and then barked out a laugh. A veritable forest of mistletoe hung above her desk and chair. David was right; it couldn’t be the work of anyone but her adorable idiot of a pirate.

“Although if he really wanted to get you to kiss him,” David continued, draping his winter coat over the back of his own chair, “he would have hung it inside one of the jail cells. We left the station locked when we went on rounds, so I’m pretty sure this qualifies as breaking and entering.”

Emma grinned. “Cut him some slack, Dad. There are far, far worse things he could have done, don’t you think?”

“That depends,” David replied with a frown.

“Yeah? On what?”

“Whether or not he makes use of the mistletoe when I’m around.”

Emma laughed again, still amazed at the happiness that was her life at the moment. Seriously, who would have thought that Emma Swan, the unloved, unwanted orphan would one day have to deal with an overzealous pirate boyfriend and an overprotective father?

“I’ll make him behave,” Emma promised. “At least while you’re around.”

David grimaced. “You had to tack on that last part?”

“Yep,” Emma replied, taking a seat. “Deal with it Dad; your little girl’s dating a pirate. Bound to be some…um…misbehavior. Probably on both our parts.”

David groaned.

Her dad put up a good show, but Emma knew that’s all it was—a show. The bromance was strong with these two. Emma didn’t know who was happier that her relationship with Killian was still going strong, her or her dad.

A month had passed since Gold’s sorcerer’s hat stunt, and they were all still reeling from it to various extents. She’d had nightmares about it every night for a solid two weeks following the incident. Nightmares where they didn’t make it in time. Nightmares where she, her mom and Belle arrived at the clock tower a moment after Gold had finished crushing Killian’s heart into a fine powder. She’d woken up shaking and bathed in sweat.

If Gold had succeeded…she couldn’t even bring herself to finish the sentence. The very thought scared her more than anything in her life had ever scared her.

It was in that moment when she was frozen in place, helpless to protect Killian, that she gave up the last bit of pretense. She loved him; there was no denying it. Just the sight of him was enough to make the butterflies start tap dancing in her stomach.

“What do you think of my first attempt at decorating for the season?”

Speak of the devil.

Killian strode in with the confidence (and looks) of a fashion model. He leaned down, brushed a kiss against her cheek and then straightened with the grin she’d come to learn meant trouble.

“Not bad,” she said, “but you know people usually just hang one sprig of mistletoe, not a whole garden.”

He tsked, and frowned at her playfully. “And where would be the fun in that? I’d prefer to increase my chances of finding myself under it with a fetching lass rather than limit them.”

He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. “Speaking of which, it appears you and I are currently standing beneath a particularly hearty specimen. Holiday traditions must be observed, darling. Good form and all.”

She grinned and looped her arms around his neck. “So what are you waiting for?”

His smile turned distinctly wicked. “Not a thing in the world, love.”

A wildfire raged between them at the first touch of his lips to hers. It was always like this between them; like someone had tossed a lit match on a mountain of dry kindling. Emma tilted her head, instantly deepening the kiss, reveling in the feel of his hand in her hair anchoring her to him, his hook at her back urging her closer.

David cleared his throat. Loudly. Whatever adjectives could be used to describe her father, “subtle” was not one of them. Emma pulled away with an apologetic look at her boyfriend, then turned to face her dad. Killian reached down and laced his fingers with hers.

“You guys mind?” David asked with a hint of exasperation. “This is a place of business after all.”

“Funny,” Killian said with a smirk, “you seemed to be singing an entirely different tune that night last week when I walked in to find you and your lovely wife similarly expressing your affection.”

David spluttered. “That’s…that’s different!”

“Aye? How so?”

“It’s different because…because…well, because it just is.”

Killian laughed with such good humor that soon even David joined in. “Look,” her father finally said, “I’m glad you two are happy together, I really am, but could you keep the PDA to a minimum while I’m around? Please?”

Killian sketched a bow. “I shall endeavor to control myself, but confronted with your daughter’s ravishing beauty, I am, more often than not, unable to express my admiration any other way.”

Emma laughed and swatted him playfully. “You are so full of it.”

“Aye,” he returned with a flirtatious wink, “but I noticed you failed to put up a protest at my ‘PDA’ a moment ago.”

“I’ll admit,” she returned, placing her free hand over his heart, a gesture she found herself making more and more frequently since his ordeal with Gold, “kissing you is kind of addicting. So, what’s up? We weren’t supposed to meet for lunch for another hour or so.”

“I’ve come to steal you away, love,” He said, giving her hand a squeeze. “The snow has bathed the woods in a blanket of loveliness, and I wish to share it with my favorite lass.”

“I can’t just go take a stroll in the woods,” Emma said. “For one thing, it’s cold. For another, I’ve got work to do. And did I mention, it’s cold?”

The look on his face was two parts puppy and one part wicked. “If we don’t go, I’ll be forced to hang around and, no doubt, nauseate your father. We wouldn’t want that, now would we? Besides, I’m…more than capable of keeping you warm.”

“Ugh,” David said. “Emma just go with him. I’ll cover for you.”

“Well,” Emma said, grabbing her coat and hat, “if you both insist…”

“We do,” David and Killian said in unison.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Emma had to admit it was beautiful and peaceful out here. And with Killian’s arm draped around her, surprisingly warm as well. On impulse, she reached up and pecked him on the cheek.

“And what was that delightful gesture for, Swan?”

She shrugged. “No reason. Just…thank you. You were right. It’s nice to get away from the craziness of the town for a while.”

He smiled, making the crow’s feet stand at attention at the edges of his eyes. “Darling, when are you going to finally realize that I’m always right?”

Emma rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep the grin from her face. “Don’t hold your breath, pirate.”

“Thought as much,” Killian muttered under his breath.

Emma had never been a big fan of winter. She hated the cold, and the snow drove her crazy—especially now that she was the sheriff and was called to every fender bender and slide-off in the whole damn town. Killian, however, seemed to have an entirely different opinion on the matter. His face was lit up with the wonder and awe of a child as he trudged through the ankle-deep snow and watched the flurries continue to drift down.

“You seem to be enjoying this weather,” she observed, reaching up to feather her fingers through his hair and dislodge the stubborn snowflakes that had evidently decided to take up residence there.

“Aye,” he said, looking down at her with a delighted grin. “Always reminds me of a day I spent with Liam many, many years ago.”

Emma perked up at the mention of Killian’s brother. “You never talk about him. I always assumed the memories were too painful for you.”

Killian smiled tenderly. “Aye, some memories are. It seems no matter how many centuries go by, the sting of his passing will never truly fade. I do, however, have many, many pleasant memories of him, and the day we spent in the snow is certainly one of those.”

“Would you tell me about it?”

“Of course,” he complied without hesitation. “It was one of the last good memories I had of my family. My mum died the following year, and my father was never the same after her passing. At any rate, I was but a wee lad at the time, five, maybe six years old. Liam was a good ten years my senior and I nearly worshiped him. He’d just informed me that he would be leaving in less than a fortnight upon his first ship; I no longer recall her name. He was to be a cabin boy and I’ve rarely seen a lad so excited. I was, of course, devastated that my brother, my hero, would be leaving me in a matter of days.”

“I can only imagine,” Emma soothed. Killian felt things so deeply; his entire heart and soul were invested when he loved. Liam’s departure must have hit him hard.

“Aye,” he said with a grimace. “Anyway, on the day in question, Liam woke me, excited about the newly fallen snow. We two spent the entire day reveling in it—making snowmen and snow fortifications. Engaging in a rather ruthless snowball fight. It was a day I wouldn’t trade for all the rum in the Enchanted Forest.”

“It sounds great.”

“Aye, that it was.”

They lapsed into silence for a time. Emma rested her head against his shoulder, and she felt him brush a kiss against the crown of her head.

“So how was your breakfast with Henry?” Emma asked.

“Informative,” Killian said, and Emma could hear the smile in his voice. “The lad is a wealth of information. He seems quite excited for this Christmas holiday.”

Emma sighed. “Yeah. Seems like it’s all he can talk about.”

Killian looked over at her. “From your tone, I take it you don’t share his sentiments?”

“No.” The word was definitive, emphatic.

“The lad told me as much,” Killian admitted. “He was concerned that you seem unwilling to participate in this realm’s Christmas traditions.”

Emma grimaced. “I was hoping it would be enough for him to get all the Christmas crap at Regina’s or my mom and dad’s.”

Killian stopped walking and turned her toward him. “The lad didn’t come to me because he needs more Christmas; he came to me because he’s worried about you.”

Henry was worried about her? Because of Christmas? “He doesn’t need to be. I’m fine.”

Killian looked at her skeptically. “Swan, I’ve seen you ‘fine’. I’ve seen you happy. I’ve seen you content. You are feeling none of those emotions. This ‘Christmas’ is obviously a source of pain for you. Please, tell me why that is.”

Emma sighed. There really was no point trying to hide anything from this man. “It’s just…I don’t know. Christmas is all about family and happiness and being together and stuff.”

“And these are bad things?” At some point, Killian brought his good hand up to cup her face, and he was gently caressing her cheek with his thumb.

“No…” Emma drew out the syllable. “Not in general, but for an unwanted little girl in the group homes it was torture. I mean, everywhere you turned you’d get assaulted with images of happy little families doing happy little family things. Every time you turned on the TV you’d see commercials and movies and everything else where everyone was perfectly happy and enjoying each other’s company. The songs talk about it being the happiest time of the year, or about how people love going home for the holidays or the love of family. You know what it was for me? It was a slap in the face. It was yet another reminder that I’d never had that and probably never would.”

The compassion in Killian’s eyes nearly broke her. He dropped his hand from her face and gathered her into his arms, holding her tight. She clung to him, drinking in the love he offered her.

“Emma,” he whispered., “there are so many, many people who love you. So many, many people who would do anything to make you happy.”

The tears rushed to her eyes. “I know, and it means everything in the world to me. It’s just—I don’t know. Childhood memories die hard. I don’t know if I can even do all the ‘happy family Christmas’ stuff.”

“But you said it yourself, love,” Killian reasoned, stroking her hair. “Christmas isn’t about perfectly fulfilling the traditions you’re accustomed to. It’s not about living up to the standards you believe the ‘perfect’ families attained. It’s not about fulfilling a checklist of Christmas items. It’s about being with the ones you love; showing them how much you care.”

Killian pulled away. “Let us love you,” he said simply. “Let us show you how much you mean to all of us. Let us build our own traditions, our own memories. Perhaps they won’t erase the pain of the past, but trust me love, the good memories, the beautiful moments—they shine as brightly as the star Leroy attempted to force me to place on the top of Granny’s tree—if you but let them. They are like the sun that blots out the light of the stars. Losing Liam to dreamshade—it was one of the darkest days of my life. The pain of losing my brother, the man who was captain and brother and hero to me, was such that words cannot describe. Even so, traumatic as that day was, it cannot hold a candle to the simple joy of that day spent playing in the snow. ”

“I wish I’d met Liam,” Emma said with a wistful smile.

“As do I love,” Killian said. “He would have liked you—and would have thanked his lucky stars that I’d finally found myself a beautiful blonde savior to point me back to the man I wish to be.”

Emma stroked his face. “He’d be proud of you, Killian. You’re a good man; one of the best and most honorable I know.”

Killian turned his head and brushed a kiss against her palm. “You can have no idea how sweet those words sound coming from your lips. I have but one bit of advice for you, love: don’t run from the love of family and the joys of Christmas all around you. Make new memories, good memories. I can promise you; you won’t regret it.”

Emma reached up and brushed a soft kiss against his lips. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Again with the skepticism, darling? Didn’t we just establish I’m always right?”

Emma chuckled. “Whatever. I’m hungry. Are you going to take me to lunch or not?”

Killian sketched a bow. “My lady’s wish is my command.”

–Up next, Emma and Killian return to her apartment after the town’s Christmas Eve party.

NEXT CHAPTER->

#christmas reruns 2023 #cs fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction #have yourself a merry little christmas

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thaliaisalesbian · 4 days

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i get myself twisted in threads

Chapter 24: it's the last thing you wanted

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23

Steve’s car is already gone by the time Jonathan pulls up to his house. He’s been more forgetful lately, with everything going on. It’s entirely possible that Steve forgot he’s not supposed to be driving. Or maybe he hadn’t been able to sleep and had needed to get out of the house for a while.

It’s fine. He’ll just drive Steve home; Nancy can bring his car back, or they can get it back some other way. One morning of driving won’t hurt him.

Jonathan absolutely doesn’t close his eyes and takes a minute to try and forget the pointed way Mom and Hopper talk about Steve’s parents, the way Steve doesn’t talk about them.

Steve’s fine. He’s probably even over the slight fever he had yesterday. He’ll be at Nancy’s locker, all apologetic with that smile that he pretends he doesn’t know will get him forgiven before he’s even said anything.

Jonathan’s not going to be late by any means, but he still goes a little faster than he should. It’s not like Hopper’s going to give him a ticket.

finish on ao3 or continue reading

“Hey, man, you’re friends with Harrington, right? He’s, like, throwing up in the bathroom and shit, and he looks pretty bad. Flinched when I tried to help him up.”

“Where is he?” It’s Munson, of course it is, but better that he found Steve than Hagan or Hargrove. At least Munson isn’t likely to try and start a fight with Steve. Hagan… well, he might not either, but Jonathan doesn’t trust him. Hargrove has already proven himself the type of guy to kick someone when they’re down. Literally.

He has to stop himself from hopping onto that train of thought. Steve’s sick, or injured, or both, and he can’t go try to beat Hargrove up.

“I’ll show you.” Munson leads the way, and Jonathan realizes that he’s not trying to call attention to himself, as if he’s trying to protect Steve’s privacy.

Steve’s in the far stall, hunched over the toilet.

“Steve?” Jonathan gets as close as he can in the small space without seeming too friendly. His fever is worse than yesterday, Jonathan can feel it from here. He glances over at Munson—his patches, the bandana in his pocket, and decides to risk it.

He doesn’t even know what the color means, but he’s seen it in the zines that some of the drama and band kids pass around discreetly. He doesn’t know where they come from, but by the time it gets to him it wouldn’t matter anyway.

“Baby, you’re still sick, why didn’t you call in?”

“Dad was mad, I can’t miss more school.”

“Look at me, baby.” Steve’s got a nasty black eye; there’s no way he was able to see properly to drive. He might even be seeing double out of his good eye.“I’m going to take you home, okay? Maybe to the hospital, I think you have another concussion. How many is that again?”

“Seven.”

“Seven?” Munson echoes behind him.

“Is Steve in here?”

“‘Arol?”

“What are you doing here?” Jonathan doesn’t see the need to be polite. She and Hagan had both just dumped Steve like he was nothing when he didn’t want to make fun of other kids anymore.

He knows that Steve still misses her, and maybe Hagan a little too, but as far as he’s concerned, they can both stay far away from Steve for the rest of their lives.

“Steve was my best friend growing up. Excuse me for being concerned.” She snaps back, kneeling on Steve’s other side. “Oh, honey.”

“‘Arol.”

“Yeah, it’s me. Your parents were home yesterday; that was weird.”

“Followed me this morning, made sure I come here.”

“Park your car at mine. Your parents like me, they don’t have any problems with me.”

“Not true. Dad thinks you’re… you’re a bad influence. Dolls?”

“Then Tommy’s, I’ll make him let you. Someone he can’t object to. It’ll be safer. Tommy brought me today, I’ll drive your car back.” She pulls his keys out of his pocket, like it’s something she does every day, like she’s not afraid that he and Munson will tell people she did it.

Then again, she did run into the boys’ bathroom after her former best friend, so she must not care what people are thinking of her right now.

Jonathan has more important things to worry about to spend time wondering what Carol Perkins is thinking right now.

It’s not like they’d believe anything he or Munson says, anyway.

“K.”

Jonathan is not going to pretend to have understood… that. He just knows that if he had his way, Carol and Hagan would have nothing to do with this situation, not even just parking Steve’s car at one of their houses.

“Munson, help me get him up.” Between the two of them, they get Steve on his feet, if unsteadily.

He’s walking, and that’s something.

(An unhelpful voice reminds him that Steve had walked on bitten-up ankles for weeks and barely flinched. Steve walking is probably not a great metric.)

“What are you doing here before class even starts? I’m not giving you a pass for the day.” The nurse doesn’t even turn around.

“His left eye is swollen shut.” Munson says, before he can. “He can hardly stand on his own.” Jonathan doesn’t let Steve lay down on the bed—they’re not staying long, and it will be harder to get him up again.

“Thanks, Munson.”

“Yeah.”

The nurse can’t do anything for Steve, so she lets Jonathan take him. She probably shouldn’t, but normal behavior seems to have gone out the window for everyone today.

Besides, he’s pretty sure if it were anyone other than Steve, she’d call their parents. She’d have to, right?

“No hospital.”

“Steve, come on. This is bad. You’ve got a fever, you were throwing up.” It’s probably just a stomach bug, but Jonathan doesn’t want to risk anything. He doesn’t even know where else Steve is hurt. What if his ribs are damaged?

“I can’t, Jonathan. I can’t. They’ll be mad.”

“Okay. I’ll take you home, then. My house.” He leaves a quick note in Nancy’s locker, letting her know what’s up.

Mom’s got the later shift today, so she’ll still be home.

He needs her to be home.

Jonathan’s helped take care of Will when he’s sick before, he’s wrapped his own injuries when Lonnie used to hit him before, but for some reason this feels like it’s too much for him to handle.

Where are Jonathan and Steve? They were supposed to meet in the library before class started, but they never showed up.

She hasn’t seen them in the halls, either.

If something had happened before school, Jonathan probably would have tried to call her. Will hadn’t said anything when she and Mike had met him on their bikes on the way in.

It’s the first time she’s biked to school in a long while, but she’d wanted to be at school before Jonathan and Steve to set up a little surprise. It also meant carrying her books for her morning classes all day, since she waited so long in the library that she didn’t get a chance to drop any of them off at her locker.

Maybe they just got a slow start, or maybe Steve’s in the office for a while after being out of school for so long.

That’s the one thing Nancy is holding on to, at least until lunchtime. That’s when she’ll know for sure if they’re here or not.

They don’t show up at lunch, either.

Okay, so something’s happened, then. If it were a car crash, or a fight, or something like that, she would have heard about it by now.

So it’s nothing like that.

She keeps her head down as she eats, but she’s still paying attention to what’s going on around her.

Carol and Tommy keep looking her way, and Munson’s group is sitting at the end of her table today. If she felt like causing a scene today, she’d go and ask them what they think they know.

But she doesn’t, and beneath the dread building with each bite she takes, she’s shoving down a strange numbness.

Nancy switches out her books at the end of lunch, only half-hoping that there will be some sort of clue in her locker. If she lets herself hold on to too much hope, and there’s nothing there, she’s just going to go out and find them herself.

That's when she sees the note, her name written on the front messily in some semblance of Jonathan’s handwriting—finally, finally, she has something. The dread dissipates a little, and relief sweeps the numbness away.

‘Steve’s really sick, but he still drove himself in. I’m taking him home, my mom should be there.’ Nancy has to stop herself from running to the bathroom; she’s not actually going to throw up, probably, it’s just the reforming knot of dread in her stomach and the new ache of worry in her chest that are making her feel that way.

Okay, so that answers that. Jonathan probably hadn’t had time to come and tell her, not if Steve was sick. Her locker is on the way out.

They’d known he was sick, though. Yesterday he’d still seemed okay; Jonathan had said he felt warm but a fever doesn’t have to mean full-blown illness.

Nancy still wants to leave right away, but she knows she can’t; the school will call her mom and then she’d never get the chance to go over to Jonathan’s after school and see how things are going.

She’s going to have to force herself to get through the rest of the day without knowing how things are going.Nancy’s never been very good at waiting.

<- 23 25 ->

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m3l4nch0ly-h1ll · 7 months

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it was already tristan and vivian. now it'd be the turns of 'celeste' and 'crystal,' the youngest of the four siblings, to gain their courage of admitting how they feel. they leaned on support from their already-out brothers to better muster up the confidence. gaining reassurance. "it won't be so bad, i promise." the 21 year old tristan would say. "they already have two trans sons, what's two more?" the 18 year old vivian added with seriousness but a slight tease to his tone. the 15 year old twins nodded in agreement, with 'celeste' being the more hesitant of the two- despite his own usual calm front.

as the four make it to their parents' shared bedroom, they show respectfulness to knock, before the eldest speaks on the other side of the closed door. "mom, dad." tristan dragged out the titles of the two beloved parents, the pair on the other side thinking tristan is up to a rare mischeif and sighing. "what is it, tristan?" the mother, bonnie, mumbled on the other side- just barely audible. "uhh, can we come in? we need to talk about something, if that's fine.." tristan speaks with a bit of awkwardness in his tone as it lowers. "come in." the father, francis, said in a suspicious tone with a raised brow. his eyes trail to the door nearby as he pauses his reading to watch his four children walk in, to the surprise of him and his partner. awkward silence follows as the door is shut behind them by vivian. "uhh, can we sit?" tristan asks politely, deciding to take the lead in speaking. the mother nods slowly, as each of the children sit around nearby.

there's a pause of tense silence before the father speaks up. "so, is it something really important, or..?" he asks, confused and still a bit taken-aback at all four of them here at once. there's another pause of silence. before the second eldest speaks this time. "those two want to tell you something." vivian speaks as he points to the teen twins, 'celeste' and 'crystal.' agreeing to not name them as they're ready to come out unbeknownst to the parents.

"oh?" the father speaks as he looks over to the set of twins, to which the mother also looks at the two with interest. "what is it, my dears?" she asked in her usual warm tone, awaiting their reply. 'celeste' subtly bites at his lip, meanwhile 'crystal' is a bit frustrated now but more nervous than anything as he gets ready to speak. 'crystal' musters up the courage before speaking. "uhh. hm." 'crystal' starts, far more nervous with everyone's eyes on him, except for 'celeste' that is. "we hope you don't, like, feel disappointed in us after this." 'crystal adds.' "oh, dear. why would we be disappointed?" the mother asks with slight concern but more confusion than anything. "we're your parents, what could you do to make us so disappointed?" the father asks, his tone softening up a bit more than usual.

'damn. seems i've got them hooked and guilt-tripped.' - 'crystal' thought.

"well." 'crystal' starts up again before shooting a glance to 'celeste,' to which the latter notices and speaks up this time with a usual plain tone, as the older two siblings watch with intrigue at what comes next. 'celeste' forces the courage to speak up directly. "we've tried being proper girls in hopes of not dissatisfying you. we thought- maybe we could try being girls to keep things even. maybe mom would feel lonely if we weren't girls. maybe we'd be seen as a disgrace. maybe we'd be passed off as having a phase. maybe we'd be dismissed as being 'influenced' by tristan and vivian, but. we could never feel like girls, or proper ones at that. we could never enjoy or connect to womanhood. we could never pride ourselves off of femininity, even if we tried. we never felt in-place with it." 'celeste' confesses in a direct manner, as tristan and vivian glance to each other with proud expressions, and the two parents listen in while 'crystal' stays silent and lets out a breath in relief at 'celeste' being the one to speak up and be so direct.

"hun.. when did you two ever try to be so proper and ladylike?" the mother asks in a serious but amused tone. 'celeste' blinks with a blank expression, meanwhile 'crystal' is visibly confused. "what do you mean.. mom..?" 'crystal' asks a bit slowly. "the only times you even seemed a bit lady-like were formal places! even then you never seemed to like it." the father adds with amusement of his own but seriousness same as the mother.

"yeah, you definitely didn't live up to that claim. it was so obvious." tristan mocks the twins, earning him a slight glare from 'crystal.' "oh." 'celeste' says simply. "..oops." he adds with a look of defeat and awkwardness. "so what i'm getting is we have two more sons onto the pile." the father adds. "yeahh, that." 'crystal' replies awkwardly. "you said something about not wanting me to be the only woman in the family?" the mother asks, turning her attention to 'celeste' with this question. 'celeste' simply nods in reply with his usual plain look. "don't worry about that, that's not what matters, you know that. i'm happy you could tell us how you feel." the mother smiles. "yeah even though it was obvious." the father comments. "we were just waiting on the two of you to admit it to us yourselves. we felt it was more natural that way." he adds on. "so you're saying we wasted all that time living with nervousness just for you to know the whole time?!" 'crystal' asks with surprise and disappointment, wishing the two had just mustered the courage earlier.

"oh, come on. you have to admit it was far too obvious." vivian adds. "it was." 'celeste' agrees plainly with a nod, causing 'crystal's' attention to shift over to their younger twin in a quick manner. "it really was??" 'crystal' asks in surprise. "yeah." the younger twin responds. "names." tristan reminds the two in the middle of their short back-and-forth. "i wonder what names you've picked out! i'm sure you at least have something." the mother smiles, turning her gaze over to 'celeste,' to which the youngest child nods. "emery." he speaks simply. the parents look to the older twin. "cleo." he speaks with a slightly excited smirk to his face.

#Four trans sons for the twin.#I wanted to make this a slight comedy.#stories #writing #queer #trans #transgender #ftm #transmasc #gender dysphoria #🏳️‍⚧️#I left it off a bit lazy.#Staying up just to listen to a certain song led to me writing this at 4AM. (This wasn't inspired by the song by the way.)#m1key-kinnie #m3l4nch0ly-h1ll #I went to sleep at 5AM and woke up at 9AM cracked.

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spoiler1001 · 2 years

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Theory? feel free to reblog with counterarguments.

I'm not saying that it was Just Grue's death that sent Dante into a spiral, but Imagine if the dmc1 novel takes place after dmc3, which I think it does, considering the last page is just the opening to dmc1.

Dante would have gone as Tony from the DMC3 manga to DMC1, explaining both him telling Enzo to shut the fuck up when the guy called him 'Dante' and the look and way his voice drops when Arkham called him 'Dante'. It would also explain his transition from the usual jobs to strictly supernatural jobs. the other mercenaries simply can't do it, excluding those in the know.

Seeing as Vergil opened the gate to hell, I could see a whole 'monster hunting' business booming, building the town around them. You have to remember, Nero's generation is the first one after the last big battle between the human world and the demon world. DMC is could have very easily been post-apocalyptic, but I'll argue that's why some of the older forms of technology stayed around, durable, and full of redundancies, if one form of communication gives out, there are others. That's not to mention the ease of repair. That's probably why Nico's van is like that.

In this logic and timeline Dante's life would be like this:

Mom, Dad, Vergil-> Mom, Vergil-> Mom, Dad, Vergil gone-> change name-> Grow up with Enzo, Nell, and Morrison protecting him -> Get shop, home-> Vergil back-> Vergil gone again-> meet Grue-> Have family again-> lose family again-> change name back-> be unable to kill the thing that keeps killing family, can only lock it away-> make friends-> friends in and out of life-> get nephew? get nephew-> Vergil's back again

This poor man.

and from "Lose family again" onwards he is essentially paying child support for Grue's surviving kids. Making sure they were not left behind like Vergil was. Eventually, Morrison got them jobs that allowed them to buy the Bar that their father loved, mirroring Dante in a way. By now I'm assuming about 15 years passed since their father and sister, Jessica, died, yet they were protected with the truth that demons and monsters are why their family broke up.

These girls would be about 21-25, filling the age gap between Patty and Nero, so still being part of that new generation. Morrison still plans to keep it that way, given that look he gives V. In Morrison's defense, V was giving off Gilver vibes from the first goddamn trailer and he's not gonna let family history repeat himself.

It should be noted that the youngest of Grue's daughters, Nesty, is probably too young to remember when Tony was part of their family and doesn't get that Tony loved them and blames Dante for everything, while the middle oldest daughter, Tiki, does remember Tony and knows he didn't break the family.

So Dante/Tony has a lot of people going in and out of his life, usually very bloodily. This man live 3 lifetimes in the span of 45 years. So while I do not think that the deaths of Grue and Jessica are what solely broke Dante, If you add Mundas 'killing' his brother and Trish again, I'd say that did, especially if we include the fact that Dante could not kill Mundus at the time and he could break free at a moment's notice, which could play into why Dante jumped into hell because "I've lost my family 3 goddamn times I've reached my goddamn limit."

#long post #devil may cry #dmc grue #dmc dante #dmc vergil #I've said so much yet I don't think I said enough #dmc gilver #tony redgrave

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highwaytothedangerzone502 · 2 years

Text

India Lima Yankee - Chapter 20

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 2452

Warnings: Talk about death and terminal illness

Summary: Juliette Kazansky discovers Maverick is back in town for a special training detachment, but she's more than a little blindsided when her Rooster arrives too. Having not spoken to him for almost ten years after their less than amicable break-up, Juliette can only imagine how the next few weeks are going to play out when she remains head over heels in love with him while he wants nothing to do with Juliette other than to forget her.

Or so she thinks.

Notes: Chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: Chasing Cars Head Above Water

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16 Chp 17 Chp 18 Chp 19 Chp 20 Chp 21 Chp 22 Chp 23

Rooster

The day had started on a sour note with the thought of having to fly a near-impossible course while knowing no matter how well he did on it, Maverick wouldn't choose him for the mission to 'protect' him. Then, to have the day go as it did with dogfight football, the laughter and camaraderie, and the flirtatious conversations he'd had with Juliette, Rooster couldn't have imagined a better end. He still felt horrible about leaving the bruise on Jules's hip. When she'd stepped in front of Rooster to stop him from going after Hangman, he'd grabbed onto her waist as a way to silently ground himself, to remind him that as long as Juliette was there, he couldn't do anything because if a physical altercation between the two men occurred, she absolutely would've held no regard for her safety and stepped in to break them up. She would've risked getting hurt by either one of them, and that's the last thing Rooster wanted, although he'd ended up hurting anyways...

The group, as always, gathered around the pool table. Coyote and Phoenix chose to talk to Juliette and Rooster, who stood so close that their arms pressed into each other, almost like they were leaning into one another. Maybe they were. Rooster was still shocked from her insinuation at their sex life earlier, and he hadn't been able to get it off his mind since. Had they not been in public, Rooster might've pulled her into another kiss he'd been dying to give her since the other night.

These Boots Were Made for Walking blared next to Rooster, causing both him and Juliette to jump. She swiftly pulled out her phone and said, "I need to take this. I'll be back."

She hurried out the door, hitting answer on her way. Rooster briefly overheard her say "Hey, Mom" before the noise of the crowd drowned her out. Not thinking anything of it, Rooster continued chatting with Phoenix and Coyote, avoiding anything to do with the mission. None of them wanted to stress over it tonight when they had the remaining two and a half weeks to do that. Instead, they chatted about their squadrons, antics on their carriers, stories of when they'd come home from deployment, and everything else that brought a smile to their faces.

However, as ten minutes passed, then twenty, then thirty, Rooster noticed Juliette had failed to rejoin them. Concerned, he excused himself from the group and made his way outside. Juliette sat on a bench at the far end of the balcony, staring at her phone.

Rooster approached hesitantly, unsure if she wanted space or not. "You okay?"

"Hmm?" Juliette looked up at him, somewhat dazed. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just got off the phone with my mom, is all."

Rooster took a seat next to her. "I know it's been a long time, but I can still tell when you're not 'fine.' What is it?"

She shook her head. "It's fine, really. Besides, you're having a good day. I don't want to bring you down with what's going on with me."

"I care more about you than anything else. Talk to me, Jules."

He watched Juliette fiddle with her phone for a few seconds, turning it over and over in her hands before she finally spoke in an eerily calm voice, "Dad took a bad turn tonight. Mom told me I should maybe start preparing myself."

Of all things she could've said, that was one of the last Rooster expected. A coldness settled over him, the dread of the impending death of yet another person he loved. He'd purposefully pushed people away in his life to avoid going through this again. It'd been hard enough losing his mom and becoming an orphan at eighteen. Maverick might as well have been dead to him over the past decade, and he'd lost a close friend right after his breakup with Jules, which played a part in him not returning to her. Rooster hadn't wanted to mourn anyone again, nor did he want people to mourn him if he died, to go through the grief. Yet, here he was, the heartache already setting in at the mere idea of losing Tom Kazansky, a man he hadn't seen in close to ten years, yet the feelings were as strong as ever. And here he was, getting close to Juliette before a death-defying mission, one he wouldn't be chosen for, but nonetheless, the stress and anxiety it induced were enough to make even the most level-headed people like Juliette on edge.

"I'm sorry," Rooster said, the words sounding less than comforting coming out of his mouth. He knew better than most that nothing anyone said or did could help with the knowledge that one day, and one day soon, a person you loved would die. "Do you want me to give you a ride home so you can be with them?"

Juliette smiled softly, shaking her head. "No, thank you, though. I actually told my mom when she called that I'd come over now, but I received a text from Dad a few seconds later telling me to stay out and have fun with everyone. I don't even know how he texted so fast when the man types with just his pointer fingers still. Dad is also strangely scarier when he doesn't speak."

Juliette leaned back, staring out over the beach and at the black horizon, her gaze distant. "I remember when the first time he was diagnosed with the cancer. It was about a year after you and I broke up. I was terrified of losing him. It's actually why I called you that day. I figured if anyone could understand, it'd be you."

Rooster's heart sank to his stomach. "Jules, I-"

"I'm not telling you this to make you feel guilty," she interrupted gently, patting his thigh reassuringly. He placed his hand atop hers, lacing their fingers together. "I knew it was a long shot trying to reach you after what happened. And you did call me back, I just had my assbutt of a boyfriend at the time in my house when you did."

"Assbutt?" Rooster repeated, unable to help the amusement edging his tone. "Was he the cheater?"

"Yeah. Antonio Cerrillo. I'll give him credit where credit is due, though, because he was good to me while Dad went through chemo."

A flood of guilt rushed through Bradley. He couldn't help but think he should've been the one to comfort her, to be there for her. If he hadn't been so stupid and cowardly, he would've. Juliette, however, not noticing Rooster's grimacing, continued. "Dad went into remission a few months after. We'd caught it early enough that the chemo worked wonders. About three years went by with nothing, and then, suddenly, it was back. It was worse the second time around, and it took two years before the doctors said they couldn't see any remnants of it. That chemo treatment was extremely tough on both Dad and Mom. Dad because he was the one going through it, and Mom because she cared for him day and night. She went forty-eight hours without sleeping once because she was so upset and stressed over making sure Dad was okay because he went through a nasty rough patch during an already horrible chemo treatment. I made her get some sleep and took some time off work to care for him. Once he moved past that second diagnosis, I thought that was it. It's Dad, after all. He's invincible. Like Maverick. He fended off six enemy aircraft until Mav could come to his rescue. How many aviators can say that?"

"None that I know of," Rooster replied, quickly running through the list in his head.

"And then, right before you got here, we found out it'd come back. As you already know, it's terminal..." Juliette trailed off, falling silent and clenching her jaw. Rooster waited for her to gather herself because he recognized she wanted to cry but was doing everything she could to prevent the tears from forming or falling. It took a couple of minutes before it happened. Juliette's voice was barely above a whisper as she said, "I think I've been in denial. I thought maybe the doctor's made a mistake with their terminal diagnosis or that he'd be a miracle case and would live despite everything, defy all expectations like he always does, but I know now. I know I don't have long with him, and now I'm torn between listening to him and making him happy by staying out with all of you or going home and spending time with him before I can't anymore."

"What if I went home with you?" Rooster offered, regretting the words the moment they came out of his mouth. Why would she want him around after he'd abandoned her? This was her family anyway, not his. Not anymore. Rooster lost that privilege when he eliminated them from his life all those years ago.

Juliette shook her head. "No, you should stay here and enjoy your night. I'll catch an Uber back home and-"

Rooster shook his head and cut her off. "Juliette, you were there for me when my mom was dying. Let me be here for you."

"You have so much on your plate right now. You have training and the mission to worry about, and I need you to focus on that. I need you to-" Juliette's voice hitched momentarily- "I need you to put everything you have into acing what Maverick throws at you because my gut tells me you're going on that mission and if you don't come back..."

"Jules-"

"I can't have your funeral too, Rooster."

Although he didn't believe her instinct about being chosen for the mission, Bradley still couldn't let her panic. He couldn't have her grieving over him, too, especially when there was nothing and would be nothing to grieve about. "You won't. I will come back to you this time. I promise."

Juliette finally looked over at him, sorrow etched onto her face, but she managed to smile appreciatively at him. "I'm going to hold you to that, Lieutenant."

"I want you to." Rooster lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. "Do you want to go back inside? Or do you want me to give you a ride home?"

Juliette checked the time on her phone. "It's only eight... maybe stay for another hour, appease my dad, and then give me a ride home?"

"You got it, boss." Rooster stood up, helping Juliette along the way. Before he could move, she embraced him in a brief, tight hug, which he willingly returned. She kissed him on the cheek as she pulled away, prompting him to ask, "What was that for?"

Juliette shrugged. "For being you and being there for me just now. I'm sorry for putting such a damper on your night."

"Don't apologize. I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me what was happening." Rooster held out his hand. "Shall we?"

Juliette took it, and the two of them re-entered the Hard Deck. They ordered drinks from the bar before rejoining their friends. Juliette noticeably stayed glued to Rooster's side, but he hardly minded. He wanted to spend as much time with her as possible because who knew when the next time would be that they could see each other after the mission?

Around nine, the aviators, exhausted from the long day of dogfight football and realizing they would resume regular training tomorrow, decided to call it a night. Rooster drove Juliette to her house, where they said hello to Maria and Firefly and waited for the girls' Ubers to pick them up before rounding up Raptor and Lightning into the back of Rooster's Bronco and heading to the Kazansky household.

Sarah opened the door, surprise showing in her red-tinged eyes. She'd been crying, of that, Rooster had no doubt. The Kazanksy matriarch inquired, "What are you two doing here? I wasn't expecting-"

"Everyone else retired for the night, and I wanted to come hang out with you and Dad. Rooster was kind enough to go through the trouble of picking up the dogs on the way here."

"It was no trouble at all," Rooster assured, bending down and scratching Raptor and Lightning behind their ears. The dogs leaned happily into him. "I'm sure you need to get back to base, but you're welcome to stay for a bit," Sarah offered.

"I wouldn't want to intrude. I'm sure you'd like to spend time as a family."

"You're family too, no matter what's happened," she insisted.

"I should probably get back to base and get some rest for tomorrow. I promised someone I'd come back from this mission-" Rooster glanced over at Juliette, flashing her a small smile- "so I need to make sure I'm rested for tomorrow to be at the top of my game. Rain check?"

"Of course. It's good to see you, honey." Sarah gave him a motherly hug, then left the former lovers alone.

"Thank you again for the ride. I'll see you tomorrow?" Juliette queried, pulling her jacket sleeves over her hands and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow. Good night, Jules." Rooster leaned down and pecked her cheek despite his heart and his head shouting furiously at him to pull Juliette into a passionate kiss to make her forget all her woes and worries, if just for a short period of time.

"Good night, Bradley." Juliette entered the house and shut the door. Hands in his pockets, Rooster shuffled to his car. He drove back to base, although he didn't remember much of the ride there, his mind too preoccupied with Juliette and with Iceman's turn for the worse.

When he arrived to his room, Rooster got ready for bed, taking a shower, throwing on some sweatpants, and brushing his teeth. He sank onto his bed but didn't lay down right away. Instead, Rooster opened his nightstand drawer, pulling out a small box of keepsakes containing his most prized and sentimental possessions. Inside resided only five things: a picture of him, his parents, and Maverick when his dad was at Top Gun; his high school graduation ring, a gift from Maverick; his dad's naval academy ring; his mom's wedding ring; and a silver locket. It was the last item he pulled out. Rooster hesitated, wondering if its original owner would want it back after all this time. He rubbed his thumb over the familiar anchor embedded on the front before flipping it over and reading the inscription he longed to say to Juliette again: India Lima Yankee.

***

Tags: @lgg5989@shanimallina87@polikszena@summ3rlotus@souslesyeuxde@gleasonmalfoy@icemansgirl1999@supernaturaldawning@thedarkinmansfield@lyannaforpresident@lapilark@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth@simpofthecentury @blueeyes-blueskye @gleasonmalfoy @armyx78 @always-abigails-blog

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dxncingwithastrxnger · 2 years

Text

8. like we’re made of starlight (Mileven)

A/N: Here’s day 8 of @flufftober’s Flufftober for this year!!! Expect more later tonight and tomorrow!!!

Pairing: Mike Wheeler x El Hopper, Will Byers x Male!OC

Summary: Mike, El, Will, and Matthew walk home from the subway after spending some time at a little farm and pumpkin patch and some wishes are made.

Prompt: Day 8 - Shooting Stars

Tags: Fluff and friendship, Will Byers with a boyfriend :DDD

Song Inspiration: Starlight By Taylor Swift

Word Count: 766

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own.

[Day 1] [Day 2] [Day 3] [Day 4] [Day 5] [Day 6] [Day 7] [Day 8] [Day 9] [Day 10] [Day 11] [Day 12] [Day 13] [Day 14] [Day 15] [Day 16] [Day 17] [Day 18] [Day 19] [Day 20] [Day 21] [Day 22] [Day 23] [Day 24] [Day 25] [Day 26] [Day 27] [Day 28] [Day 29] [Day 30] [Day 31]

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And there the 4 of them are, walking down the dim sidewalk each carrying their own basket of pumpkins and other autumn goodies from the farm they had just been at. El looks over at her brother walking along beside her. Matthew is on Will's other side and the two of them are watching each other in admiration, only looking away occasionally to make sure they aren't going to trip on the ground. They're walking close enough to each other that they bump shoulders every other step. El smiles fondly, seeing him so happy. Matthew seems like an amazing guy and he makes Will so happy, El's glad they found each other and she can't wait to get to know Matthew more in the future.

She's startled from her thoughts by an elbow nudging her other side and she turns to see Mike looking at her. Her smile turns slightly bashful. "Hey." She whispers to him.

"Hey." He whispers back, returning her smile. His ears and nose are pink from the cold air around them and he's been wearing this light orange beanie all day that's absolutely adorable on him.

El looks down for a moment, overwhelmed by how taken she is by him. She shakes her head at herself right as she hears Matthew speak up. "Guys, look!"

El and Mike look up to where Matthew's pointing, Will's eyes already there as well. In the sky, among the faint stars above them, a streak passes by in a line of white light, just slightly brighter than the other stars around it. El's eyes light up and she beams. A shooting star. An instinct as old as she is has her closing her eyes and making a little wish, suddenly feeling so much younger than she actually was. Maybe it's childish, but it still brought her just as much joy now as it did when she was a kid.

She opens her eyes and immediately looks to Mike, her body making the decision before her brain does. His eyes are closed, too, and he opens them slowly. When he realizes she's staring at him, he flushes and ducks his head before looking at her again. "W-what did you wish for?" He stutters out slightly.

You. El's mind whispers. She shakes her head at him instead. "I can't tell you that, silly. If I tell you what my wish is, it won't come true." She states playfully, though she knew that it wasn't at all true considering their conversation the night before.

Will snorts on her other side. "Seriously, Gracie?" Will questioned, his nickname for her holding the same fondness and familiarity as always. "I don't care if anyone hears my wish." He states matter-of-factly.

"Oh, really?" El questions. "Then what did you wish for?" She asks. She could hear faint snickers from Mike and Matthew, but she didn't really care.

Will's grin suddenly turns dopey and lovesick as he answers. "That I'll be able to take Matthew home for Christmas to meet mom and dad." He tells her honestly.

At his words, El turns to look at Matthew to see his reaction and is pleased when she sees Matthew turn bright red, smiling shyly at Will as Will catches his eye. "I th-think that could be a-arranged." Matthew spoke quietly. Will beams at his boyfriend and leans over to kiss him sweetly.

"Well aren't they just adorable." Mike says, his voice close to El's ear. She jumps slightly and turns towards him once again.

"Yes, they're the cutest." She answers, her cheeks hot from Mike's previous closeness.

"The cutest, huh?" Mike questions, raising an eyebrow at her. He's giving her a knowing look, like there's some secret that only the two of them know, and El has a feeling she knows exactly what he's talking about.

"Okay, maybe not the cutest." She whispers to him softly, their shoulders bumping together.

"Is it weird that I really wish I could hold your hand right now?" Mike asks her, biting his bottom lip like he's uncertain of his own question.

El giggles softly. "Not at all. I'd definitely allow it, too, if I had a free hand to be held." She admits. "Maybe next time." She says, giving him a look full of sincerity.

Mike gives her a look back full of happiness and warmth. "Next time." He echoes, and El gives him the same exact look back.

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A/N: Here we go!!! Finally started writing more days!!!!! Definitely gonna be posting more of these within the next 24 hours!!! Let me know what you think of this one!!!! I really love it a lot and I was super exicted to add in more characters!!!!! Hope you’re having an amazing day/night!!!!! ��💜💜

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@the-ancient-fae

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eddieheart · 2 years

Text

GIRL FROM THE BASEMENT

Fandom: Shameless

Pairings: Mickey x Ian

Words: 1746

Description: One day Terry Milkovich shows up with a wife. All his kids are confused, especially Mickey. She’s younger than all of them and she’s quiet strange.

Terry Milkovich has kept a secret for four years, a young girl in his basement. Now that's she's 18 and legal he forced her to marry him. She the new stepmom and people have questions, including why she has such a great knowledge of the Milkovich's private lives.

May 30 2020 - June 11 2022

It was a brisk autumn day, Mickey was walking home from Ian's. It didn't take to long to get home maybe 15 minutes or so, Mandy was already home.

He pushed open the door and was greeted by his younger sister, arms crossed and looking concerned. Behind her he saw his dad walking around, once he saw Mickey he charged over.

"I gotta talk to all of you- couch now." Mickey peaked over his dads shoulder to see his brothers already there and waiting.

He walked over calmly at sat down, Mandy close behind him. He looked over to his dad who was sitting across from all of them on an old lazy boy.

"Hey! Come 'er!" He yelled out to the kitchen.

Mickey craned his neck back to see who was walking out. It was girl with brown hair and a slight build. She stared at the floor and hurried over to Terry.

Mickey's brothers looked around confused and glanced back at their younger siblings. They all looked back to Terry.

"This is Lillian, we got married yesterday. She's your new mom. Treat her well. Lillian these are my kids." He looked completely unamused at he spoke.

The Milkovich siblings looked at each other in shock. How the fuck has their dad gotten married.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." She spoke softly barely discernable.

Terry reached over the coffee table and turned on the tv. He picked up a gun and started fiddling with it. Taking it apart to clean maybe?

He looked up at her with distain. He clenched his jaw and looked up at her again.

"Lillian dinner?" He asked expectantly.

Her eyes widened.

"Yes sir, I'll start now. Is there anything you'd like?" She swallowed and looked at him timidly.

"That pasta salad I like, somin' else too. I got a job,'watch the kids while I'm away. Iggy!" He shot up and followed his dad to the door and out the house.

The eldest brother walked off leaving Mickey and Mandy still there. She smiled politely and spoke softly.

"Is there anything you'd like for dinner?" They looked at each other and then back at her.

"Na' I'm good thanks." Mickey said cautiously, she nodded and walked to the kitchen.

Mickey looked to his sister and got up to follow Lillian.

"So uh, you and my dad huh?" He asked. "How old are you anyway?"

She paced the kitchen nervously picking things from the fridge and placing them on the counter. She quickly glanced over then back to the ground.

"Yes, I'm eighteen." She spoke softly.

Mandy looked over at her brother, wide eyed. She was younger than the both of them. Mandy 20 and Mickey 21.

—

"Wait so your saying she just showed up?" Ian looked at Mickey confused.

"Yeah fuckin' weird right. Girls like 18 shows up out a' no where actin' all weird. Been here for like a couple months now too. C'mon you'll get it when you meet 'er." Mickey grabbed onto Ian's hand and pulled him towards the house.

Mickey pushed open the door and looked around. He was quiet, he leaned over to Ian's ear and pointed.

"She's back there." He spoke barley audible, like they where hunting in the woods.

Ian cocked a brow as they walked farther into the house. Terry's bedroom door slammed shut and he waddled out popping a cigarette into his mouth.

He glared over at the boys, scoffed and walked passed them.

"The fuck are you lookin' at." He zipped his fly and walked out of the house.

Just as the door slammed shut Terry's bedroom door swung open and a flash of something passed by into the bathroom. She didn't even close the bathroom door before she was knelt over the toilet spitting something up.

After a minute or so she got up and they could hear water running in the sink. She rinsed her mouth and walked out of the bathroom. She seemed angry at first but as soon as she saw the boys she pulled her sweater closer and looked down, timidly.

She was wearing some of Mandy's old clothes, a purple loosely knit sweater, jeans and a tank top.

"Oh, um hello Mickey you've brought Ian, would you like something to eat?" She walked past them keeping her head down as she passed them into the kitchen.

The boys looked at each other in confusion before following her to the kitchen. She kept her head facing down the whole time, but Mickey could see what she was hiding.

"The hell was that about?" He looked to her concerned.

"It was nothing, don't worry." She looked up as she spoke.

"Y' know you don't have to act like that with us. Not when he's not here." She glanced over at them. A big bruise was forming around her eye.

"I appreciate that Mickey." She looked at them nervously before sitting on a wooden chair near the kitchen table.

"He hit you?" Mickey asked calmly.

"Yeah." She let out a sarcastic laugh.

"What happened." She looked up to Ian. Her head looked to the floor again before she said anything.

"I'm pregnant." Her voice broke as she spoke, eyes glistened. The boys looked slightly shocked.

"Congratulations." Ian half heartedly replied. She just shook her head and looked at the ground again.

"Yeah." The room was overwhelming silent, the sound of a faucet dripping in the background, before Mickey spoke again.

"I'm sorry I can't do this anymore. Why the fuck are you with my dad huh? We don't have any money. Is his dick that good?!" Ian stayed silent in the corner.

Lillian slammed something down onto the counter.

"Better me than your sister at least." He looked over at her.

"How the hell do you know about that? Now that I think of it, I didn't tell you Ian's name. What the fuck is this?" He walked closer to her as he spoke. "Why are you here? Huh? Why don't you just leave?"

She let out a short sarcastic laugh.

"Like you don't know." She glared back at them. "You really don't know?" She sounded almost angry now, but the boys still looked confused.

"You don't know? I haven't left this house in six years. You think I had the choice of suitors."

"What the fuck are you talking about!?" Mickey asked, confused. She shook her head.

"You really don't know?" Her eyes watered as she continued. "I was like eight when I hit puberty, early bloomer and all that. When I was about eleven or twelve I looked about sixteen y'know. I was walking home from school one day and your dad pulled up. I was near some trees. Away from everyone. Said he needed directions." She paused.

"He pulled me into his car and took me home with him. He had my library card, it had my name and birthdate. I tried to get away before, he always brought me back, always. He had this friend one who's good with ankle monitors. He jerry-rigged one with a dogs shock collar. I never tried to run again." She cried as she spoke.

"He only took it off and let me up because I'm eighteen now, perfectly legal. But I've been here for a long time. The floors are wooden sometimes I could see through the cracks or through a knot that had fallen through."

"I saw what he did to Mandy, I saw what he did to you, to Ian, Iggie and Collin. I've seen things I wish I could bleach from my mind. If I do what I'm told maybe I'll get out when he dies." Ian looked at her sympathetically.

"What about the baby? You gonna keep it?" She looked up at Mickey, head shaking and tears falling from her eyes now. She quickly wiped them away.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" Ian looked at her with pity and Mickey just looked uncomfortable and confused.

"We should have dinner sometime, just you. You can come to my place I'm sure my family would love to meet you." Ian said trying to change the subject and hopefully lighten the mood.

But she just laughed sarcastically.

"I haven't left this house in six years. I doubt I'll be leaving anytime soon." Mickey licked his lips and tightened his jaw.

"Why don't we just go?" He looked between Lillian and Ian.

"He'll find me, he found you didn't he?" She looked down tears falling from her eyes.

"If we go now, we have a head start. We can hide you at my house, Fiona will be fine with it." Ian said.

"Are you sure? You'll all be in danger if I'm there. He'll look for me, he'll make you look for me." She looked to Mickey fearfully. He shook his head and leaned down towards her.

"You're going to Ian's, alright? Get anything you need now and we'll go." She looked shocked, she stood on shaky legs. Like a newborn fawn she stumbled towards the boys.

She practically lunged at Mickey, wrapping her arms around him. Squeezing tightly. She sobbed but pulled back. She wiped her face and turned towards Ian next.

He was more receptive to the whole 'hugging thing' than Mickey was. He put his arms around her and patted her back gently. She let go of him and looked to the both of them.

"Thank you so much." She turned and ran down the hall. They could hear steps down to the basement and then back up.

She held a small blanket neatly folded in her arms and a small stuffed bear under the other arm.

"Is that all?" Ian asked sadly. She nodded softly.

"Let's go then." Mickey put a hand on her back and led her to the door. Ian opened it and usher the girl out of the house.

She walked onto the pavement and took a deep breath, it wasn't exactly fresh air, but it was the best she'd gotten in six years.

She leaned over, grabbed Mickey's hand and nodded. They lead her down the street.

Part 2:

#shameless #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #iggy milkovich #Colin Milkovich #fiona gallagher #debbie gallagher #mandy milkovich #lip gallagher #shameless is

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thegirlwh0bl0ckedher0wnsh0t · 1 year

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Moose’s Daughter

1.“One drink is too many but a million is not enough.” These words poured out of my mother’s mouth and into my ears and while I never made sense of them in my childhood, an older and wiser me understood.

2.The number of people living in my father’s body; him, and an alcoholic. My father was clever, creative and artistic. The alcoholic was mean and tired. Both of them still took the time to slash and fry the bologna for a morning biscuit, so I didn’t mind.

3.Three young boys, older than I, watching their father. Picking up his humor, his presence, his absence, his habits.

4.The fourth valentines day of my life, he sent me roses at daycare.

5.The channels we could pick up on his TV. On his weekends I was raised on PBS Kids, Bernie Mac, and VHS tapes of McDonalds movies.

6.He said he’s coming to pick me up and take me to get a biscuit and go fishing. I pack my Barbies and a book in my backpack. I sit on my front porch. The sun set at 6 PM. I never got my biscuit.

7.This is how old I was when he called my mom from the hospital, telling her he had been in an accident shooting at birds off his porch. I cried to him on the phone telling him he has to be more careful. He cries and agrees.

8.This Christmas he got me a pink Nintendo DS Lite. He got me the Nintendogs game I wanted. I sit next to him at breakfast and we laugh over scrambled eggs and bacon.

9.The years I had lived when I stayed the night with my grandmother. I saw his truck headlights pour into the living room. I ran outside, bare feet pounding the gravel, the moon shining through an amber bottle he held behind the steering wheel stopped me. I ran away from him for the first time.

10. A decade of trying to mend a relationship I hadn’t broken. I started calling another man “dad”. I still do.

11. He comes over one afternoon after school. My parents aren’t home. I hide under the bed. My brother tells him to leave.

12. I don’t hear from him much this year. I sit next to him at breakfast on Christmas. We don’t speak.

13. He got a job at a BBQ joint. He brings the baked potatoes that didn’t sell. We unwrap them one by one and toss them into the hog pen. He tells me about his day.

14. My brothers go to prison.

15. I got into private school. My mom asks for help for my tuition. He said his child support should be enough. She yells. He yells. His side of the family throws me a going away party. It feels like I am his last hope of a legacy.

16. Every phone call starts off with “I haven’t drank today”. I have learned not to answer the calls after 8 PM.

17. I left private school.

18. I was the first of his kids to graduate high school. He missed it because he was in rehab.

19. He carved me a pipe out of purple heart wood for Christmas. He asks if I want a drink.

20. Every man I chase love from has the smell of rye on his breath.

21. No contact.

22. No contact.

23. No contact.

24. No contact.

25. I dry my tears long enough to walk into the ICU. There is the man who was the monster in all of my closets, chest being pumped automatically. He looks so small. The nurse asks who I am, what is my reason for visiting him. “I am his daughter.” I replied. Days later he passes. The alcoholic in him died, too. He was sober.

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jupitersrising · 2 months

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Survival of the Fittest Character Guide

Hi lovelies! This is a character guide for everyone mentioned in the Survival of the Fittest Universe. I've talked about the fact that there are a lot of OCs as family member since we literally have no idea who most of them are. I'll be linking this post on the ao3 series when the next chapter comes out as well. This will be updated as I add more side characters, but is made to make it easier in case anyone forgets who is who and how they're related because I know that can be difficult.

(Everything here is from my notes and is subject to change if necessary. A short description will be included with each character that may be subject to minor spoilers in the SotF universe. Some characters not yet mentioned will be included in the list, though they will not get descriptions. Any ages listed will be how old they were at the start of Camp [June 2015] OR how old they were when they passed away.)

Ben Pincus (16):

Family Relations:

Mother: Ann Pincus nee Moore (34)

Father: Colton Pincus (34/35)

Grandmother: Tracy Pincus (deceased)

Other:

Holly: Bluebird and previous "pet" (nearly a year) (deceased)

Greyson: Childhood bully (16)

(Dr) Sarah Martinez: Therapist before the start of the series (31)

Mikael Porter: Not yet mentioned (34)

(REDACTED): The girl in the car (assumed less than 10)

(REDACTED): Father of girl in the car (early thirties)

(REDACTED): Mother of girl in the car (early thirties)

The Man in the Hotel: Body found in one of the hotel's along with the note "I'm sorry, Julia" and a gun

Julia: A presumed woman the suicide note was left to.

Bessie: "Dino-daughter"

Darius Bowman (15):

Family Relations:

Brother: Brandon "Brand" Bowman (19)

Mother: Jennifer Bowman (mid forties)

Father: Fredrick Bowman (deceased) (early forties)

Other:

The San Francisco Wolves: Brand's high school swim team

Reese: Not yet mentioned

Chelsey: Not yet mentioned

Gerry: Not yet mentioned

Kenji Kon (17):

Family Relations:

Father: "Daniel" Kon

Mother: Ichika “Naomi” Kon (deceased)

Step-Mother: Candy

Other:

Kye Alabaster: "Friend" approx. 2 years older (status unknown)

Randy: "Friend" gave Kenji and Kye edibles on that day

Sydney Eston: slept with Kye

Yasmina "Yaz" Fadoula (17):

Family Relations:

Mother: Inaya Fadoula (56)

Brother: Hadi Fadoula (approx. 31)

Sister: Nima (11 almost 12)

Father: I don't have a name for him yet

Other:

N/A

Brooklynn Torres-Williams-King-Santiago (15):

Family Relations:

Father (Dad): Alexander "Ali or Alex" Williams

Father: (Nial or Pops): Nial Torres

"Mother" (Mom or Aunt): Kestley King

"Mother" (Mia or Aunt): Mia Santiago

(Yes the last name thing is something you can do, to my knowledge, its just not common to have more than 3 last names)

Other:

Brooklanders: YouTube/vlogging audience

Samanta "Sammy" Gutierrez (16): (this is a long one)

Family Relations (Gutierrez + Hernandez sides [also Wilson]):

Father: N/A Gutierrez

Mother: Rosa II Gutierrez nee Hernandez

Sister: Valentina "Val" Gutierrez (13ish)

Sister: Carmen Gutierrez (deceased) (early twenties)

Cousin: Angelina "Angie" Hernandez (20)

Cousin: Fidel Hernandez (21)

Cousin: Filipe Gutierrez (18)

Aunt: Lola Gutierrez

Uncle: Emilio Gutierrez

Aunt: Yadra Wilson nee Gutierrez

Uncle: Nelson Wilson

Uncle: Javier Hernandez (Fidel + Angie's Dad) (47)

Grandmother: Rosa Hernandez (83)

Cousin: Antonio Gutierrez (mid 20s)

Cousin: Pedro Gutierrez (late 20s)

Other:

Father John: Pastor

Alice: first "girlfriend" (16)

Bessie: emotional support cow

Daisy: Bessie's mother (deceased)

Tomás "Tommy" Cruz: Made fun of Carmen, Fidel beat him up in church services (17-18)

Daniel Nickleson: Scientist Sammy shot and killed (deceased) (27)

Patricia "Patty" Nickleson: Wife of Dan (28)

Elizabeth "Eliza" Nickleson: Daughter of Dan + Patty (Infant)

Carol Nickleson: Daughter of Dan + Patty (5)

Other Characters:

Mitch and Tiff: Antagonists (deceased) (mid-30s)

Hap: Ally (deceased) (early 40s/late 30s)

Dave: Counselor (26)

Roxie: Counselor (26)

Doctor Wu: Antagonist, not yet introduced

Torvo: (deceased) Attacked Ben

Toro: (deceased) Ben attacked her

Allosaurus: Tried to attack Ben near Toro's field

Pteranodon: Dragged Ben off monorail

Baby Pteranodon: (deceased) claws + bones turned into knives

Like a dozen other dinosaurs to add (mostly irreverent)

#survival of the fittest fanfic #jupitersrising on ao3 #ao3 fanfic #sotf updates #soft universe #jwcc

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 4 months

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Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 22: The Christmas Wish

Word Count: 1849

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

CS Genre: 5x21 Canon Divergence (beware this one starts pretty angsty)

Notes: This story was written for my “Christmas with Captain Swan” collection in 2020.

These last three months had been the worst, the hardest and the most painful of Emma’s life. No contest. She wouldn’t wish this pain on her worst enemy, not even on the worst villain they’d ever faced.

Three months ago today she’d left Killian in the Underworld after promising to go on with her life, after promising not to put her armor back on.

In the first few days, her time had been occupied with the battle against Hades. Like with every villain they’d faced, it had taken a team effort, all of them, all of the Nevengers, as Henry liked to call them, working together to find a solution with the least collateral damage they could manage, but they’d succeeded in the end. What was even more amazing was the fact that they’d definitively defeated Hades without losing any of the heroes (although Robin Hood had only narrowly ducked out of the way before being hit by the Olympian Crystal.)

The town had held a huge victory celebration in Granny’s after Hades’ defeat, and Emma supposed she should feel some sort of satisfaction at their victory, but all she felt was…empty.

Without Killian, it was hard to force herself to even get out of bed in the morning. Turns out losing your true love felt a lot like having your heart pulled from your chest, only the pain never went away, never stopped, never seemed to lessen.

She tried her best for Henry’s sake, for her parents, who were clearly worried about her, for the promise she’d made Killian, but it felt like she was constantly alternating between aching sobs and white hot anger. She tried to comfort herself with the thought that Killian had, no doubt, moved on, and that she’d join him one day when her time came, but it was cold comfort when she had to climb into her empty bed every night.

Everything reminded Emma of Killian. Everything. Maybe one day the memories would be a comfort to her, but for now, they were like a dagger to her heart.

Emma had started going to see Dr. Hopper once a week, trying to work through her grief. He told her she was doing well, that she was grieving in a healthy way, but if this was what healthy grieving felt like, she couldn’t imagine the dysfunctional kind.

Emma took a sip of her cocoa and looked up at the beautiful Christmas tree in the front room of the home Killian and Henry had picked out for her. Her parents, Regina, Robin, Zelena and Henry had shown up at her doorstep this morning with the tree, all the decorations, and everything they needed to make enough Christmas cookies to feed the town. They’d insisted on bringing her Christmas cheer and brightening up her life with the sights and smells and tastes of the season.

“I know this holiday will be hard for you, honey,” Snow said, giving her a big hug after they’d finished and everyone but her parents had left. “I remember those first few holidays after my mom and then my dad passed. The joy and excitement of everyone around me felt like a slap in the face.”

“How did you bear it, Mom?” Emma asked through her tears, which had started falling yet again. “I’m trying to be strong, I’m trying to go on with my life, but it feels like a part of me–a vital part–is just….gone, and I don’t even know how to function.”

Snow caressed Emma’s cheek. “You let yourself feel what you’re feeling, and you give yourself time. You lean on your family and let us help you. I don’t want you to ever feel like you need to stay strong for your father and me. If you need to cry, cry. If you need to break down, break down. We’ll be here to hold you, to give you whatever you need.”

She had finally broken down then, sobbing for what felt like hours in her parents’ arms, but when her emotions were spent, she had to admit she felt a little better. It had been cathartic.

“Thanks,” Emma said, finally. “For the tree and the cookies and everything. It really is beautiful.”

David pulled her toward him, hugging her to him and holding the back of her head. “I’m glad you like it. Enjoy it if you can, treasure the good memories.”

But after her parents left, it didn’t take long before the pain returned. She’d been looking so forward to the first Christmas she and Killian would spend together as a couple. She’d looked forward to all the firsts they’d have, looked forward to introducing him to all this realm’s traditions. She’d looked forward to making Christmas memories and traditions of their own.

But that, all of that, had been stolen from her, from them.

Emma looked up at the top of the tree, at the bright, shining star. Her mom had told her that in the Enchanted Forest, they’d had a tradition of making a Christmas wish upon the star on top of the tree. It was said that if your heart was true, your Christmas wish would be granted.

What the hell; couldn’t hurt.

“I wish–” she began, having to stop and clear her throat, will away the tears that threatened to overwhelm her again. “I only have one wish. I wish he was back here with me.”

She waited, but nothing happened. She hadn’t expected it to, but somehow it still felt like a betrayal.

Emma turned from the tree, threw on her coat and nearly sprinted out the door. Suddenly her house felt stifling, the tree, the decorations, all of it was too much. She had to get out of here; had to be with him, even if “being with him” now consisted of standing before his headstone.

It was a beautiful evening, the wind calm, the snow glistening in the last rays of the sun. He would have liked it; he’d always had a fondness for snow, though she told him she thought he was crazy for it. She smiled through her tears as she rounded the corner and then stepped through the arches into the cemetery. She remembered the day he’d coaxed her out in the snow with him. She’d been miserable. It. Was. So. Cold! But he’d been as excited as a child, and somehow his joy had been infectious.

It had always been that way with him. He brought her comfort and joy whenever she was with him, had since the very beginning, if she was truly honest with herself. That’s why she’d been so cold and distant to him at first. It scared her how much he made her feel.

She stooped down before his grave, laying a flask beside the flowers her mom had no doubt left. “Hey, I thought you’d like this more than roses. Thanks for the pages. Hades…Hades he’s gone now. It’s done, so I hope you’re in a better place. I know I should be happy about that, but it just feels like now you’re really gone, and there’s nothing left to do but just–”

The sobs threatened to overcome her again, but with a force of will, she pushed them aside.

“I miss you.”

For long moments she remained there, looking down at the stark letters of his name etched on the headstone. She should have something else engraved, shouldn’t she? She should say something about what a true hero he was. Somehow, nothing seemed appropriate. How did you sum up how much someone meant to you, to everyone he met, in a few short words?

The twilight was quickly fading into night before Emma decided there was nothing for it but to go home. She’d no more than turned away from the headstone, when a sudden whoosh, a rush of energy passed over her.

What the hell was that?

“Swan?”

Her heart stopped and then began pounding. It couldn’t be….could it?

She whirled around, not daring to hope, not daring to believe, but when she was once again facing the grave the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen met her.

Killian!

She raced to him, leaped into his arms, her lips connecting to his in a desperate kiss. Oh gods, if she was dreaming she never wanted to wake! She’d missed him so much–the feel of his scruff against her face, the soft, silkiness of his hair through her fingers, his taste, his smell. Him.

She pulled away, resting her forehead against his as the tears–happy tears this time–streamed from her eyes.

“How are you here?” she asked through her emotions, before surging forward, kissing his cheek, his mouth, any part of him she could reach.

He laughed joyfully. “It was you, love, your wish,” he said in between kisses. “For some time, Zeus has been looking for a way to reward us–all of us–for our part in defeating Hades, but until today his hands were tied. King of Olympus though he be, there are immutable rules surrounding the Underworld.”

“Wait…what?” She asked, before diving in for more kisses. “Never mind. I don’t care how you’re here, I’m just glad you’re back.”

They remained standing before his empty grave, one kiss leading into another as night settled in around them and the snow began to fall.

“I am, Emma,” he said finally. “I’m back, and I’ll never leave you again. Never.”

She laughed, cupping his cheeks and bringing him down for yet another kiss. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Emma took his hand, leading him back to her home–his home too, she hoped–her heart feeling so full it might burst, as he exclaimed in wonder over the Christmas tree whose lights twinkled merrily in greeting.

“I have so much to tell you; so much to show you,” she said, laughing in pure, incandescent joy, as they sat together on the couch before the tree, holding each other close. “Killian, you’re going to love Christmas!”

He smiled down at her, before leaning down and taking her lips yet again in a long, slow, achingly deep kiss. “I’ve no doubt I will, Swan, but for the moment I have more pressing matters on my mind.”

“Yeah?” she asked. “Like what?”

His grin turned mischievous. “Like moving our reunion to your bedchamber where I can properly–or rather, not-at-all-properly–show you just how much I missed you and precisely how glad I am to be home.”

She laughed, taking his hand and leading him up the stairs.

Her Christmas wish had given them a second chance, and she was determined that she wouldn’t waste a second of it.

NEXT CHAPTER->

#christmas reruns 2023 #cs fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction #the christmas wish

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