#a cast of dykes and none of them are getting any

[whalesfall]

I really like seeing the men who read TLT cross my socials feed because they’re always like “Gideon is SO COOL gideon is the BEST I love gideon SO MUCH” and I think they’re either trying really hard to be supportive or actually don’t realize that gideon my beloved is so faildyke she kills herself for harrow thinking that harrow wasn’t even into her and these guys do genuinely think Gideon has real swag

#a cast of dykes and none of them are getting any #Now gideon does have a certain panache but there is no doubt. she’s a loser. And I love her so much. #Gideon has swag in the sense that she is SUPER cool in her own brain but also fully fell to her knees bemoaning her hotness #to an unimpressed room. #🍂.txt

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

Do you have any recs for fiction with a main cast of butch women? Doesn't necessarily have to be butch4butch in a romantic sense, but anything that depicts the human relationships between us. I feel like that's so rare, and it drives me crazy as someone who personally NEEDS other butch women in her life to feel sane and normal. I hate that most fiction treats us as male-adjacent stand-ins with femmes or as accessory side characters. I want to see us fleshed out for once.

I’m really sorry that there aren’t more stories easily accessible that have this kind of dynamic. I haven’t actually read all of these , so I can’t say if it really fits, but I’ll do my best to give you some recommendations! Hopefully you are able to find a couple in here ☺️ And definitely check the comments! There might be more suggestions there.

I went through my saved books and the ones I own to come up with this list.

I think older lesbian books in general would be a good starting ground! Especially from like 80s-early 2000s. While some of them might not necessarily use the word butch, they definitely have a lot more gnc women or just none feminine women in general.

- Leave A Light On For Me by Jean Swallows. I’m not too sure how many of the cast are butch, BUT, I do it it’s primarily about lesbian friendship.

- You’ve probably already heard of this one, but Dykes To Watch Out For is always a good one!

- A nonfiction rec would be : Tomboys Tales Of Dykes Derring-Do by Lynne Yamaguchi and Karen Barber.

- This book doesn’t delve into the relationship between butch lesbians, however, it does discuss in parts what you are talking about , from the perspective of a butch lesbian who lives on a farm, which is The Grass Widow by Nanci Little. It has a very beautiful seen between the two main characters discussing how she is still a woman.

- I didn’t know if this one really fit the mark, because I can’t actually remember if the other woman was butch or not (or considered more butch for the time ) but Stonehurst by Barbara Johnson has a section where a younger GNC lesbian gets sort of taken in by an older lesbian for safety and protection.

- I haven’t read it so I don’t know if she has relationships with other butch lesbians, but I do know she is a butch lesbian. Lilac Mines by Cheryl Klein.

- again I haven’t read this one, but given the time period and what it’s about I’m assuming the main character has friendship relations with the larger lesbian community: Shoulders by Georgia Cotrell.

- I started reading this one a while ago but sipped for some reason. I think I remember it being about a butch woman - but at the very least it’s about lesbian friendship: Working Parts by Lucy Jane Bledsoe.

- Untamed Desires : A Sydney Lesbian History by Rebecca Jennings. (I haven’t read this one either but I gave it a quick flick through right now and it seems like it could have what you are looking for)

- Missouri Vaun is a butch/gnc lesbian and all of her books have butch women in them. I can’t remember about their friendships much. But if you want a butch lesbian written from the perspective of one I would go with her!

- The Little Butch Book by Leslea Newman. A sweet little book fully dedicated to butch women!

- Rode Hard Put Away Wet has a butch x butch erotic short story in it. I would post it on here but I’m pretty sure tumblr would take it down right away.

I can’t really think of anymore right now. But I’ll reblog this again if anything comes up!

I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help more. And I’m sorry we are in a world that doesn’t provide you with the love, respect and fictional representation you deserve. I can only hope things get better and you are able to find many more wonderful butch lesbians in fiction 💕

Thank you for popping in! I hope you have a beautiful day ☺️💕💕

#asks #anon #answered

[thelesbianpoirot]

Re: Shameless - I used to love that show but it was SO lesbophobic specifically. Remember when a lesbian couple moved into the neighborhood and Frank and most of his kids kept calling them dykes, but the lesbians were the bad guys because they had money.

Then there was Lip sleeping with some girl in college and the writers making the girl's roommate some obsessive lesbian who was mad about it. Literally had to stop watching.

Also can't get over the fact that Mickey was a pimp who literally sold women's bodies for profit and treated said women like shit.

I agree, I love many things about shameless but I also hate a lot of things. None of my favorite shows are perfect, and nor do I want morally perfect characters. I think all your critique have value. It portrayed men reacting to lesbians accurately, which includes calling them dykes, they threw around fag a lot too, but the lesbians themselves are not well rounded, though many different kooky side character types weren't in shameless. Ian's bisexual bipolar mom and her abusive ex black butch trucker lesbian girlfriend were walking negative stereotypes, but not the most harmful I have seen. We all had our breaking points for when we stop watching shows, I watched shameless on and off for years, many years off, their view ships dip many times. I missed more of Lips college years. Pimp mickey who got a prostitute pregnant and she becoming a third to Veronica and her guy just all felt like last ditch episodes to keep shameless quirky edgy and interesting and it just didn't work. I hated that storyline. It stopped feeling realistic and felt like urban fantasy. I definitely didn't like Mickey's lesbian cousin they put in the last season to be a love interest for Debbie, whose bisexual journey, (called lesbian a lot) wasn't great representation either, but none of the shameless characters are model rep of any group. They just didn't know what to do with the women. Debbie and Mandy and Veronica were just wasted on the shameless writers. They could have been GREAT, the actors they casted for them had the ability, and they have great moments, but the writers could not deliver satisfying plots after like season 3-4. Fiona is probably one of the best portrayals of a female character ever, casting Emmy Rossum is lightning in a bottle luck. Glad she walked away before they could run her character totally in the ground.

#thelesbianpoirot

[mishafletcher]

Are you a Gold Star lesbian? (Just in case you don't know what it means, a Gold Star lesbian is a lesbian that has never had the sex with a guy and would never have any intentions of ever doing so)

So I got this ask a while ago, and I've been lowkey thinking about it ever since.

First: No. I am a queer, cranky dyke who is too old for this sort of bullshit gatekeeping. 

Second: What an unbelievable question to ask someone you don't even know! What an incomprehensibly rude thing to ask, as if you're somehow owed information about my sexual history. You're not! No one—and I can't reiterate this enough, but no one—owes you the details of their sex lives, of their trauma, or of anything about themselves that they don't feel like sharing with you.

The clickbait mills of the internet and the purity police of social media would like nothing more than to convince everyone that you owe these things to everyone. They would like you to believe that you have to prove that you're traumatized enough to identify with this character, that you can't sell this article about campus rape without relating it to your own sexual assault, that you can't talk about queer issues without offering up a comprehensive history of your own experiences, and none of those things are true. You owe people, and especially random strangers on the internet, nothing, least of all citations to somehow prove to them that you have the right to talk about your own life.

This makes some people uncomfortable, and to be clear, I think that that's good: people who feel entitled to demand this information should be uncomfortable. Refusing to justify yourself takes power away from people who would very much like to have it, people who would like to gatekeep and dictate who is permitted to speak about what topics or like what things. You don't have to justify yourself. You don't have to explain that you like this ship because this one character reminds you a bit of yourself because you were traumatized in a vaguely similar way and now— You don't have to justify your queerness by telling people about the best friend you had when you were twelve, and how you kissed, and she laughed and said it was good practice for when she would kiss boys and your stomach twisted and your mouth tasted like bile and she was the first and last girl you kissed, but— 

You don't owe anyone these pieces of yourself. They're yours, and you can share them or not, but if someone demands that you share, they're probably not someone you should trust.

Third: The idea of gold star lesbians is a profoundly bi- and trans- phobic idea, often reducing gender to genitals and the long, shared history of queer women of all identities to a stark, artificial divide where some identities are seen as purer or more valuable than others. This is bullshit on all counts.

There's a weird and largely artificial division between bisexuals and lesbians that seems to be intensifying on tumblr, and I have to say: I hate it. Bisexual women aren't failed lesbians. They're not somehow less good or less valid because they're attracted to [checks notes] people. Do you think that having sex with a man somehow changes them? What are you so worried about it for? I've checked, and having sex with a man does not, in fact, make your vagina grow teeth or tentacles. Does that make you feel better? Why is what other people are doing so threatening to you?

Discussions of gold star lesbians are often filled with tittering about hehe penises, which is unfortunate, since I know a fair few lesbians who have penises, and even more lesbians who've had sex with people, men and women alike, who have penises. I'm sorry to report that "I'm disgusted by a standard-issue human body part" is neither a personality nor anything to be proud of. I'm a dyke and I don't especially like men, but dicks are just dicks. You don't have to be interested in them, but a lot of people have them, and it doesn't make you less of a lesbian to have sex with someone who has a dick.

There's so much garbage happening in the world—maybe you haven't noticed, but things are kind of Not Great in a lot of places, and there's a whole pandemic thing that's been sort of a major buzzkill? How is this something that you're worried about? Make a tea, remind yourself that other people's genitalia and sexual history are none of your business, maybe go watch a video about a cute animal or something. 

Fourth: The idea of gold star lesbians is a shitty premise that argues that sexuality is better if it's always been clear-cut and straightforward—but it rarely is. We live in a very, very heterosexist culture. I didn’t have a word for lesbian until many years after I knew that I was one. How can you say that you are something when your mouth can’t even make the shape of it? The person you are at 24 is different to the person you are at 14, and 34, and 74. You change. You get braver. The world gets wider. You learn to see possibilities in the shadows you used to overlook. Of course people learn more about themselves as they age.

Also, many of us, especially those of us who grew up in smaller towns, or who are over the age of, say, 25, grew up in times and places where our sexuality was literally criminal.

Shortly after I graduated high school, a gay man in my state was sentenced to six months in jail. Why? Well, he’d hit on someone, and it was a misdemeanor to "solicit homosexual or lesbian activity", which included expressing romantic or sexual interest in someone who didn’t reciprocate. You might think, then, that I am in fact quite old, but you would be mistaken. The conviction was in 1999; it was overturned in 2002.

I grew up knowing this: the wrong thing said to the wrong person would be sufficient reason to charge me with a crime.

In the United States, the Defense of Marriage Act was passed in 1996, clarifying that according to the federal government, marriage could only ever be between one man and one woman. It also promised that even if a state were to legalize same-sex unions, other states wouldn't have to recognize them if they didn't want to. And wow, they super did not want to, because between 1998 and 2012, a whopping thirty states had approved some sort of amendment banning same-sex marriage.

Every queer person who's older than about 25 watched this, knowing that this was aimed at people like them. Knowing that these votes were cast by their friends and their families and their teachers and their employers. 

Some states were worse than others. Ohio passed their bill in 2004 with 62% approval. Mississippi passed theirs the same year with 86% approval. Imagine sitting in a classroom, or at work, or in a church, or at a family dinner, and knowing that statistically, at least two out of every three people in that room felt you shouldn't be allowed to marry someone you loved.

Matthew Shepard was tortured to death in October of 1998. For being gay, for (maybe) hitting on one of the men who had planned to merely rob him. Instead, he was tortured and left to die, tied to a barbed wire fence. His murderers were both sentenced to two consecutive life terms in prison. This was controversial, because a nonzero number of people felt that Shepard had brought it upon himself.

Many of us sat at dinner tables and listened to this discussion, one that told us, over and over, that we were fundamentally wrong, fundamentally undeserving of love or sympathy or of life itself.

This is a tiny, tiny sliver of history—a staggeringly incomplete overview of what happened in the US over about ten years. Even if this tiny sliver is all that there were, looking at this, how could you blame someone for wanting to try being not Like This? How can you fault someone who had sex, maybe even had a bunch of sex, hoping desperately that maybe they could be normal enough to be loved if they just tried harder? How can you say that someone who found themself an uninteresting but inoffensive boyfriend and went on dates and had sex and said that it was fine is somehow less valuable or less queer or less of a lesbian for doing so? For many people, even now, passing as straight, as problematic as that term is, is a survival skill. How dare you imply that the things that someone did to protect themself make them worth less? They survived, and that's worth literally everything.

Fifth, finally: What is a gold star, anyhow? You've capitalized it, like it's Weighty and Important, but it's not. Gold stars were what your most generous grade school teacher put on spelling tests that you did really well on. But ultimately, gold stars are just shiny scraps of paper. They don't have any inherent value: I can buy a thousand of them for five bucks and have them at my door tomorrow. They have only the meaning that we give them, only the importance that we give them. We’re not children desperately scrabbling for a teacher’s approval anymore, though. We understand that good and bad are more of a spectrum than a binary, and that a gold star is a simplification. We understand that no number of gold stars will make us feel like we’re special enough or good enough or important enough, or fix the broken places we can still feel inside ourselves. Only we can do that.

The stars are only shiny scraps of paper. They offer us nothing; we don’t need them. I hope that someday, you see that, too. 

#queer stuff #lgbtq #gold star lesbians #long post #sorry #Anonymous

[dykedistortion]

Let’s compare wlw and mlm content in the tma fandom :)

Hi, I’m a bitter dyke, so let’s look at the disparity here. I’m using fic numbers on AO3, and looking at both the total number of fic for a pairing and ones where that ship is the only pairing present (because of the way AO3 filters, this excludes fic where this pairing may be the main one, but has side ships). This isn’t a perfect analysis because of the way ao3 filters and such, but I think it gets the point across. 

First of all, the three most written about ships on AO3 are all mlm, with it being Jonmartin, LonelyEyes, and then Jonelias, followed by Dasira and WTGFS. Those two are the only wlw pairings with enough fic to rank in ao3s filtering system. (These numbers are from August 2nd and have probably changed since then).

Dasira Total: 397                                                         Dasira solo: 125

WTGFS Total: 305                                                       WTGFS Solo: 91

LonelyEyes total: 487                                                   LonelyEyes Solo: 267

JonElias Total: 428                                                        Jonelias Solo: 242 

Jonah’s “Regency Harem” (no solo applicable, yes I added all these up myself): 200

Intershipping between the “””””regency harem”””””: 22 total

Let’s break some of those numbers down, shall we? 

In terms of solo fic for both, Jonelias has almost 3 times as many fics as what the girlfriends. Barnabus Bennett, a character mentioned in exactly one statement, and Jonah Magnus have 74 fics, in the same range as what the girlfriends. Lonelyeyes is the second most written about pairing on AO3 and overall very popular, despite the fact that Peter Lukas only became a major character at the very end of season 3 and through season 4. For both Lonelyeyes and Jonelias, over half the fics written about them have them as the only pairing, and more undoubtedly have them as the main ship with side pairings. This is not the case for either wlw ship. I wouldn’t be surprised if the “regency harem” pairings reached or surpassed the total number of wtgfs fic within a few months. Sure, Dasira is doing much better, but how many of those fics do you think focus mostly on them, and how popular are those fics? Do they get as many comments? Fanart?

But even without the specifics (which do depend on what ships you compare specifically), it’s clear that mlm ships are just more written about. But they aren’t just more popular, they are popular regardless of their basis in canon. Nobody has to ship only canon things, I get that, I bring this up to just really highlight how much more people faun over male characters/ships compared to any wlw. 

None of the mlm ships discussed here are canon, particularly not as romantic relationships. None of them. Lonelyeyes has been addressed by the cast and members of rusty quill, sure, but it’s not actually romantic in the text. A very similar ship is Dasira, in terms of not being canon but popular fanon. But guess what! Lonelyeyes is STILL more written about and more popular, despite its recent introduction and the fact that Daisy and Basira have been around for two more seasons. Jonelias isn’t even remotely canon, and yet! Do I even need to talk about the popularity of Jonah Magnus being shipped with a bunch of dead white men mentioned in ONE statement each? The massive amounts of content produced for these characters in comparison to wtgfs, a canonical, healthy romantic relationship between two primary characters with their own individual arcs, who not only give statements but play an important role in the plot? 

Like. My personal feelings on these ships don’t matter, that’s not the point, and I’m only discussing their basis in canon/lack thereof just to illustrate the disparity here. It doesn’t matter if the male characters involved even have actual characterization, or how much importance and nuance the female characters actually have. Without a doubt, mlm ships are more popular and more written about, No Matter What.  

I’m not saying you can’t like these characters and write about them, I have no power over you!!! Frankly, I’m genuinely impressed with the amount of character and story people have created around the Victorian statement givers, even if they’re not my cup of tea. I’m just asking non-wlw/lesbian TMA fans to put even a FRACTION of the effort that goes into mlm pairings towards the ladies. Like, just make an active effort. Be conscious of it and work to do better, please. 

#k talks #tma #the magnus archives #magnuspod #dasira #wtgfs #what the girlfriends #lonelyeyes #jonelias #jonah magnus #(tagging for visibility here) #PLEASE reblog this it's 1. important and 2. took me Forever

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I thought about WandaVision

Y'know, it's kind of crazy to think that it's been over a year since we've been given any content involving the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Marvel Studios announced so many great movies, on top of new TV shows that actually impact the story, way back in the summer of 2019. But then 2020 happened. Resulting in everything, and I mean everything, we were promised getting pushed back for another year. So, when it was finally announced that the series WandaVision was, at last, ready to be released, fans were both excited as well as skeptical. Because the first thing that would reintegrate us back into this franchise would be a show about how two Avengers are stuck in a sitcom. It might be new, long-awaited content, but it also doesn't sound all that interesting. Could a story involving two characters who have yet to stand on their own be enough to carry a brand new adventure? Well, for eight whole weeks, fans were given that answer. And personally, I will admit that WandaVision might have been better than anybody could have ever expected...for the most part.

(Final spoiler warning if you haven't seen the show yet)

WHAT I LIKE

It Just Goes: This is easily the best way the series could have started. We are given no context about what is going on. We're just shown that Wanda and Vision are currently stuck in a sitcom, and that's it. By making it a mystery, fans are given this sort of interaction with the series as they find clues and come up with theories about how and why this happened. Sure, some assumptions were more far fetched than others (did people think Mephisto was confirmed just because of one misinterpreted line involving the Devil?), but it still makes the show a ton of fun to watch. Plus, even when we're given answers, it's only tiny pieces of the puzzle. We're always given a chance to figure out the bigger picture, resulting in an image that is, I'll admit, somewhat satisfying to see. Just as long as you ignore the crybabies who get upset that their favorite theories turned out to be wrong.

The Homages are on Point: I also love how straight the cast and crew play with the idea of two superheroes being stuck in a series of sitcoms. Everything they use fits in the era each sitcom takes place in. With things like camerawork, set design, special effects, acting quality, tropes, and even theme songs, everything works as a proper homage than just having two episodes in black and white and the rest in color. Each new sitcom that Wanda and Vision are rebooted in feels so genuine, to the point where they seem like they could be actual shows that could have existed. Seriously, my dad showed me stuff like The Dick Van Dyke Show when I was a kid, so trust me when I say that the very first episode nails the style that it's honoring. Not only is it charming as all forms of hell, but it also works in making these moments when characters break from the spell (get it) all the more jarring and even disturbing at times. Because when you're so keen on watching what seems like a fun and cheesy sitcom, you feel a bit unsettled when a character suddenly acts in a way that's a tad foreboding. Still, it's fun to watch and is easily the central hook for what makes this show work.

The Comedy: The homages also nail the comedy that came from each type of sitcom. The jokes fit with each period, from the cheesy and charming 50s to the cynical and dry 90s and early 2000s. It's another thing the writers play straight with, and I think it works. The only jokes made by most stories like this are just pointing out that these serious characters are stuck in a silly sitcom. Instead, the writers tell jokes that work for the period it's in, and it is all genuinely funny if you're used to those types of goofs and gags. If you didn't laugh, that's because the comedy isn't trying to reach out to you. It's reaching out to the people who actually watched these types of sitcoms. Or, in my case, the type of people who had their parents show them these types of sitcoms. And even then, I still think there are these lines and deliveries that are still funny even if you don't get the joke. For example, there's this brief moment with Vision and a toy baby that got a genuine chuckle out of me for how absurd it was. I wasn't expecting to laugh that much, but on top of the many surprises this show gave, being funny was definitely one of them.

“My husband, and his indestructible forehead”: He...hehe...hehehehahahaHAHAHAHA! AH! HA! HA! HA! 

*Slowly starts sobbing*

>Squeaks<

I see what you did there.

Paul Bettany as “Vision,” “Vision,” and Vision: Can we give Paul Bettany a round of applause for basically playing three different characters, each with their own varying levels of emotions and purposes? Because goodness gracious, this man is a champion! I've seen tons of people praise Elizabeth Olson for her performance as Wanda, and to be fair, she does do a fantastic job...aside from one blatant issue (which I'll get into later). But as great as Olson is, Bettany still deserves some credit. Throughout most of the series, he has this level of comedic-timing that I didn't even know he was capable of, by going ham or just having a dry wit. Seriously, was someone going to tell me that Paul Bettany can be funny, or was I supposed to find that out for myself? On top of being hilarious, Bettany delivers such raw emotion that none of us would have ever expected from this character. That screaming match “Vision” has with Wanda shows the very first time that any version of him has ever been angry, and Bettany does a great job at making that moment as jarring as it needed to be. And that's just from playing one version of the character! I didn't even talk about how he nails the naive yet still wise Vision from the flashback in "Previously On" or the cold and robotic "Vision" from "The Series Finale." Bettany has range, and WandaVision is a great show that proves how. One just needs to have the right amount of vision to see it (HhhhhhhhhhhHA!)

Developing Wanda: But as great as Paul Bettany, and to a lesser extent, Vision, is, Wanda Maximoff is clearly the star of the show here (And yes, I know that it's Wanda who's the character and Elizabeth Olson is the actor, but...I'll get into it!). If WandaVision has taught me anything about these Disney+ shows, it's that we are finally going to get some long-awaited development to characters that are starved from it. And Wanda definitely needed it. Don't get me wrong, Wanda was great in past movies but wasn't that compelling of a character. Here, trust me when I say that the opposite is true. 

We are given a deep dive into not only Wanda's morality but also her psyche. The writers really play around with how scary Wanda can be. As well as questioning if Wanda has the capability of being evil. Because, yeah, what she did was not right. True, our "heroine" was going through some rough s**t, but that doesn't excuse the amount of torture Wanda put the people of Westview through, no matter how unwittingly. Just look at that scene where everyone grills Wanda about what she's doing to them, not only pleading for whatever compromise they can get and even begging for her to kill them instead. That is dark! That is the darkest concept the MCU has ever offered, and the ending of Avengers: Infinity War exists!

But, while it doesn't entirely excuse everything, there is a reason why Wanda did all of this. You see, throughout WandaVision, Wanda goes through the five stages of grief. It all starts with denial as she pretends to live in a sitcom that she created where Vision is alive, and they get to even have kids together. Soon comes anger when she destroys anything and physically harms anyone that tries to bring her back to reality. Next, there's bargaining as Wanda strengthens her hex and expands it to keep outsiders out and keep Vision in. This leads to depression as the weight of all of Wanda's actions finally sinks in, and she's forced to realize the damage she's causing. Until all of it ends with acceptance, as Wanda finally, finally, gets to say goodbye to Vision. Something she never really got when Thanos ripped the mind stone out of Vision's forehead. It's both incredible to watch as it is fascinating. Wanda, through the course of her own little spin-off series, just went from a decent character to one of the most intriguing to dissect in the MCU. And we have this show to thank for it.

The Commercials: These commercials offer three things.

They're more homages to classic television, each product and filming for each one honoring how commercials looked in each era.

They offer more of an insight into Wanda's psyche as we see how each commercial shows bits of her history, regrets, and deepest desires. You see all of the above in the Lagos' paper towel commercial.

There are neat bits of foreshadowing of what's to come, like how Hydra Soak ends by saying it's for "your inner goddess" or how the 90s commercial ends by saying Magic isn't meant for the weak.

With all of that, these commercials are as fun to analyze as they are disturbing as hell.

The Dinner Scene: This was the moment it was clear that WandaVision wasn’t going to just be fun and games. The second that "Mr. Heart" starts screaming at Wanda about why she and Vision came, it becomes clear that the whole wacky scenario our heroes are in isn't as harmless as we all thought. And when "Mrs. Heart" playfully tells her husband to stop it when “Mr. Heart” starts choking, only to desperately scream at Wanda to stop it, audiences begin to piece together that the people of Westview are prisoners--no--victims. As for Wanda? She's the unknowing dictator forcing them to do what she says. And it was this scene that I knew I was going to really enjoy this show.

The Blip Scene: And it was this scene that made WandaVision skyrocket into top-tier MCU territory! As much as I love Spider-Man: Far From Home, I will admit that making a joke with the concept of something like the blip might not have been the best move. But showing the chaos of everyone coming back all at once? On top of showing the confusion that a person would have from being told that a five-second nap was five years? Yeah, that's more in line with what we want.

Returning Characters: Not only was I surprised by the fact that these pretty minor characters in the MCU made a return at all, but I was also shocked to find out they work better in this series than they did in their respective movies. First, there's Monica. Not only is she reintroduced as a brand new hero (with, admittingly, confusing superpowers), but she also works as the anti-Wanda. Both characters had someone they care about dearly die without getting a chance to say goodbye. The difference is that Monica doesn't have the abilities Wanda does and is instead forced to quickly accept that her mom is dead and won't come back. She even admits that she would bring her mom back if she could. But that just makes Monica the perfect person that Wanda needs. A person that understands where she's coming from and tries to convince Wanda to do the right thing, no matter how hard it is. Monica's methods may have been a tad bit sloppy, but she is still ten times more intriguing than that little girl who screwed around with the color scheme on Captain Marvel’s suit.

Then there's Jimmy Woo, who is both funnier here than in Ant-Man and the Wasp, and actually shows signs of being a competent FBI agent. A step up, I might add, from the hilariously incompetent character we saw in his previous appearance.

And also, Darcie is here...and still slightly annoying...but at least she still has a couple funny lines here and there! Which is more than I can say with Thor and Thor: The Dark World.

In my opinion, it's a good move having these characters with pretty small roles in vastly different stories make a return. It shows that they are not limited to their one little corner of the MCU. And that they can branch off into taller tales that suit them perfectly. It's pretty cool, and it makes me wonder what other small characters could make a triumphant return.

Billy and Tommy: These two are...fine. Billy and Tommy give me Zach and Cody vibes sometimes, the kids playing them do a decent job, and they both offer some great emotional moments. The problem is that out of the list of characters that WandaVision introduces and reintroduces, there's not much to talk about with Billy and Tommy. Honestly, the only reason why I briefly mentioned that I like them is that I don't want dozens of people crucifying me for not saying anything about them. I don't hate them, but I don't much care for them either.

Evan Peters as Quicksilver: Although I would have loved it if it was Aaron Taylor-Johnson who made a return, seeing Evan Peters in a good Marvel movie again is more than worth it. He plays a much more fun version of Quicksilver while still nailing the sibling relationship the character has with Wanda. In a way, it's a lot like how Marvel cast J.K. Simmons as J Jonah Jameson at the end of Spider-Man: Far From Home. It's admitting that no one could have played the character better than this one actor and briefly making fans happy in the process. While also not doing something crazy like having it be the exact same Quicksilver from the X-Men movies. Only f**king idiots would believe something like that...

...

...But hypothetically speaking, let's say some people were stupid to believe that. While making an outrageous claim that the writers "lead them on to doing so." In which case, I will say the same thing that one would say when friend-zoning someone: "Nobody led you on to s**t. You were just too busy focusing on what you wanted to see instead of what you needed to see."

Because there was no evidence that it was the same Quicksilver other than the fact that it was the same actor. And, hypothetically speaking, if there were dozens of crybabies who were upset about it not being the same Quicksilver, then I have so much more respect for this character being nothing more than a boner joke. Because you did this to yourselves...hypothetically speaking.

Retconning Wanda’s Powers: ...I'm ok with this. Retcons happen all the time in the comics, as well as in movies and television. It's just a matter of making the retcon believable enough where there are few holes in what you're telling people. As for Wanda apparently having magic this entire time, but the mind stone amplified her powers? I can buy that. Besides, it's an acceptable excuse to make Wanda as powerful as she is in the comics (from what I've been told), so like I said, I'm ok with this.

“I can’t feel you…”: ...That's fine. I didn't need my heart anyway.

“Vision’s” Talk with “Vision”: Forget the horrible CGIed battles. I want more of this!

Now, I put both Visions in quotation marks because while they're both the same character, they're also...not the same. Which is, funnily enough, what this scene is: A philosophical discussion between two versions of the same android about what makes them both/neither the definitive version. One may look the same, and the other may be the same body, but neither "Vision" really is the true Vision. However, the fact that these two stop their fighting so they can have this discussion in the first place helps secure that while different, they are still the same. It's a thought-provoking discussion, and it is ten times more interesting to watch than Wanda and Agatha's CGI fight in the sky. Although it is kind of odd that White-Vision just peaces out the second Hex-Vision gives him a reboot. But hey, that's for the future movies to deal with.

“Thank you for choosing me to be your mom.”: >Deep inhale<...Girl.

Wanda Saying Goodbye to Vision: >DEEPER INHALE< HOOOOOOOOOOO BOY! I did not expect this much emotional turmoil from f**king WANDAVISION!

Joking aside, this is a well-handled scene. It's incredibly emotional to see these two characters say goodbye to each other as their arcs come to a close. "Vision" peacefully leaves knowing who he is in the world, and Wanda can finally start moving on as she gets to say goodbye to her one true love. It's as bittersweet as it is beautiful.

WHAT I DISLIKE

MCU logos flashing in every episode: You know how CinemaSins has this bulls**t excuse about how the MCU opening logo wastes time to get to the good stuff? This is the only instance where that's applicable. Because the opening logo was cool to see again for the first episode, but having it play in every single one after breaks the immersion when trying to binge the series. It's for a couple of seconds, sure, but after a while, it does get pretty annoying.

Elizabeth Olson as Scarlet Witch: Now, to be clear, I have no problems with Elizabeth Olson's acting ability in this series. She juggles being funny, heartbreaking, and threatening so well that I am likely to laugh and cry with her as I am to s**t my pants while in her presence. Elizabeth Olson does a great job with this character. The problem? Well, in the comics, Wanda Maximoff is Roma, and Elizabeth Olson...isn't. This means that WandaVision, and the MCU as a whole, has a bad case of white-washing.

I could go on about the issues this brings, but I am not as educated about this subject, and all I know is just stuff that seems like common sense. For instance, I believe it is more than reasonable to hire an actor of a specific race or ethnicity for a character who is of a that same race or ethnicity. But that is as far as my knowledge and personal stance goes, and to expand on it would be too much of a risk because I have no right to criticize the representation of something I am not a part of. So instead, I'm going to point you to @earnestdesire‘s blog and Jessica Reidy’s article on the subject. They do a great job at discussing the issues with Olson’s Wanda and pointing to the issues the MCU has in representing Wanda and Pietro's representation in the comics. And they do it in a far better way than I ever could have. So check them out to truly see why, despite doing a great job, Elizabeth Olson should not be the person donning the suit.

It Was Agatha All Along: AND I STILL F**KING HATE THAT!

I know, I know, I am in the minority on this one. And I still don't understand why! To me, Agatha has all of the problems that Hans has in Frozen. Sure, there are hints if you pay more attention during a few select scenes that are slightly questionable. Like how she refers to Wanda as "the star of the show" or coincidentally shows up with a dog house for Sparky. However, much like how Frozen didn't need a villain like Hans, WandaVision didn't need a comic book villain like Agatha. The story was perfectly passable as a personal conflict involving Wanda's grief where the only obstacle was the director of S.W.O.R.D. and his agents. There is nothing Agatha adds to that.

"But she helps Wanda find out what happens!" Yeah, but Monica could have done the same thing by actually breaking through to Wanda and calmly asking what happened. From then on, they could have worked things out together by having Wanda retrace events that transpired through the information that Monica knows as well.

"But Agatha helps Wanda realize what she's doing is wrong!" So could Vision! He could have shown up, did that mind-meld thing to the townspeople, and Wanda would finally learn what she was doing was wrong through the person she trusts the most.

"But Agatha helps Wanda learn that she's the Scarlet Witch!" Ok...but did that need to happen in this series? Because when you think about it, when the central conflict is all about exploring Wanda's grief, throwing in this narrative about becoming the Scarlet Witch has little to do with anything. Meaning that if you cut it from the story, little would change other than cutting a CGI battle that everyone agrees is the worst part of the series.

The most Agatha adds to the story is a secondary conflict that could easily be cut, and the overall quality would stay the same, if not better. And that is a problem. Agatha needs to add to the central conflict in a way that no other character could have. Like, give her a reason to be involved in Wanda’s life that goes beyond feeding off her magic and leading Wanda to her destiny. Because as is, even if you argue that Agatha is a good twist villain, she's a villain that really didn't need to be here.

Director Haywood: But as much as I don't like Agatha, I think we can all agree that Director Haywood is the worst villain in the MCU. Because one issue that Haywood has is a lack of motivation. For instance, why does he try so hard to write off Wanda as this supervillain? It was never explained, and for something so bizarre and crucial to his character, I feel like it needed to be. It would be passable if he was motivated out of fear and ignorance, but Haywood goes so far as to misedit security footage to prove his point. And I don't get why.

Is he sexist?

Did Wanda not show up at his kid's birthday party?

Did he secretly want to use Vision as a sexbot and didn't want Wanda to get between them?

I don't know, and I'll never know.

Plus, on top of having no motivation, Haywood is just forgettable. Agatha may piss me off to no end, but at least I'll remember her. I honestly forgot Haywood's name half the time, and I'm willing to bet that you did too. Case in point, his name isn't even Haywood. It's Hayward. And in the off chance that you didn't even know about that misspelling just proves my point about how forgettable Hayward is. While it's one thing to be hated, it's another to be forgotten. Because that just means that you left so little impact that you aren't even worth getting upset about.

------

And that is what I thought about WandaVision. If I had to base this off my usual score, I'd have to give the show the same 7/10 that everyone else gave it. Because there's a lot that I love, but the stuff that I hate is so problematic that it takes the WandaVision down on a couple of notches. It's still a fantastic series with a solid story, a great message, incredible acting, and phenomenal character development. It's just that not everyone is going to be willing to tune in as much as you might think.

#marvel cinematic universe #wandavision #mcu reviews #wanda maximoff #vision #agatha harkness #what i thought about

[tealin]

Basler to the Beardmore 2: Errands

As always, no matter what Tumblr does with it, this post is available in its intended presentation at twirlynoodle.com/blog along with the rest of my Antarctic travel diary.

On this flight to the heart of Antarctica, I was only a hanger-on.  We had two errands to run before entertaining me and my historical interests, the most important of which was restocking a fuel depot at the base of the Transantarctic Mountains.

There are many busy science teams in Antarctica, and while some renewable energy sources are starting to be used, the fact is that everything runs on a reliable supply of fossil fuels, mostly petrol.  The aircraft that keep people and their essentials moving around the continent have a network of fuel depots, both for relay stops and for emergencies.  Contrary to some conspiracy theories, anyone can fly to and around Antarctica if they have the money and resources to get there, and many do.  As the national science programmes have a very tight margin, and their fuel depots are expensive to maintain, they cannot afford jet-setters raiding their supplies, so the locations of these depots are kept secret.  Therefore I am not going to tell you where our first stop was.  The chances of a private pilot reading this blog are slim, but it may be possible to deduce from my photos where this particular cache is: if you are that outlier, I hereby ask you please to do the decent thing and leave the fuel alone – or if you absolutely must access it, then let the USAP know what you've taken and make good on it as soon as you can.  Everyone in Antarctica looks out for each other, and that includes you.  OK?  OK. 

So, we've taken off, and done our acrobatics to get the skis up, and are now facing a couple of hours' flight time before we reach our primary destination.  There is, quite frankly, nothing between Williams Field and the Transantarctic Mountains, besides hundreds of miles of the Ross Ice Shelf. This was known as 'The Barrier' to the early explorers, because when James Clark Ross sailed down to explore in 1840 it was a great while wall that prevented his ships from going any further. In later years it wasn't so much a barrier as a highway – clear and flat, and not much off sea level, it provided a route deep into the high latitudes without the perils of the high windy Polar Plateau.  Among people who frequently travel out there, it is sometimes referred to as 'the Flat White' – my impression is that this term came from the Kiwis, and the espresso drink of the same name is also antipodean in origin, so I wonder which came first.  It is undeniably Flat, and White (though the refraction of sunlight through ice crystals makes it look anything from peachy to periwinkle, depending on the angle), but none of its various names communicate just how big it is.

I have flown over the Canadian tundra many times, and over the Greenland ice cap, but the view from 35,000 feet is like looking at satellite view in Google Maps compared to flying at cloud level, where the parallax with the horizon gives you a much keener sense of distance.  The Barrier is BIG.  In fact, 'big' is too small a word to communicate it.  'Massive', 'mammoth', and 'gargantuan' are more melodramatic than descriptive.  Its vastness puts all of human consciousness, never mind vocabulary, in proper perspective.  For my money, it outdoes the night sky as a visual approximation of infinity. 

Getting a sense of its size, especially in a still photo, is difficult without an object for scale.  For your education and my good fortune, we happened to fly over the RAID convoy as they made their way from the Minna Bluff site to where the Ross Ice Shelf meets the Antarctic continent.  Rapid Access Ice Drilling has been supporting various scientific projects for a few years now, whether their interest is in the ice itself (its trapped air gives a record of Earth's atmosphere in millennia past) or what's underneath (marine environments far removed from the open sea; the bed of an accelerating glacier).  Their units are about the size of a shipping container, and are pulled by enormous tractors, so if they are this dwarfed by the Flat White, imagine how much more puny a sledge party would be. 

Before too much longer we were at the depot.  Landing at an Antarctic field airstrip is even more complicated than taking off: we circled once, to do a visual check, then skimmed it with the skis to make sure no hidden crevasses had opened up since the last time someone landed here, then finally touched down for real on the third go-round.  The plane crew rapidly got to work unloading the fuel drums; I offered to help but was assured I wasn't needed, so spent the time taking photographs and mucking around in the snow.

The first thing that struck me was how beautiful the mountains were in colour.  The best photos I've seen of them have been black and white, so the rich variety in shades was remarkable.  What you can't see in this small photo was how the lighter rock was banded with strata of blue-grey and orange-brown sandstone, giving it a luxurious marbled effect. 

I've read a lot about how conditions on the Barrier are so much different than on the coast.  This was far deeper into it than I was ever expecting to set foot, but I was surprised how tame it was.  Now, it was an idyllically calm and sunny day – had it been any different we would not have been there – so the only time I realised that it was actually much colder than McMurdo was when a slight breeze wafted past my bare hand and broke the warm spell that the sunshine had cast.

 What was different was the snow.  Around McMurdo, the snowbanks which did build up had been repeatedly blown over with volcanic dust which warmed up in the sun and made the snow gritty, icy, and rotten – if you live in a snowy city, think of the texture of snowbanks alongside busy roads.  Out here, there was nothing but snow, all the way down to where it became ice – powder blown off the mountains, maybe even off the Polar Plateau, deposited here to be compacted in the sun and polished by the wind.  The crust made by these processes was smooth and, in many places, thick enough to support my weight, so I hardly left a footprint – a 'good pulling surface' as sledgers would have it – but without warning there would be a thin spot where my foot would break through and sink in the sugar-like snow below.

Before long, the crew had finished their restock, and playtime was over.  After our exciting takeoff manoeuvres, we started climbing the mountains to the second of our tasks for the day. 

The Transantarctic Mountains, according to our pilot, are still something of a mystery.  They are a very high mountain range, but unlike the Rockies for example, they show little or no sign of buckling or other geological forces – they seem to have been lifted whole, keeping their layers of sandstone and coal and fossil-rich deposits mostly flat, with occasional intrusions of igneous rock. The range acts as a sort of massively oversized dyke, holding back the miles-deep polar ice cap from spilling over West Antarctica, the Ross Ice Shelf, and the Ross Sea, as the mountains cross the continent.

Ice appears to be solid, but it actually behaves more like a stiff jelly or fondant icing – if it finds a change in altitude it will flow, very slowly, downhill.  This is what a glacier is: snow gets deposited over many years without melting, turns to ice, and when its volume can no longer be held at elevation, starts to creep down the valley. The ice of the Polar Plateau finds gaps in the Transantarctic Mountains and pushes through them, forming glaciers which pour out onto the Ross Sea and, merging, form the Ross Ice Shelf.  The Beardmore Glacier is one of the largest of these, but there are hundreds of smaller ones, and many tributary glaciers that feed these.  In flying over the lower Transantarctic Mountains, there were plenty of opportunities to see ice dynamics at work: 

Our destination was up near the head of a narrow glacier, where it broadened out into a snowy plain called the Bowden Névé – névé being a term for young snow which has not yet compacted into glacial ice but is in a position to do so.  This was CTAM (pronounced see-tam), a geology camp established to be a hub for teams doing work in the Central TransAntarctic Mountains. The névé afforded an open, soft, flat place to land planes carrying supplies and people, who could then move on to less accessible places overland.  At least, it did, until a wind event a few years ago scoured deep furrows in the landing strip.

As we flew over, doing the visual check, I was astonished the site could be spotted at all, as it was only a small clutch of bamboo poles in the vast expanse. 

Having proven that the landing strip was landable, the next task was to see what condition the building was in.  What building, you ask?  Why, the one completely covered in snow, under the markers.  Once upon a time it was a couple of modules standing on the surface of the glacier, but Antarctica gradually swallowed them up, so now one has to dig down through the snow to reach the roof hatch, eight feet above the floor. 

On the way from the Basler to the camp site, I was treated to one signature snow effect I had missed out on, at the depot.  'The Barrier Hush' is frequently mentioned in journals: it was described as a 'whoosh' or a 'hush-shh-shhhh' that sighed out from underneath the walker as he broke through the top crust into a pocket of air underneath, where the loose snow had settled after the top crust was formed.  The pocket could sometimes extend quite a long way from where the crust was broken and the sound followed the exchange of air as far as it went.  It would startle the ponies and excite the dogs, until they learned there was nothing to chase and catch.    

I was walking some way behind the plane crew as they made for the camp with shovels, and suddenly heard what I thought was a small whirlwind – a sharp and intense, almost whistling sound that seemed to race across my path.  This being the sort of place one would expect to see dust devils (or snow devils, I suppose they would be) I looked around to see where it was, but the air was as still up here as it had been down on the ice shelf.  It was only after the second or third time it happened that I realised what it was – it was so completely not how I had imagined the Barrier Hush to sound.  If you make a little whirlwind sound by whisper-whistling whshwshywshwhwwsh with your lips really quickly, that's what it sounded like.  Having heard it, now, I can completely understand how the dogs would have thought there was a small creature scurrying around under the snow.  It sounded much more animate than it had been described.  I felt so lucky to be let into that secret. 

The crew got the hatch open and the first of them climbed down into the pitch darkness to report everything OK.  The rest followed, and invited me along, but I am not the most coordinated travelling artist, and couldn't see a way down for me that didn't end in a concussion.  So I stayed above while they explored the submerged camp, and enjoyed the view.  It was really spectacular – not just the stunning mountains but the thin, brittle blue of the sky and the hardness of the sunlight, as if the whole world were a taut drumskin. 

And, best of all, from here the horizon was the Polar Plateau – another Flat White stretching to the South Pole and beyond.

#antarctica #travel #basler #dc3 #CTAM #air freight #mountains #transantarctic mountains #bowden neve #geology #field camp #photos

[frenchfrysplash]

fic: between heaven, the sky, the earth

The Haunting of Bly Manor

Dani/Jamie

Chapter 1/10

Read on AO3 Here! Or you can continue into the Read More.

Summary: Jamie goes between one moment, and the next. Falling around her like rain, like snow.

She's here for a reason. Here to help.

She just needs to remember.

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

They say a dream takes only a second or so, and yet in that second a man can live a lifetime. He can suffer and die, and who's to say which is the greater reality: the one we know or the one in dreams, between heaven, the sky, the earth"- Perchance to Dream," The Twilight Zone, Episode 1x09

April 1984

Jamie's fingers twisted together, so tight it almost hurt.

The kitchen of Bly Manor was silent, save for a clock ticking on the wall, driving Jamie slowly insane. Her heart was thrumming in her chest, the starch of her collared shirt itching at her throat. She should have chosen a blouse, something more feminine, instead of the slacks and grey button up she wore. Who knew what the Wingraves would think of her? They might take one look at her and send her home, not wanting their grounds cared for by a dy-

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Tayler!"

Jamie practically leapt out of her seat, almost knocking the chair over. Charlotte Wingrave swept into the room like a breeze on a warm day, her smile lighting up the kitchen and making the corners of Jamie's lips pull up of their own accord. She reached across the table to shake Jamie's hand, and Jamie found herself resisting the ridiculous urge to pull Charlotte's hand towards her to kiss her knuckles. Charlotte Wingrave, with her dark hair, her kind eyes, and her easy elegance, seemed to inspire the chivalrous side of Jamie's nature. It had been the same the first time they met, when Jamie called on the manor to answer the ad for a new gardener.

"Don't worry about it," Jamie said. And cleared her throat. "I wasn't waiting long. And please, call me Jamie."

"Well, thank you, Jamie" Charlotte settled herself in the seat opposite. "I do try to be on time, but, with two young children, the day does get away from you."

"I can only imagine, ma'am," Jamie replied, sitting back down. "I knew a pair of kids once, right pair of wee gremlins they-"

She stopped, furrowing her brow. She had never known any children, had none of her own, and didn't know anyone with kids. She wasn't sure what had made her say that, but fortunately, Charlotte didn't pursue the tangent.

"Now, you told me you were interested in the gardener position when you dropped by the other day," Charlotte said, hands folding in front of her. "The letter you wrote was excellent, and you seem to have plenty of experience. So tell me, what interests you about the job?"

"Oh, well," Jamie sat up a little straighter, trying to ignore her sweaty palms. "I've been working as a labourer for a landscaping company in London. Worked on a lot of different gardens, all over the city." She paused, trying to work out how to say the next part. "If I'm honest, I wanted to get out to the countryside. London is a bit fast-paced for me, even with growing plants, and I've been wanting to slow down. It's like," Jamie hands came up, like she was trying to pull the words out of the air, "people there don't understand that growth takes time. I thought somewhere like this," she gestured vaguely, "somewhere with so much history, so much growth over time, I thought, somewhere like that, the people might just get it."

She held her breath, hoping she hadn't put Charlotte off with her speech. But Charlotte was smiling, and nodding along. Jamie felt herself smile back.

"Very good," Charlotte said, voice warm and approving. "Now, with this position, you would be responsible for the upkeep of the entire grounds. Does that sound like something you're comfortable with?"

"More than comfortable," Jamie replied. "Sounds wonderful to me. I like the idea of caring for something like that, keeping it happy and healthy."

"Excellent." Charlotte beamed, and Jamie blinked. For an instant, a different face had beamed at her from across the table; a beautiful face, with blue eyes and blonde hair, and a smile that tugged at Jamie's heart. But she must have imagined it, because a moment later, it was just Charlotte again.

She realized Charlotte had said something that she'd missed, and Jamie leaned forward.

"Sorry? I didn't quite catch that."

"Oh, apologies." Charlotte cleared her throat. "I asked, how did you start gardening?"

Oh.

Jamie hesitated, casting her eyes away from Charlotte's face, her own falling. Here it was. She could lie, and hope Charlotte never found out. Or she could tell the truth.

"Well, I got into it because-" Jamie stopped, and sighed, shoulders drooping. For the first time, she avoided Charlotte's gaze. "Honestly, the garden was one of the work rotations I was given in prison."

She risked a glance. Charlotte's smile had faded, replaced with a furrowed brow. She nodded to Jamie to continue.

"I had never so much as picked up a spade before," Jamie admitted. "But when they put me in that garden, it was like something…settled. It was hard work, and it kept my mind quiet. There were other women there I learned from, and when I got out, one of them helped me find my job in London. Haven't looked back since."

She let herself meet Charlotte's eyes, fully expecting to find disapproval and disappointment there. Instead, she found the older woman was looking at her thoughtfully, finger tapping her chin. Jamie shifted uncomfortably, a sliver of hope blooming in her chest.

"You know, Jamie," Charlotte said kindly. "I think of myself as a great judge of character."

Jamie said nothing, just nodded.

"After all," Charlotte sat back in her chair, waving her hand as if to indicate the entire manor. "I hired Hannah Grose. And that woman is a miracle, let me tell you."

Despite herself, a small smile quirked Jamie's lips. She had briefly met Mrs. Grose on her way in, and could tell right away that she would get on well with the housekeeper.

If she got the job, which didn't look likely in that moment.

"So you see," Charlotte continued. "I knew straight away when you walked in that I would hire you, and I'm not one to distrust my gut feelings."

"I understand, Lady Wingrave, I-" Jamie stopped. "Wait, I'm sorry?"

"Jamie," Charlotte said patiently. "Will you be able to care for the garden and grounds of Bly Manor?"

"Yes," Jamie said, hardly daring to breathe.

"Then that's all I need to know," Charlotte smiled at her. "Your reference from your former employer is impeccable, and the experience you outlined in your cover letter lends me the utmost confidence that you are the perfect candidate for the gardener position. When can you start?"

"I-" Jamie's brain stuttered. She swallowed. "When do you need me, ma'am?"

"Right away, if possible," Charlotte said, standing up and smoothing down her skirt. "Of course, you're still living in London, I take it? You can stay in one of the rooms here until you find your own place. Don't worry, I'll help you."

"Thank you," Jamie stood up as well, eyes wide, hardly daring to believe what had just happened. "Ma'am, I -"

"Your past is your past, Jamie," Charlotte said. "Let's live in the present, shall we?"

She held out her hand to shake again, and Jamie took it, beaming from ear to ear. But when she went to drop the hand, Charlotte didn't let go.

"Uh, Lady Win-"

The words died in Jamie's throat, replaced with a strangled gasp. Charlotte Wingrave had disappeared, and instead, a monster stood in front of her. A woman, in a white nightdress, dripping wet from head to toe, her long dark hair hanging like weeds over her shoulders. And her face, her face-

She had no face. No eyes. No nose. Only a wide, gaping mouth.

Jamie tore her hand away, gasping, scrambling back, hitting the wall, as the creature stepped forward, hands reaching, reaching, reaching-

"Let's get out of here," a voice whispered in her ear. Jamie turned, finding herself inches from the blonde woman she thought she'd seen earlier, a grin on her lips, blue eyes twinkling. The woman laced their fingers together, and tugged-

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

September 1987

"How the hell is it so hot?" Jamie whined, letting herself be pulled along the street. "I didn't think America would be this hot."

"You're a baby," Dani said. "A giant baby. I can't believe how much of a baby you're being."

"I miss the rain," Jamie said.

"You hate the rain."

"Do not. Rain is lovely. Waters the plants for me. Gives me a nice break."

Dani laughed, and Jamie grinned. That was the best sound in the world, right there. Dani Clayton's laugh. She could spend the rest of her life making Dani laugh.

With that thought, she tugged on Dani's hand, stopping her in her tracks.

"Jamie," Dani started, voice threatening annoyance. But she was smiling as Jamie pulled her in, kissing her soundly and sliding her fingers through blonde hair. Dani let out a happy sigh, other hand landing on Jamie's hip, pulling her closer-

"Fuckin' Dykes!"

The shout came from a passing car, and Jamie tore herself away from Dani to flip them off and yell some obscenity back. Dani shook her head, scowling.

"It's not worth it, Jamie," she said dully.

"So much for San Francisco being gay friendly," Jamie grumbled, as the two started walking again.

"There's always gonna be assholes," Dani told her. She took Jamie's hand again, slotting her fingers together like they'd been doing it all their lives, not just a couple of months. "But come on, we've faced down ghosts. Homophobes've got nothing."

"I'd still like to punch their lights out," Jamie said, glaring in the direction of the car. But she hadn't missed the quip about Bly Manor. Were they really at a point where they could joke about it?

She didn't get a chance to ask, though, because suddenly Dani was pulling her along again, their leisurely stroll turning into a brisk clip. Jamie let herself be led, content to watch Dani's hair flutter in the breeze, Dani's earrings glint in the sunlight, Dani's ass swaying in her jeans-

"Here we are!"

Without Jamie noticing, lovestruck as she was, they had gone through a parking lot and over sand dunes, and now the deep, white-capped blue of the Pacific Ocean stretched out in front of them, with no end in sight.

"Oh," Jamie breathed. "Oh, wow."

This time it was her leading the way, Dani trailing behind her, their hands still clasped together loosely. Jamie had never seen the Pacific before; had grown up with the Atlantic in driving distance, but hadn't had a real reason to spend much time there. She had always been anchored to the earth, never the sea, but the vast expanse before her took her breath away. It was all part of the natural world that Jamie loved, that she surrounded herself with and took care of. Just a different part.

"Poppins," Jamie said, unable to keep the awe from her voice. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah," Dani said, sounding strangely far away, and Jamie knew if she turned her head, she would see Dani gazing at her adoringly, like a scene out of a bad romance movie. And once upon a time, she had. She had turned her head, had met Dani's gaze, had pulled her forwards and nearly kissed her, but stopped at the last minute, remembering the shout from the street. Had instead turned on her heel and raced down towards the water, dragging a laughing Dani behind her, and plunged in, not caring they were in their clothes, trying to wash away a memory of another plunge into cold water.

She knew she had done all of that, once. She could taste the salt on her tongue, feel the chill of the water on her skin. But here, now, in this moment, her eyes had landed on something in the water, and her entire body had frozen, standing at the edge of the surf. The sun seemed to suddenly hide behind a cloud, and an ill wind whipped Jamie's curls around her head.

"Dani," she said. "Dani, do you see that?"

There was no answer. Jamie turned, only to find Dani gone. In fact, the beach was empty now. Jamie was alone.

Well. Not completely alone.

Slowly, she looked back at the water. The creature stood, waist-deep, eyeless face turned in her direction. It did not seem to notice the waves, or the wind that now gusted, and it did not move. Jamie fought the urge to run, terrified that any movement would cause the thing to come after her. Why was it here? Why was it just standing there? Why wasn't it at the bottom of that lake where it had dragged Dani-

Wait.

Unbidden, Jamie took a step forward. The water soaked her shoes immediately, washing up and over her ankles. Another step, and it was at the cuffs of her jeans now, shoes sinking into the sand. Another, and another, and another, until she was standing up to her knees, entire body trembling, staring at the The Lady in the Lake with wide eyes.

"I'm supposed to be doing something," Jamie said to her. "I'm here for a reason."

The Lady in the Lake said nothing.

"It's there, on the tip of my tongue." Jamie let out a frustrated breath. "At the back of my brain. Just-"

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

October 2000

Her clothes were still wet when she arrived back at the hotel room. She stripped them almost as soon as the door closed, and stumbled into the shower, standing under the spray and staring at the wall. She only turned it off when the water turned cold, and she was pretty sure there were no more tears in her eyes. She towelled herself off, and dug through the little overnight bag she'd thrown together haphazardly as she rushed out the door an eternity earlier.

Rushed out the door after Dani, who had been long gone by then.

She hadn't packed any sleep shorts in her hurry, so she threw on some underwear, and an old shirt. The scent of it hit her immediately, and a fresh wave of tears started to fall. It was an old shirt of Dani's. One she'd worn a million times, even after the armpits were getting a bit threadbare.

Dani, who was lying at the bottom of a lake.

She went through the motions of getting ready for bed. She didn't have a toothbrush, so she just rinsed her mouth out with water, and splashed her face. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror - red-eyed, pale-faced - and paused, staring. Hoping against hope that another face would appear. Like had happened so often back home, in their little apartment, when Dani looked in a mirror, or into water, or into a pane of glass. Maybe Jamie's cry in the lake had worked, and maybe instead of that monster she would see-

Just let me have this, Jamie thought, not taking her eyes off her own reflection. It's you, it's me, it's us. Let me have this, Dani.

But nothing appeared, and Jamie shut the light of the bathroom off, and climbed into bed.

She didn't sleep. To sleep meant two things. First, it meant waking up again, into another day in a world where Dani wasn't. Where Jamie was just expected to keep living her life without her wife by her side. What would she even do? Go home? To their little apartment filled with memories? To the flower shop? Keep living the little life they had built together? Alone?

How could she be expected to do that?

Sleep also meant dreams, and Jamie was possibly more frightened of that than waking up. Dreaming could mean seeing Dani again, whether alive and happy, or dead, staring at her with lifeless eyes at the bottom of a lake. Neither option was appealing in the slightest, so Jamie lay awake, staring at the clock as it ticked towards midnight.

She deemed 5 o'clock in the morning as good a time as any to wake up. Or at least, get out of bed, as waking up implied she had slept at all. She supposed she would go to the airport, and get on a plane back to Vermont, decide what to do from there. Dani would want her to keep going.

It was as she mechanically got ready to leave that she found it. Dani's note, folded up with her passport, thrown in her bag along with anything else she thought she might need. It had fallen out when she changed, and for a moment, Jamie just gazed at it. Then, she knelt down, and opened it with trembling fingers, reading the last words Dani had left her.

Jamie,

The beast has come for me. Viola is calling, and I have to answer, or I don't know what could happen. I can't risk that anything would happen to you, my most important person. I love you. I'm so sorry.

Dani

If only she had woken up. If only she had stopped her. Convinced her that it was ok, that they would figure it out together. If only she had been able to figure out a solution before Viola took her. If only Owen had driven a little faster that night, thirteen years ago. If only she had run a little faster towards the lake. If only she had stayed the night when Dani asked. If only, if only, if -

Viola?

Jamie frowned as she scanned the note, the name standing out to her as strange, unknown. Viola? Who was Viola? Where had that come from?

Water dripped on the carpet in front of her. Jamie found herself looking at mud-covered feet, eyes tracing a soaking wet nightdress up until they reached the face - that terrible, terrible face.

She felt like she should scream. Scream and run from the room. Or better yet, attack the monster and hope she could get a few good licks in before it dragged her down too.

But she didn't.

Jamie stood slowly, hand still clutching the note, staring at the creature in front of her. The creature did nothing. Simply stood, as though waiting for Jamie to make the first move.

And so, Jamie did.

"Viola?"

#the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #damie #dani clayton #jamie #jamie the gardener #bly manor #heather writes fanfiction #this doesn't happen often so like have fun guys

[artificialqueens]

I Choose You, 2/2 (Vanique) - Ortega

a/n: oh my god HELLO!!!! i thought i’d never finish this in time but the lord loves a trier so here we have the second half of my Vanique behemoth (the first being 2003!). this might be the most self-indulgent and pretentious thing i’ve ever written. who knows if it’s good! certainly not me. i very much hope u all enjoy it anyway.

(p.s. the title is from I Choose You by Kiana Ledé. listen to it it’s very good. the acoustic version, not the one with the rapper feature. that one sucks ass.)

trigger warning: there’s some homophobia in this, both internalised and…externalised (is that a word?), including use of the d slur, so please read at your own risk. there’s also mentions of bereavement but not of any of the main characters. I promise u this fic is not as depressing as i’m making it out to be xo

fic summary: Vanessa Mateo and Monique Heart start Year 9 as entirely different people. At least, that’s what Monique firmly believes. Vanessa suspects they’re not as different as Monique would like to think.

***

High school is high school, and nothing is ever simple. The idea that Vanessa had had about hanging out in Summer was soon pushed to the side. Monique was dropped in favour of hanging out with Akeria and Silky. In all fairness, Monique was too busy riding the carousel of shopping trips and sleepovers at her new friend’s houses. Monét’s house is her favourite though because it feels like a castle- it’s surrounded by a gate with a combination instead of a key and in the lobby there’s a sweeping marble staircase and an actual pillar and an expensive-looking sculpture in the corner. Monét’s parents are kind and caring and they supply the girls with endless snacks and fizzy juice and face masks. Monique imagines it’s like what staying at a hotel is like. She wouldn’t know, she’s never stayed anywhere other than her old house with her Mum, the high flats, or Vanessa’s house.

She feels guilty about not hanging out with Vanessa. They text, but it’s not quite the same; she knows Vanessa hates writing in any format so it’s a little harder. They could phone, but they just…don’t. Still, despite their distance that night at Vanessa’s in the tent still plays on Monique’s mind. The whole thing was weird. Vanessa had wanted to kiss her, and in Monique’s mind that was only something you wanted to do with a person if you had a crush on them. Monique knows what a lesbian is, and she’s sure Vanessa isn’t one. She’s damn sure she isn’t one either. Aside from liking girls, lesbians dress like boys and they have short hair and they’re definitely not as beautiful as Vanessa. They’re different, and Monique is different enough. She isn’t a lesbian. She doesn’t fill any of the criteria.

So when Vanessa comes back after the summer holidays and begins Year 9 with hair that stops at her jaw and an undercut as well as a set of pink traintrack braces, the whispers start right away. Monique hears two boys talking about her at first, as she’s putting her books from second period away in her locker. She hears brash laughter, Vanessa’s name, the words “dyke” and “rug muncher” and “lesbian” all spat out venomously, and Monique’s heart hurts. She wants to tell them to shut up, wants to tell them they’re wrong and that Vanessa is pretty and soft and none of those things. Vanessa is just a normal girl. Hell, the only reason she’d wanted to practise kissing with her was so that she could be good for boys.

It’s lunchtime when it gets brought up again, and by that point it’s all round the school. Brianna starts the conversation mid-chip, speculating between chews.

“Have you guys heard that rumour going around that Vanessa Mateo is a lesbian?” she almost whispers, and Monique rolls her eyes. Not this.

“Oh my God, no! Tell us!” Asia says excitedly, pushing away her plate of suspicious-looking penne bolognese made up of too-soft pasta and too-watery mince.

“What’s there to tell, sis? That’s all there is.”

“She’s in my Spanish class. She definitely looks like a lesbian,” Antonia widens her eyes in disbelief, and Bob cackles a laugh.

“What the fuck does that even mean? Looks like a lesbian. They’re just girls who like girls, lesbian isn’t a fucking…skin tone.”

Brianna casts a glare at her from the other end of the table. “Oh, come on, Bob, you know what we mean. She’s got that haircut and the shaved bit at the bottom. And have you ever seen her wear skirts to school?”

“Gee, short hair and trousers make you a lesbian. By that logic half the fucking boys are lesbians.”

The girls splutter a laugh, which Monique joins in with half-heartedly.

“It’s not just that, though. You know she’s friends with that Akeria Davenport…Silky Ganache. You ever see her with any boys? I wouldn’t be surprised, you know,” Monét shrugs, having seemingly thought it through enough to pass judgement. Asia laughs.

“You never see us hanging out with boys.”

“Yeah, but there’s six of us! There’s only three of them. Maybe they have like…threesomes,” Antonia gasps, her eyes sparkling wickedly. The girls all follow suit, gasping and widening their eyes and clucking like hens. Monique feels sick. The whole conversation feels wrong. She doesn’t want to be part of it any more.

As if she’s read her mind, Monét cocks her head at her. “Monique, didn’t you used to be friends with her? You ever get lesbian vibes from her?”

“Oh my God, yeah? She ever try and kiss you?” Brianna asks, open-mouthed. Monique feels the colour drain from her face. Luckily there’s a shout from the other end of the canteen that cuts the girls off from the conversation they’ve been having.

“Bob!”

The girls stop talking, turn around to see Tomi and Katie standing smiling in that fake as fuck way that Monique loathes. She knows they’re probably behind most of the rumours about Vanessa and that puts her back up even more. Bob seems unbothered, and she’s regarding them in a lazy sort of way. Monique swears she’s seen a lion watch a gazelle with the same expression.

“Yeah?” Bob asks simply, humouring them. The two girls giggle behind their hands.

“We just think your hair is so gorgeous. Can we touch it?” Katie simpers, tucks her blonde hair behind her ears unflatteringly. Bob turns briefly to Asia and gives an earth-shattering roll of her eyes. Monique can feel Monét bristle beside her defensively and she puts a hand on her shoulder in reassurance.

Bob smiles indulgently at the rejected extras from White Chicks standing in front of her. “You can try, see what happens.”

Tomi has her hand out and then falters, clearly noticing Antonia glaring at her like she’s daring her. Monique’s never actually witnessed her throwing hands but she knows that’s how she got her detention last year, after a boy in the corridor made monkey noises at her. Tomi clearly decides against it and the two girls curl their top lip at them all instead, slinking away. Bob turns around to shout after them.

“Wait! Tomi! Can I touch your hair? I’ve always wanted to know how it feels to be a weak, limp, lifeless, greasy Rapunzel!"

The girls erupt in hysterical laughter, and the rumour is forgotten for now.

Or at least it is until two o’clock in the afternoon. Monique’s not been thinking straight all day and it shows when she turns up to Chemistry when she’s meant to be in English, the lower sixth formers all looking at her as if she had two heads when she opened the door to the lab and had to slink back out again. So she’s running down the back stairwell panicking, knowing she’s going to have to explain why she’s late. The stairwell is empty with everyone already in class, but aside from the noise she’s making as she thunders down the stairs Monique can hear two other voices at the bottom. Two boys’ voices, and they don’t sound kind. They’re spitting out insults, and Monique heard the crash of something heavy against the floor- a book, a folder. It’s against Monique’s better judgement to investigate- she should really get a teacher- but she can’t stand bullies, so she gets to the last set of stairs and peers over the bannister to see what’s happening.

The sight makes her heart drop, because it’s Vanessa. The two boys are yelling at her, blocking her path every time she tries to move past them. She’s not crying but she’s all hunched in on herself, almost concave with her arms hugging herself and her head positioned towards the ground. The boys are relentless with their taunts and Monique can’t bear to hear any more.

"Hey!” she shouts, her voice all too loud in the silence of the stairwell. It echoes and ricochets off the walls, and the boys narrow their eyes as they look up at her. She meets Vanessa’s eyes. She seems just as shocked as the perpetrators. Monique’s started, so she follows it up with, “Leave her the fuck alone.”

The boys laugh, begin to mock Monique amongst themselves. She doesn’t want to play her ace, but as their words bury themselves deeper and deeper under her skin, Monique’s face turns into a snarl. “Or am I gonna have to call my brother?”

The boys seem to make the connection between who they’re talking to and the implication Monique has just made, and she’s happy when a glimpse of fear passes on their face. One of them has the bravery to speak up again. “Your brother won’t do shit, soon as he steps in our ends he’s dead."

"Well, I can always call him and you can tell him that for real. Or, even better…” Monique shrugs, pulling her phone out of her blazer pocket and scrolling it lazily. “…I can have him here by lunchtime and you can say it to his face?”

The boys frown at her and seem to make the mutual decision to let the situation drop, but not before one of them spits on the floor at the bottom of the stairs Monique is standing on. She lets out a sigh. She knows her brother’s reputation precedes him and it’s not a pretty one. She knows he’s infamous and that the teachers were all happy when he finally left, saw the look on all their faces when they reached her name in the register on that first day and could practically hear what they were thinking. Oh shit, that’s his sister. She’s not proud of having used her brother as a threat but as she looks down and sees Vanessa’s kind, grateful smile, she knows it was worth it. Monique wants to hug her, wants to pat her back and tell her that she’s not in any danger anymore and that it’s all okay but she doesn’t because things aren’t the way they used to be. She descends the steps and lets Vanessa pick up her folder, waiting until she’s back up standing with her arms hugged around it and the tiny smile still on her face.

“Thanks.”

Monique wants to blush. She’s maybe already doing so. “It’s okay.”

There’s a pause. Vanessa’s smile wavers and she pulls her lips in on themselves, holds them between her teeth for a moment before letting them go. She looks to the ground awkwardly. Monique wants to say more, she wants to say everything, whatever the hell everything is. Instead she says nothing.

Vanessa rubs the back of her neck awkwardly. It’s just the two of them at the bottom of the stairwell now, and it looks like she’s about to release something she’s holding back. “Uh, hey. You ain’t tell anyone about…you know-”

“No, I didn’t,” Monique replies instantly, firmly. They both know what she means. Vanessa nods curtly. They’re standing alone, nobody else around to pass judgement or start a rumour or look at them funny. Monique wants to just…talk to her. She doesn’t open her mouth again, but she wants to. She can feel her speech rising in her throat, and she’s about to say something. She still doesn’t know what.

“I should get going, I’m late to English,” Vanessa suddenly makes the decision for her, nods at Monique in thanks again before turning on her heel and pushing open the double doors at the bottom of the stairs.

Monique is left standing there and the silence seems to echo around her.

She goes back home instead of class.

***

Year 10 starts and the unthinkable happens.

Vanessa’s sitting in P.E. at the time. She’s not at all academic- she knows this, it’s evident from all the extra help she gets and how she’s in the bottom set for everything- so she likes P.E. because she just plays sports, tries to win. All the girls and boys in the year have it at the same time and they split off- boys get taken out onto the astroturf in the pissing rain to kick a ball about for an hour and the girls stay inside and do basketball or volleyball, dainty ladies’ sports that make Vanessa mad because she knows she could whoop any boys’ ass at football. Anyway, Monique’s in her set and so are all her friends. Vanessa doesn’t like the girls she’s friends with- they’re too stuck-up for her taste, and she likes the fact that Silky and Akeria are down to earth and don’t have any airs or graces. But she still casts an eye over to Monique every so often, just to look at her. She thinks about the fact they used to be best friends, used to share everything with each other. Her cheeks burn when she thinks about the time she asked Monique if they wanted to kiss. She still hasn’t made herself confront that properly yet, still hasn’t addressed the very obvious elephant in the room of her brain. That can wait for another day, though. Everybody already says she’s a lesbian anyway, she’s been getting flack for it for a solid year now, so she supposes when (if) she comes out she can’t get bullied more than she already is.

Monique’s dark eyes are framed with eyeliner and mascara, and her perfect cheekbones are highlighted with a dust of gold. Vanessa’s jealous. She runs her hands over the spots that’ve bubbled up on her forehead self-consciously, reminding herself to spread more concealer over them when class is over. Monique’s so beautiful and it isn’t fair. Vanessa is so busy thinking and so lost in her own head that she doesn’t even notice their guidance teacher’s arrived at the door.

“Can I speak to Monique, please?”

Vanessa watches Monique’s eyes grow wide as her friends all wind her up and make ominous noises at her as she leaves. Vanessa wonders if Monique’s in trouble. She was always the biggest goody two-shoes in Primary, and she’d always get so nervous whenever Vanessa did something mischievous. Vanessa smiles at the memory but it’s quickly forgotten when their teacher tells them to get into partners and she immediately grabs Silky, leaving Akeria to pair with Mercedes, a shy girl who’s terrible at everything P.E. related and would truly be the booby prize if there was ever a partner-related game show.  

Vanessa forgets about Monique until lunchtime when she’s sitting with the girls in the cafeteria and scanning the hall judgmentally. Her eyes fall on the table Monique and her friends usually sit at, and they’re all eerily quiet. They sit with their heads in their hands, stare into their plates of food and pick at them, and nobody says a word. Monique isn’t there. Come to think of it, she didn’t return for P.E.

“Sheesh,” Vanessa scoffs, gesturing over to them. “Who died?”

It’s a joke she’ll regret making, because all over Monique’s facebook wall that night when she gets home from school is post after post after post of sympathies and apologies and heart emojis and kisses.

Because Monique’s Gran has died.

When Vanessa realises she pushes her phone away, turns over in bed and brings her knees up to her chest. Her head is spinning. All Monique has is her Gran- well, her and her brother, but she’s known so much pain and heartache in her life and all she has ever wanted is a happy family. Vanessa knows this. She wonders what will happen to her. Her brother must be around 19 now, so he could get granted guardianship but God knows he’s never been the most ideal role model. He loves Monique though, deeply cherishes his sister. Everything Monique’s been through, so has he. Maybe Monique will be put in foster care? Vanessa doesn’t know. Everything about the situation makes her feel sick to her stomach. Apart from all of that Monique has to deal with the grief of losing the woman who raised her, who was a mother and father rolled into one.  

Vanessa makes a decision, turns over in bed and snatches her phone back up. Her stomach is churning as she types out what she wants to say. Everything feels wrong and absolutely zero consolation, but she sends it anyway. She has to send something.

V: hey

V: i’m so sorry to hear about your Gran

V: i hope your doing okay

Vanessa stares at her phone for the full five minutes until it vibrates again, lights up with a message from Monique.

M: Thanks

Vanessa’s previously-rising heart suddenly drops. The reply is disappointing, but she doesn’t know what she expected. Monique has lost the closest thing to a parent she’s ever had. It’s not exactly the right time for a cosy reunion. Still, Vanessa misses her. She knows she could help Monique feel better, she was always able to make her laugh when she was sad.

V: i’m always here if you need someone to talk to

V: i know we don’t talk as much as we used to but your still my friend

Vanessa stares at her phone until her retinas start to burn. Is she even Monique’s friend any more? She wonders what they would talk about if they got to talk again, wonders if they ever had anything in common at all. The thought isn’t a nice one, and Vanessa goes to sleep that night with tears stinging her eyes and a terrible dull ache in her heart.

***

Monique doesn’t remember Year 10.

That sounds silly, as day 1 of it was only 365 days ago, but she doesn’t. She’s blocked it all out, bad memories of grief and pain that she’d rather forget. Even though her life has been full of struggles, the last year has truly taken the biscuit and she doesn’t ever want to think about it again.

There are always silver linings, though, no matter how awful the situation is. Monique’s brother is granted parental responsibility and he makes the effort to turn their lives around in whatever ways he can. They apply for a new council house, one in a slightly nicer area, and it has a garden and a number on the door and lots of windows to let in light. It’s the nicest place Monique has ever lived, and the summer before Year 11 the pair of them decorate it with furniture they find at the recycling centre and fix at home, and free stuff they pick up from Facebook Marketplace, and they paint the walls bright colours to keep their spirits up. Money is still a problem, though, but Monique is thrifty. She’s timed when the supermarkets put their yellow reduced labels on food, she can make her one free school sandwich last for lunch and dinner if she needs to. She charges her phone in class so she doesn’t have to use the electricity at home and she knows that if you put rocks in the pockets of the clothes you donate to Cash4Clothes then you get more money for them. They’re getting by- not easily, but they’re surviving.

Monique’s friends look after her, making sure she’s okay on those days when school is just beyond her and the only thing she can do is lie in bed. On the days she does manage into school the girls flank her, surround her like a shield against the staring eyes and whispers of the other kids. She still hears the odd murmurs of “her gran died” and “she doesn’t have any parents” and “her brother looks after her”. She knows they’re not malicious, but they still sting. So she’s glad when it gets to around October and people stop whispering about her and go back to whispering about Vanessa instead.

Because she’s got a girlfriend.

Brooke Lynn’s in lower sixth. God knows how she met Vanessa- probably at a house party or drinking in the park at some point, Monique supposes. She’s tall and statuesque and everyone is afraid of her, partly as a result of her resting bitch face and partly as a result of her intimidating good looks. Brooke is a living Barbie doll- pale skin, blonde hair, long lashes, full pink lips. Everything Monique’s not.

She’s sickeningly PDA with Vanessa. Monique sees them together at lunchtimes; the pair of them holding hands or with their arms around each other as they sit with their two friendship groups merged together- Monique didn’t think Silky and Akeria would have anything in common with straight A students Nina and Scarlet but she supposes that Scarlet’s girlfriend Yvie’s been put in isolation a similar amount of times to Silky so they’ve at least got that to bond over if nothing else. They laugh uproariously and chatter loudly and Brooke Lynn and Yvie eye girls like Tomi and Katie with suspicion and dislike, the two girls not even daring to make a comment about the two same-sex relationships at the table.

Monique hates Brooke Lynn. She doesn’t know why. She’s weird because she’s a lesbian but she doesn’t even fit in with what a lesbian should be with her long, blonde hair, makeup, short skirts. But then again, Monique reminds herself, neither does Vanessa really. They both just look like…normal girls. She wonders how that can be. Vanessa looks so happy all the time even though most of their year group hates her, or at least makes snide comments about her behind her back. How the hell is she so damn cheerful? Maybe Monique is just jealous. Jealous of the way Vanessa has an accepting group of friends and an accepting Mum and is comfortable being out even in school, unlike Monique who has to banish those thoughts to the dark of her mind because of course she’s not gay; she joins in with her friends when they talk about cute boys and talks about the celebrities she has a crush on. But she doesn’t really mean any of it. When she looks at the boys her friends all drool over, she just feels…nothing. She’s wondered to herself about her own feelings, even got as far as typing “girls kissing” into Youtube but closed the app before she could click on a single video, too embarrassed to go any further.

Nothing’s wrong with her. She’s fine, and her Gran always told her that God didn’t make mistakes. So she pushes and pushes the feelings down as Autumn turns to Winter and Spring turns to Summer, and before she knows it she’s finished her exams and is starting Sixth Form. Her brother’s proud of her- he hadn’t stayed in school that long, of course- and her Gran would be proud too. Monique’s sure her Mum would be as well, wherever she is. And her Dad. Whoever he is. Her exam results are decent, and she takes solace in the belief that maybe she’s clever, maybe she can forge a different path for her and her brother than the one she was born into. She’d like to be a nurse- nurses help people, and her Gran was looked after by one before she passed, so she decides that Sixth Form is going to be spent getting the grades she needs to get to university. Imagine. Her at uni. The first in her family and maybe even the first in her neighbourhood.

Still, it’s Sixth Form and she can at least have a little fun. She’s invited to her first house party along with the girls- Connor from Upper Sixth is hosting because his parents are out of town and Bob’s managed to blag them all an invite, so they get ready together and get Antonia’s cousin Shea to get them all alcohol from the off license, the six of them all giggling as they drink bottles of Lambrini in the street on the walk over to the party. When they arrive the house is packed, the music is loud, and everything is dark inside. Everyone already seems to be drunk and Monique finds herself guzzling the cider almost sickeningly quickly as she attempts to play catch-up. She’s surprised that some of the boys start talking to her and her friends. She’s never really received male attention before. She’s still not even kissed anyone; nothing’s changed since she was thirteen years old. Connor is showering her with attention and he’s maybe even flirting and all Monique’s friends say he’s attractive and Monique’s hoping she’ll feel something for him over the course of the conversation she’s having with him in the kitchen, her head all light and the alcohol coating her mouth. Eventually she sees that he’s moving to kiss her and she’s going to say no, turn him down gently but-

Vanessa’s here. She’s in the hallway looking at her, and Monique feels her eyes almost burn a hole in her heart. Her and Brooke broke up in the Summer- it was messy and all over Facebook, and Vanessa took it badly. There’s something to her gaze that Monique doesn’t recognise and she’s not sure she wants to. All she knows is the way she’s looking at her makes Monique focus her attentions on the boy in front of her, pulls him in for a kiss that’s sloppy and way too much and Monique feels nothing, beyond fucking empty inside, but the rush she gets when she opens her eyes mid-kiss to find Vanessa still looking at her is inexplicably exhilarating.

Except when she goes to bed that night she lies on her back and cries silently until she feels the tears stream into her ears. Why couldn’t she feel something for Connor? Why can’t she feel anything for any boy? Why can’t she shake this nagging feeling that something about her isn’t right, made differently to everyone else? She wishes she had Vanessa to talk to. She would know what to say. She’s been through all this already, Monique supposes. But Monique doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want to be happy like Vanessa is, she wants to fit in, she wants to keep her head down and not attract any attention and just be fucking normal, normal, normal.

Monique goes to sleep with a damp face and a stuffy nose and a feeling of self-loathing she can’t shake.

This feeling isn’t helped by what she finds when she wakes up on Monday morning. She’s checking all her socials as she’s walking to meet Monét and she’s got three new CuriousCats. The first reads,

Opinions on Asia O’Hara hehehehe

Monique laughs at Asia’s obvious fishing for compliments. She types,

the best friend EVERR and so pretty, ilysm!!!!!

The second one makes her stomach flip over.

did u get with Connor Monaghan on Saturday lmao

She thinks about it before typing and sending her response.

yea lol

She scrolls to the next one and her heart stands still.

Do you like girls

Monique is aware she’s stopped walking; she’s standing in the street like an idiot with every muscle and bone frozen in her body as her eyes dart across the screen again and again, reading it over and over. Why did somebody even send her this? Are there rumours going around about her too?

Quickly, she types out an ew no and publishes it. That should be the end of it. That’s it. She’s said she’s not, and that’s that. But there’s a concrete mixer of emotions and thoughts that swirl around in her mind and in turn churn up her stomach. She thinks about her kiss with Connor at the party, how she’d watched Vanessa instead of closing her eyes. The look on her face when they’d made eye contact. The way Monique feels as if something inside her is broken and can’t be fixed despite the fact she’s so normal on the outside contrasting with the way Vanessa is living happy and carefree despite constantly being made fun of and getting weird looks.

God, why does she even keep thinking about Vanessa all the time? They’ve not had a proper conversation in years, but Monique still remembers the way she’d texted her when her Gran died, the way she cared, the way she still called her her friend. Monique wonders if she’d still say the same thing. After all, she’s never said a bad word about Vanessa, never bitched about her or laughed about her behind her back.

Vanessa had said she still cared about her. Monique still cares about her too.

Monique is so in her own head that she doesn’t notice Monét standing waiting on her at the corner of the street until she almost walks past her. Monét grabs her arm to stop her and Monique very nearly swings for her until she realises who she is.

“Hey, bitch, slow down! It’s just me,” she laughs, and Monique gives a nervous laugh, still rattled by the anonymous question. “God, your head’s buried in that thing.”

“You sound like my Gran. Hey, Gran, I’m cold! Cause you always on that damn phone,” Monique impersonates, making Monét laugh. It coaxes a smile out of Monique too to remember how funny her Gran could be.

“What’re you lookin’ at anyway?”

Monique frowns, tells Monét about the message she got. Monét rolls her eyes and shakes her head in response.

“God, it’ll be fuckin’ Katie or Tomi pissing about and starting rumours. Just ignore them. Everyone knows you’re not gay anyway after Saturday night,” she waggles her eyebrows and tries to make a joke, but Monique’s still worried about the start of her sentence.

“But I don’t wanna be a rumour! I don’t want people talking about me!” she clamours, feeling ever-so-slightly helpless. Scratch that, hugely helpless. Monét pokes her in the arm just as school comes into view.

“Hey, Mo, chill! Nobody is gonna talk about you, everyone knows it’s a crock of shit! Just relax, alright? Ignore it, don’t let it ruin your day.”

That’s easier said than done, though. Monique’s mind is a mess and she can’t tell what’s real and what she’s making up. She walks past Tomi and Katie on her way to her locker and she thinks she hears them say her name but when she looks back at them they’re totally disinterested. In English, she’s sure everyone is staring at her when she walks into class. At breaktime she’s convinced the whole school knows. So when it gets to Biology and she’s sure, she’s positive, that she hears her name being whispered by someone in the row behind her followed by the word gay she thinks she’s going to be sick. The whole school knows, everyone is talking about it. Monique feels her chest tight, her mouth completely dry. She tries to take a deep breath but it feels as if she physically can’t do it. She doesn’t know how, but she manages to ask out of class and the moment she’s allowed she runs out of the door, hurtles down the stairs and into the girls’ bathroom, hyperventilating and clinging to one of the white porcelain sinks so hard she feels as if her knuckles are going to break. Her breathing makes her feel as if she’s a chew toy that someone is squeezing and squeezing over and over again, coming too quick and too shallow but she can’t stop; she’s stuck in the worst kind of cycle and she doesn’t know how to break it. She’s aware of the door creaking open, somebody saying her name in surprise but Monique can’t tear her gaze away from the crack beside the plughole to even see who it is. She feels the person take her hand off of the sink, squeeze it gently, and this forces her to look around and see who it is.

And of course it’s the one person who she doesn’t want to see right now.

Vanessa’s dark eyes are full of concern and care, and there’s furrows in her brow around the cracks and blemishes on her skin. Her bottom lip is worried between her teeth which are caged in by her pink traintracks, even though Monique knows they’d be beautiful and straight if she got them off.

Vanessa’s gaze is trained on Monique’s shaking hand now, and she’s holding it open with Monique’s palm outstretched towards her. It’s weird that Monique feels so exposed by that action alone. Vanessa’s got one of the fingers of her other hand positioned beside her thumb, a raggedy painted red nail standing out bright against her skin. “Focus on my finger. You’re gonna breathe in when it’s goin’ up one of your fingers and you’re gonna breathe out when it’s goin’ down.”

In the absence of anyone else to lean on, or indeed any rational thought, Monique simply obeys. Vanessa traces around her hand with her finger, slowly and gently, and it allows Monique time to calm down and breathe. Vanessa’s touch is grounding and soothing and eventually, when it’s clear Monique has calmed down, she watches as Vanessa wordlessly laces their fingers together, strokes her palm with her thumb. Monique’s heart is ricocheting off her ribcage, but not in the same way it was before. Now it’s as if her heart feels too big, like she’s been left out in the sun to melt, and Monique finally gets it.

This is how the other girls feel about boys.

“You okay now?” Vanessa asks her quietly, her voice hesitant and quiet and gentle and so out of character. Monique listens to the silence of the room. There’s nobody else there, nobody hiding in any cubicles. There’s only the drip of the tap and the hum of the air conditioner and Vanessa’s kind eyes and her long eyelashes.

If everything is as simple as an empty room and a silence like purgatory and a beautiful girl’s eyes, then maybe kissing Vanessa can be as simple as all that too.

So Monique does. She leans forward, closes her eyes before their lips meet softly, and neither of them do anything for a moment until Vanessa sort of pushes her lips against Monique’s own so then Monique pushes back with hers and then they’re kissing each other, Monique’s lip balm against Vanessa’s sticky gloss. They’ve still got their hands entwined and even though they’ve been so distant for the past few years she still ends up feeling so close to her because Monique knows Vanessa, but even though she’s got Vanessa’s soft lips on hers and her fingers curled around her own the magic starts to dissolve away and Monique remembers where they both are, who they both are, and how serious and completely not simple any of this is at all.

She pulls away, frantic and panicked, ripping her hand out of Vanessa’s like she’s touching fire. Her heart is going too fast again but it’s not a nice feeling like before; she knows she’s been away from class for too long, knows she needs to get back. She doesn’t want to look at Vanessa as she leaves, doesn’t want to be reminded of the last five minutes, doesn’t want to be reminded of what she is, of who she is. Vanessa takes her by the elbow gently, tries to turn her around.

“M’nique, hey-”

Everything collides together in Monique’s already crowded mind and the result is a crash of Big Bang-style proportions, one that makes her shove Vanessa away with both hands on her shoulders. Monique regrets it instantly, knows she’ll have to deal with the shock and hurt and betrayal on Vanessa’s face etched into her mind for as long as she’ll be able to remember it.

“Go away, Vanessa!” she cries, squeezing her eyes shut and curling her hand around the doorhandle. “Just stay the hell away from me!”

“Hey, you were the one that kissed me!” Vanessa bites back, her fists clenched by her sides in anger. If Monique looks at Vanessa long enough she can see tears beginning to form in her eyes but she’s trying her hardest to look at the floor, to not keep eye contact for long.

“No. I’m not like you, I’m not a fuckin’ weirdo, I don’t kiss girls, I’m not a dy…” Monique starts off insistent and strong but she has to hear herself tail off as she falters, the word she was about to say feeling barbed and sharp in her mouth, not right, a razor blade held on her tongue that she wants to spit out but now has to swallow.

Vanessa’s face has twisted in hurt and it’s impossible to ignore the tears trailing down her face. “You’re not a what, bitch? A dyke? Fucking say it, it don’t hurt me any more. Can’t hurt me any more than what you just did.”

Monique stands frozen and silent. She’s not sure what to say or do. Vanessa walks towards her and Monique flinches back against the wall as Vanessa reaches for the door. She gives Monique one last withering look up and down, the hurt in her eyes betraying the anger in her body.

“I really hoped that one day…you know what, forget it.”

Monique tries to forget it. But, almost as if it’s trying to make up for the fact she lost all of Year 10, her mind replays and replays the whole situation every day, until it’s the last day before the holidays and she knows she won’t have to see Vanessa around school for another six weeks, won’t have to face up to what she’s put in a double-locked safe in the back of her mind with a combination she’s so dangerously close to remembering.

***

Vanessa can’t quite believe she’s halfway through her final year at school.

In fact it’s a miracle she’s still even going to school. She’s got three GCSEs to her name (five No Awards, one D, a C in English which she has no idea how she managed and a C* in Maths, her proudest achievement to date). She’s been working away at an A-Level in Health and Social Care over both of her two years at Sixth Form now, and re-sitting the GCSEs she’s failed. Vanessa has no interest in either health nor social care, but it’s allegedly the easiest A-Level there is so she’s signed up for it regardless. What she’s really going to do after school ends is go to college, get her HNC and HND in beauty therapy with Silky while Akeria studies business management and then they’re going to open a beauty salon together, ’Dreamgirls Beauty’. It’s a plan they’ve had since Year 11, and it’s amused Vanessa to see Akeria and Silky begrudgingly calm down, to stop wreaking havoc around school and actually have to study and work hard so the three of them can achieve their dreams.

She’s actually enjoying her last year of school too. She knows part of the reason she’s stopped getting so much hassle from the others in her year group is because of her transformation after Summer. Her Mama finally saved up enough for flights back to Puerto Rico so they’d spent the Summer there with her family and Vanessa returned full of happiness, love, and fried plantains. All the home cooking and enormous meals have filled her out a bit and she doesn’t know exactly when she’d developed curves but she’s not exactly complaining about them. The sunshine has done wonders for her hair and skin too, the latter becoming clearer and darker and the former becoming longer and shinier. Adding to all this that she got her braces off and learned how to properly do makeup by averaging one NikkieTutorials video a day and she’s suddenly not just some small, spotty girl who fades into the background anymore. She’s confident, she loves herself, she’s genuinely happy.

And that’s more than can be said for Monique.

Vanessa doesn’t care. She doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Monique Heart, doesn’t give the girl a second thought. Certainly doesn’t think about the kiss they shared last year in the bathrooms which was so very obviously such a huge mistake. Doesn’t think about her long locks of hair she got dyed bright fiery orange over the Summer which compliments her eyes so well, doesn’t think about her huge bright smile and screech of a laugh that gets flashed at her friends whenever they say something hilarious. Doesn’t think about her lips even though she knows what they feel like, doesn’t think about how perfect it felt to kiss her after hiding a crush for so many years.

All of this is a lie of course.

Monique seems happy, any outsider would say that, but Vanessa knows different. If Vanessa looks at her long enough she can see the way her shoulders slump when she doesn’t have her friends around her and she’s left alone with her thoughts. She can see the small frown that appears on her face, lost in her own head and drowning in overthinking. She can see the way her smile falters after she laughs before it drops off her face completely. Sometimes Monique meets her gaze and gives Vanessa a look that communicates words in a language she cannot understand.

Still, Monique is hiding a secret that Vanessa already knows even without being told.

Vanessa had always naively and childishly imagined that she and Monique might get together one day. She’d almost confessed that to Monique that day when they’d kissed, before she decided to hang onto the last shred of her dignity. She’d loved Brooke so deeply but she knew that heartbreaks were a rite of passage, a part of life that some people had to bear the burden of. She’d always thought that if she and Brooke weren’t meant to be then her and Monique surely were (and how ridiculous a thought is that, given the fact they barely speak?).

But Vanessa likes to think she still knows Monique. Her biggest fear is needles, her favourite food is anything cooked on a barbecue. She’s always loved girlbands and near the end of their friendship Monique had told Vanessa her Gran had got her into trouble because she’d made twenty-five phone calls in one night to vote for Little Mix in the X Factor final, so Vanessa can safely assume she still listens to them and probably Fifth Harmony as well. She knows that Monique is caring and kind, even despite that day in the girls’ bathrooms. Still, though…Vanessa doesn’t know. A person can change and grow so much over a few short years, and Monique’s been through a lot.

It’s dark and cold outside but Vanessa is warm in bed as she scrolls her phone, absent-mindedly returns to her messages with Monique like she’s done many times since the day she kissed her- Vanessa always reminds herself that no matter what Monique had said, it was her that kissed Vanessa, not the other way round. She re-reads her words over and over like the prayers she chants at Mass on Sundays:

M: Vanessa I’m so sorry

M: I didn’t mean to hurt you I’m just going through so much right now

M: I’m trying to figure myself out but it’s so hard

M: I really miss you

She hadn’t replied to any of them, a fact she deeply deeply regrets because perhaps if she had then they could’ve been something, she could’ve helped Monique with whatever feelings she’d been dealing with, is maybe still dealing with. But it’s been months and months and months now, and Vanessa feels the moment has passed.

That is, until she gets a message on CuriousCat.

Opinions on Monique Heart

When she sees it, Vanessa’s breathing catches in her throat. She feels as if Monique’s eyes are on her and watching her, because really, who else would’ve sent that ask in? Okay, it could’ve been one of her friends trying to stir shit up, but Vanessa knows how it works on CuriousCat and usually the anons are quite easy to work out (which is why she’s still so amazed that Monique never seemed to know it was her that had asked her if she liked girls). Her fingers hover over the screen as she tries to figure out what to type. Unlike the other girls in her year, Vanessa doesn’t bullshit over CuriousCat- if she’s asked an opinion on somebody she calls a spade a spade, and she’ll never forget the hassle she got when somebody asked her her opinion on Tomi and Vanessa had outright labelled her a racist cunt. She wants to say that she’s gorgeous and beautiful, and that she misses being her friend, and that she’s been crushing on her for a while but never had the courage to speak to her because they both move in different circles now and nothing could ever happen.

But obviously, she doesn’t.

Instead she thinks up a white lie, tries to tell the truth without telling the truth, and instead replies:

dont want to say something ill regret

She yells goodnight to her Mama and switches off the lamp beside her bed, turns over and pulls the covers up to her chin. Just as she’s drifting off, a repetitive sound drifts into her consciousness. It sounds like hailstones that are falling from the sky just one at a time. She can hear somebody shouting in the street- probably just somebody drunk stumbling through the estate, it happens a lot- until she makes out who the voice belongs to. Opening her eyes, she sees tiny pebble after tiny pebble hitting her window, and all at once she’s shooting out of bed to look out of it.

The yellow glow of the streetlamp is a spotlight and Monique is taking centre stage on the pavement outside Vanessa’s house. She’s dressed in a huge black hoodie which is paired with blue tartan pyjama bottoms and she’s wearing her black Nike trainers, the same ones she wears to school with the scuffs and the holes and the laces that look like a dog has chewed on them. She’s hurling pebbles and her face is twisted into an upset and mournful frown. Vanessa doesn’t realise she’s crying until she hears her yell again, hears the crack in her voice and her words thick with emotion.

“Open the fuckin’ window, Vanessa!”  

Vanessa does as she’s told, feels her own face scrunch up into a frown. She hisses down to Monique. “Stop fuckin’ yelling, my Mama’s asleep!”

Monique looks up at her, face illuminated in the artificial light. Vanessa sees the tears streaming down her face and her heart feels as if it’s breaking. She grabs her dressing gown and shoves her feet into her slippers, tiptoes as quickly as she can down the stairs and out into the street. She shoves one of her school shoes that’s beside the door into the doorframe so it won’t slam closed behind her, and then she feels the cold night air envelop her as she steps outside. There’s already frost forming on the ground, a tiny layer of wet cold over everything. It’s so dark that the only thing she can properly see is Monique as she walks up to her iron fence, absent-mindedly sticks her feet through the bars and curls her fingers around the rust.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?”

Monique’s face is angry as she addresses her. “What’s the something you’ll regret? Huh? What’s so bad that you can’t fuckin’ say it? You’ve always got something to say, you’re always calling people out. So what the fuck is it?”

Vanessa’s back is instantly put up. “An’ what if I don’t tell you, you gonna throw names at me again? You gonna kiss me then pretend like I kissed you? Nah you won’t, because that would mean havin’ to address your problems an’ act your fuckin’ age for a change instead of caring so much about what other people think of you that you won’t let yourself be who you are!”

Monique is staring at her wide-eyed and Vanessa thinks it would’ve been easier if she’d just slapped her across the face. She is thinking rapidly about what she could say to save the situation and her heart drops like a rollercoaster when Monique gives a sob.

“I’m so fuckin’ scared, ‘Ness,” she says through a shudder of a breath, and Vanessa wants to reach out to her but she’s frozen onto the fence, an ice sculpture in the freezing air. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and…you’re so happy, and you’re different, and I just…I don’t want to be talked about, I don’t want any of the whispers or the mean words or anybody judging me but I’m so fucking…sad and empty and the last time I remember feeling really, properly alive again was when I kissed you that day and…fuck-”

Monique dissolves into sobs which she muffles with hands wrapped in hoodie sleeves. Vanessa has been through all of this already. She has been through the denial, the Catholic guilt, the repression, letting the thoughts drip, drip, drip into her consciousness then locking them away and ignoring them but the thing about a drip is that there’s always the threat of the dam breaking and when it does, a tsunami of repressed feelings creates a flood and the tears are streaming uncontrollably from Monique’s eyes. Vanessa thaws, reaches forward to take one of Monique’s hands away from her face, and when their eyes meet she can see a speck of hope in Monique’s gaze like Vanessa has a life belt and a raft.  

“M’nique,” she says softly, and the girl’s sobs quieten. “Sometimes you just need to ignore the thoughts that make up the what-ifs. You need to stop imagining fiction and just focus on the facts. At some point…you need to allow yourself to be happy.”

Monique snuffles. “But what if I try that and I’m still not?”

“What if you try and you are? Monique,” Vanessa sighs in exasperation, trying to word it better but being unable to find anything more.

And then the thought strikes her.

Actions speak louder than words so she leans over the gate and pulls Monique close. This time there’s no lipgloss, no chapstick and no overthinking; there’s her lips on Monique’s, and she’s been here before so she kisses her just like she kissed back last time but now she’s less hesitant and nervous. She’s sure. She’s never been more sure of anything in her life. Monique is kissing her back and their hands are entwined just as they’d been the first time. Everything is the same, and yet at once all so different.

When she pulls away (because the fence is digging into her stomach and it’s making her a little too breathless), Monique doesn’t let go of her hand. There’s a hint of a smile on her face, one that makes Vanessa feel as if they’re both going to be okay.

“I never thought we’d get here,” Vanessa laughs a little. She’s emotional, and if she doesn’t check herself then she’s going to start crying but the tears are out before she knows it along with her words. “I know that we ain’t properly spoken in years. But I also know that I love you. I care about you so fuckin’ much, M’nique, I never stopped carin’.”

The pair of them are crying now, and Monique pulls Vanessa in to kiss her again. Vanessa feels her murmur it back against her lips- I love you, I love you so much. I missed you.

It’s still dark, and the streetlamp is still the only light outside Vanessa’s house, but everything seems a little brighter.

“It ain’t safe to walk back to your ends now. C’mon.”

Vanessa takes her friend’s hand, leads her back inside where it’s warm and safe. Her bed is tiny and there’s only really room for one person but they make it work, Monique pressed against the wall and curled up with her arms around Vanessa, Vanessa with her head resting against Monique’s chest and her arm slung protectively over her. She feels Monique give her a little squeeze, press a kiss to the top of her head.

Monique gives the relieved and heavy sigh of someone who’s been rescued from deep water. She wriggles a little in bed to get comfortable and, seemingly satisfied, she whispers into the dark. “G’night, Vanessa.”

Monique’s arms feel comforting around her, and she chooses to settle in them. “Night, M’nique.”

#rpdr fanfiction #2003 #ortega #vanique #vanessa vanjie mateo #monique heart #best friends to girlfriends #s10 #lesbian au #high school au #fic challenge #black girl magic fic #diversity fic #tw homophobia #tw d slur #tw bereavement

[latinokaeya-moving]

wait wait okay i know none of you care but here’s my opinions on each of the main characters in money heist bc i’m taking a break from packing/watching n wanna complain

under a readmore bc ilyall. i’ve only seen 8eps so far for any money heist fans out there that might wanna get mad at me

the professor - easily the most likeable male character, i think the whole planning of the heist is very cool and he’s got that sorta socially awkward energy to him. he also looks like a history professor. glasses and all. i’m smitten

raquel / the inspector - i’m constantly cringing when she’s on screen not bc she’s a bad chara but bc of the whole heist thing n she’s always just two steps slightly behind figuring everything out and it stresses me out. i knew her n the professor were/are gonna be a thing from the start. her ex husband subplot i don’t really like. she’s also constantly getting the short end of the stick bc everyone treats her like shit thanks to misogyny. justice for raquel

angel - fuck this dude. i used 2 know a guy called angel and he was super sweet. he doesn’t deserve 2 have his name tarnished by this desperate Nice Guy

NOW.....the Heist Robbers

berlin - HE FUCKING SUCKS he’s terrible first and foremost his entire character is a gross ableist caricature and that informs the entirety of his personality being an absolute disgusting creep and it sucks so godamn bad. i hate immoral evil crazy trope. i cant like anything about him i’m sorry he’s just awful

moscow n denver - they’re nice. i like them. father n son duo that are a lil boring but i appreciate their subplot with monica and whatnot. they’re trying their best

helsinki n oslo - twins that r literally just there 2 be the muscle. respectable bc i don’t remember anything abt them except that they walk around looking big and burly. big respect for helsinki being gay. king

rio - i.....don’t like him at all. his whole business w tokyo is stupid, i don’t like the romance thing w them, he’s not very interesting and i’m not invested in him at all. he’s constantly getting scenes w allison parker that r framed Weirdly n its fucking WEIRD even if nothing has technically happened yet lmao.

tokyo - now i’m the first 2 defend a bitch character from misogyny but this just ain’t it babes. she’s not likeable. her romance with rio is bad and has literally been responsible for almost fucking up the heist several times. i hate that she’s the narrator bc i don’t CARE abt her perspective give me anyone else dear god. ALSO THAT SCENE WITH ALLISON???? FUCK you money heist. i’m gonna kill you

nairobi - QUEEN played by the iconic and beautiful alba flores, the only lady of colour in the entire cast and played by a lesbian godddd i love her i only care about her. nairobi as a character is meant 2 be str8 i think but she gets both queer and dyke passes bc she’s the ONLY one that’s been trying to be reasonable and keeping to the plan n hasn’t majorly fucked up smth even once. she deserves more screentime. the first time i saw her i was like “oh 🥺” and i haven’t stopped being like that since. she’s objectively fun and good and enjoyable...give me more nairobi. let her be gay.

anyways i think i’m done 4 now i can’t think i just wanted 2 ramble abt this stupid show

#x #money heist lb

[punkscowardschampions]

Ronnie & Joe

Ronnie: pick me up Joe: rude you clearly did without me Joe: but I'll be able to do a twofer, yeah 👌 Joe: send your distress signal so I know where to point Ronnie: [wherever she's been working for a hot sec, I dread to think lol] Joe: you making a complaint about their cold-calls in person? Joe: tick off initiative on your CV Ronnie: my sides have split & it aint fuck all to the piss poor stitching Joe: see how far we can stretch your guts either side of you, fun Joe: did you self-sew or see one of your gun-wielding pals? different principle tats and triage Ronnie: then you can play a round of guess how much of this blood is mine, get yourself proper going Joe: too kind, stop me from charging the going rate for a while yet 🚖 Joe: what office supply did you use though Joe: if you were too cliche, you are going to have to sit up front and talk to me, proper cabbie punishment Ronnie: everything got nicked day 1 baby they werent about to waste any staples keeping shit on desks Ronnie: phone & a script is your lot Joe: there any drug we can act like anyone's calling it oscar on the street? Joe: you fully Joe Pesci'd someone with the phone, yeah? 👏 Ronnie: any gear that should go straight in the bin Ronnie: call it oscar Joe: you are wasted on 0 hour contracts, my dear Ronnie: not wasted enough for em Joe: join me at your local overpriced shit coffee dealer Joe: our bathrooms couldn't pass a piss test but they all only want the ⬆pers Joe: 💔 Ronnie: ill have an escort if you dont get a fucking move on Ronnie: you got enough student spends to feed coffee & doughnuts to the full force yeah Joe: say lucky you but security guards got as many hairs on their head as they got IQ points Joe: lot down Soho are decent conversationalists, unlike Daz and Gaz Joe: I did just get this terms though so hold on and you can help me 🔥 through it Ronnie: i dont get turned on by einstein & his pals mckenna thats your wank fuel Ronnie: easiest way to get a cunt off my back is to put him on his Joe: he only banged his cousin, that's nothing to waste energy on Ronnie: 💔 none of your cousins look enough like your mam for you Joe: why do you think i was searching Joe: daring to dream Ronnie: give a fuck about your nancy drew fantasies Ronnie: that schoolgirl shit is tapped Joe: the catholic schoolgirl uniforms have been overstated Joe: not all that in person, be the review Joe: nuns though, yeah Joe: enough mild peril to manage Ronnie: charlie will be gutted youve switched from homos to dykes Joe: you're the only one who's guts I wanna play around Joe: I'll break it to him nicely Joe: doughnuts, yeah Ronnie: consolation hole Ronnie: youve had shitter ideas Joe: it was yours, in fairness Joe: dunno about offering up my hole to every bloke at the met but if I put my foot down shouldn't be an issue Ronnie: i dont reckon a consolation footjob is gonna cut it Ronnie: not my first offence Joe: giving away how highly you think of my 🍑 Joe: what happened then, beyond telemarketing being worse than shitting out razorblades Ronnie: you wish you had 1 whitey Joe: says you Ronnie: if i had any curves theyd be cut off by now Joe: junkie chic before the habit Joe: some girls have all the luck Ronnie: lucky i need your bullshit heroics for this or id send you on a fools errand to sleuth the pieces out of landfill Joe: white knight > jester Joe: not my usual style, but for you I'll make an exception Ronnie: unless youre gonna say your horse fucking girlfriend dressed you the other night ive already seen it like Joe: you think her thing is budget kurt cobain? Joe: or that she's blind Ronnie: be blind by now if you catholics arent full of shit about touching yourself too much Ronnie: homesick for the horse & rejected by you Joe: what do you think its called Joe: my bets are on some boy band member she fancied when she was 11 and daddy was gutted Ronnie: or the 1st lad she wanted to meet round the back of the bike sheds Joe: you're such a romantic Ronnie: fuck off Ronnie: im thinking like a basic white bitch from kent or wherever the fuck you said Joe: you do it well Joe: no way her school had anything common like bikesheds though so knocking a point off Joe: getting fingered on the hellipad is more voyeuristic but has less of a charm about it Ronnie: write a song about it Ronnie: shes gonna be charmed by the namedrop Joe: return the favour Joe: she's making me help her with her coursework Ronnie: plaster cast of your cock and then what Ronnie: tell her you aint no hendrix & its been done Joe: charlie wishes, whitey Joe: I'll cc 'em both in about my disappointing dick Ronnie: ill pass on gaz & daz numbers Joe: god I hope the plaster ain't dried Ronnie: god aint listening to you nancy Joe: adds up Joe: that kind of dad, technically always keep an eye but going in one ear and out the other Joe: 💔 woe is me Ronnie: irish catholics aint got fuck all going on between the ears she werent in it for that Joe: fucked me up with her shit genetics then Joe: you manage to get a pen? Joe: shove it in my ear and dig it out Ronnie: pull it out of my neck & you can stick it where you like Joe: we'll let the blood piss out 'til it feels right Ronnie: im the romantic Ronnie: shut up Joe: alright, you need to be conscious to woo me Ronnie: couldve fooled me Joe: dead girls pale in comparison Joe: 💘 Ronnie: the boners you lot have got for open caskets over there i dont reckon youve ever seen a dead girl the proper colour Joe: just said you were #1 but you've got to be 1 and only, yeah? Ronnie: in your fever dreams mckenna Ronnie: i aint looking that much like your ma however much slap i put on Joe: you're prettier than her Ronnie: now you want me to drink bleach instead of having a bath in it Ronnie: make up your fucking mind like Joe: just knew that would wind you up Joe: gotta bring out some cliches Joe: you're perfect just the way you are, you know Ronnie: drop dead Joe: god willing Joe: he's being fucking slow about it, despite my best efforts Ronnie: ill give it my best shot if you keep on Joe: another one for the cv Ronnie: find it written in my blood shit & bile on this wall Ronnie: thats your girlfriends coursework aced for her Joe: beats the lecture I'm skipping out on by miles Ronnie: no shit none of em are dressed like nuns Joe: none of 'em hate me like you either Joe: so damn likeable, its a curse Ronnie: i dont wanna hear about all your teachers trying to pet you Ronnie: childhoods over golden boy Joe: and all without me getting molested once Joe: by any nuns or teachers anyway Ronnie: 💔 Ronnie: why youre such an annoying cunt Joe: abuse really humbles you, does it Joe: builds character Ronnie: gives you something to properly cry about Joe: got nothing on the shit my brain can make up Joe: idle hands and all that Ronnie: yeah youre so special baby Joe: it's just being mental or not Joe: if you ain't, you can go through whatever fucked up shit and be alright still Joe: if you're mental nothing even needs to happen and you'll be worse off Joe: some of us ain't got a chance from conception Ronnie: tell me something i dont know Ronnie: poster child for not having a fucking chance & any mental problems they wanna attach Joe: you better pay for more ad space Joe: call it karma, or dodgy genetics Joe: but I make a great case for abortion Ronnie: like i said before not one that needs to be put to me Ronnie: had more of em than youve had misery boners Joe: won't make you tell me about 'em Joe: no way you'd be as descriptive as the furious pro-lifers who act like the baby is fit to crawl out when you kill it Ronnie: hot Ronnie: shouldve called 1 of em to pick me up instead Joe: condemnation and loathing is meant to be my thing Ronnie: sharings meant to be your thing too yeah? Joe: only when it's inadvisable Ronnie: only when you wanna Joe: if you got to play oldest you'd know that's sadly untrue Ronnie: stuck being the cliche middle kid between fitz & the other one Ronnie: fucks sake Joe: seeking attention and approval because you're overlooked and under-appreciated? Joe: it's why 3 is a good number, any more and you've got multiple middle kids Joe: maybe I don't wanna fuck my mum, just missing all 3 of my own so much 🙄 Ronnie: they wish anyone could overlook me Ronnie: & you deffo do wanna fuck her so thats shit on your thesis Joe: yeah, sounds just like them Joe: suits you Joe: like the basic white bitch thing Ronnie: go fuck your mam Ronnie: im too tired for this Joe: you won't have no early start tomorrow sound of Ronnie: didnt have an early start today Ronnie: thats what kicked off this bullshit Joe: fair enough Joe: who wants a cold call at 7am Ronnie: the cunt who runs the place will be getting 1 off me til he pays me Joe: lucky him Joe: might wanna stay in your debt longer, romantic that you are Joe: attention very flattering Ronnie: what im hearing is i should tell his missus some fucking fairytale about the attention he was giving me Ronnie: everyonell be made up with the lie Joe: could do Joe: like your flair Joe: or I could come in, tell him you're mental and that he didn't make adequate allowances for you but now you're too traumatized to come back so he should just pay and we won't have to sue Joe: might get damages on top Ronnie: who are you my fucking school age carer like Joe: i'm believable, and more palatable than you outwardly Joe: anyway i look older Ronnie: than what 12 Joe: you have a baby face Joe: i look like i've not slept in as many years Joe: which is pretty accurate, as it goes Ronnie: do i fuck Ronnie: i look like ive shaken a baby to death Joe: child on child crime Joe: shocking headlines there, like that scottish girl who was fucked then got out and was someone's gran like she didn't kill a toddler Ronnie: see how palatable you are when I kick your teeth in Joe: it's a curse Joe: if you wanna lift it and be my hero instead of it being this way 'round Joe: love you forever, like Ronnie: ill lift your wallet fuck the rest Joe: already offered you my money Joe: not even a challenge, soft touch Ronnie: like youve ever been challenged soft lad Joe: go on Ronnie: youre already going on loads Joe: bet you've never heard about the traffic in this city, have ya Ronnie: fuck it ill go lay in it Joe: 😍 Ronnie: save the pillow talk for when youre offering me somewhere else to sleep Ronnie: would let you fuck me for entry to horse girls en suite if theres a bath in it Joe: where's your bed gone Ronnie: its got a hysterical homo in it whos only gonna get himself in more of a fanny flap cause ive been sacked Ronnie: ill take the wreckage of a 4 car pile up or whatever Joe: gotcha Joe: how long 'fore he calms it Ronnie: how long are you offering to spend buying him drinks & cupping his balls Joe: i get it Joe: you wanna wifeswap Joe: not just her art assignment you're interested in Joe: but you can just take my bed, I'm always falling asleep on the sofa or up the table and she'll relish at more chance to watch me sleeping Ronnie: your room got a 🔒 Joe: yeah but you're alright, it's on the inside Joe: not going to get fritzl about it Ronnie: youd need more than that to keep me in Ronnie: which youd know if you were earning off dealing with my mental problems Joe: not giving you a challenge either, don't get hysterical yourself like Ronnie: you couldnt like Ronnie: bigger pussy than your basic white girlfriend Joe: oh god stop talking about it Joe: i'll be sick Ronnie: no stomach for any kind of challenge Joe: you crack on Joe: i'll stick to 🍩 Ronnie: not so needy for some clean piss that ill be licking her out for it Joe: you should write this song for me Ronnie: whats in it for me Ronnie: got all your spends on a promise as is Joe: the fame and full writing credits, obviously Ronnie: fuck off obviously Joe: that's how we know you're not really a middle kid Ronnie: more shit you can come at your ma with Joe: I'll save it for the next holiday Ronnie: 💘 Joe: what about your dad Ronnie: i dont reckon hes up for another go on her if youre there watching Joe: 💔 Joe: i meant do you know what happened to him Joe: you might have more interesting half brothers out there, what I'm thinking Ronnie: got no interest in little fucking kids Joe: so you do know Joe: did he come find you or what Ronnie: dont get jealous nance Ronnie: did it myself like Joe: he meet your expectations Ronnie: what kind of fucking soft shit is that Ronnie: get a grip mckenna he aint rich Joe: a no would suffice Joe: though it's adorable you really kicked it like Annie over it Joe: you could've said you had none, or you expected him to be dead or worse, a useless cunt Ronnie: why would i say fuck all to you about it Joe: too painful too private Joe: gotcha Ronnie: wank over your own parents when i aint waiting Joe: the fact you've not implied I'd prematurely cum in my pants Joe: you're so full of hope it's equal parts inspiring and worrying Ronnie: get out of my face before i kick yours in Ronnie: everyone who aint gone blind can see youre a virgin Joe: don't be jealous, sid Ronnie: you cant tell your older sister what to do baby Ronnie: that aint how this works Joe: it wasn't good ever Ronnie: course youre crying about that too Ronnie: fucking hell Joe: just trying to ease your jealousy Joe: anyway, you'll be pleased to know the lacklustre results were down to my lack of trying, not theirs Ronnie: 1 less dose of the clap & i might still be fertile now thats fucking worrying Ronnie: keep your status choir boy Joe: bit cliche far as fantasies go but alright Ronnie: you started it Ronnie: trying to make me feel special Joe: no need to try is there Ronnie: not now my gag reflex has been triggered Joe: like that ain't been decimated by now too Ronnie: youre learning Ronnie: your teachersll be made up Joe: hope for the molestation yet? Joe: nice Ronnie: ease your 💔 & limp dick Joe: calm down Joe: might get attached Ronnie: do your grades the world of good Joe: you wanna help me with my homework? Ronnie: youre that shit in the sack you still wont get an a after giving your teachers a going over Ronnie: unlucky like Joe: so you can help me Joe: what else you gonna do whilst you're hiding from charlie Ronnie: use your imagination Joe: no need Joe: you'll be sharing Ronnie: cant stop you kicking the door in Ronnie: its yours Joe: just the needle, not the bed, like Joe: you're fine Ronnie: yeah youll be between horse girls sheets Joe: don't reckon she's strong enough to carry me Ronnie: only has to strap a saddle on Joe: 😂 Ronnie: fuck knows what she would fill your nose bag with Joe: the surprise is the fun part Ronnie: dont come crying to me when its oscar Joe: if she was half as interesting as you're making out, might stand a chance of working Joe: as it goes, probably be granola Ronnie: stick her thatll make her more your type Joe: come on Joe: she don't look a thing like my mother Ronnie: fucks sake when shes under get a 🔪 Ronnie: do your best like Joe: i keep telling you i'm not one for trying Ronnie: trying not to cry is as far as it goes yeah Joe: even my kiddy medicine cuts that shit off Joe: ain't been able to since I was 12 Joe: not that there was much call for it, my perfect life with mummy dearest Ronnie: the other week before you met me then Ronnie: gutted i broke your streak Joe: you sure you ain't interested in little fucking kids Joe: rearrange that sentence and Freud is having a field day Ronnie: make the effort to get here before i start to rot Ronnie: not trying to make that cunts day or yours Joe: you'd have liked him Ronnie: he rich off peddling that bullshit to the masses Joe: yeah and he reckoned cocaine was the cure for heroin addiction so he really knew a good time Ronnie: sounds like my not boyfriend Joe: oh yeah? Joe: well his grandson was cooler Joe: he fucked kate moss when he was like 70 Ronnie: anyone written a song about that Joe: maybe pete did Joe: he was a painter though so he painted her with her kit off, obviously Joe: reckon it's free for us to give it a crack Ronnie: your girlfriend painted you yet or what Joe: she wants to Ronnie: no shit mckenna Ronnie: every cunt there nearly fucking went arse over tit in the puddle she was sat in at that gig Joe: so that's what that sticky feeling was Ronnie: her juices or charlies Joe: that's called mixed media Joe: potential bio-hazard for her profs though Ronnie: worst theyre gonna get off her is thrush Ronnie: never met a bitch so clean Joe: yeah Joe: boring Ronnie: i told you to kill her last time you started being a baby about it Joe: you can have homicidal, sis Joe: boring but harmless Ronnie: cocaines harmless after heroin you & freud are still pussy enough to call it a party Joe: why it's a cure Joe: get you from comatose to semi-functioning Ronnie: she could be a cure too Ronnie: cold turkey Joe: weren't searching for a cure Joe: am i coming in or are you coming out Joe: can't see you Ronnie: cause youre comatose Ronnie: gutted this ex boss aint a cokehead Joe: not far off Joe: he your not boyfriend or is that just what we're telling the wife Ronnie: fuck off Ronnie: he couldnt fund your baby habit nevermind mine Joe: we going there first then Ronnie: yeah Joe: if we get your wages, we don't have to Joe: [come in boy] Ronnie: [a look like go on impress me by getting these wages boy] Joe: [when you can give it social worker chat 'cos what Tess does and the whole beeline of it all like you can be convincing enough that he's breaking some kind of equality law by sacking her without pay lol] Ronnie: [love that for you Joseph even if she won't let you know she's impressed and also lowkey triggered by that social worker energy] Joe: [honestly, lbr this man surely just wants you gone, won't take too much persuading] Ronnie: [literally and he's clearly in some way shady if he's 1. employed her and also 2. not called the police on her rn] Joe: [no leg to stand on sir, love this shakedown for you] Ronnie: [I bet they're all illegals and people being exploited] Joe: [its a mood, as in happens all the time esp. in cities, least you can hit him up again lads, long as he don't get y'all beaten up or something lol] Ronnie: [tbf if you do get beaten up that's a mood too] Joe: [yeah, when they find out you are not social and just taking their money lol] Ronnie: [love a scam] Joe: [the kind of nonsense have your mother rolling in her grave she's not in, love that we're starting that now] Ronnie: [I approve of the vibe, start as you mean to go on lads, all before you've made his poor flatmate wanna die lol] Joe: [poor gal did not ask for you as a flatmate let alone all this lol] Ronnie: [do you wanna skip to like when she's back and Ronnie's in his room or whatever because easy way to keep the convo going without needing it to be face to face] Joe: [works for me henny] Ronnie: [your turn to start boo] Joe: doubt she'll leave her room any time soon now Ronnie: 💔 Joe: yeah poor girl Joe: saying you got free reign, if you need anything Ronnie: i had it before Ronnie: not scared of her like Joe: nah Joe: what about charlie then Joe: or you just don't wanna upset him Ronnie: yeah terrified Ronnie: well sleuthed nancy Joe: that he'll get sick of you, maybe Ronnie: i fucking told you we aint the kind of family who get rid Joe: yeah Ronnie: dont project onto me Ronnie: we aint nothing alike Joe: i'm the one sick of them Joe: if anything Ronnie: yeah & he aint fuck all like you either Joe: I can see that Ronnie: youve seen him once dont flatter yourself Joe: and it's that obvious Ronnie: 🖕 Joe: what? Joe: i only need to know one half the equation to know we're not the same Joe: it's a compliment to him if fuck all else Ronnie: give it to him then Ronnie: hell lap it up Joe: i told you it's nice Joe: what you lot got Joe: but i'm not looking to get in on it if that's what you reckon Ronnie: take what you want pussy Joe: that's not your thing? Ronnie: what we cant both do it Joe: potentially Ronnie: dont remember you having any hesitation to share a needle Ronnie: grow a pair when youre not getting shot up Ronnie: maybe the dayll come when i dont have to spoon feed you the gear like a fucking kid Joe: i'd have to work out if i want anything but first Ronnie: yeah Joe: is it all you want Joe: the heroin Ronnie: mind your fucking business Joe: alright Joe: do you want to do my next tattoo or what Ronnie: i said take what you fucking want Joe: [come through with ink you've undoubtedly stole from your flatmate, also being more spacey/twitchy than normal like distract me gal] Ronnie: [love how old school & gross we're kicking this tattoo situation unlike when Ali does it] Joe: [which is absolutely the point, how your arms and legs don't fall off lol] Ronnie: [their other ones probably wouldn't have even healed yet cos lbr it's gonna be no time in between these interactions] Joe: [just loads of lowkey open wounds, like that isn't life anyway] Ronnie: [mhmm they'd be fucked already too cos they are so itchy when they are healing and y'all don't have chill] Joe: [all the reason for constant touch ups/ messing with so it casually never heals #mood] Ronnie: [I didn't think of that but I stan] Joe: [casual metaphor for your everything lads] Ronnie: [you know you can do anything to her tattoowise yourself Joseph she don't care] Joe: [probably doing some weird repitition moment you'd usually do on yourself which will be painful af excuse you] Ronnie: [she do love the pain you're fine] Joe: [good thing too, we're just here fucking each other up like this ain't gonna go anywhere else lolllllll] Ronnie: [way more #into it than I should be considering I don't  even like when people shout lol] Joe: [you babby, they are not, obviously we're getting and taking drugs even if she's too naive to know why they're in such a state, maybe they can make a dealer come to them when they're feeling fancy/have already had loads lol] Ronnie: [take a moment to appreciate how few clothes she is wearing rn and how much that means this poor gal can and would see like we've got track marks and self harm scars for days even before you start on the tattoos lol, you're gonna get clued in before she leaves hen] Joe: [honestly props for not running home screaming tbh babe] Ronnie: [especially when this dealer comes because he ain't Drew like he should be scary af] Joe: [lowkey makes you work for it even when you're paying 'cos hates junkies] Ronnie: [at least she can basically fuck him in full view for Joe's benefit because the vibe is already there haha] Joe: [i truly love thinking about what the hell you're telling the flatmate when she leaves, she's not that stupid, also must fancy you if she doesn't report you immediately lol] Ronnie: [she definitely does that's not just Ronnie's bpd jealousy shining through like did you tell her you were related after the gig or what even Joseph what's the narrative] Joe: [also, entirely unrelated, when you bleaching your hair 'cos it looks so much better lol, anyways, he's probably had to go with a troubled sister narrative 'cos she's the type to be sympathetic and it makes sense why he'd deal from her pov] Ronnie: [that's gonna make the obvious sexual tension awkward but yeah I vote they definitely do it while she's staying because same vibe as the tattoo sesh so] Joe: [ikr, when you're blatantly fucking this will be very confusing, you should deffo only be about 1st year lol] Ronnie: [are you gonna give him another different flatmate in year 2 or like none?] Joe: [maybe for year 2  on you can still have some like a house share moment but he's the one you never see and has nothing to do with you] Ronnie: [that works definitely cos like I was just thinking how could he afford somewhere on his own] Joe: [yeah, even if we're technically employed whilst in uni by the orchestra, it's not gonna be loads, and that's how London be even if you're not a student] Ronnie: [how long do we think she should stay for this time because obvs she's coming back again and again but] Joe: [hmm, like he isn't gonna tell her to go so it's on her for how long she can deal lol] Ronnie: [just cos I'm thinking she should leave because something happens/almost does and it freaks her out because she's meant to hate him and there's only so much you can play off as doing for shock value when you're blatantly into it] Joe: [that makes sense, clearly it ain't gonna take long for that to transpire] Ronnie: [yeah a few days is what I'm imagining, but like enough that she probably thinks nothing will happen because it hasn't so far, if that makes sense] Joe: [i'm with it] Ronnie: [how far do we wanna go is always the question] Ronnie: [okay idea time, hear me out hun, what if it's like an unexpectedly pure/cute moment by their standards that happens in the day to day because the obvious would be to have them go all in when they are fucked up but like think about it] Joe: [that's what I thought too though 'cos it's more impactful 'cos it isn't as if it's gonna start with a kiss when it does for real like it's all extra and them to cover that it's about anything but being fucked up, so that would shake you both] Ronnie: [so glad we're on the same page here, like I can't think of a good example of what I mean/think should happen but] Joe: [we know the vibe, doing something vaguely domestic before realizing what you're doing] Ronnie: [so she gotta run away and nobody is gonna know where she is or what she's doing for a bit soz Charlie & Bronson] Joe: [you wanna skip to that time period now, this hasn't been excessively long or anything[ Ronnie: [we totally can because we can always skip back/add it if we think of anything else we wanna do while she's there etc] Ronnie: [I've had a potential idea how to start this so neither of them technically has to bite the bullet and go first like if you give me a rough idea what kind of thing Charlie would say e.g where are you/are you dead bitch and I'll reply here like she's in the wrong convo lol] Joe: [that's a good idea boo, probably something like you can stop hiding now and an update about whatever the fuck he's up to in his life which you can make up you know the vibe lol] Ronnie: [I was just like realistically if they were both shook by what happened neither of them are gonna be like oh hey] Joe: [yeah like it'd take him a while even if he would 'cos not just gonna let this go that easy, so it's a solid way to do it] Ronnie: a real scouse ma's meant to shout down the street when its time to stop playing about Ronnie: lazy cunt Joe: I'm only half if I'm anything, and you probably won't give me that any rate Ronnie: 🖕 not talking to you Ronnie: got the wrong gaylord Joe: easy mistake Joe: you not got his number saved? Ronnie: if this was my phone yeah Joe: newly acquired then Ronnie: mine broke Joe: my condolences Joe: wall or pavement? Ronnie: what the fuck does it matter Joe: just making conversation whilst you're here Ronnie: if youve got something to say go ed Ronnie: but if youre gonna pussy out as per it got waterlogged Joe: you dying for the uni update like my ma is a top performance, cheers, like Joe: rice didn't work or you didn't fancy eating toilet water rice after Ronnie: loads in common me & her aint just a pretty face like Ronnie: dont know what kind of fucking 12 year old in a k hole at a festival you take me for mckenna Joe: yeah, it's a shame Joe: soph says save some for the 🐎s Ronnie: cold showers work better for misery boners than they do a suspected od but these fucking amateurs aint know jack shit obviously Ronnie: shame & shameful that is Joe: I'm a better sesh companion Ronnie: ill take the 🐴 Ronnie: whole or in bits Joe: seems the possessive type Ronnie: thats your bitch Joe: who I meant but I ain't claiming her Ronnie: bet shed be made up over a uni update Joe: bold of you to assume we haven't had many delightful lunch dates whilst you've been having cold showers Ronnie: give a fuck if youve been eating her out at any time of day Joe: yeah well I'm pretty gutted you've replaced me with another newbie Ronnie: stop fucking crying Ronnie: i aint running a nursery Joe: ain't the only one sounds of your reply Ronnie: fuck off Joe: reckon he's over you getting the sack now Ronnie: not everythings about that mary Ronnie: & he aint my keeper Joe: just your mum, I got the message Ronnie: he reckons he can baby me it aint the same thing Joe: he's older than you yeah Ronnie: youve got a sister other than me dont act like you cant get your head round it Joe: not really my M.O. Ronnie: special yeah Joe: she's got a dad and another brother happy enough to oblige Ronnie: i dont need to puke up my good time Joe: thought your stomach and nerve were meant to be stronger than that Ronnie: whatever you think about me is bullshit baby Joe: just what you've put out there Ronnie: & yours is heroics just warning you this aint no od like Ronnie: aint gotta press eject Joe: you're typing Joe: don't think anyone knows you well enough to commit to the impression here Ronnie: talking Ronnie: everyone knows idle hands are dangerous Ronnie: but that dont mean i gotta keep em busy typing Joe: yeah Joe: know the feeling Ronnie: its used to my accent & everything Ronnie: more than i can say for the live cunts here Joe: you in 💘 with your phone that's dead cute Joe: its worse when you're angry Ronnie: not in 💘 with kent Ronnie: your girlfriend proper missold it Joe: fuck off are you in kent 😂 Ronnie: fucked you over if you were gonna come carry me out again Joe: acting like you didn't ask Joe: if you're going to now, do it, like Ronnie: if you dump her back home who the fucks keeping the leccy on Joe: only got a baby habit ain't I Ronnie: what so youre carrying me out & dumping me where Ronnie: anywhere near & im taking your money shithead Joe: we don't need electric Ronnie: how will you get off on me wearing your mams face in the dark Joe: would hate to waste your hard work, obviously Ronnie: what hard work Joe: liberating my mums face from her skull Ronnie: be my pleasure Ronnie: all play Joe: alright then Joe: i'll be able to keep up Ronnie: big talk for a 12 year old virgin Joe: hiding it kent you can't talk or type about it Ronnie: im not fucking hiding Joe: yeah right Ronnie: plain sight baby Joe: 40 miles Ronnie: & Joe: if you wanna play, you're gonna have to give me another clue Joe: know if i'm getting warm Ronnie: [a blurry picture clue] Ronnie: 💘 Joe: they new friends or old Ronnie: waste of a question Joe: how many do i have left Ronnie: 39 but if you need that many dont fucking bother Joe: you don't wanna disappointed so bad Ronnie: you disappoint me by coming out the same hole Joe: that don't have to matter Joe: plenty have Ronnie: yeah but i aint met the rest of your happy family Joe: you wanna Ronnie: 38 now Joe: it could've been a statement Ronnie: was it Joe: 39 for you Ronnie: 🖕 Joe: you wanted to go to the beach Ronnie: that a question or what soft lad Joe: ?* Ronnie: didnt know there was 1 Joe: it's a county you know Ronnie: how the fuck would i know that Ronnie: shut up Joe: do you wanna go to the beach Ronnie: i can drown you in the sink Joe: i didn't put you in the shower Joe: or your phone Ronnie: youd have been made up by how blue i went though Ronnie: well like a dead girl Joe: yeah? Joe: what's it feel like Ronnie: youll get your own go Ronnie: aint holding your hand forever like Joe: gutted Ronnie: you wont reckon so when you outgrow that baby habit Joe: i'd mind if you died Ronnie: give you something to cry about Ronnie: youd be fucking into it Joe: nah Joe: people who've got shit to mope on usually don't Joe: enjoy it too much don't I, can't be having it validated, takes the fun out Ronnie: most dont reckon a happy end would be cumming inside their ma Ronnie: youd enjoy having a reason to celebrate or trauma bond depending on her fucking take Joe: our mate freud would disagree Joe: she'd wear black for the rest of her life, if that's what you wanna hear Joe: but counting it as a question, 38 Ronnie: why the fuck would i wanna hear that Ronnie: be boss for her if she never shifted her bastard baby weight like Joe: 37 unless it's rhetorical Joe: i dunno what will make you feel better Ronnie: 38 wasn't a question in the first place you just counted it cause youre a cheating lil bitch Joe: what's the prize and why do you want it so much Ronnie: use your imagination fucks sake Ronnie: why do you always want your hand held Joe: waste of a question Joe: 'cos I'm such a mummy's boy duh Ronnie: if shed let you walk into the road i wouldnt be answering any of your pussy questions Ronnie: 💔 Joe: be a lot easier for all of us Joe: i'll throw myself in front of the tube, fuck up everyone's day Ronnie: ill pick myself up from kent then yeah Joe: oh so you've claimed selfish have you Ronnie: no shit nancy drew Ronnie: fitz is still crying that i 💉 you up Joe: bless Joe: you're not claiming what got me there Ronnie: cant i wasnt fucking there Joe: then don't feel guilty Ronnie: dont fucking flatter yourself Ronnie: could care less Joe: you who's trying Ronnie: taking away a question if youre gonna lie Joe: not 12, not a virgin, don't need you to hold my hand Joe: i wanted to and want to Ronnie: made up horse girl took it while i was away Joe: yeah Ronnie: get yourself checked for 🐴 aids or whatever Joe: could care less is right Ronnie: bullshit youll be gutted if you dick falls off before you put it in your ma Joe: talking about how much you do Ronnie: what are big sisters for Ronnie: ask the other one & hell stutter round how much i dont too Joe: it's not the same Ronnie: you aint special mckenna how many times Ronnie: let your ma feed you that bullshit Ronnie: & fuck knows what youve already caught from my blood Joe: bit late for warnings Ronnie: you had one first time we met like Ronnie: got eyes Joe: exactly Joe: i'm not gonna take the hint Ronnie: too subtle for you yeah Joe: if you think you could be any more blatant Joe: have fun trying Ronnie: i am Ronnie: kent dont know what hit it Joe: i bet Joe: where have you been but some strangers doss house then Joe: and that is a question Ronnie: fuck knows Ronnie: been a blur Joe: you know its about 1,500 square miles yeah Joe: remember one landmark Ronnie: you know youre only getting any fucking answers cause im coming down Joe: we don't have to play this game Joe: if you tell me where you are, you'll be picked up quicker and then you can get whatever you need Ronnie: [a location, lord only knows] Joe: alright Ronnie: for you getting high of your bullshit heroics Joe: if it makes you feel better that you need rescuing Ronnie: do i fuck Joe: then you just wanna see me Joe: either way Ronnie: shut up Joe: what's better for you? Ronnie: your money then your life Joe: very adam ant Joe: and can be arranged Joe: even though you don't have a horse or a car so I'm more of a highwayman than you Ronnie: i aint getting on your gilfriends horse i know where its been Joe: 😏 Joe: you can just admit she's more up for it than you Ronnie: admit youre fucking brain damaged Ronnie: let her be up for hand holding & playing house Joe: what are big sisters for Ronnie: beating the shit out of you Joe: look forward to it Ronnie: yeah youve missed me Joe: not afraid to say it Ronnie: write a song about it Ronnie: no names & you can play it for any bitch Joe: thanks for the hot tip Joe: kill some time on this drive Ronnie: shouldve stuck your judy in the boot Ronnie: be eye spy & red car the whole fucking way Joe: haven't put the plastic sheet down Joe: 💔 short notice Ronnie: so torch it Ronnie: i know youve always got a lighter on you Joe: what gave it away Ronnie: ive got eyes baby Joe: try not to wear it on my sleeve though Ronnie: done a shit job there Joe: why do you show yours off Ronnie: whats the point of only feeling it on the inside Joe: doing it is feeling it on the outside Ronnie: im what they fucking made me they can look at it Joe: that makes sense Joe: yeah Ronnie: what the hell are you scared of Joe: I dunno Joe: doesn't feel like fear Joe: blending in or disappearing has always been preferable Ronnie: & you have the balls to reckon im hiding here Joe: it ain't hiding if no fucker's looking Joe: easier for them and me, like Ronnie: if you gave a shit about easier you wouldnt have looked for me Joe: it was last-ditch attempt Joe: see if you were the same, like all of them too Joe: or not Joe: and you're not Ronnie: cause she ditched me Joe: maybe Ronnie: i didnt have the luxury of blending in Joe: it's not a luxury Ronnie: not when you have it Ronnie: care kids dont Joe: not at all Joe: it was a necessity to not blow my brains out and all i ended up was cracked and wishing i had Joe: you didn't have a family to not belong in Ronnie: & you did em such a massive fucking favour by not ending it all yeah Ronnie: i dont know you or fucking care & i can tell youre desperate to Joe: if she can't get over you, and she never stuck around to know you Joe: it's fuck all to do with the person and everything to do with the label Joe: son, brother Joe: you're meant to care even if life is better or basically the same without Ronnie: good fucking thing i like downers Ronnie: youd ruin an e Joe: cheers Ronnie: get over her for fucks sake Ronnie: keep saying youre not 12 Joe: didn't have that luxury Ronnie: loads more cunts willing to fuck you over Ronnie: live a little like Joe: yeah that'll make it worth it Joe: dead inspirational Ronnie: try your other sister Joe: i'm sure she'd have even more helpful advice Ronnie: take it then Ronnie: ill kill you before i give you a reason to live Joe: you know i ain't fucking looking for one Ronnie: yeah Joe: you need anything Ronnie: i didnt tell you were to get fuck all out of it Joe: apart from a lift Ronnie: what do you reckon Joe: kk Ronnie: 💘 Joe: still not healed Joe: also looks like jobn now Ronnie: anything to make you feel special baby Joe: what I reckon Ronnie: i didnt reckon ocd made you that delusional Ronnie: but when you change it to say jobs youll blend right in Joe: not quite as fitting as when johnny did it Ronnie: whats your girlfriends name Joe: i'll find one to make it fit Joe: josie or jody maybe Ronnie: 💔 no decent gear has a girls name Joe: girls like to party not nod out Joe: gutted Ronnie: ive got a lads name i get why youre confused Joe: you didn't wanna change it Ronnie: you offering up the cash Joe: bit of a waste Joe: just for the paperwork Ronnie: yeah it is Joe: you dunno what to pick Ronnie: swear words aint allowed Joe: don't matter if you're just doing it, telling new people it's your name like Ronnie: not an underage tranny Joe: right Ronnie: bit fucking late now Joe: youre attached Ronnie: i dont care Joe: yeah Ronnie: not what i hate her for Joe: it's a lesser sin Joe: and not the worst name Ronnie: if thats your way of trying to namedrop the others, dont Joe: why would I Ronnie: i dont know you cant really answer why youd do fuck all Joe: i don't need to ask if you want to know them Ronnie: like their names are gonna tell me who they are Joe: like you care Ronnie: like thats ever stopped you Joe: I can't un-find you Joe: but I'm not going to force you to meet any of them or know any more than what's been said Ronnie: no fixed address remember Ronnie: cant make it much fucking easier for you Joe: no, you can't Ronnie: stop crying then Ronnie: you can do better than a car crash Joe: do better Ronnie: yeah like washing up on the beach Ronnie: keep every cunt guessing how you died Joe: see how many beaches I can end up on Ronnie: dead romantic Joe: you can have fun with the hacksaw anyway Joe: least I could do Ronnie: you dont owe me Joe: i do Ronnie: for what Joe: for finding you when you didn't want finding Ronnie: you got the wrong bastard Ronnie: loads of others would be made up Joe: would they? Joe: regardless, I did it for me Ronnie: fuck off trying to take selfish off me Joe: 😏 Ronnie: been a few days since ive used a phone as a weapon Ronnie: keep on if you want it chucked at you Joe: you've promised better than that Ronnie: course you cant last through the foreplay Joe: alright, romantic Ronnie: you fucking wish soft lad Joe: you wish i wished Ronnie: i fucking dont Joe: alright Ronnie: keep the 🕯🌹 for your girlfriend like Ronnie: fuck all i can do with soft Joe: lighters and poppies suit me better as well Ronnie: next tattoos then Ronnie: dont know if itll look like a poppy but fuck it Ronnie: ill cut it out if you dont like it Joe: even if we avoid the sleeve, still a lot of skin to ruin Joe: are you just going over now Ronnie: waste of a question Ronnie: theres fuck all you can do Joe: what, my scribbles weren't a masterpiece compared to your boyfriends Ronnie: told you get what you pay for mckenna Ronnie: & that i dont get hard for mozart & the like Joe: weren't gonna score a symphony on you but alright Joe: no touching Ronnie: 💔 Ronnie: you & your baby habit dont score Joe: just pays Ronnie: dead comforting when i get robbed & left in a kent ditch Joe: it'll be the nicest ditch you've ever been in Ronnie: squatters rights Joe: my bed ain't comfy enough Ronnie: its the fact that its yours making me wanna hang myself with a sheet Ronnie: should say its too soft like you though shouldnt i Ronnie: gutted i fucked that up like Ronnie: we were playing so nice Joe: yeah, goldilocks suits Ronnie: unless your hair has fallen out Joe: I've not pulled it out either Joe: or soph, like Ronnie: not enough like a mane for her Joe: 💔 Joe: if only she'd have known me a few years ago Ronnie: get the family album out shell be made up Joe: shed a tear over our lack of horse Joe: sympathy fuck is better than none yeah Ronnie: the lack of me will really get her going Ronnie: had the pity eye fuck soon as i showed up Joe: she's an empath, babe, why she's so good at art Joe: lack of you might be an issue for me though Ronnie: another word for nosy cunt Joe: undoubtedly Joe: if i could sum up what was wrong with me for her I would Joe: but guess she likes the guessing Ronnie: if she was scouse shed just fucking come out with it Joe: gobshites, yeah Ronnie: what you get for having girlfriends who aint even wool Ronnie: self hatred making you go posh about it Joe: my last actual girlfriend was Ronnie: & youre claiming her Joe: not still writing songs about her Joe: well, never was Ronnie: shell still be 💔 Joe: nah Ronnie: you keep her waiting this long or am i that special Joe: you don't even know how far you've gone from london Joe: you're nearly 2 hours away Ronnie: if youre sticking to the speed limit Ronnie: stop being a pussy Joe: meet me and the car in the next ditch over Ronnie: more hand holding for fucks sake Joe: more than that if you want that lift Joe: have to drag the car out and hotwire it Joe: scrape me off the windshield Ronnie: i told you to stop getting me & what im into Joe: maybe i'm trying really hard Ronnie: far as hurting yourself goes thats the shittest way to have a go Joe: 💔 too weak Ronnie: keep your limp wrists on the steering wheel Ronnie: i wanna get out of here Joe: 😏 Joe: in a bit then Joe: got speeding to do and if you won't shut up Ronnie: youd have to try harder to make me Ronnie: that aint fucking likely Joe: only have to ask Joe: not nice or nothing Ronnie: i dont ask for handouts theyre given to me on account of all those mental problems ive got Joe: wouldn't it be nice to be the one doing the charity work for once Ronnie: if thats the only high youre offering me turn the fuck around Joe: not that daft Ronnie: your ma tell you that Joe: loads Ronnie: her judgements for shit not getting rid of us both with a hanger Joe: agreed Ronnie: dont put a kid in her shed only keep that one too Joe: still raising the last one Ronnie: like thatd stop her Ronnie: no fucking time wasted Joe: she did stop Joe: hence the 9 year gap oopsie baby Ronnie: reckon shed know what causes it by then Joe: Ireland got to her I guess Ronnie: dead keen for my invite now Joe: put it across as a valid form of contraception Joe: chlamydia Joe: they'd go for it Ronnie: worked for me Joe: postergirl Ronnie: 💔 there was no need to sew myself up Ronnie: be more fun than whichever fuck gave me it Joe: god willing Ronnie: your catholic one would be dead willing Joe: you're thinking of the wrong over-zealous christian country Ronnie: not on the right drugs for that kind of bullshit thinking Joe: 🍄 Joe: look out for cowshit whilst you're waiting Ronnie: that determined for me to see the sights yeah Joe: can't waste such an opportunity Ronnie: 🖕 watch me Joe: kent only comes calling so many times, like Joe: your choice Ronnie: shell be taking you every time uni gives you time off Joe: i'm good for it Ronnie: its well cute that you reckon youve got any say Ronnie: possessive type i heard Joe: 😏 Ronnie: she changed the 🔒 on your room yet Joe: keep you in or out? Ronnie: reckon it ended at the pity eye fuck for me & her Joe: 💔 Ronnie: yeah Joe: i'll talk her 'round for you Ronnie: fuck off Ronnie: i dont need you to translate for me Ronnie: we got the money your carer role is over Joe: it's all in the eyes, I heard you Joe: not patronizing on your deep relationship Ronnie: shut up Joe: 🤐 Ronnie: & drive faster Joe: 👌 Ronnie: fucking hell i can see why shes fucking obsessed with you Joe: if you want chat Joe: definitely in the wrong place Joe: she don't need to know my ears aren't listening to hers Ronnie: she already knows you do what youre told without talking back Ronnie: like a battered wife Joe: anything for an easy 💀 Ronnie: youre coming to the right place for that Ronnie: but i wont tell her Joe: it's not a reportable crime Ronnie: im not a snitch & i can wear shades if she tries to eye fuck her way to finding fuck all out Joe: dunno if that's enough of a disguise but I don't care Joe: a habit, she could say something about that Joe: but the rest Ronnie: what rest Ronnie: you only want a habit Joe: speak for yourself Ronnie: im echoing you Ronnie: you fucking said it Joe: you know it's not true though Ronnie: youre full of shit yeah Joe: yeah Joe: you too if you wanna pretend about it Ronnie: i dont play pretend im not a fucking kid Joe: good Joe: then you know what's happening here Ronnie: [a picture or video of whatever is happening where she is, lord knows] Joe: you don't have to reciprocate, dickhead Joe: no need to try and make me crash Ronnie: thought youd grown a set of balls & had em drop while ive been here Ronnie: what it sounded like Joe: how olds the other one Joe: he looks younger than me Ronnie: didnt do a survey Joe: I mean your mate, I don't know his name Joe: not Charlie Ronnie: 17 Joe: he must've been a baby when you met, like Ronnie: whats your point Joe: ain't got one Joe: just wondering Ronnie: youre not his type Joe: he's not mine Ronnie: stop wondering then Joe: why? Ronnie: hes fuck all to do with you Ronnie: your mam didnt push him out Joe: not trying to get to know him over you Ronnie: then why do you care Joe: same age as my brother Joe: and the girl my parents took in, one of Joe: that's it Ronnie: here we fucking go Ronnie: you said you werent gonna do that Joe: you kept asking Ronnie: cause i dont want you fucking nonce my brother Ronnie: give a fuck about yours Joe: 'cos you think I would, alright Joe: don't be stupid Ronnie: i dont know what youd do Ronnie: dont fucking know you Joe: well I'm straight and entirely uninterested Ronnie: youre also full of shit Joe: why do you give a fuck Joe: I'm only a year older, if I wanted to, I would Ronnie: why do i give a fuck that you lied to me or about him Ronnie: go ed & wonder about it Joe: it weren't a lie Joe: shit changes Ronnie: i dont wanna hear about them that aint gonna change Joe: fine Ronnie: fuck you Joe: also fine Joe: sorry, alright Joe: it means fuck all Ronnie: its not fine Ronnie: & it means im gonna be running comparisons in my head Joe: just forget about it Joe: of course they're all around my age ish, it don't mean you know any more about them Ronnie: fucks sake Joe: it don't matter Ronnie: cause you get to tell me what matters too yeah Joe: come on Ronnie: you dont or what to fucking do either Joe: then what Joe: I said it, I said sorry Joe: you do what you must Ronnie: go home & give horse girl your sorry Joe: fuck that Joe: you still need to get back to London and I'm nearly there Ronnie: i got here i can leave here Joe: bullshit Ronnie: you wish Joe: well I'm still coming Ronnie: i dont care Ronnie: youve been going on about how big it is Ronnie: stay the fuck away from me Joe: Jesus fucking christ don't be such a pussy Ronnie: you fucking wish Joe: whatever Joe: this is going nowhere right now Joe: you know where to find me when you wanna actually do something about it Ronnie: your half arsed self destruction is going nowhere Ronnie: do something about that your fucking self instead of trying to bait me Joe: I'm still on my way Ronnie: kents full of real pussys you can save Ronnie: youll 💘 it Joe: I don't give a fuck, Ronnie Ronnie: why are you crying Ronnie: you fucked me over Joe: because this is a waste of time Ronnie: youre a junkie now get used to it Joe: at least I've got that Ronnie: youre welcome baby Joe: good luck finding decent shit in kent Ronnie: not going with you dont mean im staying here Joe: but I've got mine already Ronnie: you can have selfish Joe: I told you I was bringing more for you Joe: if you can get over it you can have your share Ronnie: ill take it over it not Ronnie: *or Ronnie: you cant fucking stop me Joe: say you want me to come then Joe: i know where you are, not the other way 'round Ronnie: youre the liar mckenna Ronnie: i dont want you to be anywhere Joe: then why should I come and share Joe: that's a question Ronnie: you love heroics Joe: [show up at this point] Ronnie: [what a fun little reunion that'll be] Joe: [so, we know the vibes but also do we wanna pitch it out] Ronnie: [we totally can for our own amusement/in case a moment or something happens again] Joe: [so obviously he gets there and she's gonna be fuming hens, yeah?] Ronnie: [she gonna fight him lol enjoy that random peeps] Ronnie: [but that works cos like if someone takes that seriously instead of realising we just flirting with each other then they gotta go] Joe: [go away for some alone time to take your drugs somewhere, we voting beach] Ronnie: [yeah because realistically nobody will be there at this o clock unless they are likewise up for shady shit so it works for them as well as being romantic for us because has she been to the beach before probably not] Joe: [so unintentionallly wholesome] Ronnie: [try not to freak out immediately about that this time lads] Joe: [or OD again] Ronnie: [or freeze to death because when are you ever dressed for the weather gal] Joe: [have to stay close purely for warmth whoops] Ronnie: [can't pretend you're angry enough to be at the other end of the beach its not that deep] Joe: [shame it'll be too late to get fish n chips or something beach related but you can skim stones] Ronnie: [I wonder if there's anywhere you could break into because always a mood] Joe: [on a lot of seafronts they have those shelter moments that are boarded up you know what I mean] Ronnie: [yeah that was what I had in mind] Joe: [was that tracy beaker when jess and that girl were snuggled in there and tracy thought it was a lad lollol] Ronnie: [I loved that bit] Joe: [soz i've forgotten your name but that whole character and vibe was a mood, buzzing for the show/movie whatever they're doing] Ronnie: [a child Tess mood 100%] Joe: [fosho fosho, you're gonna have to sleep on this beach/his car 'cos not letting you drive in that state for that long yet tah] Ronnie: [we all know you're gonna be snuggling and I'm here for it, maybe you can get fish and chips in the am/when you wake up] Joe: [for breakfast lol, get all the sugary snacks as well like candy floss doughnuts, casual binge here like neither of you clearly eats much day to day] Ronnie: [healthwise you've both got bigger problems so we can allow it] Joe: [sugar high, living for unintentional wholesomeness lol] Ronnie: [love the childlike vibe always] Joe: [when I go the hunstanton with the gals, which is like, scummy seaside vibes you know, there's always rides there, but also there was like a tattoo hut where you could get actual tattoos for like a fiver and it looks so dubious lol] Ronnie: [omg that is amazing and we must] Joe: [you could get piercings too which might have him do just to mess with it] Ronnie: [we know she already has so likewise not gonna resist getting another, the more extra the better though placement wise cos we do love to shock joseph with our endeavours] Ronnie: [whack a tit out casually or whatever like] Joe: [lmao, dreading these infections hens] Ronnie: [I went to margate and all I got was this lousy tat and a persistent infection, put that on a t-shirt] Joe: [shame they only do flashes gals] Ronnie: [get some DIYing happening lads, we know that kind of thing is flirting for you] Joe: [the tension at this point like you've actually shown loads of restraint even though the opposite seems true lol] Ronnie: [lowkey not what anyone would expect of you which is why I like it] Joe: [mhmm not actually all doom and gloom even if we say and pretend it or what would be the point] Ronnie: [they'd actually be having such a lovely time and when was the last time either of them did, I'm fine about it yep] Joe: [truly, it ain't just about the drugs or any of the 'fucked up ness' from the off and that's the tea no one else be seeing] Ronnie: [mhmm and it wouldn't last how it does if it was] Joe: [connection huns] Ronnie: [the TENSION on this car journey back like don't crash tbh] Joe: [at least you can play really loud music and pretend that's distraction enough] Ronnie: [and play with your new injuries] Ronnie: [lowkey bonding even more about your love of music though we see you] Joe: [mhmm, when it's not all classical obvs 'cos you aren't Rosaline] Ronnie: [probably drop her at Charlie's hun cos otherwise something is gonna happen] Joe: [hope you brought him some rock but i know you did not lol, go make friends again, you go think 'bout your life joseph] Ronnie: [probably stole him a postcard that you've written some bants on to slide under his door] Joe: [that's cute, hilarious over-sexual postcard as they always are] Ronnie: [yeah exactly and then he knows you're back so you can talk or whatever you're gonna do to clear the air] Joe: [that's this era in general we know the vibe]

[ohjohnno]

Outrageous Fortune Reviewcap: S1E08 (”My Dearest Foe”)

Well, now I see why I didn’t remember what happened in this episode. The answer, it turns out, is nothing much. This isn’t technically a filler episode - a couple of important new characters are introduced, and a plot thread is introduced at the end that will continue through just about the whole rest of the show - but the actual events of the episode are mostly inconsequential. Accordingly, I won’t spend too much time on ‘em here.

The first plot concerns Cheryl, who has now taken up a job at an insurance company. Nobody except her is especially happy with this - insurance companies, we’re informed, are “the scum of the Earth” - but Cheryl seems to like it. 

Things, alas, are not as they seem. The branch Cheryl works for turns out to be running a neat little scam, the girls there all approving each others’ bogus insurance claims; the boss lady, Penny, has been overseeing it thus far, but is looking to move on and wants Cheryl to be her replacement. She only hired her, it turns out, because of who she was, and Cheryl is quietly exasperated; no matter how she tries, she can’t seem to outrun her past. Penny also suggests that another reason she hired her was because she thinks of her as a kindred spirit in having been victimized by a terrible man; Cheryl’s not overly enthused with that suggestion either.

After a little deliberation, she turns down the offer. Penny didn’t expect that, and now fears that she’s told Cheryl enough to make her a threat; she tries to ship her off to a different branch in a place called “Pakuranga” (apparently way off elsewhere in Auckland). Cheryl, feeling betrayed, indulges in a bit of the old family tradition and steals her car, pawning it off to pay some maintenance bills; Penny fires her, and that, one might think, would be the end of it. But Penny, in a fit of pique, calls the cops on Cheryl over a stolen item she spotted in their house one time, and after an incredibly bored visit from Judd and Hickey (who have much better things to be doing), she pays Penny another visit, telling her in no uncertain terms to leave her the fuck alone before she has her friends rob the pants off her and everyone else in the office. Penny backs down.

“For your information, I’m nobody’s victim,” she tells her. Hmm. No comment.

The other main plot concerns Pascalle, and there’s barely anything there. She gets a call from the modeling agency she got registered at before she left the strip club, and they’re considering her for a charity shoot about animals. While in the waiting room, she bumps into a girl named Chantel Lazenby, a fellow model with the agency who also used to be a schoolmate. She used to be very fat, apparently, but she certainly isn’t anymore, and Van is of the belief that she’s “a dyke” (mostly because she rejected his advances once). What follows is an extremely low-stakes rivalry between the two as they both attempt to get the modelling job, mostly involving Pascalle and Chantel having a couple of glorified drinking contests and a few silly lesbian jokes. Eventually, Chantel is successful, and Pascalle is left in the dust, bitterly assuring herself that “Chantel was fat once, and you can’t escape genetics.”

That’s really it, as far as plots go. Doesn’t sound like enough to fill up an episode, does it? Well, it really isn’t - and it doesn’t. The rest of the episode is filled, mostly, with little things; interactions between various characters that have little plot significance but are fun to watch anyway. They’re the meat of this episode, and they make it a lot more likable than such an inconsequential episode really has any right to be.

For a start, Loretta - perhaps thanks to the success of her atrocity last episode - is in the very best mood we’ve ever seen her in the show so far; she’s bubbly and perky, grinning constantly, cracking jokes at everyone’s expense at the speed of light while making herself a constant nuisance for Cheryl, and, as much as I kinda hate to admit it considering what a monster she’s proven herself to be, she is absolutely delightful. We also learn that she’s one of those film nerds who considers Showgirls to be an underrated masterpiece, although she might just be teasing Van there.

There’s a running joke involving a big wooden cuckoo clock that Van (at Loretta’s behest) bought Cheryl for her birthday; it’s an ugly old thing, and it turns out to be stolen (not surprising, since Van bought it from Eric), and Cheryl hates it, which of course means Loretta completely loves it, repeatedly putting it back up on the wall every time Cheryl takes it down. “It’s a battle of wills,” she says, and it’s both hilarious and kind of oddly adorable. Also, lest we forget, Loretta having the idea to get Cheryl a present in the first place is significant - there’s a heart in there after all, it turns out, even if it behaves very strangely sometimes.

We also learn that she used to be great at Irish dancing, which will eventually be important (though not for a very long time). Elsewhere, we find Ted dealing with the fallout from last episode in his own way: poker, at the Wests’ dining table. He’s joined, over the course of the episode, by Munter (which is significant, since that makes this the first time he’s done anything plot-wise that isn’t related to Van), Eric (who’s still upset over Cheryl leaving the crime business), a new character called Falani (a very large, very crooked Samoan mechanic who will become a major supporting character eventually, and who also fixes Cheryl’s car this episode), and eventually Rochelle (who you may remember from episode four). It’s pretty high-stakes for them - they’re all playing for money - but it’s very low-stakes for the viewer, and it is also, possibly, the best part of the entire episode. 

Nothing much happens because nothing much needs to. It’s oddly relaxing to watch, actually; just a bunch of nice, simple jokes about an odd cast of various bogans playing poker against each other, subtly revealing things about themselves in the process. Falani goes on lengthy monologues about his skill at making love to his wife, but proves markedly less skilled at the patient, analytical art of the game; Munter is remarkably laid-back, enjoying softly making fun of Falani’s bad luck perhaps more than the game itself; Eric is perpetually grumpy, except when he disappears into the West bathroom and decides, for some reason, to try on some of Pascalle’s moisturizer (possibly thinking it’s Cheryl’s), which is hilarious; Rochelle is arrogant and remarkably skilled. But none of them are as good as Ted, who cleans them all out with aplomb, rarely speaking or changing his facial expression. “I feel much better now,” he says to Cheryl at one point; Cheryl isn’t so enthused with all these bums lazing around her house, but she can see his point.

Ted, at one point, has a one-on-one chat with Cheryl, noting with neither praise nor condemnation how the Wests “have never been much good at what you might call actual jobs”. We’ll see how that statement ages. Wolf turns up just long enough to justify Grant Bowler’s paycheck, his scene pretty much pointless except for how funny it is; he baked her a birthday cake, apparently, but when a car failure prevented her from arriving at the prison to pick it up “it got eaten”, and now he doesn’t want to talk about it, moping like a teenage boy behind the prison desk. 

There’s two sides to this show, basically, and this episode is the lighter one. It’s all very low-stakes and very whimsical, and if that means nothing much of consequence happens, well, that’s okay. We get to see the three West children who still live at home laughing and having fun with each other, their lives all mostly tranquil for once, giving us something of a control group for when things start to go wrong. We see the West household in a moment of peace, nothing particularly awful happening to it, nothing calamitous getting in the way of the atmosphere. It’s nice. I like it.

There’s one more thing. In this episode, we’re introduced to Kacey, an old friend of Cheryl’s with “shit taste in blokes” (her words) and a passion for designing undergarments. She talks, at first, of starting up a business, and eventually, having lost her latest job, Cheryl agrees to join her in her venture. The results from this pairing will last a very long time indeed, and Kacey will end up becoming an extremely significant character. That’s all yet to come, though.

This episode also has possibly my favorite ending to any of the less important Outrageous Fortune episodes ever. If you’ve seen it, you know what I’m talking about. Man, this show could be funny when it wanted to. And here, for the most part, that’s all it wants to do. There’s nothing wrong with that at all. After the last episode, it’s nice to have a breather. As I recall, actual important stuff kicks in again next episode. I will see you then.

#Antonia Prebble #Siobhan Marshall #antony starr #Robyn Malcolm #grant bowler #television #outrageous fortune #Frank Whitten #rachel lang #Gutter Black #nz

[riotgrlpossum]

hows abouts giving a brief overview of your ocs 👀👀👀

!!!!

So I’m gonna put this under a read more cause there is A Lot.

I’m gonna separate this into two sections cause I’ve got like two projects/stories/whatevers I’m working on. A few months ago I made some posts about a different story that I was working on but that had some Serious Structural Problems and needs to be reworked, so it’s currently on the back burner. 

Anyway,

The first batch of OCs are from a story that I’m working on that will ideally become a novel. The project is called “The Unexplained Migratory Patterns of the Whooping Crane.” 

The main character is a 15-year-old girl named Oliver Lakely. Oliver is a sarcastic, quick-witted loner who has a really hard time fitting in with the other people in her town. She loves animals, music, and books. She’s cynical and artistic and really, really lonely. She’s also a psychic and her mother is a ghost. 

The other main character in TUMPotWC is 14-year-old Whyatt “Budgie” Kipling, nickname courtesy of his dyed bright green hair. Budgie moves in next to (but like country next to so quite a ways away) Oliver. He’s from London and his mother has been temporarily relocated to Oliver’s town to study the anomalous population of whooping cranes that have been nesting in this town for the last ten years. Budgie is a geeky, easy going kid. He loves to explore and is courageous to the point of being foolhardy. He knows that he’s weird, but is comfortable with it. 

Other characters include Miles and Siobhan Lakely, Oliver’s parents. Miles is psychic as well. He is a big tragic artist archetype. Plays the piano and has a lot of anger issues. Oliver’s relationship with him is a big part of the story. Siobhan is a ghost. She died when Oliver was 5 and has been manifesting in their house ever since. They also have a cat named Kyle he’s sentient and likes jazz. 

SECOND BATCH

These next children are from a project that is less fleshed out than TUMPotWC. It’s called “Pine Grove Stop & Go” and would ideally be a podded cast. It centers around a gas station off of the highway in Pine Grove, Wyoming, a one-stoplight town on the way to the Grand Tetons in the year 1997. The Pine Grove Stop & Go is a hotbed for supernatural activity, to the point that it is a bit of an urban legend. The story starts a month after one of the employees, Myla Heigel, is found dead behind the corner. Her death is ruled a suicide, but another one of the employees, Sophie “Lance” Lansing knows that isn’t true. 

Lance is the main character of the story. She’s 19. Anti-authoritarian, a flannel lesbian. Bit of a stoner. Super intelligent but hates school and organized education in general. Loves books and film. Cynical and sarcastic, comes off quite prickly but once she warms up to people she’s a total softie. All about that Repression TM. Has a whole thing later on where she becomes obsessed with a tape recorder to the point of near insanity but she generally gets better. ADHD.

Moving on. Noah Meredith. 19 as well. Conspiracy theorist. Gets a job at PGS&G to try and investigate Myla’s death. Super big nerd, diaster bisexual, the epitome of “bigfoot is real and we tenderly caressed each other one night behind the Arby's.” Not great at interacting with people asks A Lot of Questions WIth Little Regard for Politeness. Autistic icon. Really funny, loves campy sci-fi, secretly a bastard. At first he and Lance clash like crazy but eventually they get on like a house on fire. 

Seth Weiss. 17 years old. Burnout stoner. Likes to skateboard and makes dumb jokes. Crouching moron, hidden badass. Thinks that Lance is the coolest person in the world. Super gay but hasn’t figured it out yet. Sweet and genuine and kind of naive. Secretly Big Magic (He hasn’t figured that out yet either). Sees weird shit all the time but explains it away as either none of his business or a bad trip. Me, to Seth: my sweet boy let me show you the world. 

Lily Walker. 22 years old. The assistant manager at the PGS&G and *very* proud of it. Refuses to believe any weird shit. Always has a smile on her face but is like this close to just fucking losing it. The mom friend. Thinks she’s the token straight until she realizes that this is the kind of story where no one is straight and whoops she’s like hella bi. “Aren’t you tired of being nice? Do you ever just wanna go apeshit?”

Myla Heigel. R.I.P. queen. Was 20 when she kicked it. She’s like dead but also like ????. Big Dyke Energy. One of those people who smiles at you and gives you tea and then only after they’ve left have you realized that you gave them your social security number and credit card information. Walks up with her sundress and sandals and also like a crossbow. Super curious, could out-conspiracy Noah. Was investigating the weirdness behind the PGS&G before she died. Had a weird habit of recording everything on her tape recorder, which Lance picks up after Myla dies. 

--

Yeah those are all my kids I love them all and love talking about them and I’m sorry this was so long but also like you’ve met me so is it really surprising?

#my ocs #anon #holy shit people actually talk to me #kath speaks #kath shut up #tumpotwc #pgs&g #Anonymous

[hornyliverpudlianputz]

What are some TV shows that you highly recommend? (I love The Monkees, but they don't have to be similar to it) Thanks!

Hhhoooo boyyyyyy. Ok I’m going in completely blind here so I will take the shotgun approach. (Bless you anon, I love recommending things.) 

Classic comedies -

The Dick Van Dyke Show: an absolute comedy classic, and Rose Marie and Mary Tyler Moore are main characters! Is great! Can get a little sexist at times but honestly not as bad as it could have been. It’s in black and white and, as a product of the time, Van Dyke will frequently kiss his young son on the mouth in greeting. It is NOT sexual AT ALL but if that makes you uncomfortable, be warned.

I Love Lucy: duh. I mean do I even have to describe this one? Watch it, it’s great!

The Carol Burnett Show: another very funny lady. Their sketch parody of “Gone With The Wind” had me laughing so hard I was not physically producing sound any more.

Get Smart: a spy comedy from the 60s, The Monkees reference it a few times. Has some ridiculously funny catchphrases.

Hogan’s Heroes: set in a WWII POW camp in Germany, is basically a funny version of the howling commandos from Captain America. Again, sexist as a product of their time, but funny none the less. One of the first major sitcoms to have a main black character, and has a lot of behind-the-scenes epicness. Obviously, because of the setting, the main antagonists are Nazis, but I feel it’s important to point out that they are made to look incompetent at ever turn. (A lot of the main/reoccurring cast are either Jewish or come from Jewish families, and the actor who plays LeBeau is actually a Holocaust survivor. Trust me when I say the Nazis never win.)

MASH: you probably see me post about this a lot here besides The Monkees, I love this show. It’s very long, 11 seasons, and transforms over the course of it’s run from a slapstick comedy to a short drama with witty jokes. It’s set in a mobile medical unit during the Korean War so it can get pretty bloody and does not shy away from gallows humor. Is sexist at the beginning but it gets better, same with period typical racism towards Asians. (The guy who plays BJ, a main character, was a guest on The Monkees and I LOST MY SHIT.)

Monty Python’s Flying Circus: a British sketch comedy show from the 70s. These are the same people who do “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” and “Life of Brian” so they are very funny. Unfortunately a lot of it was political satire at the time so it has the tendency to go completely over our heads now, but still great. Other British sketch comedies I love include A Bit of Fry and Laurie with Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie and Not The Nine O’Clock News that has Rowen Atkinson.

Classic dramas - 

Dragnet: I haven’t had a huge opportunity to watch a lot of this, but it’s an old police procedural that actually started as a radio drama. It’s a bit stiff, but it’s NOT as bad as Ben Casey so I’d give it a try.

Star Trek: classic 60s, you had to have seen this coming. Horrifically cheesy special effects, costumes, acting, and music, but man has it got heart. Please do also check out all of the other Star Treks.

Columbo: this is an epic police procedural that turns the typical formula on it’s head; the audience follows the murderer rather than the detective. Basically we watch the lead-up to the crime, usually the crime itself, and then we watch Detective Columbo come in and destroy the criminal piece by piece. It’s great and Peter Falk is a national treasure. Suffers from “black people don’t exists” 70s syndrome, but is basically about rich white people killing each other because they have too much time on their hands so like. Yeah.

More recent shows that are no longer running -

The West Wing: listen. This show is one of the only dramas to effectively work really good comedy writing into itself. It will also teach you about American politics and you won’t mind. I sat down to start this show thinking I would watch one episode to give it a try and then go to bed. I watched 3 in a row. Also Martin Sheen I mean come on.

Psych: very funny crime show about an adult child with daddy issues and his fiscally responsible best friend solving crimes by pretending to be psychic because the police wouldn’t believe he has hyperobservational skills. Has great character development and does not take itself seriously at all. Great show.

Leverage: do you like heists? Well this show does a heist an episode. Basically it’s a team of specialized criminals that work together to Robin Hood it up as they learn to love each other as family. What’s not to love.

Due South: again, I have had little opportunity to actually watch this, but it’s about a Canadian Mountie working with the Chicago PD. Hijinks ensue. Also apparently ghosts get involved later? Can’t wait.

Teen Wolf: ok so like. This is closer to brain candy than Really Great Writing but. The main cast is solid and it’s a fun supernatural drama. I did a rant post at one point about the super good background queer rep so you know. Also Dylan O’Brien.

Black Sails: a show combining fictional pirate characters from “Treasure Island” with real historical pirates while events that set up “Treasure Island” occur. It is extremely full on, expect nudity, violence, rape, flashbacks, and swearing. However it handles these issues well, and gets aggressively more queer as the show goes on. Also the ladies kick ass.

Scrubs: it didn’t age super well, and we don’t talk about the last season, but this is a very funny medical comedy that is sort of the inverse of The West Wing in terms of writing; this is a comedy that does dramatic writing really well. It’s in a hospital though so like, gross and sad things happen sometimes.

Shows that are currently airing -

Letterkenny: I post about this occasionally here, it’s a very funny Canadian comedy about a small rural town. The dialogue can be difficult to follow because it uses a lot of Canadian slang and is very quick fire, but it’s hilarious. Has the benefit of not only including Native characters, but actually casting Native actors in those roles. Has the most creative swearing I have ever witnessed and it is glorious to behold. Is getting progressively more queer. Also, while sexy fun times are talked about, thus far there is absolutely no PDA, not even kissing, on screen which, as an aroace, is nice.

Brooklyn Nine-Nine: a cop comedy. Racially and sexually diverse, is still holding up after 5 seasons. Has the distinction of not going down hill after acting on romantic tension between main characters. Brilliantly satirical writing and will call absolutely anyone out.

BoJack Horseman: extremely dark Netflix animated comedy. It covers a lot of intense subjects like depression, substance abuse, emotional abuse, and self-loathing, but it explores them in a really well-written way. Has the distinction of making one of the main characters (Todd) realize he is ace over the course of the series, and it is the best damn ace rep I have ever seen. Suffers from a fanbase of dudebros who try to use the main character to excuse their actions, but literally called itself out for this in the latest season. Epic.

Archer: an animated comedy about a spy organization that is made up of people who cannot work together because they are awful and selfish. Is hysterically funny but quite raunchy and hints at larger issues, like alcoholism and emotional abuse. But again, dark comedy.

That’s all I’ve got anon, and if anyone has recommendations for me hmu!

#ask and ye shall recieve #holocaust mention #rape mention #abuse mention #substance abuse mention #racism mention #sexism mention #personal #man i watch too much tv

[homosociallyyours]

P: Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas).Q: A ship you’ve abandoned and why.R: A pairing you ship that you don’t think anyone else ships.S: What’s a headcanon you have?

OOOOH thank you!!! I’m gonna skip around a few fandoms for this! 

P) an old high school teacher of mine was just talking about how she got together with her husband of 20 years, who was also teaching at the school. and i know that’s been done to death, but the story was so cute? they hung out on a boat with some mutual friends and were talking and having fun all night, and then at the end of the night the future husband was gonna ask her out and she tripped and fell flat on her face, busting open her lip. he had to take her to get stitches. their first official date was a movie a week or so later. 

anyway, high school teacher meet cute AU where person A thinks person B is dreamy but keeps getting injured whenever they try to flirt, and it starts with walking into a post and then escalates to the fall and a broken arm or something, but person B just keeps taking them to the hospital and sitting with them and person A is all doped up on pain killers and asks person B out and person B is just like..yeah umm i kinda thought we were dating already and also i hate hospitals so it’s not like i’d be sitting with you after all these accidents if i didn’t really like you already??

plunk that down in any old fandom tbh but of course my brain is going to larry right off the bat :P

More under the cut, because this got SO LONG! (but there’s good stuff and femslash so if that’s your jam i suggest reading)

Q) I hate to think I’ve abandoned a ship, but the truth is I kiiiinda abandoned holtzbert? not because I don’t ship it-- I DO! --but because i got sad realizing that there wasn’t going to be a ghostbusters sequel and also because i haven’t rewatched it recently. i’d still write a ficlet for them, though. ghost girl and mad scientist love. the two of them lying in bed together and holtzmann licking erin’s cheek the way she licked the gun because she just wanted to know if her skin tasted different in the morning than it did the night before. erin curling her fingers around holtzmann’s arm and holding tight just before they tell everyone they’re together, and the surprised release when everyone laughs at her because they been knew.

R) Umm my fave femslash rare pair! Molly Hooper and Eve Moneypenny!! I have developed elaborate headcanons about their relationship: they met in college, and Molly had no idea she could be anything but straight until Eve kissed her. Cool, queer Eve and shy, lesbian Molly as young girlfriends. Molly finding her power and her voice and learning how to dominate Eve sometimes, when the mood hits them. Their breakup a year or so after uni, when Eve gets government work and Molly is doing residency, both of them too tired to try to make anything work. The way Eve closets herself, not ever saying she’s straight but never really bringing around dates or talking about exes, going deeper the more she gets into MI6. And how Molly’s identity shifts to bisexuality, because she’s still attracted to men even if none of them quite measure up to Eve, and because she never quite got the hang of dyke bars (as happens sometimes when you fall right into your first relationship with a woman). 

BUT THEN of course they end up meeting by chance, Eve accompanying Mycroft when Sherlock stages his death, and Molly looks up from the cadaver she’s working on and locks eyes with Eve and has to cover her surprise quickly, grateful for the way that Sherlock immediately starts talking about his plans with Mycroft, leaving Eve free to cast glances Molly’s way. She leaves her email and phone number on Molly’s desk, and Molly waits 2 weeks to do anything with either. Their first emails are tentative, but it’s clear after a couple of dinners and a chain of text messages that there’s still something there. Molly makes the first move this time, and Eve is breathless and surprised. 

AND LITERALLY NOBODY CARES BUT ME RIP

S) gosh I have already talked so long that I am going to use my previous answer as my headcanon one!! because damn I just gave a lot of headcanons up there. but I want someone to join me in shipping mollypenny so. worth it. 

#larry #high school teacher au #femslash #holtzbert #molly hooper #eve moneypenny #someone ship them with me pls #lexxxwasniahc #answers

[xanthera]

omg can you make my day and do 6 for chansaw pls

I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. The prompt gave me a million ideas so this ended up being way longer than I meant for it to be lol. Modern AU

6. “I need a place to stay.”

–

Veronica hadn’t expected for her doorbell to ring at eight PM on a Thursday, yet there it was, somehow audible over the TV and the pounding rain outside. She thought about putting on real clothes to answer it, but if someone was going to come calling at this hour on a weeknight, they could deal with seeing her in her pajamas. Besides, she didn’t want to leave whoever it was outside in the deluge for longer than they needed to be.

“Coming, coming.” She checked the peephole and nearly fell backwards in shock at who she saw. However, she quickly composed herself and opened the door to a sopping wet Heather Chandler.

“I need a place to stay.”

Veronica didn’t ask questions, just nodded and pointed Heather in the direction of the downstairs bathroom with a subdued, “There are clean towels under the sink.” Heather kicked off her shoes and wordlessly walked into the bathroom with a way-too-full duffel bag–Heather has luggage that isn’t Gucci? Veronica mused–slung over her shoulder. The door slammed behind her, followed by the sound of the shower turning on.

It took Veronica a good ten seconds to realize that the front door was still open, the carpet slowly soaking up the rain. She hurriedly shut it and peered out of the bay window, catching sight of Heather’s Porsche under the orange glow of the streetlight. So she still had her car, but couldn’t stay at home, and had clearly packed in a hurry. Veronica had a sinking feeling in her gut, but she tried to ignore it. The reason for her friend’s sudden appearance didn’t matter, only the immediate situation.

That situation being an apparently homeless Heather Chandler in her shower.

Ten minutes later, the bathroom door opened and Heather stepped out in a too large ‘Big Fun’ tee and gray sweatpants. She clearly hadn’t bothered to blow dry her hair, and there was still a hint of smudged mascara under her eyes. Or were those just dark circles? It wouldn’t have surprised Veronica, considering how haggard she looked right now. She shuffled into the living room with none of her usual grace, her posture slouched and her eyes cast downward. With a groan, she plopped down onto the couch, and Veronica sat awkwardly next to her.

She ventured, “So do you want to tell me why you’re here, or…?”

Heather began toying with the fringe on one of the throw pillows and sighed, “I’m pretty sure my parents just kicked me out.”

Veronica didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “What the fuck?! Why?!”

Any apathy on Heather’s part disappeared in an instant, but what Veronica heard next wasn’t her normal bitching; she was breathless, panicked, clearly hurting behind the anger. “Because they’re religious nut-jobs and going to my grandma’s crazy fire and brimstone church just makes it worse because she’s a delusional old cow who thinks that everyone who doesn’t follow a list of arbitrary rules from fucking thousands of years ago is going to burn in hell and I got sick of them repeating her bullshit every time two guys hold hands on TV and long story short I accidentally outed myself and they told me dykes weren’t allowed in their household and to get out.” It all came out in one breath, leaving her panting and shaking, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks. She swallowed hard and choked out, “So I did.”

Veronica immediately pulled Heather into a tight hug, and she felt the other girl practically melt into the embrace, her shoulders quaking with quiet sobs. She was way out of her depth here, with a crying Heather Chandler trembling in her arms. This was not a situation she was prepared to deal with. She could see herself holding Duke during a breakdown, or even Mac, but Chandler was unflappable. The mythic queen of Westerberg, solid steel, never showed any emotion that could be seen as weak.

Yet here she was, sobbing into Veronica’s chest because she had been kicked out by her parents after accidentally coming out as gay.

Speaking of which, that was another topic she’d have to broach at some point, but right now Heather just needed to be held, so she pulled the other girl closer and started rocking slowly. There wasn’t even a question in her mind that this could have been the first time in years that Heather had let herself be this vulnerable, if her relationship with her family was any indication. Veronica had never seen mask crack before, but it had completely crumbled away before her eyes, revealing what Heather Chandler truly was behind the makeup and hot clothes and bitchy attitude: a teenager trying to survive high school by any means necessary.

And really, that was all that any of them were. Just a bunch of scared kids doing their best, and getting raked over the coals if they didn’t live up to some unspoken standard of “cool,” or even just “normal.”

“The world is fucked up,” she murmured, absently running her fingers through Heather’s hair.

Heather sniffled and let out a humorless chuckle. “Yep. I guess we fit in pretty well, then.” She snuggled closer to Veronica, nuzzling into her collarbone, and the brunette felt her face heating up at the closeness. If this were happening under less dire circumstances, she might enjoy cuddling with Heather. But, alas, even though she now knew that their sexualities were compatible, that would have to wait.

“Did you eat dinner before, uh, before you left?” Heather shook her head. “Do you want me to throw something together?”

She shook her head again. “We’d have to move to do that. I’m comfy right here.”

Veronica couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. “Do you want to just nap, then?”

Heather pulled away just enough to look at her with watery gray eyes. Her makeup had been washed away, her hair was limp and untamed, and she was wearing the least sexy sleepwear that Veronica had ever seen her in, but she was beautiful in that moment. No accessories, no mask; just Heather.

“I’d like that,” Heather smiled, and slowly laid down with her head in Veronica’s lap. Veronica reached for the remote and switched the TV to the most calming thing she could find - a documentary about migratory birds - and resumed toying with Heather’s hair. When she felt her breathing slowing down, she pulled the blanket off of the armrest and draped it over Heather’s shoulders.

This wasn’t how she had expected her evening to go, and there would definitely be a lot to deal with when Heather woke up, but for now, she could pretend that maybe the world was a little nicer. It wasn’t hard to imagine, with the comforting weight of Heather sleeping on her lap.

Those were the thoughts that floated in Veronica’s head as she drifted off to the sounds of birdsong and Heather’s soft breathing.

#heathers #heathers the musical #heather chandler #veronica sawyer #chansaw #xan writes #ggnarlyquinn #tw homophobia