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gryfflepuffinthetardis · 5 months

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True Colors (Sweet Jane Part Six) — Campbell Bain x Reader

Sweet Jane Episode One: Hey Jude

Sweet Jane Episode Two: Fly Like an Eagle

Sweet Jane Episode Three: You Always Hurt the One You Love

Sweet Jane Episode Four: Fool on the Hill

Sweet Jane Episode Five: Rainy Day in Georgia (But not Georgia Tennant.)

Sweet Jane Episode Six: Let It Be

“The amount of love I have for you will never be understood by others. From the way you touch me, to the look in your eyes. Through all these years you managed to captivate my heart. For this my soul will forever be your home. Mistakes happen, this I know. But the passion we both share erases the worst. Take my hand and come with me. Follow me to this path we both created. It may be unknown to most, but it sure is eternal for us.”

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Campbell was trying to cheer up Francine with jokes by Y/N’s next to last day, “Okay, how about this one. A group of loonies go out on a day trip, and on the way back, they stop at a pub for a drink.”

“I think that's enough, Campbell, huh?” Eddie tried but Campbell ignored him.

“One of the loonies comes running up to the nurse saying, 'Nurse, nurse, that barmaid smiled at me!' So the nurse says, 'Well, smile back.' So the loony goes away, but he's back five minutes later, saying 'Nurse, nurse, that barmaid winked at me!' So the nurse says, 'Well, wink back.' So he's away again, but he's back ten minutes later saying ‘Nurse, nurse, that barmaid. she showed me her bosoms.’ So the nurse says, 'Well, show her your nuts!' So he's away again, straight up to the barmaid, and goes—” He made moose antlers on his head with his hands and screaming goofily in Francine’s face and wheezed with laughter but no one else did. “Do you not get it? The nurse says, 'Show her you're nuts', and he does!”

Still Francine had no reaction.

“All right, Campbell.” Eddie said, quietly and Campbell deflated. Then Eddie suggested, “Why don’t you help Y/N pack for tomorrow?”

Campbell nodded and walked to his girlfriend’s room.

“Have they found my kittens yet?” Francine asked.

“Francine, I told you. They were sick.” Eddie told her.

Y/N had been called to more lunch meetings with both River and Paula but she refused to tell Campbell what they discussed and since she as his girlfriend could easily distract him with kisses, though he had been a bit more clingy than usual, what with Y/N being discharged and his optimism that he would get a big DJ job, he feared whether or not they’d last but he never questioned the unconfessed love he had for her.

That evening, Eddie still wasn’t there so Campbell and Y/N took over the show. Eddie’s show.

“Well, that's about all we have time for tonight; don't forget to tune in tomorrow night for Campbell Bain's Looney Tunes Show!” He said and played the Looney Tunes jingle. Then Eddie entered, Campbell turned to him, taking his headphones off, “Eddie! Where the hell have you been?”

“Sorry I'm late.” Eddie mumbled.

"Late?" Campbell scoffed, “You've missed the whole bloody show!”

“I've been working. I don't have to catch every one of your shows fae start to finish, do I?”

Campbell and Y/N glared pointedly at Eddie and the soon to be discharged answered, “It was your show.” As Campbell bitterly tossed his headphones on the desk.

“...It was?” Eddie asked.

Campbell, Rosalie, and Y/N gave him pointed looks.

“Look, I'm sorry. I had a few bevvies; didnae want to drive.” Eddie apologized.

“‘A couple of bevvies’?” Campbell scoffed with a disbelieving chuckle and a glance at his girlfriend, “You look like you've been on a three-day binge!”

“Look, Campbell! I'm a salesman. That's what I get paid for. I don't get paid for coming here.” Eddie argued.

“Yeah, now that Francine’s been in a psychogenic coma of grief.” Y/N said, sharply.

Eddie glared at her, pointedly.

“Well, I don't think that's a very professional attitude.” Campbell said, casually, checking his fingernails.

“What do I need a professional attitude for?” Eddie asked, confused.

“For when you go to lunch with Paula Kinghorn.” Campbell said and grinned cheekily at Eddie, “She's been trying to get in touch with you for days!”

“Jesus.”

“I would’ve informed you if you’d been here the past week.” Y/N said.

Campbell got up and went to Eddie, excitedly, “Lunch, Eddie, lunch! And then she said,” He put his imitation of Paulaagain, “‘I probably shouldn't be saying this yet, but I think I'm gonna have good news for ya’.”

“I cannae. You go, Campbell.”

“He can’t.” Y/N said.

“Then you go.” Eddie told her.

“She’s had lunch with me three times. She specifically said she wanted to have lunch with you.” Y/N said.

“I cannae do it.”

“How no?!” Campbell exclaimed, his octaves going up.

“I've been waiting for this all my life. If I went intae lunch and came out with nothing, I don't know what I'd do.” Eddie said, clearly in shock.

“You'll not come out with nothing.” Campbell reassured him.

Aye. Just make sure she pays for lunch.” Rosalie said.

“And trust me, I’ve had lunch her thrice and her assistant six times.”

“Lunch.” Eddie mumbled.

Campbell turned to his girlfriend, "You've gone out with the assistant six times?"

“Campbell…” Y/N groaned that night, “Please, let me get dressed into my pajamas.”

“This is the last night for quite a while I’ll get to spend the night with you.” Campbell whined with his arms around her, pulling her flush against him with her back against his chest.

“Campbell, we’ll be fine. C/N moved in four days ago, she has the essentials unpacked, I’m a fifteen minute drive away. Five if you’re the one driving. It’ll be fine. I’ll visit you every day and by the time you get discharged you’ll have made a name for yourself and you won’t be forced to move to Perth.”

“Don’t go snogging any other boys?” He asked.

She chuckled, “I promise. And I’ve taken self-defense classes now so if another EX/N comes to me, I’ll destroy them.”

“Y/N… I… I…” He felt himself freeze from the inside so he just kissed her.

The next day, Campbell was helping Y/N pack as she was leaving after his show when they heard Eddie’s voice shout, “THIS IS MY RADIO STATION!”

They looked at each other and ran out towards the station as they saw Eddie get shoved out of the radio station.

“Eddie?” Campbell asked as they pushed through the doors.

“Bastards.” Eddie murmured.

“Eddie?!”

“Bastards!” Eddie screamed and the couple saw a man in the station.

“Who's he?” Campbell asked.

Eddie passed them as he stormed out, “I’m not having this. I'M NOT HAVING IT!

Y/N went to the door and banged on it but the man gave her a gesture that was rather rude.

“Okay.” She said, irritated and pulled a bobby pin she stole from her cousin out and started to pick the lock before slamming it open.

“Y/N, no…”

“I’m just saying you didn’t have to hit him.” Campbell told his girlfriend, some time later as they looked through the records.

“I didn’t hit him. I was… gesturing for emphasis.” She said.

“Well, you gestured him right in the face.” Campbell said but he was smiling at her. He leaned towards her and gave her a kiss, still grinning. She pulled back and he cupped her cheek, deepening the kiss.

“Oh, you beautiful doll, you great big beautiful doll...” Rosalie sang when she came in.

The couple broke apart and looked at her in surprise to see her with her hair curled and make up on her face.

“So. What do you think?" She asked.

"I'm speechless!" Campbell excliamed.

"I have had a complete makeover. Sylvia, in the flat next to mine, used to be a beautician. I'm living in a posh neighborhood now, so I thought I should make the effort."

“Well, are you not worried about chemicals and that?” Y/N asked.

“Sylvia is an obsessive-compulsive as well!” Rosalie said and the couple laughed, breathlessly at this. “If it's all right with her, then it's all right with me. She is a genius, so she is.”

“What have you got in the trolley?” Campbell asked, referring to the cart Rosalie was wheeling as he sat down, pulling Y/N down to sit in his lap.

“My shopping. Just a few things from the wee shop down the road. Take 'em home with me the night.”

“Have you not got shops in your new neighborhood?” Y/N frowned.

“Oh, aye.”

“But then would it not make sense to do your shopping in the local shops?” Campbell asked.

“Aye...” Rosalie sighed, “but they won't serve me.”

“What?!” Campbell and Y/N asked.

“They won't serve anybody from Hill Crest. Not the paper shop. Not the late night shop. Even the local GP's a bit frosty on account of him being chairman of the residents' committee for getting our planning commission reviewed.”

Campbell sighed and said, “Ye cannae stand for that, Rosalie. Ye've got'ae tell them:” He put on his bad American accent again, “You're not gonna take any more o' dis crapola.”

“What American films are you watching?” Y/N laughed and tried her (best) American accent, “You’re not gonna take any more of this crap.”

“Aye! That's what I told the man in the paper shop. But he told me to bugger off! He swore at me, Campbell, which I think was uncalled for.”

“You going to ask them to move you, then?” Y/N asked.

“Move me?! You're joking! I've got a bath and toilet in the same wee room, and a washing machine on the premises, and—a microwave! Do either of you know what a microwave is?” Campbell was about to speak when she cut him off, “You put your dinner in, and them microwaves make the wee molecules jiggle up and down. It's a bit like ECT.”

Then Eddie entered, rather numbly, “Eddie! What do you think?” Rosalie approached him, “Jim said I looked like a film star. One that had been in the Betty Ford clinic once too often, but a film star!”

“You look very nice.” Eddie said, flatly and continued passed Rosalie and then the couple.

“What's up with him?” Rosalie asked.

Eddie turned around to break the news to the three, “They're closing us down.”

Campbell and Y/N spoke in unison.

“How?!” Campbell gasped.

“What!?” Y/N said, getting to her feet.

“To turn this place into a treatment room. That's how the workman was in here. We've got a week to pack up and be out of here.” Eddie explained.

“You mean I'll not be station manager anymore?” Rosalie asked, softly.

“...No.”

Campbell got up and got in Eddie’s face. “What are you talking about? We're not going to lie down and play dead over this, are we? We've built something here, Eddie! When I go round the wards collecting requests, I'm a celebrity! And you know how? Because we give folks a voice! And now the hospital is telling us to shut up?!”

“Well, what can we do?

“We can declare UDI! We can turn ourselves into an independent charity, like most hospital radio stations in the country. Demand a site, and then run the station the way we want to! The only thing stopping us is lack of dosh.”

“That's also the only thing stopping me paying my milk bill.” Rosalie said.

“So we stage a fundraiser like we did before. Ehh... I've got it! A radiothon!”

“You mean like a telethon without any pictures.” Y/N asked.

“Aye.” Campbell said, “We'll broadcast from ten in the morning till ten at night, every day till we raise the dosh. We'll contact mental health charities, we'll enlist celebrity DJs, we'll ensure we get coverage in every newspaper in Glasgow.”

“Campbell, if my name appears in the papers again, I'm out of my job.” Eddie argued.

“Who cares. You're gonna go to lunch with Paula on Monday. You'll have another job.”

“We don't know that, Campbell!” Eddie shouted.

“She said she was going to have good news! Have some faith, Eddie! This is our moment!” Campbell encouraged.

Eddie: Then how do we need to save the station?” Eddie retorted.

Campbell’s smile fell and disappointment was etched over his face, he looked back at Rosalie and Y/N and then back at Eddie and he spoke a disappointed tone, “The station isn't just you and me, Eddie.”

“I cannae come in with you, Campbell.”

“...Aye…” Campbell stepped away from him Well. You with me, Rosalie?

“Aye, I'm with ya.”

Campbell turned to Y/N, “Y/N?”

“Of course. Just because I’m being discharged doesn’t mean I won’t be here to support you.”

He broke his loving gaze from his girlfriend to Eddie, giving him a look of disappointment and a little betrayal.

“Then we'll do it ourselves, Eddie. And I'll talk to Francine as well.” Campbell seemed to now be having a hard time looking at Eddie.

Eddie looked at Campbell for a long time before wishing him, “...Good luck.”

He exited, walking between Campbell, Y/N, and Rosalie. Campbell refused to look at him, shoving his hands in his pockets before Y/N got on her tip-toes and hugged him, he wrapped his arms around her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Y/N asked Campbell.

“No. I don’t want spend our last night together talking about Eddie.” He sighed, “Come here.” He kissed her, desperately but she pulled back, feeling wetness on his face and saw him trying not to cry. He rested his against her shoulder, sniffling.

“Oh, Campbell. I’m only going to be fifteen minutes away,”

“It’s not fair. Maybe if we could keep having nights like this. I like being there to help you stave off the nightmares. I like waking up from a memory of my dad’s lectures and knowing that you’re there with me lifts me higher than ever before. I like pretending like we’re not just a couple of teenagers in their first… well, healthy relationship. I like you… a lot. I’ve never had anyone who wanted to be around me as much as you do.”

“I like you too.” She dug her fingers into his light auburn hair, “for so long I thought I was broken. EX/N convinced me that I was broken. That I was unlovable, that I was alone in the darkness and I expected to spend the rest of my life in the darkness as more darkness, but then I met you and you shine brighter than the sun in summer.”

“You’re not broken.” He said and he kissed her passionately.

As Y/N finished packing up, Campbell hugged her from behind with his face snuggled into the crock of her neck with the occasional kiss to it. She chuckled and turned in his embrace, he immediately started to kiss her slowly.

“Campbell… I’ll be back in… like an hour.” She said in between his kisses.

“Mmm. Too long.” He shook his head.

“I think we’re moving from affectionate young love to clingy.”

“Mmm. I don’t care.”

“Y/N…” Came her cousin’s voice, knocking on the frame of the open door. “Uh, car’s ready.”

“Thanks, C/N. Campbell, I have to go. I’ll be back in an hour.” She said and kissed him before leaving the Saint Jude’s Hospital.

Three days later...

Y/N sat next to Campbell as he spoke into the microphone, “The time is two forty-five on day three, hour number twenty-nine of the Saint Jude's Hospital radiothon. In fifteen minutes, we're going to have another two hours of patients' party pieces, including Hector, who'll be doing a selection of his best juggling tricks.” A beat before he added with dry sarcasm, “Well, that should certainly be worth listening to. I'll be back again at five, so keep sending me your requests and dedications, but most of all, send us your dosh, and rescue our radio!”

He played Rescue Me (I don’t know who sings this. I can’t get a Shazam result off of it.) as Rosalie entered, wearing a bandage wrapped around her head, holding a piece of gauze to her face, over her eye.

“Sorry I'm late.” She told them, Y/n had turned around and her jaw was dropped in shock.

“So you should be! I've had…” Campbell started out angry but he cut himself off when saw the bandage and gauze and his eyes widened, “What happened to yeh?

“Ach, Jim came round and we had a... disagreement, but it's all sorted out now.”

“What!?” Y/N asked, outraged.

“Jim hit yeh?” Campbell asked in concern and some outrage.

“No!” Rosalie said quickly and explained, “Some wee boys came over the fence and one of them started making faces at me through the window, so I went out, and we disagreed about whether he was on my property, and then about whether I was a loony who should be locked up, and then he threw the stone, and we disagreed about whether I was gonna let Jim throttle him or not.”

“The kid threw a stone at yeh?” Campbell asked in disbelief.

“Aye, but I'm from Donegal—when a stone hits your head, it's the stone that's in trouble.” Rosalie said.

“Alright, who’s this kid? I’m going to find his parents and beat some sense into them with a bat until they learn to raise their kids right.” Y/N said with complete seriousness.

Then Billy knocked on the open door’s frame

“Hello, Billy.” Y/N said, brightly.

“Hello? I wanted to volunteer to do a party piece?” Billy said.

“Aye! What do you want to do?” Campbell said, positively, picking up the clipboard with all the times on it.

Billy held up a fiddle and proudly said, “I want to play my ukulele.”

“That's a fiddle.” Y/n said.

“...It is?”

Y/N nudged Campbell, ”But you're welcome to play it tomorrow at...” Campbell said, he paused to check for an unscheduled time slot for Billy, “quarter past six. Is that okay?”

“Aye, quarter past six!” Billy agreed.

“Don't forget your fiddle.” Y/N said.

“My what?” Billy asked.

Y/N sighed, giving up and said, “...Your ukulele.”

Billy, grinning, then exited.

“How's it been going, anyway?” Rosalie asked once Billy was gone.

“Desperate.” Campbell sighed, placing the clipboard down, “It's been like that,” He jabbed his thumb after Billy, “all day.” He ran his fingers over his face in exasperation, “Loads of volunteers to sing the Postman Pat theme in eleven different languages. But where's our celebrity DJs? Where's our star interviews? Where's the bloody press?”

“It’s kind of last minute, babe.” Y/N said, running her hand through his hair in the way she knew comforted him and he rested his head on her shoulder.

“But the contributions have been pouring in. They've been slipping them under the door. And a whole load have just arrived in with the post.” Rosalie said, holding up a stack of letters.

“How much have we got so far?” Campbell asked, lifting his head up with Y/N’s hand still in his hair.

“Ninety-seven pounds and twenty-seven pence.”

Campbell rolled his eyes and sighed before plopping his head back on Y/N’s shoulder, “We may have to do something drastic soon.”

Y/N drove Campbell to Eddie’s the next day and knocked on his apartment door.

Eddie, looking like he had woken up in a ditch that morning, opened the door.

“Eddie...?” Campbell asked. Eddie blinked from the light and nodded into his apartment, silently inviting them inside and opened the door. “You look terrible.”

“Aye... I had a few bevvies last night.”

“Uh… you mind if I make some coffee?” Y/N asked, figuring this is what Eddie needed at the moment.

“Aye, 's through there. 's nae milk, though.” He said.

Campbell rolled from the heels to the balls of his feet as Y/N filled a kettle with tap water. “The radiothon's dying on its feet.”

“Surprise, surprise.” Eddie said, dryly.

“The builders are supposed to be coming in at two o'clock tomorrow. And if we're not out of there by then, they're going to throwus out. So we've decided to occupy the station.” Campbell told Eddie.

“Campbell... have you finally really lost your mind?” Eddie asked, “Who's gonna occupy it?”

“Me, Y/N,” Campbell said, glancing behind him and jabbing his thumb at his girlfriend who had placed the kettle down and appeared in the doorframe, “and Rosalie. And you, I hope.”

“Nae chance.” Eddie scoffed as Campbell sat on the radiator.

“Eddie, I've thought it all out! It's the only way to save the station. I've told all the newspapers! They're all going to be there! We are going to turn this into a front page incident.”

“Campbell, I told you, I don't wantae make the front page. What I wantae dae is keep my job.” Eddie said, loudly.

“Eddie, you built that station from nothing! How can you let that slip away without a fight?” Campbell argued.

“Because I've got bills tae pay!” He got up and went through his mail stack of bills, “Electricity bill, gas bill, phone bill—which my dear grandmother managed to run into three figures before going off to Lithuania with every spare penny I had to give. And because, although I have lost more jobs in my life than you have had manic episodes, Campbell, I could make a lot of money now! I could get respect for the first time in my life!” He was now yelling, “You think I'm gonna give that all up for the dubious honor of going down with my ship?!” He walked over to the small balcony.

“Eddie, d'you no see that job's killing you?” Campbell asked.

“No, Campbell, my dreams!” Eddie argued before repeating softly, “My dreams are killing me.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him but bit back her comeback as Campbell walked to Eddie, leaned against the banister and asked, “So... what did Paula say, then?”

“She said there's a slot coming up and they want you to take it.”

Campbell’s eyes widened briefly, “You mean they want us to take it.”

“No, they see it as a solo slot.” Eddie clarified.

“And-and they want Campbell to take it? Only Campbell?” Y/N asked.

“I'm no gonna take it!” Campbell said at once.

“Campbell, take it.”

“We'll keep at it, Eddie, contact some other stations, do another demo—”

“Campbell, do you wantae end up like me?” Eddie asked, looking Campbell in the eyes, and then said, empathetically. “Take. The. Job. For yourself. For Fergus, eh?” He paused, “I promised Paula, I'd make you take it; I don't wantae break my word. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got tae go tae work.”

Campbell hesitated but left while Y/N stayed, waiting until he was out of earshot.

“By the way, it’s bullshit, Eddie. Your dreams aren’t killing you. Your boss’ expectations are killing you. Your grandmother’s expectations are killing you. Evelyn MacDonald’s killing you. That asshole from your work is killing you. Everyone who’s ever put you down is killing you because you’re letting them. Like how I let EX/N kill me every day. If you let your dreams go, you’re letting them kill you. You’ll end up like Fergus. Cold and alone in the ground with a rock with a birthday carved into it that I’m pretty sure is wrong and a funeral mostly full of people who before couldn’t even be bothered to remember your name before but come to convince themselves that they weren’t totally absorbed in their own lives to care about someone who’s now gone.”

For What It's Worth by Buffalo Springfield played as Campbell spoke into the microphone back at the studio. “This is Campbell Bain, and it's D-Day for Saint Jude's Hospital Radiothon. That's 'D' for Desperation Day, because we are still two thousand, eight hundred and fifty-six pounds and fifty-three pence short of our target. So this is it, loonies. If you've got a rich uncle, then today's the day to remind him of that filing clerk he once took to Blackpool, the name of the cheap hotel where they stayed, and the type of barnyard animal that was involved.” Y/N giggled into her sleeved hand as behind them, Rosalie stopped counting the meager donations and gave him a look like, what the hell? “We are here for you, loonies, and we're not going anywhere.”

Some time later, Campbell’s attention was brought through the window by the flashing of cameras and he spotted some men wearing hard hats.

“Y/N! Rosalie!” He shouted, bringing the girls’ attention to them.

Rosalie slammed the door shut and Y/N bolted the door shut.

“Ha! Now, not even the sonic screwdriver will get through that.” Y/N laughed with a triumph flourish and she gave the man a rude gesture through the window.

Rosalie and Y/N started to stack boxes and anything else they could find and move against the door as Campbell spoke on the radio.

“The loonies may not have taken over the asylum, but they've seized control of the radio station. “This is Campbell Bain reporting live from the hospital radio occupation, where we have locked ourselves into the station and have refused to stop broadcasting until our future is assured.”

Y/N spotted Stuart, Isabel, and another assistant enter the hallway from through the window.

“So talk to your friends, your relatives, your voices! Hospital radio must survive!”

Outside the station, the patients cheered.

Revolution played on the speakers as the patients danced. Y/N spotted Evelyn MacDonald pushed through the crowd towards Stuart, “Stuart! What are all these patients doing in the corridor? Get them out of here!”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Evelyn looked to see Y/N looking out through the window, knocking and then she waved with a fake smile before giving her an extremely rude gesture.

“Why are they still broadcasting? Can you not you cut their electricity?” She shouted at a workman and then she went to a reporter, “look, this is NHS property, and I’m going to have to ask you and your friends to leave immediately.”

A few minutes later Campbell announced, “That's exactly what this is, a revolution! Because even now the forces of sanity are massing outside the window, armed with the full weight of the Scottish Mental Health and the Criminal Trespass Act. But we can beat them, loonies! Because you know what we've got? Pride! We are loonies, and we are proud!”

Reach Out I'll Be There played as the police arrived and a policewoman announced through a megaphone to the reporters, “You are trespassing on NHS property. I must ask you to leave immediately.” Campbell looked absolutely delighted. “You are trespassing on National Health property. I must ask you to leave immediately.”

Campbell kissed Y/N on the cheek in triumph and defiantly slammed the fader on the mixer up as loud as it could go.

Then the station window started to open, making them turn to see Eddie opening the window from the outside and he climbed inside.

Grins appeared on the faces of Campbell, Rosalie, and Y/N’s faces.

“You are trespassing on National Health property. I must ask you to leave immediately. If you do not leave immediately, you will be arrested and charged.”

“We're gonna be arrested.” Campbell exclaimed, excitedly and he hugged ecstatically, “We're gonna be charged! This is the most glorious day of my life!!”

He turned to Y/N and placed his hands on her hips loosely, he opened his mouth but nothing came out other than, “I… I…” He didn’t want to scare her off and after her last “relationship”.

“I love you.” She said, putting her arms around his neck.

He blinked and then he grinned and said, “I love you too.” He kissed her when the police broke the station window with a fire extinguisher and opened the door, pushing the obstacles away.

They hauled, Campbell, Y/N, Eddie, and Rosalie out as the reporters took pictures as the patients booed them. Campbell beamed at the cameras before they passed a now awake from her psychological coma Francine.

A week later

Y/N beamed from the other side of the radio station glass of Radio Scotland as Campbell laughed at some hate mail as music played softly, “That was Hit the Road, Jack, a special dedication to me, wouldja believe, from an anonymous listener in Bishopbriggs, who writes: ‘I know what you are, and you should be locked up and have your balls cut off.’ So, Gold Boppers, write in to next week's mailbag and let me know what you think. Do you want me to be locked up, or just have my balls cut off, or do you want me to be locked up and have my balls cut off? This is Campbell Bain's Gold Show, so don't touch that dial, just let it be.”

He looked at Y/N through the glass and returned her smile, for the first time in a long time, both of them felt full and truly happy.

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andthebeanstalk · 2 years

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Losing my mind trying not to search Spotify and AO3 for my new favorite ship until I finish the series so I can avoid spoilers i DESERVE A MEDAL FOR THIS

#i am not so good at bingewatching but theres still so many seasons to goooo #and in the meantime I'm stuck with smegging PRE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT RIMMER AGAIN? i hope he dies.#and that is quite possible considering the show's relationship with death. RETURN TO ME MY BOY. RETURN HIM TO ME #BRING ME THE BOY #red dwarf #stupid smegging writing on stupid old tv shows #it is NEVER a good sign when a comedy show is like AND NOW WE WILL DO JOKES ABOUT MEN'S PRISONS #honestly so much of the show is timeless or even ahead of its time it is so annoying when they date themselves in a bad way #but hey. it came out 15 years before supernatural and it is 5000% better than that so...#in terms of selective canon erasing a few bad jokes is much easier than... needing to basically mentally rewrite the whole show XD #i have Trained For This Day.#by all that bisexual Dean Winchester and his husband Castiel has taught me #grumble grumble grumble grumble #ALL I WANT is a gay retelling of the series is that SO MUCH TO ASK #man #dave lister is so hot what is wrong with me #i am attracted to like 4 people a year and this year one of them is fictional character David Lister #NOW PUT. THE BOYFRIEND. BACK.#original

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voidsentprinces · 2 years

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...Persona 4 with Scions would be great.

#{ Our Izanagi would be Fray...obviously }#{ Velvet Room would probably be hosted by }#{ I dunno I wanna say either Nero or Hildibrand }#{ with Jesse or Nashu respectively }#{ Can't really think of any truly classy characters to host the Velvet Room }#{ who aren't already pre-selected for Scion friendship ya know? }#{ Unless perhaps Krile? }

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jesterwaves · 9 months

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was curious about who my most popular ocs were based on art fight. i dont know how legible the text is, sorry. i also don't know how colorblind friendly the colors are.

this is about half of the characters public on my art fight--the other half haven't been drawn once (which...fair, as i have 60 characters up)

clover and innovation tie for first, but muse is coming up on them with four (all of which have been drawn this year)

everyone below seven (character) has been drawn once

#the fool speaks #muse has been in i THINK every miitopia mass attack? wait. no. all but one.#ray hasn't been drawn once since pre-covid but is still in the top 50% of the graph #back then he was one of my only ocs though #i could hide a bunch of characters but i like having a selection. moth kid is my only furry rep #i guess you could count elliot. but he just has ears and a tail.

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untoterxhund · 1 year

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i've returned but man, am i pooped

#010 //: out of character.#think they went well tho-#still gotta do the pre-recorded interview though #which is still whack asf as a part of the “selection process” to become a cashier at a government-owned cannabis store-

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pjotvshownews · 2 years

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Rick Riordan’s response to the racism and hatred directed at Leah after she was cast as Annabeth:

“Leah Jeffries is Annabeth Chase”

“This post is specifically for those who have a problem with the casting of Leah Jeffries as Annabeth Chase. It’s a shame such posts need to be written, but they do. First, let me be clear I am speaking here only for myself. These thoughts are mine alone. They do not necessarily reflect or represent the opinions of any part of Disney, the TV show, the production team, or the Jeffries family.

The response to the casting of Leah has been overwhelmingly positive and joyous, as it should be. Leah brings so much energy and enthusiasm to this role, so much of Annabeth’s strength. She will be a role model for new generations of girls who will see in her the kind hero they want to be.

If you have a problem with this casting, however, take it up with me. You have no one else to blame. Whatever else you take from this post, we should be able to agree that bullying and harassing a child online is inexcusably wrong. As strong as Leah is, as much as we have discussed the potential for this kind of reaction and the intense pressure this role will bring, the negative comments she has received online are out of line. They need to stop. Now.

I was quite clear a year ago, when we announced our first open casting, that we would be following Disney’s company policy on nondiscrimination: We are committed to diverse, inclusive casting. For every role, please submit qualified performers, without regard to disability, gender, race and ethnicity, age, color, national origin, sexual orientation, gender identity or any other basis prohibited by law. We did that. The casting process was long, intense, massive and exhaustive.

I have been clear, as the author, that I was looking for the best actors to inhabit and bring to life the personalities of these characters, and that physical appearance was secondary for me. We did that. We took a year to do this process thoroughly and find the best of the best. This trio is the best. Leah Jeffries is Annabeth Chase.

Some of you have apparently felt offended or exasperated when your objections are called out online as racist. “But I am not racist,” you say. “It is not racist to want an actor who is accurate to the book’s description of the character!”

Let’s examine that statement.

You are upset/disappointed/frustrated/angry because a Black actor has been cast to play a character who was described as white in the books. “She doesn’t look the way I always imagined.”

You either are not aware, or have dismissed, Leah’s years of hard work honing her craft, her talent, her tenacity, her focus, her screen presence. You refuse to believe her selection could have been based on merit. Without having seen her play the part, you have pre-judged her (pre + judge = prejudice) and decided she must have been hired simply to fill a quota or tick a diversity box. And by the way, these criticisms have come from across the political spectrum, right and left.

You have decided that I couldn’t possibly mean what I have always said: That the true nature of the character lies in their personality. You feel I must have been coerced, brainwashed, bribed, threatened, whatever, or I as a white male author never would have chosen a Black actor for the part of this canonically white girl.

You refuse to believe me, the guy who wrote the books and created these characters, when I say that these actors are perfect for the roles because of the talent they bring and the way they used their auditions to expand, improve and electrify the lines they were given. Once you see Leah as Annabeth, she will become exactly the way you imagine Annabeth, assuming you give her that chance, but you refuse to credit that this may be true.

You are judging her appropriateness for this role solely and exclusively on how she looks. She is a Black girl playing someone who was described in the books as white.

Friends, that is racism.

And before you resort to the old kneejerk reaction — “I am not racist!” — let’s examine that statement too.

If I may quote from an excellent recent article in the Boston Globe about Dr. Khama Ennis, who created a program on implicit bias for the Massachusetts Board of Registration for Medicine in Boston: “To say a person doesn’t have bias is to say that person isn’t human. It’s how we navigate the world … based on what we’re taught and our own personal histories.”

Racism/colorism isn’t something we have or don’t have. I have it. You have it. We all do. And not just white people like me. All people. It’s either something we recognize and try to work on, or it’s something we deny. Saying “I am not racist!” is simply declaring that you deny your own biases and refuse to work on them.

The core message of Percy Jackson has always been that difference is strength. There is power in plurality. The things that distinguish us from one another are often our marks of individual greatness. You should never judge someone by how well they fit your preconceived notions. That neurodivergent kid who has failed out of six schools, for instance, may well be the son of Poseidon. Anyone can be a hero.

If you don’t get that, if you’re still upset about the casting of this marvelous trio, then it doesn’t matter how many times you have read the books. You didn’t learn anything from them.

Watch the show or don’t. That’s your call. But this will be an adaptation that I am proud of, and which fully honors the spirit of Percy Jackson and the Olympians, taking the bedtime story I told my son twenty years ago to make him feel better about being neurodivergent, and improving on it so that kids all over the world can continue to see themselves as heroes at Camp Half-Blood.”

(x)

#rick riordan #leah sava jeffries #annabeth chase #percy jackson tv show #percy jackson #pjo #pjo tv show #percy jackson and the olympians

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objectheadzine · 5 days

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The theme of the eleventh Object Head Zine is “MAGIC AND FANTASY”.

(Illustration by TheHoleyness, concept/sketch by Potentialforart) Embrace the swirling magic inside as you summon power from the depths, awaken the sleeping strength to battle strong foes, and venture forth to adventure - this year's zine wants you to pull forth your imagination and seize fantasies beyond your wildest dreams! Feel free to pick whatever genre you'd like; there's plenty to choose from!

This book will feature 35 people I’ve selected, plus 35 open slots available to the public for a total of 70 participants! This year’s zine is a PAID OPPORTUNITY of $115 USD per page (an increase from previous years!). Participants will be paid as soon as they complete their piece (give or take a week for PayPal to transfer funds). There will be a pre-order sale to cover the costs of printing and shipping.

The 35 pre-selected participants are:

The guidelines are as follows:

Illustration-quality works in either digital or traditional mediums. Both colour and b/w acceptable; background required. *BG can be as simple as a pattern or colour block!

6”x9”, 300 DPI illustrations with a 1/8th inch bleed (FINAL DIMENSIONS SHOULD BE 6.25” x 9.25”) Works must be in CMYK, and in a vertical format only.

At least one (1) work in progress picture should be sent in with your final illustration.

For consistency’s sake, keep faces to a minimum (You can have eye(s) or you can have mouth(s) but don’t have both in a humanoid arrangement.)

Original characters only (yours or your friends’).

You can include humans or other creatures, as long as there’s a 1:1 object head to non-object head/human ratio.

This book is for all ages. PG-13 content at the most! Cartoon violence and blood are acceptable, but realistic gore is NOT. Use your common sense. If you’re unsure, run the idea by me.

Completed illustrations must be sent as a flattened psd or tiff file

TO APPLY, FILL OUT THE GOOGLE FORM HERE

There are only 12 slots for comics available due to page count space so if you apply for a comic space, and you are selected, you may not be picked for comics but instead illustration!

If you have any questions about the zine, feel free to send an email to objectheadzine(@)hotmail(.)com. I’ll do my best to reply promptly. If you haven’t received a response from me, please feel free to send it again. There are a few essential questions answered over at the FAQ. There is also a Twitter account for the zine for frequent updates and WIPs of the book!

Applications are due June 2nd, 2024, 11:59 PM, PST.

Edit: The google form was not letting people submit applications, I've remade the form - let's hope it works now!

#object head zine #object head #object heads #objecthead #objectheads #objectheadzine #zine

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its-rach-writes · 26 days

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Cinnamon and Art Galleries - Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Your friend, Emily brings a cute stranger to your art exhibition.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, more fluff, probably ooc Spencer

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this! This was my first time writing for Spencer so he's probably out of character but please let me know what you think! I love you all! xxx

You smiled as you drew the cat in the hot chocolate foam and handed it to the little girl on the other side of the counter with her mom. It melted your heart when her face lit up and she waved at you as her mom steered her out of the café. It was slow in your café today but you didn’t mind, you used the time to set up for the beginner art class you were going to be teaching on Saturday.

“Hey girl,” you glanced up when the bell rang and your friend Emily walked in.

You smiled when you saw her and gave her a wave. She was the first friend you had made when you moved to DC.

“Hey,” you smiled, “having the usual?”

“Please,” she grinned.

You got to work, making her one black coffee, the other was a milky coffee with a shot of cinnamon syrup. You knew that Emily drank the black coffee so you couldn’t help but wonder who the overly sweet coffee was for. You carefully selected the cinnamon roll with the most frosting and slid it into a bag, being careful to not let it stick to the paper bag.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” Emily started and you scoffed with a laugh.

As soon as you found out your art was going to be featured in an exhibition, Emily was the first person you told, “the team are coming to see it.”

You raised an eyebrow, secretly you were grateful, “FBI Agents don’t have anything better to do?”

She laughed, “not tonight, I even managed to talk the good Dr into coming.”

“The elusive Spencer Reid?” you rested your hip against the counter as you handed her the coffees, “how did you manage that?” from what Emily had told you, it didn’t seem like Spencer Reid liked social situations.

“I’ve got killer interrogation skills,” she smirked, “he’s cute too.”

You internally groaned, yours and Emily’s definition of ‘cute’ were very different, for all you knew Spencer Reid was an aging Professor, “as long as you don’t try and set us up, like you tried with me and Morgan.”

“No promises,” she laughed as she backed out of the café, “I’ll see you tonight.”

Later that night, you were sipping champagne as people perused your exhibition, your paintings were both inspired by Pre-Raphaelite art and the King Arthur legends. You noticed a man was standing at your painting of the Knights of the Round Table, so you walked over and decided to strike up a conversation.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” his lips twitched into a small smile as he looked down at you with gorgeous deep brown eyes, “you’re the artist right?” when you nodded, he looked back at the painting, “you’re really good.”

“Thanks, I love Pre-Raphaelite art.”

“Did you know that the Pre-Raphaelites were a secret society of young artists, founded in London in 1848? They were opposed to the Royal Academy’s promotion of the ideal as exemplified in the work of Raphael,” he blurted this out like he’d memorised it from a textbook and you worked hard to conceal a laugh.

“I did know that,” you giggled.

“Right of course,” he flushed, “of course you knew that.”

Something struck a memory, something that Emily had told you, “wait, are you Spencer Reid?” he looked at you with slightly wary eyes before nodding and you smiled, “I’m Y/N, Emily has told me so much about you.”

“It’s all lies,” he joked and glanced over his shoulder, “she’s making the most of the bar right now.”

You laughed as you looked over too and she waved, lifting up a glass in a motion of cheers. When she had said Spencer was cute, it was an understatement, he was young and gorgeous.

“Are you interested in art?” you asked as you sipped your champagne.

Spencer nodded, “I like looking at it, I’m afraid I’m not very artistic.”

“And here, we thought you were perfect,” you heard a chuckle from over your shoulder and you turned to see Derek Morgan and the rest of the BAU, Morgan pulled you into a hug, “congratulations sweetheart.”

“Thanks,” you smiled as you pulled away and looked at the others, “thank you for coming.”

It was a great night and you were grateful for everyone that came but soon, you were starting to get overwhelmed so you went out onto the balcony for a cigarette. Though it seemed as though someone else had beaten you to it. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced over his shoulder and smiled at you.

“Hey, you want some company?”

“Sure,” he smiled.

There was comfortable silence for a while as both of you looked over at the lights of DC, your cigarette smoke curling in the air. Soon enough, Spencer spoke up.

“So what do you do? Is art your full time thing?”

“I own the café by the library, but I’m integrating art into the café, I’m teaching a beginner class at the weekend from there.”

“No way! Seriously?” he smiled, looking animated, “your coffee is so good and your cinnamon rolls? Amazing.”

You laughed, “Emily gets the cinnamon roll with the most frosting for you?”

“Yeah,” he flushed, he opened his mouth to say something else when he was interrupted by Aaron Hotchner.

“Reid, we just got called in,” he glanced at you, an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“No, it’s okay,” you smiled when Spencer pushed himself off the railing, “it was really nice to meet you Spencer.”

He flushed and offered you a shy smile, “it was nice to meet you too, I’ll see you soon?”

You nodded and Emily pulled you into a tight hug, whispering in your ear, “I’ll make sure he sees you soon,” you laughed, shaking your head as she pulled away.

On Saturday, you were setting up for the art class when you heard the tinkle of the bell and you glanced up. None other than Spencer Reid was standing in the open doorway, the sun like a halo around his head.

“Thought you might need a hand.”

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #reid #spencer #criminal minds #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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yuellii · 9 months

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when imitating life from art

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 of what kinds of gifts they would give you while we wait for maintenance to end !

feat. various fontaine characters, separately

note. reader’s gender not specified, not necessarily romantic but definitely can be, this is written pre-release, just something to kill the time during maintenance before fontaine drops !!

FURINA.

random trinkets ; She’s quite sporadic, actually. Quite similar to the flamboyance of her demeanor, she does not stick to a theme when she’s gift-giving to you especially. They must be random, they must be completely new and fun every time—and that’s not a rule, it’s only like the laws of nature.

In retrospect, they’re all endearing in the end. If there’s one theme she missed, it’s that all these random trinkets pertained to you in some way, even in the oddest of aspects. Truth be told, she picked items up once they reminded her of you, and that itself was enough to excuse the weirdness of some of her presents.

LYNEY.

magic tricks ;; The gifts he gives themselves are… rather normal. But he is a person of presentation, or so he’d say. Therefore, the true uniqueness that set him aside from any other gift givers was the performance he gave alongside them.

For even the smallest of gifts—books, drinks, Mora—he insists he hides them from you first. With a wink and a grin that can be frustrating sometimes, the true present is really how hard he tries to impress you. And so, he goes out of his way to try something new every time. If you’re not impressed, absolutely astounded and amazed, then is it really a gift from him at all?

LYNETTE.

flowers ;; The irony is that Lynette hates flowers… When they’re given to her, at least. But they were always offered to her early into her career that she just associates them with goodness, and goodness, only. So in her mind, who is more deserving of flowers than you?

She doesn’t quite know flower meanings; she likely has no idea each one even had a separate connotation. But she knew that they looked pretty, and if you paid attention hard enough, you’d notice they were displayed in such a beautiful way every time she gave them to you, like she felt the need to carefully arrange them to your liking.

FREMINET.

seashells ;; ‘He sells seashells by the seashore’—not really, but he liked mumbling it to himself whenever he came by. He liked diving; pretty much everyone knew that. He liked the water; everyone knew that, too. But, he also liked to silently hand you shells he collected from his little water sessions.

If you took the time to notice all the details, you’d see that he only brings you complete shells, ones that stents cracked or broken. It’s as if he sorted them out one by one, making sure they look pristine before selecting them as the final one—and maybe, that’s truly what he does.

NEUVILLETTE.

dinner dates ;; He actually doesn’t… give you gifts. Physical ones, anyways. He’s a very serious yet interesting man, one that leaves you guessing what his next move will be.

What he does as a treat in place of a physical present is treat you out to a nice dinner, but you won’t know what days he will ask until he is already in front of you. They’re quite nice, though, as he always picks places he knows you enjoy at least a few things off the menu. And they’re quite expensive and classy, too. You’re also not quite sure if he picks these random nights based on your mood throughout the day, or based on his own selfish discretion… But honestly, you’ll never know.

WRIOTHESLEY.

tea boxes ;; The man in charge of a fleet of exiled convicts is one you’d consider to be more scruff and too barbaric of a person, but he is gentle in the way he likes his tea. It’s a form of art that calms him down from the bottom of the ocean, one that he thinks you would enjoy, too.

And so he loves giving sets of new blends he’s tried, or sometimes specific herbs to add to really make a different aroma pop more than usual. He always prefers tea over anything, and his gifts and recommendations are his way of saying he wants you to enjoy them, too.

NAVIA.

skincare ;; The lady is quite particular with the sun and the shade, the hydrating and hydro-boosting—she takes care in the art of aesthetics and believes it’s only fair that you pamper yourself, same way as she does on her own. There’s an interest she takes, one that is so particular in which she studies your type of skin just to find out what lotion would be best, or what would keep your face hydrated.

And at first, you’d think to yourself maybe it’s a bit insulting, like she needs to look better than you already do. But wish her dashing smile always so positive when she gifts them, it’s clear she has the best of intentions.

CLORINDE.

gold trinkets ;; Being a champion duelist meant many things, but one of those features implicated an eye for the golden prize. Gold was always classy, so she liked it. Love was also classy, and she liked feeling it whenever she thought of something to give to you. It was always something gold, ranging from expensive jewelry to even cheap, gold-lined trinkets.

But she thought of you when she chose it, and she thought it was pretty enough to give to you. And it felt lovely, at the very least, as if she was sharing her winning trophies.

#lyney x reader #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x reader #clorinde x reader #navia x reader #furina x reader #lynette x reader #focalors x reader #freminet x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin imagines #fontaine x reader #genshin x reader

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gryfflepuffinthetardis · 5 months

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Creep (Sweet Jane Part Five) — Campbell Bain x Reader

Sweet Jane Episode One: Hey Jude

Sweet Jane Episode Two: Fly Like an Eagle

Sweet Jane Episode Three: You Always Hurt the One You Love

Sweet Jane Episode Four: Fool on the Hill

Sweet Jane Episode Five: Rainy Day in Georgia (But not Georgia Tennant.)

“You are not the darkness you endured, you are the light that refused to surrender.”

Warning: Mature — Mentions and Descriptions of underaged rape (mid to late teens) and descriptions of stalking. (I’m not sure if this counts as explicit.); Funeral

youtube

Fergus’ funeral had finished and the mourners whom none of them had ever seen in their lives were leaving while the loonies—Eddie, Rosalie, Francine, Y/N, and a very, very drunk Campbell—stayed at his grave.

“Some wake, huh?” Campbell asked.

“We can go on back to the house with the others. His da invited us.” Eddie said.

“Did he hell! An invitation is when you say, ‘Would you like to come back to the house for a wee whisky?’ No ‘I s'pose you can come back t'the house if ye want.’ I mean, who were all those folk? Rental mourners? Never saw any ae them come to visit Fergus in hospital.”

“Right enough.” Francine said.

“And that minister! Don't think he'd even met the guy. Talking about "the tragic death of a young man of only thirty years". Fergus was twenty-seven! Getting us up to sing Fergus's favorite hymn! Fergus was a rabid, card-carrying atheist! And that bit about "the terrible illness that eventually killed him". Fergus didnae have cancer, he was a loony!” He started to fail his arms about, drunkenly, “A bam, crazy, mental, out tae lunch, of another planet...!” He fell against Eddie and Y/N who caught him.

“Babe.” Y/N said, taking the drink from her boyfriend before taking a swig herself.

Campbell snatched it back, “I’ll give this to you when you tell me who that boy you beat was.”

Y/N’s eyes became cold and she shook herself away from him.

“You are pished, my friend.” Eddie said and took the bottle of whiskey from him.

Campbell seemed insulted and affronted and said, his words slurred with alcohol, “That's rich comin fae you.

“Aye, but I'm no an amateur.” Eddie said.

Campbell looked back down at the coffin, “He was a genius. He could have done anything.”

“Aye. So he could.”

Campbell’s face screwed up with pained grief and he made his drunken exit. Y/N didn’t notice her exe, fresh from the hospital after a month of treatments for the injuries she had inflicted upon him limping his way over to Campbell.

“You Campbell Bain?” He asked.

“Who are you?” Campbell asked.

"The real love of your girlfriend's life." Campbell glared as her exe got closer to him, realizing “She will never love you like she loved me and you could never love her like I love her. The harlot.) And then Campbell saw red.

Y/N looked up when she heard a thud and saw Campbell standing over a boy on the ground.

Y/N ran over and stopped her exe from hitting Campbell back but her exe threw a punch aimed at her and Campbell pushed her out of the way… the next thing she knew her exe was being arrested with a bloody nose again.

Eddie, Francine, Rosalie, Campbell, and Y/N reentered Saint Jude’s hospital and they approached the radio station where they heard Rainy Night in Georgia playing and they found an electrician in the studio.

“Who the hell are you?” Eddie asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.” The electrician said.

“I'm the guy who owns that record.”

“Some collector. That's an original Brook Benton version fae nineteen-seventy-eight.

“Nineteen-sixty-nine.” Eddie corrected, “How did you get in here? Naebody's supposed to be in here except authorized staff.”

“I'm the electrician.”

Eddie’s glare hardened, “Right, that's it.” And he started to stuff the electrician's tools in his case.

“What? They don't go in like that!”

“They do the night!” Eddie snapped and he grabbed the electrician by his collar and pushed him out.

“What are you on, pal?” The electrician complained.

“Eddie, Eddie!” Isabel yelled, coming up to them.

“Daft bastard!” The electrician cursed.

“What's the problem?” Isabel asked.

“‘What's the problem’?! Why is he no sedated?”

“He's not a patient!”

“Well, he should be!” The electrician said and then he stormed off.

Isabel turned to Eddie, “It doesn't matter to Fergus now. You're only storing up trouble for yourself!”

“Aye? Well, IT'S EASILY DONE ROUND HERE!”

Y/N took Campbell’s hand and tugged on it, Campbell followed her to her room as she started to take buckled boots off as he awkwardly stood there with his hands stuffed into his pockets.

"So… who is he?”

“Electrician that, I wager.” She said, though she knew he wasn’t referring to the electrician.

“Y/N.” Campbell said as Y/N struggled to reach her zipper behind her back. “I get he’s your exe but there’s more to it , isn’t there?” He gently took her zipper and started to pull it down but then she stepped away, hugging her arms across her chest in a defensive manner to keep them from shaking.

She thought about her transition from the incident, how she stopped talking for nearly a year and after only two months of knowing Campbell she started to talk again, she became more… like her but not like she was before. Campbell was the only person who made her feel like her while EX/N tried to make her into someone else. She knew she could trust him; everyone did tell her how utterly smitten he was with her.

She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. She didn’t turn around she just stared her copy of How To Kill a Mockingbird.

(IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE OR DON’T WANT TO READ DESCRIPTION OF UNDERAGED RAPE, SKIP)

"He was my best friend... or more like… he was my only friend. He was nearly four years older than me and for some reason he was my babysitter because my parents didn't trust me. Looking back—I-I should've seen the signs, the red flags. He never knocked even when he knew I would be changing, not even when he would hear me in the shower. He would just stare at me sometimes. He would touch me in inappropriate places but I thought they were innocent. As we got older, it became more sexual, it wasn't just him being a hormonal teenager but him being perverted and actively interested in performing sexual activities with me.”

Campbell dug his nails into his palm with outrage. He had a feeling he knew where this was going and he hated it.

“Then he became obsessed with me when I got into high school and started wearing bras. I was fourteen when he started doing things with me, never over second base but still... I wasn't at the consent age yet. He told me that it was for science and sometimes I woke up to find him... doing things. He pushed my limits, even when I begged him to stop. Sometimes, he brought his friends and whoever they'd invite over, the oldest had to be in his thirties, twice my age and he took pictures of me. He threatened to tell everyone that I had forced myself upon him, if I told anyone. My parents already didn't like me."

"Jesus..." Campbell breathed in horror.

"If I did something he didn't like... he would..." she shuddered, "When he would go too far. He would apologize the next day, and I would always forgive him. Because I was so kind..." She laughed, bitterly with tears in her eyes. "He told me that no one else would ever love me like he did. No one would do things that we did. I hated myself for my compassion but even when I managed to numb myself of my emotions, it was still there."

Campbell both wanted her to stop talking yet keep talking at the same time.

"It wasn't until I was eighteen when he first... on my eighteenth birthday. Coming on a year ago. He promised that things would be different, that he loved me and would show that he loves me. He... he got me drunk but when I still wouldn't consent and fought back, he pretended to sustain and got me some more alcohol, I didn't see him slip in the drug."

Campbell wished he had done something worse than just punch him in the face.

"I was conscious the whole time. He must've cut the pill or something. But I couldn't do anything. I couldn't move. I pleaded for him to stop but he wouldn't, insisting that I wanted it and when I tried to scream for help, he choked me as hard as he could and banged my head against the floor, and I blacked out but I know he continued. When I woke up, I ached so much and there was so much blood. I was so horrified by what he did to me. I stopped talking. Eight months later, they sent me here. That's why I was so scared when you crashed into me when we first me, why I was so scared of you long after, why I scream whenever any man, especially Stuart would get too close to me. And I was so scared because he found me. I thought he was going to do it again." She started to sob and Campbell pulled her into his lap and she sobbed into the crook of his neck.

"No, he won't. I won't let him. I won't let him near you."

(END OF SKIP. THIS WAS THE MOST HORRIBLE THING I HAVE EVER WRITTEN AND I’M DISGUSTED THAT MY MIND CAN GO SO DARK.)

“I don’t think that’s what he wants. He worked with Hollis, he called Fergus’ job and he painted him in a bad light. He drove Fergus to suicide…” She broke into sobs, “What if he goes after Rosalie or Eddie or Francine… or you. I can’t let him hurt you.”

“He won’t. He got arrested for assault. And if you want, you can go and tell the police what he did to you and Fergus and he’ll be in jail, and then I can hire a bodyguard for you when I become a famous DJ.” He said, gently, “do you… do you think you can do that?”

Y/N pulled back and looked at him, her irises several shades of E/C lighter than usual and she nodded and kissed him gently before saying, “You do look good in a suit. Very James Bond.”

“James Bond?” He laughed and then straightened his tie, “Really?”

About a week later, Eddie was sitting rather morosely still as a record spun.

Campbell and Y/N exchanged looks and Campbell grabbed a blindfold and covered Eddie’s eyes with it.

“Freeze! Don't look. What was the name of that record?

“Dream Lover.” Eddie and Y/N said in unison.

“Which was in the British charts for?”

“Nineteen weeks.” They said.

“In?”

“Nineteen-fifty-nine.”

“See? Told you they could do it. Did I not tell you?

“They’re geniuses, they are.”

“Of course, Y/N is. I’m dating her!” Campbell said and kissed Y/N, grinning into the kiss.

“You're still here?” Eddie asked, turning away from the kissing teens.

“Oh aye. If they want to get rid of me, they'll have to catch me first.” Rosalie as the teens parted with Campbell’s arm around her and her head, resting on his shoulder.

“Rosalie's got us all organized for the pilot tomorrow,” Campbell said, “Eddie; it's gonna be brilliant, and I have just come up with the perfect angle.”

“Which is?”

“We are going to be playing a number one hit fae every year from nineteen-fifty-six to nineteen-seventy, aye?”

“And I've got a list here of every number one hit in every one of those years, Eddie.” Rosalie said.

“So at the end of the hour, we invite our listeners to phone in and,” Campbell put on a cheesy American accent, “pit their wits against the master of hits, Doctor Boogie!”

“Who's Doctor Boogie?” Eddie asked.

“You! That's the angle!” Campbell said, enthusiastically, “So, if they can ask a question about any of the hits we've played that you cannae answer, they win a major prize.”

“He's a genius.” Rosalie said.

“Yeah, he is.” Y/N pecked Campbell on the cheek.

“Campbell, this is a recording we're doing. The only folk who are gonna be listening are Paula and a couple of bored guys on their dinner break.”

“Then we'll get them to phone in.” Campbell said.

“What's the major prize?” Eddie asked.

“We just kid on there's a prize. So it can be anything we want! A trip to Graceland by time machine to meet Elvis.”

“Tardis.” Y/N said.

“Lunch with the Archbishop of Canterbury. I don't have to conform to the vagaries of time and space. I'm a loony, for God's sake! Look, a full moon!” He unwrapped his arm from his girlfriend and leapt to the window and imitated the howl of a wolf.

“Get back in here, Doctor Who.” Y/N said, pulling him back in. “You know you do look Gallifreyan.”

“Thought you wanted to keep quiet about that.” Eddie said, referring to Campbell’s pride on being a loony.

“They're no gonnae do to me what they did to Fergus, Eddie. Nobody's gonna find me in a heap on the pavement. I'm gonna flaunt it. I'm gonna exploit it for all it's worth. Because we are loonies and we are proud!”

He started to chant as he exited with Rosalie and Y/N following and chanting along with him, “We are loonies and we are proud! We are loonies and we are proud!”

Then Y/N spotted Rosalie’s social worker down the hall through the doors, “Rosalie, get back in!” Y/N said, backtracking so fast her boots squeaked against the floor. Social worker! Quick! Social worker!”

The three of them ran back into the radio station and helped hide Rosalie in the cupboard, taking the boxes out.

“I shouldn't have tidied the boxes!” Rosalie stressed before they got the boxes out and Rosalie crawled inside the cupboard and Campbell and Y/N closed the doors.

“Act casual!” Y/N said and then Campbell pulled her into his chest and kissed her slowly, gently, and passionately.

Eddie rolled his eyes, though this was accurate with Campbell being outgoing and deeply affectionate to the antisocial and detached Y/N. They some how helped each other. Campbell helped Y/N heal, be more social, and begin to trust again and Y/N helped calm Campbell down and helped him focus on being in the moment… as long as that moment was him being with her and looking at her like she was his whole universe.

Isabel then entered with Stuart and the social worker.

“Ahem.” Isabel said, politely as Campbell made no move to part from Y/N.

“Break it up, you two.” Stuart said, harshly and was about to physically break them apart when Isabel stopped him and wisely Y/N broke the kiss.

Campbell, licking his lips slightly as Y/N fidgeted with her semicolon open bracelet that Campbell had given her a few days ago for their three-month anniversary.

“Have you seen Rosalie? The social worker's here.” Isabel asked.

Campbell briefly puckered his lips out in an innocent fashion as he shook his head, “She's no been in tonight.”

“Haven’t seen her.” Y/N lied, looking at them.

“She came in at half past seven; I saw her.” Stuart said, sharply.

“Well, she's not here now.” Campbell said pointedly.

“Did you not notice?” Y/N snarked, innocently, looking around the rather small space and giving Stuart a pitying look.

“Are you calling me a liar?” Stuart challenged.

“No, Stuart, I'm calling you stupid!” Campbell shot back.

“That’s an understatement.” Y/N said.

“Eddie, what are those boxes doing out?” Isabel asked, referring to the boxes they had taken out.

“Ehm,” Eddie said, hesitantly, “Campbell, Y/N, and I have been doing some organizing.” Campbell and Y/N nodded.

“Well, could you put them back in the cupboard now? They could be a fire hazard.” Isabel asked.

“Uh... we're still working with them.

“Nurse said tae put them back in the cupboard!” Stuart demanded.

“It's all right, Stuart.” Isabel tried to push him back but he moved forth towards the boxes.

But Campbell moved in front of Stuart and defiantly said, “But we're still working with them. How low an IQ do you need for your job?” He pushed Stuart in the chest

Stuart then seized Campbell, shouting, “I'll break you like a matchstick—!”

Isabel, Eddie, and Y/N tried to wrestle them apart until Y/N voice thundered above the rest.

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HIM!” Y/N roared, grabbing Stuart’s arm and then kneeing him in the stomach, kung fu-style.

“OOF!” He stumbled back as Isabel pushed him back as Eddie pulled Y/N back before she committed her third act of physical assault.

“All right! No one's going to break anyone else like a match!” Isabel said and then went to the cupboard where Rosalie was hiding and knocked, “Rosalie? Do you want to come out now before we end up with blood all over the floor?

Rosalie conceded and emerged from the cupboard as Campbell took Y/N from Eddie, glaring at Stuart.

“Rosalie, this is Linda Foster, the psychiatric social worker; she'd like to have a word.” Isabel introduced.

Rosalie nodded without enthusiasm and left with the social worker, Isabel, and Stuart.

At night, Campbell was on Y/n's bed and was strumming his guitar before stopping as he noticed Y/N starting to get tired.

“Hey, come here.” He pulled her into his chest and pulled the blanket over the both of them. It was quiet as he pondered something, ““Where’d you learn to do that? What you did to Stuart?”

“After EX/N, I took some classes.” She mumbled and he pulled her closer against him.

“Come with me to Radio Scotland. I want you there. Please.”

Y/N looked up at him and nodded before snuggling into his neck. “Mmm-hmm.”

Soon he felt her breathing get deeper and slower.

“Y/N? Y/N?” He said, softly but nothing. “I love you.” He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes to sleep.

Y/N stood with Campbell stacking a box of Uncle Ben's rice, an alarm clock, a box of beans, and a fire extinguisher on the mixing desk while Eddie was in the bathroom.

Then Eddie came back and Y/N turned to Campbell, “Good luck.” She smiled and kissed his cheek before turning but Campbell pulled her back for a loving and soft kiss. He broke the kiss and she turned to leave, entering the control room with Paula as Paula’s assistant handed her a cup of hot chocolate like she asked.

“Thank you, um, what was it?”

“Um, River.” He said in an American accent.

“River, thank you.” She said and sat next to Paula.

Paula pushed the button and spoke into the microphone to them, “You ready, boys?”

Campbell looked at her and nodded, grinning before his eyes going to River, making his smile falter and his eyes narrow but he forced himself to brush it off.

“Is it me or does Eddie look like he died ten minutes ago?” Y/N asked in a rather sardonic tone.

“Eddie, you okay?”

Eddie turned to look at them, “Aye, yeah.”

“Then let's do it. Four, three, two, one, go.” Paula said.

Campbell started the intro in a confident voice, “This is Campbell Bain and this is my alarm clock. It's also a clue. Doctor Boogie has just ten seconds to guess our first number one hit. The year is nineteen-fifty-six.” He set off the alarm clock.

When they got back to Saint Jude’s hospital, Campbell and Eddie sang loudly as they entered.

“WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS! BECAUSE WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS! WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS! WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS! WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS! ‘CAUSE WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS!” They passed Francine and Rosalie, “OF THE WORLD!”

“You got on okay, I take it?” Francine asked.

“Okay?! We practically set fire to the place!” Campbell exclaimed.

“Which explains the fire extinguisher.”

“And you'll never believe what happened.”

“They sectioned the both of youse.” Rosalie teased and laughed.

“Sectioned? You don't section a genius! You say,” Then he imitated Paula, ‘You did really well.’ You say, ‘Come see me on Thursday, Eddie.’ Because you know what I learned today? That the only difference between lunacy and genius is timing! Set off a fire extinguisher in a shrink's office and he'll have you locked up. Do it in front of an audience and it's high farce!” He grabbed Rosalie’s notebook. “It's time to start making lists full of the great things you're going to do, Rosalie. Instead of, ‘twelve bottles of disinfectant spray’, put” He punched his fist in the air, ‘climb the highest mountain’! Instead of ‘large box of scourers’, put ‘cross the deepest ocean’! Instead of ‘one case of Dettol’.” He had kept looking down to read what she had written before pausing to ask in an incredulous tone, “—what the hell are you planning here, Rosalie?”

“It's just my discharge.” Rosalie said.

Campbell’s smile faded and he exchanged looks with Eddie, Y/N, and Francine.

“When?” Eddie asked.

“Friday. They've found me a place in a bed and breakfast.” Rosalie said with false brightness.

“What about the supported accommodation?” Francine asked.

“I'm still on the waiting list.” Rosalie said and then she got a reminiscing look in her eyes.“There used to be this bed and breakfast in Bundoran, where Jim and me used to take Robbie every summer. It was all whitewashed, with wee brass ornaments in the hallway. I don't suppose this place'll be like that, though.”

“You'll still be station manager. You know that.” Eddie told her.

“Aye. It's nice to belong somewhere.” Rosalie said, trying not to cry. and then she looked at Y/N, “Oh, and Y/N, Isabel said there was someone here for you.”

“Oh. O-okay.” Y/N stuttered and she looked at Campbell who nodded at the door like, go. We got this.

Y/N walked down the hall before Stuart grabbed her arm, “You, loony. Come with me.” He jerked her along with him and pushed her into Isabel’s office.

“Ah, Y/N. I would like to speak to you about your section.”

On Thursday, Campbell was badgering Eddie so he turned to him and said, “I told you, I'm just going to go and find out what they thought of the pilot.”

“But what if they make us an offer on the spot?” Campbell asked.

“Then I'll take it on the spot!”

“On what terms? We've gotta be clear on this!”

“Aye, I've written it all down for you, so I have.” Rosalie agreed.

“I've got to go!” Eddie exclaimed and walked down the hall with them following, Y/N staying silent.

“Number one: what exactly is our offer? Number two: will there be a trial period?” Rosalie said.

“I'm telling you, Campbell, there's no gonna be an offer at this meeting.” Eddie sighed.

“Number three, if so, for how long?” Rosalie continued.

“And do you have to wear that jacket?” Campbell complained.

“What's wrong with it?” Eddie asked.

“Number four, if there is a trial period, will the contract be non-exclusive during that time?

“It makes you look like a double-glazing salesman!” Campbell answered.

"Number five, what will the format of the show be?”

“This is gonna be it, Eddie—"

“Look, is nobody listening to me? I took the trouble to make this list and I don't want you going out of here without it, all right?” Rosalie complained.

Eddie then grabbed the list out of Rosalie’s hands, “I'll treasure it always.” He kissed the paper, “See you tonight.” Then he left.

Campbell smiled, he looked at Rosalie and then Y/N, raking a hand through his hair before seeing the blank look on Y/N’s face.

“You alright? You’ve been quiet all morning.”

“I have to make a phone call.” She said and turned around towards the phones but Isabel stopped her.

“Y/N, it’s time for your appointment.”

“Y/N L/N.” A man’s voice called thirty minutes later.

Y/N got up and walked towards the voice, “Hello, I’m Doctor Cairns.” He held out his hand to shake her and she hesitantly did so before going to sit down as he went to the other side of the desk.

“How long have you been with us? Fifteen weeks?”

“About so yes.”

“And until about two weeks ago, you finally told the therapists why you went silent. Because your ex-boyfriend…”

“Boyfriend’s a bit of a reach. More I was constantly taken advantage of and blackmailed into being silent.” She said, bluntly.

“Y-yes. But you’ve been talking for over two months now and I hear you’ve been dating another patient, the manic depressive, Campbell Bain in that time.”

“Yes."

"And your... your ex was recently imprisoned and he’s being sent back to (H/T/N) to be tried.”

“Yes, that is correct.” She nodded, staring determinedly at her semicolon bracelet.

“We’ve decided that you’re ready to go back in the outside world.” Y/N didn’t react, her heart just jumped into her throat. “Unfortunately, your parents… they don’t want you to move back in with them.”

“Because their daughter was raped by a family friend’s son who they let babysit her and they had publically defended him?” Y/N smiled with sardonicism. “Yeah, I expected that.”

“Something along those lines. But we can set up living accommodations with you somewhere else.” Cairns said. “Perhaps one in Glasgow.

“I have some family money that I became eligible to use when I turned eighteen. Maybe I could buy a house.”

“The thing is, I would prefer you to live with someone else in case there’s an incident.”

“An incident in which I punch someone.”

“You hospitalized two people.”

“Doctor Hollis killed Fergus!” She snapped and leaned back into her chair. “I have some cousins living in Edinburgh, one of them knew what had happened, I could ask her.”

“Babe, are you okay? You’ve been quiet all day.” Campbell asked that night. “Is it because Rosalie’s being discharged tomorrow.”

“I’m being discharged.” She said, quietly and prepared to watch his reactions but they were anything but subtle.

He dropped his guitar with a series of discord notes as his jaw dropped too.

“You’re… you’re leaving? Back to H/T/N?” He sounded heartbroken.

“Yes. Um… this week. They decided since I had started talking and because EX/N was sent back to H/T/N, so there’s no reason for me to be scared anymore. Because I’m better. You made me better, Campbell.”

“But I don’t want you to go…” His voice trembled.

“Here’s the thing. Sit down.” She patted her bed but he didn’t move. “My parents don’t want me back in H/T/N. They don’t want to be judged as the parents who let their friend’s son rape and blackmail their daughter.” He furrowed his eyebrows out of judgement for her parents and confusion and wonder for where she was going with this as he sat down on the bed next to her. “And when I turned eighteen, I was eligible to some family money and I called my cousin and she agreed to come down and transfer to Glasgow University and we could share a house. So I could be close to you… and-and the radio station.”

“You-you’d do that for me?” He asked, uncharacteristically shyly.

“Yeah. I mean, I know it’s only been two months but I like you. Unless you don’t… if you think that’s too much…”

He quieted her with a kiss, “I’d love it. I don’t want to lose you. We have passes tomorrow, we can go look at houses together after Rosalie leaves.”

She smiled and he kissed her sweetly, “Just don’t leave me.” He said, pulling back, “Before you… no girl would even look at me twice, and barely once. But then I met this impossibly shy and beautifully broken girl. And I knew she was just the kindest soul because I would talk constantly and she would listen. Not hear me, but actually listen. And it was the best day of my life. Because that girl was you.”

The next morning, Campbell and Y/N were helping Rosalie make sure she had everything, reading off her list.

“Dettol.” Campbell read.

“Check.” Y/N confirmed.

“Scourers.”

“Check.”

“Toilet bleach.”

“What does toilet bleach look like?” Y/N asked.

Campbell reached for pick it up from beside the suitcase when Rosalie appeared and snapped sternly, “Don't touch it! I'll get it. Check.”

“Toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, and hairbrush.” Campbell finished.

“Check, check, check, check.” She started to close the suitcase as Campbell tossed the notebook into the case, “Well. Suppose this is cheerio.”

Then she held out her hand to Francine who then shook it, then she did the same to Campbell, Y/N, and Eddie.

“Good luck, huh?” Eddie asked.

“Now, I want youse to notice that I shook hands with you lot without the use of major tranquilizers, which just goes to show how well I am these days.”

“Come on. I'm going tae work. I'll give you a lift in.” Eddie said and he left with Rosalie.

Isabel came in and said, “Y/N, your cousin’s here.”

“Great, let’s go!” Campbell grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her along.

“Well. That place was depressing.” C/N declared, driving away from the place the obvious drug dealer had up for rent.

“I liked that first house. The blue one with the two rooms.” Campbell said, “It was only like a fifteen-minute drive from the hospital.”

“Yeah, I did too but could we stop at the first spot on the list.”

“Oh, Y/N even with our family money, that’s a bit pricey.”

“I-I know but it might be within our price limit someday.”

C/N drove them to a house—well, it was more of a mansion. A rather quirky mansion.

“This cannot be within your price limit.” Campbell shook his head, “Unless are you rich?”

“I, uh, actually found this house while I was researching real estate a few weeks into our relationship. For when you become a famous DJ and if we make it.”

Campbell looked at her, “We? As in you and me as a couple?”

“I know that’s freaky as we’ve been dating two months and I’ve hospitalized two people and my ex harassed you. And I’m probably messing it up now but…”

“Hey.” Campbell said, taking her hand, “I love it. I mean you’ve met me right, I’m a total loon. I bugged you for a month and a half until you talked to me.”

Eddie entered the studio later where he had been heatedly discussing something with Y/N when he spotted Eddie approaching the studio and pushed him into the studio, “Eddie! Jesus! Where have you been?”

“Working. What's up?”

“How did you no tell me about this? How'd you not warn me?” Campbell demanded.

“About what?”

“Paula has been on the phone to me today.”

“Oh.” Eddie said,

Campbell started to pace back and forth, while gesturing, “She seemed to think I knew all about it. ‘Aye,’ I said, ‘He told me all about your meeting.’ But it seems there was a few wee details you left out.” He put his hands on his hips.

“I'm sorry. I—” Eddie stammered.

“I know what you thought. You thought, I'd just get agitated. I'm a manic-depressive, so how no?”

“That's not what I thought.” Eddie defended himself.

“But did you never stop to consider that one day a fish bone might get stuck in the throat of history, and that we'd be standing here, like we are now, at the door of destiny, and totally unprepared for it?

“What are you talking about?” Eddie asked.

“The fish bone? The one that got stuck in David Thompson's throat?” Campbell clarified.

“Who?”

“Their Sunday afternoon DJ! He got a fish bone stuck in his throat last night, was rushed to Casualty, and they've asked us to take his Gold Show! Today!” Campbell said, excitedly.

Eddie swallowed nervously, “...I'm no ready.”

“Well neither am I, but we're gonna have to go for it!” Campbell said, his voice squeaking with excitement.

“No, no, I'm really no ready!” Eddie refused.

“Paula said we could use David's running order, but if we leave now, we can choose some stuff ourselves.” Campbell said.

“I'm no ready.

“She said she'll be there to take us through everything. And you don't have to worry about here; Francine's gonna taking our show straight off the air. Y/N’s coming with us, of course.”

“I'm no ready, Campbell!”

“Eddie, you've been waiting for this moment most of your life. When exactly did you think you'd be ready? Now let's go!” Campbell exclaimed and grabbed his jacket and then Y/N’s hand and they rushed out of the station.

Campbell left Y/N to thrust records into Eddie’s arms.

“Eddie! Come on!” Campbell complained.

Campbell looked up at Y/N through the glass, seeing her give her an encouraging smile that melted his insides.

He pushed the fader up and spoke with his usual insane enthusiasm, “Kicking off the Gold Show and standing in for David Thompson is me, Campbell Bain, and Doctor Boogie, professor of pop, soul, and rock and roll! In today's competition we invite you to pit your wits against the master of hits himself!

"If you can ask me any verifiable question on any of the titles that we play today that I cannae answer, you win... the grand prize!" Eddie said.

"What is the grand prize, you ask? I am holding in my hand a rare copy of 'Mandolins in the Moonlight' by Perry Como, from nineteen-fifty -eight. And unless you can stump Doctor Boogie,” Then he imitated a scary gravelly voice, “we're actually going to play it! How about it, Gold-Diggers? Just phone 041-357-9719 to try and stop me!”

He put on Don’t Play That Song For Me (You Lied) by Aretha Franklin and started the challenge.

“Uh, no, caller, I'm afraid Jim Morrison couldnae have written Bright Side of the Road—” Eddie told the caller.

“Because he was dead at the time, right, Doctor Boogie?” Campbell finished.

“Aye, a definite liability, but it did give Van Morrison a chance to write it instead.” Eddie added.

At another caller called with something and Campbell responded with,“Well, unless you can prove that Wilson Pickett had a boa constrictor called Hugo, I'm gonna have to disqualify that!”

Another caller asked about an Elvis song and Eddie said, “And it's become one of the most covered songs in rock 'n' roll since Elvis' death.” Eddie said and apparently the caller questioned Elvis’ death because Eddie then said as Paula laughed while on the phone and Y/N laughed along with her, “Aye! 1977! It was in all the papers!”

He looked at Campbell who made an incredulous face to both Eddie and Y/N.

At some point, Eddie looked at the clock and said, “And it's 3:47—

“Still thirteen minutes left to try and stump Doctor Boogie,” Campbell declared and put on the gravely voice again, “if you cannn!”

Y/N looked at Paula who seemed to be making quite a few phone calls and she turned to tugged on River’s vest and said something to him while nodding at Campbell and Eddie and then to Paula.

Thirteen minutes later in which both River and Y/N spoke to Paula which Eddie kept glancing nervously at, before Paula gave Campbell and Eddie a cut-off signal.

They had Eddie drive them back as Campbell kept eyeing Y/N suspiciously after seeing how she was with River and couldn’t help but be jealous.

“So, Y/N… getting cozy with the cute assistant.”

She looked at him as he preteneded not to care.

“River?”

“Oh, he has a name?” He grumbled.

“I’m just meeting him for lunch tomorrow…”

Campbell turned to her, now getting a bit agitated and definitely jealous, “You’re going on a date with him.”

“No. We’re going to talk about you two. They wanted an opinion by someone that wasn’t either of you but close enough to you two to get the full scoop.” Y/N said, “Besides he has a girlfriend. She’s planning on being true crime radio dramatist. She’s going to have her own station where she talks about true crimes.”

“Oh.” Campbell seemed a lot happier by now as Eddie turned up the radio to drown them out.

It was awkward before Campbell said loudly, “So, Y/N’s being discharged this week!”

The brakes screeched as Eddie stopped the car in shock.

Once they reentered Saint Jude’s, they were greeted with applause and cheers.

“Friends, loonies: as Neil Armstrong said on that fateful day when he first put his foot on the moon...” He announced and then shouted, “WE ARE LOONIES, AND WE ARE PROUD!”

The crowd and Y/N chanted along with Campbell, “We are loonies, and we are proud!”

Y/N spotted Stuart who didn’t try to restrain anyone and that’s when she realized something was wrong. Stuart wasn’t being violent towards innocent mental health patients.

The door opened and a Scottish Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (or SSPCA) officer entered. Y/N’s smile fell.

Francine’s kittens.

Francine spotted it too and cried out, “NOOO!”

She tried to stop him but Stuart restrained her as she screamed and the chanting stopped.

“NO! LEAVE THEM ALONE! STOP! YOU CAN’T TAKE THEM! NO! YOU CANNAE TAKE THEM!” Francine screamed while Y/N picked the lock to Stuart’s office.

Eddie tried to help her but some of the patients held him back, “Easy, easy!”

The SSPCA officer carried the kittens out in a cage as Y/N emerged from Stuart’s office with a belt—one for particularly violent patients that he hasn’t used as much as he thought he would. Not even close.

Y/N whipped Stuart’s back, making him shout in pain and release Francine as Campbell grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her away from Stuart before he realized what it was her who had done it as she dropped the belt.

Francine didn’t get far before Stuart grabbed her again.

"Let her go, will ya!” Eddie shouted, “Let her go!”

Campbell’s pride and happiness had faded into terrified worry.

Eddie managed to push Stuart off of Francine and onto the ground, but then he got up and grabbed Eddie by the lapels and snarled out, “I've waited ages to do this!” Then he headbutted Eddie in the face, cracking his nose, Eddie collapsed, smearing blood on the doorframe as Francine kept screaming.

Y/N was by Eddie’s side as Isabel was the only other person to show sympathy, asking gently, “Do you want me to do something for that?”

“Do you no realize what you've done?” Eddie demanded before shouting, “DOES NAEBODY REALIZE WHAT THEY'VE DONE?!”

“What are you going to do about that, princess?” Stuart sneered at Y/N as she calmly examined Eddie and the patients drifted away.

She looked at him. He wanted her to be violent so her section would be renewed so he could torture her longer. But she didn’t.

She stood up with fury in her eyes, it was hard to tell whether it was more ice-cold or fiery hot.

“You’re pathetic. You’re not helping, you don’t try to help. All you do and every ‘sane’ person does is crush our hopes and dreams by destroying the very things that help us heal. You give us no chance to show that we’ve gotten better and declare us as violent when you’re the violent one. I only hurt people who hurt people I love. Hollis only saw Fergus as a guinea pig and he fucking died because of it. You took those kittens from Francine because they made her happy. They started to heal what was broken unlike you because you will never be able to heal what has been broken in you. Because you don’t care. You don’t care for the patients and you ignore our needs and feelings and are completely and utterly blind to our skills.”

“Skills?” Stuart scoffed like it was the most ludicrous thing he had ever heard, “What skills?”

“Remember Campbell’s first broadcast? You doubted that Fergus could fix the mixer. What was it you said? ‘He couldn’t get his brain going again’? And it turns out he had a master’s degree and was a genius. Because he was a loony, you assumed he was stupid. But he wasn’t you’re the one who can’t get his brain working. You shouldn’t be restraining loonies, you should be locked up in your own solitary room in a straightjacket.”

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fandom · 1 year

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Queer TV

This is a strange time to be writing an editorial on queer representation. While the past year has seen an incredible uptick in queer stories being told with humor and heart on the small screen, 2022 has seen a record high of 238 proposed anti-LGBTQIA+ bills in the US—nearly half of them targeting trans folks. Representation is important, though, and demand for more queer stories is growing (and, to some degree, being met), with a lot of good books and comics making it to our screens. With that in mind, think of this as your selective chronological tour of all the times we won in the TV landscape of the last year (October 2021–October 2022).

Our dataset year started off with the much-awaited adaptation of Robert Jordan’s fantasy epic, Wheel of Time. With such extensive source material (15 books if you count the prequel, which is where the seeds of the sapphic storyline in Rafe Judkins’ adaptation are to be found), the viewership, generally speaking, was divided into book fans and show-only fans, and both camps shitposted and meme’d and reviewed with abandon.

The biggest queer-centric show we saw in the last year was the adaptation of @aliceoseman’s comic Heartstopper (@heartstoppercomic). Co-created by Alice Oseman themself, this adaptation was very sensitive to the much-loved source material. And, being native to Tumblr, these characters were bound to be welcomed with open arms when they hit the screen in an ebullient explosion of queer joy.

A run-down of the past year would be incomplete without the incredible queerdos of the Revenge who swashbuckled their way into our hearts. We’re referring, of course, to Our Flag Means Death’s Gentleman Pirate and his merry band of (living-wage-paid, no less!) shipmates. Your favorites included genderqueer Jim ‘not-a-fucking-mermaid’ Jimenez and Oluwande, Lucius Sprigg and Black Peter, Frenchie who just hates cats, and The Swede, who keeps his heart but loses his teeth. Then, of course, we have Blackbeard himself, or simply Ed, who is struggling with his identity (villain or softboi).

Based on the story by @veschwab and produced by @belletristbooks, First Kill was another adaptation that fans of vampire stories got very excited about. Add to that the fact that this was very much a sapphic enemies-to-lovers scenario between hunter Calliope and young vampire Juliette, and the pre-show excitement was palpable. The post-season disappointment even more so as fans turned to their dashes to vent about the lack of good lesbian and wlw representation in 2022’s TV landscape.

Where the cancelation of First Kill left us reeling, the Rockford Peaches from A League of Our Own came in clutch and soothed our sapphic souls. You love the show which you affectionately shortened, in good old Tumblr fashion, to a silly little acronym: aloto. Whether you’re in it for the gal pal aesthetics, the butch energy, or Uncle Bert, or some good old fashioned baller drama, there truly was something for all of your wlw whimsies here. Let’s go, Peaches!

@neilgaiman’s The Sandman series finally came out to much acclaim, and came out so gay that armchair reviewers of the homophobic sort really struggled to wrap their minds around quite how gay it is. We got pansexual serial killing Corinthian! Pansexual, demon-hunting, women-kissing Johanna Constantine! Some very loaded moments between Morpheus and Hob Gadlin! This is what dreams are made of (sort of)!

This whole list would be nothing, nada, a crumb of zilch whizzing around a black hole, if it weren’t for the writers who created many of these stories in the first place. So thank you to them. And to you, Tumblr, for celebrating the good and standing up for each other through another year. Here’s to a kinder 2023.

#year in review #queer tv #tumblr2022

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kvtie444 · 5 months

Text

⋆‧₊˚ TEACHERS PET pt. 3

A/N: ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18!! ITS ESCAPISM SZNNN, sorry this was late I had a bubble bath and zoned out

Summary: Reader has a new teacher and finds herself falling for him blahblahblah teachers pet by melanie vibes xoxo

Warnings: NSFW, alcohol, swearing, smut?????!!!!!!

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Madi F:

What are you doing tomorrow night? x

Navigating the familiar path to my dorm, keys in hand, I type my response with a single hand.

Y/N:

Hey! Nothing why?

Upon entering my dorm, I secure the door and toss my keys and bag onto the bed. My journey continues to the bathroom, where I prepare for bed. Placing my phone on the sink, I secure my hair with a headband as I cleanse my face, as I hear to Madi's text buzz.

Madi F:

Some of us are going clubbing. I know it's not really your scene, but wanna come? X

Contemplating the proposition while washing my face, the enjoyment of clubbing has faded, but the realization of my limited social circle nudges me to consider the offer. Another unexpected message interrupts my thoughts, expecting it to be Madi, my jaw drops upon seeing Matt’s name.

Matt S:

Did you get in okay?

His simple yet endearing message prompts a smile as I respond, tapping my nails against the screen.

Y/N:

Yeah, thank you. Thanks for the lift, by the way. Can I send you money for gas?

Returning to Madi's chat, a surge of confidence prompts me to embrace the social opportunity.

Y/N:

I think I'll come. If you want, we could do pres at mine.

A sense of pride accompanies the message. Madi's enthusiastic reply further boosts my spirits.

Madi F:

YAY!!! 😁😁🩷

After completing my night routine, I collapse onto my bed. Leaning over and retrieving Matt's book from my bag, I begin reading, engrossed in the story for hours. As the clock strikes 12:05, I get a notification with Matt's delayed reply, a smile creeps over my face.

Matt S:

No, don't worry about it. It's fine. You're a student Y/N, you need to use your money wisely.

His reminder of my student status elicits a slight frown. Seeking a change of topic, I send a lighthearted message.

Y/N:

I like the book.

Matt S:

I knew you would.

A smile graces my face, and despite my inner voice to end the conversation, the thrill of talking with him literally makes me kick my feet. I decide to just leave it, switching off my phone, I toss it aside and close my eyes, embracing sleep.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Saturday night arrives, and Madi is on her way. Nervous anticipation lingers as I gaze into the full-length mirror, carefully selecting my outfit. Wearing my hair straight with a full face of glam, I don a black deep V-neck cropped tank and my favourite mini skirt, complemented by mini black platforms. The rare chance to dress up invokes a sense of confidence. I capture a few pics before I hear Madi knocking.

Walking to the door, the clacking of my heels announces my approach. I open the door to find Madi and six other girls. "Hey!" Madi exclaims, initiating hugs. Pleasant introductions follow, and the girls bring drinks. With music playing from my speaker, we engage in small talk whilst I sip my Malibu and pineapple juice.

About an hour and a half later, we decide to head to the club. Ordering Ubers, we gather outside the club, reputed as the biggest one frequented by college students. As we queue up, the effects of our drinks start to kick in, dizziness taking control of me. By the time we enter the club, the music resonates loudly. Heading to the bar, one of Madi's friends engages the bartender, securing 7 shots for us all. Jaeger bombs in hand, we down the shots, and the pulsating taste lingers on my tongue. Next thing I know, Sexyy Red starts, and we are pulled onto the dance floor. Madi and I sway and sing together, but a presence behind me interrupts the moment – a hand on my hip. Turning, I encounter a random blonde guy. Am I drunk enough to lower my standards to a 6/10? No.

Looking back to Madi, I s hoot her a look before she drags me back to the girls. after a few more songs, I decide to get another drink. Approaching the bar, I order a double vodka Red Bull, tapping my card and waiting. I look around and my heart drops – no less that 3 feet away, I see Matt, paying for a drink. Our eyes lock, and I grab my drink, attempting to walk straight past him, but he’s quick to stop me.

"Hey," he says, placing a hand on the small of my back. The touch sends shivers down my spine. Looking up at him, I smile, "Hey. What are you doing here?" I ask, tilting my head. He downs his shot before responding, "Clubbing?" he replies with his brows furrowed, chuckling at my apparent surprise. I giggle, feeling a blush creep up.

"I didn't see you as the clubbing type," I say, leaning in slightly due to the loud music. He shrugs, "I enjoy my drinks, I feel his eyes scanning almost every inch of my body due to how little I was really wearing. He licks his lips before looking back up to me. He leans as his hand remains on the small of my back, warm breath teasing my skin, "Wanna go somewhere more quiet? Can barely hear you." He asks me, I nod, absolutely dumbfounded by his presence, and he guides me through the crowd, hand on my waist.

The realization hits me – maybe this isn't a delusion. He leads us to a quieter hallway, still audible with music, and a few others scattered around. His hand leaves my side as he leans against the wall opposite me. I mirror his stance, facing each other. Crossing his arms, his slightly cropped shirt rises, revealing the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxers. He had such a slutty waist. My gaze drops to my hands, fiddling with my nails. He breaks the silence.

"Did you come here with a guy?"

"No, just some of the girls. Can't stand guys my age," I mumble, meeting his eyes. His gaze moves down my body before staring deeply into my eyes.

"Why’s that?"

"They're all immature," I start. He begins stepping closer, narrowing the already small space.

"And they don't know how to treat me right," I continue. He hums in agreement.

"Is that it?" he asks, now standing directly in front of me. Our bodies would be touching if I stood up straight, I bit my lip.

"Guys my age don't know how to touch me," I say, the alcohol boosting my confidence. His jaw clenches as he lets out a heavy breath. His tattooed hand moves to my waist, the other reaching up to my face, thumb rubbing my cheek. Panic sets in - what have I gotten myself into? Am I really going to cross this boundary?

"Want me to show you how good I can make you feel?" he says, his grip firm, eyes locking onto mine. I nod, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah."

Before I know it, he grabs my arm and drags me to the accessible bathroom stall, kissing me passionately. The euphoric sensation of the kiss overwhelms me as he pushes me against the wall, kicking the door shut behind him. Pressed against the wall, I willingly surrender to his dominance, allowing his tongue to explore and claim every inch of my parted lips.

His kisses travel a path down my jaw, leaving a trail of hickies. He explores down to my collars with a mixture of gentle sucking and teasing bites, each touch setting my skin ablaze. A soft moan escapes my lips as his hands find their way to my hips, pulling our bodies together bruisingly tight.

Returning to my lips, he intensifies the kiss, his hands sliding up beneath my thighs effortlessly. He picks me up, making me gasp, he hoists me up as though I weigh nothing, seamlessly carrying me across the small space to the sink.

Sitting me on the smooth surface, he maintains the seamless connection between our lips. The heat of the moment pulses between us, his hands trailing down to my hips, pulling me closer. The rhythmic dance of our bodies becomes a symphony of desire, with his lips never parting from mine. The sink counter becomes a temporary throne of passion as our connection deepens and the world outside the stall fades away. His hands trace a heated path down my body, gripping my ass with an assertive pull, drawing me tightly against him. The pressure of his hard on against my stomach sends a shiver through me, and a soft whine escapes my lips in response to the overwhelming desire.

My hands instinctively find their way into his hair, entwining my fingers as he pulls away, his gaze locked with mine. His hand boldly ventures up my skirt, fingers cupping my pussy, teasing, and pressing against my entrance. The sensation elicits an involuntary moan from me, and I tilt my head back, lost in the intensity of the moment.

"M-Matt, please, “I whimper breathlessly, aching against him. "Please, what, baby?" he teases, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches my desperate state. "Please, I need you," I shamelessly beg. He smiles, his pink lips pressing a quick kiss to my jaw, before pulling my underwear to the side. I wince as the cool air meets my exposed skin, his thumb brushing against my eager lips. "Open," he demands.

Parting my lips, I willingly comply, and he slides his thumb in. I suck on it as he pushes further, evoking a heavenly groan from his lips. "Good girl," he murmurs, withdrawing his thumb and shifting it down to my clit. Initially, he presses against it, not yet moving, drawing a whine from me. I grab his arm, yearning for more contact. He smirks as he gradually begins circling my clit with his thumb, causing me to throw my head back against the mirror behind me.

His pointer finger slips inside me while he continues to circle my clit with his thumb, making me let out a loud moan. "Look at me," he orders, bringing a momentary pause to his movements. I open my eyes to meet his gaze, and he bites his lip, smiling, resuming his movements. "So wet for me, angel," he remarks, moving down to kiss my neck. I tilt my head to grant him better access, gasping as he adds another finger and proceeds to suck hickeys into my sensitive skin.

Tugging at his hair, he groans, the knot in my stomach growing tighter. I clench around his fingers, whimpering, "Matt." He urges, "Shit, come for me, princess," against my collarbone. I moan, releasing my pent-up pleasure, his fingers slowing down in response. I grab his wrist, pulling him out of me, then guiding his fingers to my lips, sucking them clean.

As I look into his eyes, his once blown-out pupils abruptly contract. He withdraws his fingers from me and steps back, muttering a soft curse to himself. I stand up, my legs slightly aching, and adjust my underwear. He turns away and begins walking toward the door. What the fuck?

"Matt?" I almost yell. He freezes for a moment, turning his head to glance back at me. However, he doesn't linger, opening the door and leaving. Confusion floods me. I can't help but feel tears welling in my eyes. Everything happened so quickly—what the fuck did I do wrong?

I remain frozen until a man barges into the bathroom, heading for the toilet and gagging. I scrunch my face in disgust, walking out, my heels loudly clacking against the floor as I make my way towards the exit. I need to get out of here. The music grows louder, and a tightness grips my chest, making my breathing difficult. Someone grabs my wrist, and I turn around, relaxing when I see it's Madi.

"Where have you been, girl? Shit- Who gave you those hickeys?" she says, smiling and inspecting my neck, blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation. "Don't worry about it. I'm just getting some air," I lie, quickly turning away and walking out of the club. Fuck. I open my phone and book an Uber. While I wait, I open Matt's chat, debating whether or not to text him. Fuck it.

Y/N:

Wtf happened tonight? Can we talk?

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Read. He left me on fucking read. It's been three days, and I've been dreading today - I have a lesson with him. I walk to my class, pushing the door open to find he's not in yet. I take my seat next to Madi, who stays silent. I think she knows I need space just judging by my presence - hoodie up, headphones still on, slouched in my chair with no books out.

About five minutes later, Matt comes in. He teaches as if nothing's happened, and throughout the lesson, he doesn't even look at me once. What a dick. The final bell rings, and I get out of my chair, walking behind everyone else. Right as I reach the door, our eyes meet. Shit. I quickly look away, pettily slamming the door shut behind me. Hold on. You know what? I'm not going to let this man USE me and then completely IGNORE me? Who does he fucking think he is? I turn around, slamming the door open. He looks up as if he's just seen a ghost, and I hear the door shut behind me.

"What the fuck is your problem?" I say, my brows knitted together. "Y/N, you need to go," he says. "No, I deserve an explanation. Do you think it's okay to just use girls, then fucking leave them?" I yell, stepping closer. He looks down, tongue in cheek. "I've got essays to mark."

"I don't give two shits, Matt," I reply hastily. He looks up at me, and his face softens at the sight of the hurt on my face. "Did I do something wrong?" I ask, feeling more vulnerable. He sighs, stepping closer, his hand coming up to my cheek.

"No, Y/N, shit, I panicked. I like you, Y/N, like a lot, but you're my student. You saw what happened to Kennedy. You think I want to get fired?" he says sweetly. I sniffle and look down, before he lifts my face back up with his hand.

"I'm not stupid, Matt. You're the one who told me how smart I am. No one's gonna find out about this," I reply, biting my lip. "It was just a one-time thing, right?" I continue. He looks at me.

"Would you like it to be a one-time thing?"

"No."

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

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