My feet barely touched the ground as I ran through The Barrens. The sticky heat was making it harder for me to keep going. The only motivation I had was Henry Bowers and his lackeys. They had cornered me outside the library. Henry was trying to get me to tell him where Ben was so he could go and ‘kick his head in’ and I had spat on him and made a run for it.
“COME BACK HERE YOU LITTLE BITCH!” I heard Henry bellow from behind me, “YOU CAN’T RUN FOREVER!” “EAT SHIT HENRY!” I screamed back, not daring to turn around in fear I’d stop running
My lungs were burning and I could use a hit of Eddie’s aspirator, but I could see the bridge and I decided to keep running until I got there. I almost made it too, if it wasn’t for someone grabbing my ponytail and yanking me back. I stopped dead in my tracks. He’d got me.
“I told you,” Henry growled, breathing heavily, “That you couldn’t run. Now, how’s about you tell me where that fat fuck Ben is hiding?”
You knew that Ben was hiding out at the cinema with Eddie and Richie, but you weren’t going to tell him that.
“I’m not going to tell you, asshole, so why don’t you go and fuck yourself.”
Henry was still gripping my hair, but with his free hand he reached back and smacked me straight across the face. I didn’t understand the true meaning of 'seeing stars’ until that moment. He did it with so much force that he knocked me over. He then brought his foot into my stomach causing me to scream in agony. I had never felt such a pain.
“Watch it fuckface. Next time I see you I’ll give you a whole lot worse. Now tell me where he is. This is your last chance.”
Despite the warm blood running down the side of my face I still had the sense not to tell him because now he was all riled up, and Ben would get a hell of a lot worse than me.
“He-he’s in the children’s library.” I stuttered “That’s all you needed to tell me.”
And with that, he ran off back towards the library. I guessed that when he got to the library and realised that I’d lied to him, Henry would come and find me with a brand new, much worse attitude and I baseball bat. Slowly, I stood up, wobbling on my feet. My head was pounding and I knew that at some point fairly soon I was going to throw up. There was only one place I could think of going, and that was to Stan’s. I began walking.
I knew that voice anywhere. And I was in The Barrens. Alone. Near the bridge. I cursed myself and the situation I was in, but the one thing I would not do was show my fear.
“Y/N! Don’t ignore me. I bought you some candy floss! It’s your favourite but your mother doesn’t let you eat it because she says it will rot your teeth. If you come with me you can have as much as you want!”
I saw It on the other side of the stream. It would probably only take It seven seconds or so to get to me. It had its hideous suit with orange pom poms on of course, but it wasn’t human. It was a swarm of moths and insects that were shaped like a body, held together by the suit. A dirty great swarm of my greatest fear, flapping around, ready to land on me and eat me like they do clothes in the closet. I wanted to scream but I had no voice. It was like ice was coursing through my veins, going straight to my heart. I could hear them flapping their ugly, brown wings and their little legs rubbing together as they flew. Moths. I hated them.
Before they got any closer I turned and ran, back the way I came and towards Stan’s neighbourhood. As I hauled myself through the long grass I forgot about the pain that Henry caused me and thought about the cluster of insects behind me and how it would feel to be trapped in the middle of them. It would be hot and musty and dark. They’d be all over my skin, flapping their wings. They’d be in my hair and on my face, in my mouth going down my throat. I was sick as I ran. Considering what was at my heels and the fact I couldn’t hold it in any longer, I didn’t have another choice.
I was out! I had made it. But I didn’t dare stop running. Not until I got to the Uris’ front door. Stan opened the door smiling, but that was soon gone when he saw the sight of me.
“Y/N?! What happened to you?! Come inside!”
I immediately felt better when I went in. It was like everything bad was left outside the front door. Stan took me upstairs to the bathroom and we sat on the edge of the bath while he dabbed at my bloody face with a damp washcloth.
“What happened to you?” “Well,” I let a tear run down my face which didn’t go unnoticed, “Henry wanted to know where Ben was and I wouldn’t tell him, so I spat on him and ran to The Barrens with him not far behind. I almost got away but he grabbed me and smacked me across the face so hard that I fell over. Then he kicked me in the stomach.” “Oh, Y/N-” “And then I saw It. It was standing on the other side of the stream but I was a massive swarm of-” “Moths?” Stan knew my biggest fear and I knew his “Yeah. And I didn’t stop running until I got here, to you.” Stan looked horrified and angry at the same time. “I hate Henry Bowers so much. Look what he’s done to you. And It. We need to tell Bill about this tomorrow.” “Why not now?” “Because you need to rest, that’s why Y/N. Now, wait right here while I go and get you some clean clothes. How about a shower?” “Stan, I wouldn’t want to impose on you-” “Nonsense. Let me do this for you, please.” “Okay.”
Stan went to get me some clothes and while he did, I thought about how I had narrowly escaped with my life today. Twice. Stan came back in with some of his underwear and one of his t-shirts. I knew it was going to be massive on me.
“How about you take a bath, and I’ll make us something to eat?” “Stan,” I smiled, “You really don’t need to do all of this for me. I can just go home.” “Let me do this for you. I want to, and I need to know that you’re okay.” “Thanks, Stan.”
So Stan Uris ran me a bath and went to make us something to eat. As I eased myself into the hot water, I wondered how the hell I was in this situation. An hour ago I was reading in the library and now I was taking a bath at Stan Uris’ house because I almost got killed twice. It was times like these that made me fucking hate Derry.
When I got out of the bath twenty minutes later the water was murky with dry blood and dirt. I slipped into what Stan had left me and brushed through my wet hair with the comb in the vanity. Stan’s parents definitely weren’t home. As it still hurt to walk, I made my way down to the kitchen slowly and sat at the table. Stan turned around and smiled.
“Are you feeling better? I’ve got some aspirin here. You should take a couple once you’ve eaten.” “Thank you so much for all this, Stan.” “Of course.” Stan put a bowl of steaming soup and toasted soldiers in front of me along with a glass of milk. He sat across from me and watched me eat with a concerned look on his face. When I was finished he took both of my hands in his. I was surprised, to say the least.
Stan cleared his throat. “I don’t know if this is a good time, but when will it ever be if not now? I’m just going to come out and say it, but for a while now I’ve liked you as a lot more than a friend. I’ve been slowly falling in love with you, and I know there’s a lot going on right now, but I think that if you feel the same way, nothing else should matter.”
I was stunned. I knew for a while now that I had felt differently towards Stan than I had with any of the others, but I never would have thought that he felt the same way.
“Me too, Stan. Me too. I think we need to be there for each other now more than ever. Just like now.”
I let go of Stan’s hands and went around to his side of the table. I pulled him up so he was standing and kissed him lightly on the lips. We were both smiling. I couldn’t wait to tell Bev that I’d just had my first kiss with Stan, but most importantly, I couldn’t wait to go forward, knowing that whatever happened to us all in the months to come, Stanley Uris would always be standing right next to me.
Can I request bts s/o wants them to be their first time? And during their first time?? Thank you!! 😍❤️
Ugh I’m sorry for taking so long again (insert facepalm emoji), I’m glad to get back on this pleaseee forgive me
You two were in the middle of a really heated makeout session, the tension in the air getting thicker by each second. Sloppy kissing was simply just not enough for you. You needed more, you needed to feel their bare skin against yours. You desperately craved the feeling of overwhelming pleasure, you just wanted to feel them. You wanted them to know just how badly you waited- and this time you were ready.
Sitting up properly, you looked into their eyes with pure seriousness. “I want you to be my first.”
Knowing you were still a virgin, his eyes widened in surprise. You’ve openly expressed your worried thoughts on losing your virginity before, so he was a bit concerned if you really really did want to do it now, or it was just lust taking over your mind. Lightly caressing your cheek he’d double check if you were absolutely sure before taking you to the bed and locking the room door. He wanted your first time to be as cliche as you could imagine. To get you more relaxed, he started placing quick but sensual pecks all over your face and down to your neck causing you to lightly moan. Before he went to unzip your pants, he looked up at you, once again asking if you were sure. The fear was still stirring around in your stomach, but it was also mixed with excitement. He let you know ahead of time every single move he was about to make before actually doing anything. When he entered in you, he stared into your eyes nervously waiting on your reaction. All he wanted was for you to be as comfortable as possible.
“Jagi are you sure? Okay, I promise I won’t let you down!”
Just like Jin, he’d double check to make sure it wasn’t just lust speaking. He’d probably have to double check himself and make sure he was also making the right decision. He knew if he gave in, he’d technically be your first. That’s what made him panic, he knew you would have high expectations, and he wasn’t sure if he could meet your standards. He took you off his lap and faced the other way. He knew eventually it was going to happen, but today just wasn’t his day.
“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, I don’t want to disappoint you.”
Can you give me tips and activities to get closer to God?
Oh boy, I’m certain everybody and their mama has asked this question and there’s a lot of answers floating around the internet hahaha Classic Bible story of being closer/coming back to God is in Luke 15:11-24, definitely read it!
1. Meet with God before anyone else As soon as you wake up, pray and thank God for today or read a devotion. Anything, just make Him first in your day.
2. Get into the Bible every day / Do a Bible study If you want to know God better there’s no better way then to read the Bible! You can do Book studies, Topical studies, Character studies, Saturation study (where you think about one piece of scripture over and over in your mind) or Word studies (when you take a specific word in the Bible and discover every single way that it is used throughout the Old and/or New Testaments.)
3. Have a prayer journal / Prayer wall Write out your prayer requests and record the answers as they come. By writing out these types of things, you will not only be more keenly aware of how God is working in and around your life, but you will become a person who is able to give thanks in all circumstances. And during hard times you’ll be able to remember where God has worked in your life.
4. Get your eyes off yourself When we are focused on our own self—our problems, our issues, our worries, our fears—we forget to look at God. We need to keep the eyes of our heart on God. His abundance. His presence. ame His attributes and look up verses that remind us of who He is. Speak them aloud. Write them down. Declare their truth over yourself, etc. (Psalm 91:1-4)
5. Repent regularly / Self-examine yourself regularly Ask Him to show you how your heart is struggling. Be specific. Don’t hold back. God loves us the way we are but He loves us too much to stay that way, He wants to be more like Jesus. “Test yourselves to make sure you are solid in the faith. Don’t drift along taking everything for granted. Give yourselves regular checkups. You need firsthand evidence, not mere hearsay, that Jesus Christ is in you. Test it out. If you fail the test, do something about it.“ - 2 Corinthians 13:5 (MSG)
“Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts, and see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!” - Psalm 139: 23-24
6. Listen to worship music When we are stuck—when our mind knows that God is close, but our heart struggles to believe it and move toward Him, it can help to listen to music that opens up our heart to Him. I have a link to my Spotify on my blog with playlists for different occasions which I find to really help.They are songs that help my heart be receptive to the Holy Spirit.
Just an exasperated friendly reminder that if Seifer ever comes off as too abrasive or too closed off, if he or I make you uncomfortable or offend or upset you, please talk to me in private. Please tell me if you take issue with how I write my muse. Please give me a chance to fix an issue before it becomes a problem or escalates into something worse.
Some people can like a character and just want to write with them for a while but I’ve bonded with my muse. There’s a LOT of us out there like that. He’s a fictional character, he’s not a real thing but he is a character I love and I enjoy writing. I grew up with Seifer from the time I was twelve years old and playing VIII for the first time. I saw him, read his dialogue and said ‘that one. That one is my favorite.’
So because of this, I share traits with my muse where I can be too blunt with my wording. Some of us, we just do that. I can go a little too far over the edge and push people’s buttons. And these traits can grow prominent when accompanied by others who do the same. I’m abrasive at times. No, I’m not my muse, but I do have commonality with him. It’s why I think we get along so well, he and I.
I’m not perfect and neither are you or the next person. We all have our flaws and our strengths. If I’ve ever offended you OOC, or if I have done something untoward or my muse has made yours upset in a way that wasn’t intended – I need to know.
We can’t fix or correct these problem areas if we’re not told there’s a problem in the first place so, please. Please communicate this.
I’m begging you guys here. I can’t interpret silence.
of my least favorite parts about being a middle school history teacher
is the bullshit “Living History” assignments we give at the end of every
school year. Kids are supposed to sit with their grandparents and video
tape, voice record, or transcribe their oldest memories for posterity
(and for an easy way to bring up their GPA).
“I came to America when I was six years old. Mom said she brought us here so that we’d have opportunities in life. She said that back in the Bahamas, it’s only the ‘haves’ and the ‘have nots.’ She wanted us to have more choices. But I don’t think she fully understood how things work here. She was a news reporter back in the Bahamas. But the only job she could get here was taking care of oldpeople. My dad could only work construction. We moved to four different states just so they could find work. They always told me, ‘Just study hard in school and everything will work out fine.’ So that was my plan. I got all A’s up until the 11th grade– except for one B in math. My goal was to get top twenty in my class, then go to college, then get a degree, and then get a job. I realized the truth my senior year. My guidance counselor told me I couldn’t get a loan. I couldn’t get financial aid. Even if I could find a way to pay for school, I probably couldn’t get a job. I felt so mad at everyone. There were some kids who completely slacked off in school, but even they were going to college. I started having panic attacks. My dad told me not to worry. He called me a ‘doubting Peter.’ He invited all his friends over to a fish fry to help raise money. And he did get $3,000. But that wasn’t enough. So I searched really hard on the Internet and found the Dream.us scholarship. My mom was so excited when I got it. They’re paying for me to go to Queens College. Now my mom’s really scared again because DACA got revoked. She’s crying all the time at work. I try to tell her that no matter what happens, we’re not going to die. We just might have to start over.”
Lupita: “I have been following the news and reading the accounts of women coming forward to talk about being assaulted by Harvey Weinstein and others. I had shelved my experience with Harvey far in the recesses of my mind, joining in the conspiracy of silence that has allowed this predator to prowl for so many years. I had felt very much alone when these things happened, and I had blamed myself for a lot of it, quite like many of the other women who have shared their stories.
But now that this is being discussed openly, I have not been able to avoid the memories resurfacing. I have felt sick in the pit of my stomach. I have felt such a flare of rage that the experience I recount below was not a unique incident with me, but rather part of a sinister pattern of behavior.
I met Harvey Weinstein in 2011 at an awards ceremony in Berlin, while I was still a student at the Yale School of Drama. An intermediary introduced him to me as “the most powerful producer in Hollywood.” As an aspiring actress, I was of course eager to meet people in the industry but cautious about strangers, and the intentions of men in general. So I tried to vet this famous producer by asking my dinner-table companions what they knew of him. A woman who was a producer herself cautiously advised me to “keep Harvey in your corner.” She said: “He is a good man to know in the business, but just be careful around him. He can be a bully.” And so I exchanged contacts with him in the hopes that I would be of consideration for one of his projects. I wanted to keep things professional, so I made a point of referring to him as “Mr. Weinstein.” But he insisted that I call him by his first name. In this first encounter, I found him to be very direct and authoritative, but also charming. He didn’t quite put me at ease, but he didn’t alarm me, either.
Not long after we met in Berlin, Harvey wrote to me inviting me to attend a screening of a film — a competitor’s film similar to one he had produced. He said we would be watching it with his family at his home in Westport, Conn., which was not far away from New Haven, where I was living at the time. He would send a car to pick me up. I accepted the invitation.
The driver and I met Harvey in the little town of Westport, where he informed me that we would be having lunch at a restaurant before getting to his home. I did not think much of this. It was a busy restaurant, and as soon as we sat down he ordered a vodka and diet soda for himself. I asked for a juice. Harvey was unimpressed with my choice and told the waiter to bring me a vodka and diet soda instead. I declined and said I wanted the juice. We went back and forth until finally he turned to the waiter and said, “Get her what I tell you to get her. I’m the one paying the bill.” I smiled and remained silent. The waiter left and returned with a vodka and diet soda for me. He placed it on the table beside my water. I drank the water. Harvey told me that I needed to drink the vodka and diet soda. I informed him that I would not.
“Why not?” I remember him asking. “Because I don’t like vodka, and I don’t like diet soda, and I don’t like them together,” I said. “You are going to drink that,” he insisted. I smiled again and said that I wouldn’t. He gave up and called me stubborn. I said, “I know.” And the meal proceeded without much further ado. In this second encounter with Harvey, I found him to be pushy and idiosyncratic more than anything.
We got to his home after lunch and I met his domestic staff and his young children. He took me on a brief tour of the house before he rounded us all up in the screening room to watch the film. He had just produced a similar film of his own, but everyone was raving about this rival version.
I settled in for the film, but about 15 minutes in, Harvey came for me, saying he wanted to show me something. I protested that I wanted to finish the film first, but he insisted I go with him, laying down the law as though I too was one of his children. I did not want another back-and-forth in front of his kids, so I complied and left the room with him. I explained that I really wanted to see the film. He said we’d go back shortly.
Harvey led me into a bedroom — his bedroom — and announced that he wanted to give me a massage. I thought he was joking at first. He was not. For the first time since I met him, I felt unsafe. I panicked a little and thought quickly to offer to give him one instead: It would allow me to be in control physically, to know exactly where his hands were at all times.
Part of our drama school curriculum at Yale included body work, using massage techniques on one another to understand the connection between body, mind and emotion, and so I felt I could rationalize giving him one and keep a semblance of professionalism in spite of the bizarre circumstance. He agreed to this and lay on the bed. I began to massage his back to buy myself time to figure out how to extricate myself from this undesirable situation. Before long he said he wanted to take off his pants. I told him not to do that and informed him that it would make me extremely uncomfortable. He got up anyway to do so and I headed for the door, saying that I was not at all comfortable with that. “If we’re not going to watch the film, I really should head back to school,” I said.
I opened the door and stood by the frame. He put his shirt on and again mentioned how stubborn I was. I agreed with an easy laugh, trying to get myself out of the situation safely. I was after all on his premises, and the members of his household, the potential witnesses, were all (strategically, it seems to me now) in a soundproof room.
Earlier Harvey had sent the driver to the store to buy a boxed collection of “The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency,” an HBO show that he had produced. This was the project he thought I would be right for, he said. (I later found out that the show had not been on the air for some time.) As I prepared to leave his home, he presented it to me. He wanted me to check it out and let him know what I thought. He would be in touch about it. I left for New Haven with his driver.
I didn’t quite know how to process the massage incident. I reasoned that it had been inappropriate and uncalled-for, but not overtly sexual. I was entering into a business where the intimate is often professional and so the lines are blurred. I was in an educational program where I was giving massages to my classmates and colleagues every day. Though the incident with Harvey had made me uncomfortable, I was able to explain and justify it to myself, and shelve it as an awkward moment. His offer to me to be a part of the HBO show was a very attractive one and I was excited about it, especially as I would be graduating in another year. I didn’t know how to proceed without jeopardizing my future. But I knew I would not be accepting any more visits to private spaces with Harvey Weinstein.
I decided to invite Harvey to come to a production I was in at school. Perhaps that way he would really see what I had to offer, and he would see my colleagues, too. He accepted the invitation, but the night of the production, he sent a message saying he had been caught up in New York and would be unable to attend. He would make it up to me. So when I received an official invitation to a staged reading of his new Broadway show, “Finding Neverland,” I was not surprised. I was still debating whether I should accept his invitation, and so I responded saying I was not certain that I could make it because of my school schedule. He responded with exactly the words I needed to hear: Come with whomever you want to come with. And so I invited two of my trusted male friends.
We attended the reading, and afterward Harvey invited us all to a restaurant for dinner with his comrades and collaborators. He sat me next to him, and another actress sat across from me. He had my friends sit at a different table. The talk was shop the whole time and Harvey held court with ease. He was charming and funny once more, and I felt confused about the discomfort I had previously experienced. I looked at the actress who I was informed had just worked with him on a project, searching her face for any sort of indication that she too had been made to feel uncomfortable by this powerful man, but of course I saw nothing. We did not stay very long because we had to catch a train back to New Haven. My friends had been equally charmed by Harvey. He knew when to turn it on if he wanted something. He was definitely a bully, but he could be really charming, which was disarming and confusing. I left feeling that perhaps he had learned my boundaries and was going to respect them.
A couple of months later, I received an email from Harvey, inviting me again to New York for a screening of “W.E.” After the screening, we would have drinks in TriBeCa. I then received a phone call from one of his male assistants to arrange my transportation. Feeling more confident about the new sense of boundaries that we had established in our last meeting, I attended the screening on my own this time. Afterward, as planned, his male assistant arranged for me to get to the Tribeca Grill, where Harvey would be joining us. I met a female assistant when I arrived there. I was expecting that it would be a group of us, as it had been for the reading, but she informed me it would just be Mr. Weinstein. She would sit with me until he arrived. She seemed on edge, but I could only imagine how stressful it was to work for a man who had so much going on.
Harvey arrived and the assistant immediately disappeared. We ordered drinks and starters. Again he was offended by my nonalcoholic beverage choice but he didn’t fight me on it as hard. Before the starters arrived, he announced: “Let’s cut to the chase. I have a private room upstairs where we can have the rest of our meal.” I was stunned. I told him I preferred to eat in the restaurant. He told me not to be so naïve. If I wanted to be an actress, then I had to be willing to do this sort of thing. He said he had dated Famous Actress X and Y and look where that had gotten them.
I was silent for a while before I mustered up the courage to politely decline his offer. “You have no idea what you are passing up,” he said. “With all due respect, I would not be able to sleep at night if I did what you are asking, so I must pass,” I replied.
His whole demeanor changed at that point. “Then I guess we are two ships passing in the night.” I had never heard that saying before, so I remember asking him what it meant. “It means just that,” he said. “We are two ships going in two different directions.”
“Yes, I guess we are.”
“So we are done here,” he said. “You can leave.”
We got up, having not eaten anything, and he led me out of the restaurant. My heart was beating very fast. A cab was hailed for me. I said I would take the subway (I could not afford a cab at the time), but he handed me some money and told me not to be silly, take the cab. Before I got in, I needed to make sure that I had not awakened a beast that would go on to ruin my name and destroy my chances in the business even before I got there.
“I just want to know that we are good,” I said.
“I don’t know about your career, but you’ll be fine,” he said. It felt like both a threat and a reassurance at the same time; of what, I couldn’t be sure.
I did not see Harvey again until September 2013 when I was in Toronto for the premiere of “12 Years a Slave,” the first feature film I was in. At an after-party, he found me and evicted whoever was sitting next to me to sit beside me. He said he couldn’t believe how fast I had gotten to where I was, and that he had treated me so badly in the past. He was ashamed of his actions and he promised to respect me moving forward. I said thank you and left it at that. But I made a quiet promise to myself to never ever work with Harvey Weinstein.
Not long after I won the Academy Award in 2014, I received an offer to play a role in one of the Weinstein Company’s forthcoming films. I knew I would not do it simply because it was the Weinstein Company, but I did not feel comfortable telling this to anybody. I turned down the role, but Harvey would not take no for an answer. While at Cannes, he insisted on meeting with me in person. I agreed to do it only because my agent would be present. In the meeting, he was honest about intending to persuade me to do his movie. I told him I simply did not feel it was a role I needed to play. He said he was open to making it bigger, more significant, maybe they could add a love scene. He said if I did this one for him, he would do another one for me — basically guaranteeing backing a star-vehicle film for me. I ran out of ways of politely saying no and so did my agent. I was so exasperated by the end that I just kept quiet. Harvey finally accepted my position and expressed that he still wanted to work with me at some point. “Thank you, I hope so,” I lied.
And that was the last of my personal encounters with Harvey Weinstein. I share all of this now because I know now what I did not know then. I was part of a growing community of women who were secretly dealing with harassment by Harvey Weinstein. But I also did not know that there was a world in which anybody would care about my experience with him. You see, I was entering into a community that Harvey Weinstein had been in, and even shaped, long before I got there. He was one of the first people I met in the industry, and he told me, “This is the way it is.” And wherever I looked, everyone seemed to be bracing themselves and dealing with him, unchallenged. I did not know that things could change. I did not know that anybody wanted things to change. So my survival plan was to avoid Harvey and men like him at all costs, and I did not know that I had allies in this.
Fortunately for me, I have not dealt with any such incidents in the business since. And I think it is because all the projects I have been a part of have had women in positions of power, along with men who are feminists in their own right who have not abused their power. What I am most interested in now is combating the shame we go through that keeps us isolated and allows for harm to continue to be done. I wish I had known that there were women in the business I could have talked to. I wish I had known that there were ears to hear me. That justice could be served. There is clearly power in numbers. I thank the women who have spoken up and given me the strength to revisit this unfortunate moment in my past.
Our business is complicated because intimacy is part and parcel of our profession; as actors we are paid to do very intimate things in public. That’s why someone can have the audacity to invite you to their home or hotel and you show up. Precisely because of this we must stay vigilant and ensure that the professional intimacy is not abused. I hope we are in a pivotal moment where a sisterhood — and brotherhood of allies — is being formed in our industry. I hope we can form a community where a woman can speak up about abuse and not suffer another abuse by not being believed and instead being ridiculed. That’s why we don’t speak up — for fear of suffering twice, and for fear of being labeled and characterized by our moment of powerlessness. Though we may have endured powerlessness at the hands of Harvey Weinstein, by speaking up, speaking out and speaking together, we regain that power. And we hopefully ensure that this kind of rampant predatory behavior as an accepted feature of our industry dies here and now.
Now that we are speaking, let us never shut up about this kind of thing. I speak up to make certain that this is not the kind of misconduct that deserves a second chance. I speak up to contribute to the end of the conspiracy of silence.”
I’m so happy Lupita shared her story and I have so much more respect for her and commend her for sticking by her morals. It’s disgusting that Harvey would even try something with her while his kids were in the other room, what a sick bastard
I JUST REALISED I NEVER SHARED HERE HOW I PROVED THAT I AM A CHILD OF HERMES
Long post but here it goes. The story here goes:
I was on a vacation in Montenegro with a friend of mine. We were waiting for a bus to take us to the main bus station so that we could reserve bus tickets for the trip back home. Two buses passed us, one empty that didn’t stop for us, and one also empty but didn’t stop where we needed to go. So by that time we were waiting for an hour and a half, and both had to use the restroom, but neither willing to go to the restaurant across the street in case the bus arrives and we weren’t there to get on it. Finally my friend goes bored and says
“I swear if the bus doesn’t arrive in the next minute I might actually die of boredom.”
Now being a huge greek mythology nerd and fan of Percy Jackson, I often joked that I am a child of Hermes; despite my favourite god being Apollo. I turn to my friend and say something like
“I could pray to Hermes?”
and so I did. I said something along the lines like, “Hermes, patron god of travelers and anyone who uses roads, I, your child, need your assistance. I apologise for ever wanting Apollo as a father. My friend and I need a bus to go from point A to point B. Can you please send us a ride. Cause we also need to pee really bad.”
NOT 2 SECONDS LATER A BUS ARRIVES.
The bus was full but it drove to the destination we needed to be so we got in. We both stood by the door, unable to move foward cause of the crowd. On the next bus stop a woman got off and vacant a seat. None of the passangers that were previously standing wanted to occupy the said seat, and I felt a bit guilty taking it since I just got on the bus. Another woman compelled me to sit down, and when I did I could have sworn that the bus driver winked at me at the rear view mirror. I convinced myself I was imagining it, cause the old man winking at me would cross to the creepy line. There was an old woman standing behind me, so I offered her the seat but she refused saying she was getting off soon. She in fact got off on the same stop I did, about 20ish minutes later.
Meanwhile my friend still stood by the door, in the crowd. 15 minutes into the bus ride two seats next to each other become vacant, so my friend and I occupy them. We both comment how the weird the bus felt. A woman, we now believe is a monster, cursed on the bus driver, saying he didn’t know where he was driving. The driver kept looking at me in the rear view mirror. The bus passed the heard of cows (which isn’t that unusual for that area…but still). So on, and so on. Both of us keep quiet, whispering how the ride felt weird, but not really saying why.
Finally we arrive at our destination. Because when we got on the bus there was a huge crowd inside it we weren’t able to pay for the ride while getting onto the bus, so we had to pay when we got off. The only problem was we didn’t know the price. Bus fairs weren’t consistent. It varied from the destination to destinations and from the bus line to bus line. We had to ask the driver to bill us. I decided I should do it, but was unable because passangers refused to get off until i got off so I couldn’t talk to the driver. My friend stayed behind on the bus to ask the driver for the price and he only responded with “3€”.
That could have ment 3€ for both of us or 3€ for each of us. Since my friend only had paper bills I pulled out 3 coins worth together 6€, in case its 3€ for each of us. I gave 6€ to the driver and go back to my friend, when the driver comes back opens my friends wallet and puts 2 coins in it before handing it back. He gave me a knowing wink, and disappeared into the crowd. My friend opend the wallet and we found that two extra coins worth together 4€. Meaning that no matter how much the actual bus fair was, the driver gave us almost free ride for both of us, or one got a free ride while the other got a discount.
We are still convinced that Hermes himself gave us a ride.
If you had told Harry Potter, back in his first year of Hogwarts, that he’d be sharing custody of a child with Draco Malfoy, he would have laughed. Loudly. But here he was, fifteen years later, and one of Teddy Lupin’s two legal guardians.
When Harry had accepted Remus’s offer to be Teddy’s godfather, although in the thick of war, he still never considered he’d actually have to raise someone else’s child. Teddy’s grandmother, Andromeda, had taken care of Teddy originally, which Harry was glad of - a 17 year old did not a father make. Still, he made sure to visit often. He knew what it was like to grow up without parents.
Harry wasn’t surprised that Draco visited just as often. Andromeda was his aunt after all, making Teddy his first cousin once removed.
Harry didn’t make a fuss the first time they’d bumped into each other at Andromeda’s, even though the last time they’d seen each other had been at Hogwarts, in the middle of a war, on opposite sides. He trusted Andromeda, and if she, as fiercely protective as she was, trusted Draco around Teddy, that was enough for Harry to do the same. Although, he still watched closely, curious to understand Draco’s behaviour.
Years past and Andromeda grew weary. She had already raised one child, and she was far too old to be chasing after another. As godfather, Harry knew it was his responsibility to take over as Teddy’s guardian, and no longer a teenager, he felt like he was ready. But Draco had insisted that it was he who should become guardian, as a blood relative.
They had argued like they might have back in their Hogwarts days, with taunts and snide jabs, even a few hexes, before Andromeda put a stop to it. “How do either of you expect to raise a child if you still act like children yourselves?” She had yelled at them both, her words striking home as always.
Shared custody was Andromeda’s idea, but they both agreed it would be the best option for Teddy. He had already grown attached to both of them, and they both loved Teddy as if he was their own. On that, they were in agreement, if nothing else.
These days, they saw a lot of each other. Teddy made sure of that. They hadn’t quite reconciled all their differences, but they were civil, even polite to each other. They had to be for Teddy. But there was such a coldness to their interactions sometimes, that Harry wondered if it would be better if they just went at it, like they really wanted to. Said what they were really thinking.
Like that time when Draco dropped Teddy off at Harry’s office in the middle of a work day because he had an appointment, and Harry said, “Of course, no problem Draco. Please take your time,” but what he’d really wanted to say was, “You couldn’t have given me some warning so I could plan my day around this, you inconsiderate prat?”
Or the time Draco had taken Teddy on holiday and returned a day later than expected, and Harry said, “That’s okay, Draco, I’m glad you’re both back. I’m sure Teddy had a great time,” but what he’d really wanted to say was, “I thought you were both dead you selfish jerk, you never thought to owl ahead to let me know?”
Or last week when Draco had to reschedule their agreed custody routine because he had a date on Thursday night and Harry said, “Hope you have a lovely night,” but what he’d really wanted to say was, “I hope your date throws wine in your face and leaves you with the bill.”
It’s not like Teddy didn’t know what was going on. He was a perceptive kid. The whole situation was ridiculous.
Today, i did not wake up with that glow in my eyes. They say i will, once wounds have healed and my hands have picked up all my broken pieces. Well, i guess i am not there just yet. But one thing is for sure: now, i know better.
I made a playlist of the songs that reminds me of what it used to be and by judging the songs it has, i know that for both of us, it was love. Altogether, it was joy, longing, passion and even the feeling that butterflies give.
I loved you more. I loved you more that i loved us. I loved you more than i loved myself. I loved you more than you loved me.
We were something beautiful and something tragic. Maybe i was too poetic about everything that life threw something almost the same as my poems and metaphors. And ironically, even though it burned me to ashes, i am grateful.
It still hurts; knowing how someone else and i overlapped, of how easy it was for you to leave and go on, and how it will never be the same for us again. But i do not wish for moments when you suddenly knock on my door to beg for forgiveness until i take you back, not anymore.
I know better. I just hope that one day, i can get that glow in my eyes as i leave all the pain in my sleep just like how she said.
a) knows exactly how Book!Jon is going to react to finding out about the incest that was promised i.e. ‘WAIT, SHE’S MY AUNT? GODS, LET’S TAKE A ONE-WAY TICKET TO POUND-TOWN, BABY! btw are you possibly into bloodplay and spanking bc i died and came back from the dead and it’s kind of brought me back all wrong and i wouldn’t be averse to a little sensual kink play with you (to which book!Dany will happily oblige bc she’s kinky af anyway)!!!’ *proceeds to throw Dany over his shoulder, march to the nearest flat surface, and use his tongue the way the lord of light intended*
b) is not interested in Jon whining and wangsting over the incest that was promised like 90% of the anti-jonerys fans keep insisting he will. even though we keep telling them that Jon isn’t going to be all torn about finding out Dany’s his aunt. He’ll be torn about the fact that he’s not Ned Stark’s son because that is quite literally the cornerstone of his identity. that’s where the angst sweet spot will be, and in the midst of that storm, the only certain thing he’ll have is…. guess who? Dany and his feelings for her (with a side order of his favourite sister, Arya, who’ll be there to remind him not to be a dolt because he’ll ALWAYS be Ned Stark’s son).
c ) CRYPT SEX CONFIRMED!!! SEX ON EVERY AVAILABLE SURFACE IN WINTERFELL. And not just regular sex, but FILTHY sex. Praise the old gods and the new!
Imagine being Dean’s daughter and announcing to him that you are dating Jack.
“Him?” Dean’s rough voice broke the heavy silence that had set between the two of you “You are dating him?” he all-but-growled as he stared deeply in your eyes.
“Well, I- I wouldn’t say exactly dating yet, he’s not that familiar with the term and I’m-”
“Yet?!” Dean exclaimed, his voice coming slightly high-pitched “Yet? You mean this will keep going on?!”
“Well, yes dad of course it is!” you huffed, rolling your eyes “That’s why I am telling you, because this is actually important to me. And maybe Jack doesn’t quite understand the terms yet but I know that his feelings are real, that all of this between him and I is real as well.”
“Which again brings me back to my original question: Him?!” he looked at you with so much shock it made you groan and cross your arms over your chest.
“Will you try to be a little less surprised, please? I thought you’d be a little less shocked at your daughter-”
“Dating the son of Lucifer? Oh yeah!” he cut you off full of sarcasm and a hint of angst “Why the hell would I ever mind that (Y/n)?!”