#((UM ALSO???? SORRY FOR THE ESSAY??? You do NOT have to respond with this length omg cause I'm p sure future replies will be a normal length

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

Starter for @eclipsedfates​ !

Something’s missing. 

It started as a twinge, pulling like a thread unraveling, plucking like hairs being yanked from the scalp. A line drawn, tearing away. What is it? Hours pass, and it only grows like a sinkhole, drowning all thought away, an absence he hadn’t felt in a long time. It’s like hunger.

Prowling through the wastes tells so little, and yet... Eventually the immortal finds something. 

Scarred land, an explosion of magical force. It’s a crater, an absence of so much. A whole Province, just simply gone. The people, the Tower, everything thrown outward to the Wastes in chunks of rubble. If there was any flesh and bone for the beasts to consume, it had already been done. It reeks of ancient magic, and that is what has his attention more.

Days are spent circling the perimeter, thousands of miles wide-- that’s no surprise; it carried an entire country, once. When he finds nothing of interest outside, Kane steps inward, towards the center. His thorns spread out around him like claws raking the dirt, seeking anything of interest. They gouge deep trenches in the earth around him as he closed in on where the Tower used to be, red eyes blazing through his helmet. The ache feels vast here, unending.

Something blue glints as he nears, its blade cracked but not shattered. The God of the Wasteland knows its shape well, remembers its bite in his abdomen ten times over. There were none like it, unique in its bloodshed, unique like its owner.

Fingers curl around the hilt, pulling the Fang of the GodHunter out of the rubble it had become embedded in. Closer inspection finds a relic, pierced through, its magic gone. Kane plucks the broken orb from the earth, turns it over before his thorns encircle it and absorb it for a later time. Instead he focuses on the sword in his right hand, eyes narrowing. 

...Despite no sign of him, the deity does not sense the human as dead. He turns on his heel, tracking backwards towards the direction of his own Province, his feet swift. I will find out what happened. 

And find out he does. Months of digging into the very essence of the orb he recovered, of tearing it apart until there was nothing left of it to dissect. Normally he would have tried to save it, keep it like any other relic he collected, but something else eats at him from the inside. The GodHunter is missing. Such a thing shouldn’t have mattered, a singular mortal’s presence in the world disappearing, but the... emptiness. It screams at him, gouges in his veins. It’s a new feeling. 

It’s relentless. An obsession to search bordering madness.

But finally, in a shard embedded in the GodHunter’s sword, held in the fractured hard-light of the blade, was the smallest taste of Old Magic, preserved. His fist clenches around it, feels the energy thrum in his palm. It feels like... shifting sands, relocation of objects, fluttering like the heart of a bird. Rho was alive, but not here.

The God focuses on it, feels the sliver shudder in his grasp. His mind is howling, the hole tearing at his vision. I’ll find you. Thorns tear around his ankles like a river, slow at first, then a whirlpool of pitch needles. Kane can feel his armor cracking, like a force was pushing back. I will find you. White hair whips behind him, razor sharp energy carving gashes into his fingers, the wounds closing as quickly as they’re made.

His aura burns, blends with the blinding light in his hand, endless void. 

Nothingness.

And then he feels the pull. 

His thorns are the same colors as snow for only a moment, clawing towards the air. As they puncture the sky, piercing through it like breaching water, they return to their rightful ichor. The Wasteland Deity follows suit like a shooting star, his red cloak the tail of his comet. 

With a fury he collides with the ground, twin fangs slowing his descent. He tears through the earth, scars of his path. It is with a snarl that the immortal finally reaches a stop, observing the damage he’d left behind, thorns receding into his shadow.

He looks up, scarlet eyes tracing the clouds, the blue atmosphere. It is nothing like the plains he’d come from. The gnawing in his blood had not ceased with his arrival. Where am I? Kane scowls, clutching the blue fang close to his side, before raising his attention to the crunching of grass approaching.

I am not alone, it seems.

[twomoonstwosuns]

zoom [bonus chapter]

back to you [series masterlist]

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warning: smut (18+), language, fluff

word count: 2.1k

a/n: we can all thank zoom university for this chapter, i hope you like it

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

Poe was not prepared to shift his class from in-person to online. 

He had a feeling deep in his gut this could happen. The virus had hit every state in the country and was spreading at an incredibly high rate. Vacations were being refunded, flights canceled…yours and Poe’s annual spring break trip to Kes’ one of them. It sucked, but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Everything was closing down - restaurants, retailers, movie theaters…soon it would be the universities. Spending spring break at home gave Poe time to get his classes online so he’d have something to teach his students when classes resumed. 

You were a week and a half into working from home when Poe got the news about a temporary campus shutdown. He was told that classes would be completely online for two weeks following the end of spring break, but the rapid rise in cases and declining hospital capacity made it unsafe and President Organa made the decision that classes would stay online until the end of the semester. The only one who had been truly thrilled about this decision was Beebs. 

To say it was a little bit of struggle for Poe would be an understatement. He hated doing things on the fly; he liked to be prepared. He also loved being in the classroom with his students. Zoom University took that away from him, but at least he still had a job. And for that he was grateful. 

Your job offered a little more leniency, though furlough rumors that were just whispers at the virtual water cooler were becoming more audible each day that passed. With just a couple of meetings a week, both with your creative team and one-on-one with your boss, you were pretty much on your own. That meant you were able to get up and move around while you were working. You rotated through different rooms in your brand new house, but more often than not you ended up across from Poe at the dining room table with your headphones in. 

You’d sometimes crash his classes when you needed a break from work or when you were bored because you were done with work. You’d make faces at him, write something funny on a whiteboard or notebook and hold it up for him to read, or obscenely lick a lollipop or spoon. Even though your college career had come to an end, you were still hot for teacher and when you sat across from him and watched him teach with the enthusiasm you admired, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back to the dirty thoughts you had about him when you were his student. 

You also wondered just how far you could act on those dirty thoughts and one warm April day fresh into being furloughed gave you the perfect opportunity. 

Walking into the kitchen, your bare legs caught Poe’s attention from the dining room. The hem of his t-shirt reached your upper thigh and you made sure to stretch up on your tiptoes to grab a cup from the very top shelf just so he’d get a flash of your sexy barely there black lace underwear. The complete sentences he’d been talking in were disrupted and he stumbled over his words as the sight of you took over. You poured yourself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as you took a sip and stretching your legs out.

“Babe?” Poe temporarily muted himself, leaning just far enough out of the frame to lick his lips and stare at your legs. “Can I have a glass of water?”

The little sway you put in your hips continued to keep him a little unfocused as you grabbed another glass and filled it with water. You set it down beside his computer and he took a huge gulp of it before looking back at his computer when one of his student’s grabbed his attention. 

“What exactly do you want out of this essay? The question seem a little vague.”

As he started to answer her question, Poe failed to see you slip underneath the table. Your hands tugging on his sweatpants made him gasp and his jaw drop ever so slightly. You shot him a flirty smile and put your finger over your lips. His head snapped back up as he remembered his class was watching him. 

“Sorry, um…m-my dog licked my foot and I didn’t know he was under the table.”

You had to bite back a laugh to keep from revealing his lie as the girls in his class audibly swooned. Beebs was currently on the living room couch taking his early afternoon nap, though he had made an appearance on camera before due to some incessant barking over a couple of squirrels. You bit your lip to keep from making any noise as you dipped your hand under the band of his sweats. Poe visibly gulped as you wrapped your hand around him. 

“The, uh…the prompts are meant to be broad so you can, um…” He let out a breath as you pumped him slowly. “Are you…h-how many of you are having trouble with the prompts?”

A few of his students raised their hands and he swallowed hard. His voice shook as he tried his best to not concentrate at the pleasure he was beginning to feel from your hand. 

“O-Okay…um…” Poe nearly choked on his words at the touch of your tongue on the tip of his cock. Your mouth suddenly enveloped him, head bobbing at a teasing pace. 

“Sorry, um…whatever comes to mind when you think of the question is what I want your essay to show.” He was powering through, focusing completely on the twenty pairs of eyes that were on him. “Send me an email with your ques—“

His breath caught in his throat as his cock slid closer to the back of your throat. He cleared his throat and stuck his hand in your hair, grabbing it in a vice grip and holding your head in place. “—questions. If you want to attach a rough draft, you can and I can give you some feedback. Sound okay?”

His students collectively nodded and you hollowed your cheeks and sucked, making Poe squirm in his seat. 

“Perfect. Alright, um…I-I have to prep for my next class so I-I’ll see you all on Thursday.”

He loosened his grip on your hair and you started moving your head again. Whatever willpower he had left he used to leave the meeting, a loud groan erupting from deep in his chest when he knew he was in the clear. He threw his head back as he touched the back of your throat again, pulling another helpless moan from him. 

“That was—“ He shifted again in his seat and you held his thighs to keep him still, the way your mouth was taking him so deep making him squirm. “Fuck baby, that was cruel.”

You popped off of him and smirked, running your tongue along the length of him. “Was it though?”

Poe chuckled and moaned again as you took him back into your mouth. His hands slipped into your hair and he looked down at you. Your face was half hidden by the table and despite being in your own home, the whole thing felt erotic and a little bit porny. He tensed in his seat and his breathing picked up and it was then that you decided to release him and come out from under the table.

“Why’d you stop?” Poe asked as he pushed his chair back from the table. You eyed the way his cock laid against his lower stomach. 

“You have class in fifteen minutes.”

Smirking, Poe pulled you towards him by the front of your shirt, grabbing your thighs and moving you into his lap. 

“We need to make this quick then.” The dark, lust-blown look in his eyes showed he was serious and he laughed at the look on your face. “Don’t look so surprised, you started this…now I want you to finish it.”

You responded by rubbing your clothed core over his cock. He grabbed your hip and held you still as he pulled your panties to the side. Grabbing his cock and giving him a few more pumps, you lined him up with your entrance and sunk down onto him, seating yourself in his lap and taking him all the way in on the first pass. 

“You are so fucking wet.” He exhaled deeply, the feeling of being inside of you a sensation he’d never get tired of. A smirk crossed your face as you started to grind against him. 

“Its a turn on watching you squirm.”

You cupped his cheeks and kissed him hotly, your tongue sliding into his mouth as you moved up and down in his lap. He swallowed your moans, his hands squeezing your ass before moving up to your hips and guiding you. You tore your lips away from him to moan out a drawn out “fuck!” as he hit that spot that made your toes curl, your head falling back in complete ecstasy. 

“You gotta move faster than that if you want to come, sweetheart.” His words, deep and breathy, were felt across your lips. “We’re finishing this before my class starts whether you come or not.”

“I could just go into the other room and finish myself off.”

He kissed down to your neck, a breathy moan coming from you as he sucked a hickey onto it.

“Not a fucking chance.”

The chair beneath you rocked as you bounced in his lap, the tips of your toes on the carpet giving you leverage. Poe suddenly grabbed your thighs and stood up, ignoring your yelp of surprise and setting you down onto the table. He pushed his laptop away and his glass of water fell to the ground with a quiet thud. Either he didn’t notice or he didn’t care as he snapped his hips against yours at a punishing speed. A cry of pleasure left your lips at the sudden change in ferocity and you nearly jumped when his thumb made contact with your clit. His free hand caught your calf and kept your leg up around his waist, giving himself the perfect angle to drive deeper into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your back arched off of the table as you dug your fingers into his back. His name fell from your lips with each brush of his cock against your g-spot. 

Poe came with a loud moan, his resolve disappearing in hopes that he could get you off first. But you weren’t far behind, his sloppy thrusts and quick movements against your clit enough to send you toppling over the edge. Your body convulsed with pleasure and a gentle bite to your neck made you gasp. Both of you were breathless as his thrusts slowed, eventually coming to a stop. He lifted you once again, his cock staying inside you as he moved back into his chair. 

“How am I supposed to face my class on Thursday?” A soft smile gracing his handsome face as he looked at the mess he made of you, your cheeks flushed with exertion and hair falling into your face. “They’re not stupid, they totally knew what was going on.”

A breathless giggle left your lips as he cupped your cheek. “That’s for you to figure out. It better be good though, because I doubt they bought the Beebs excuse.”

He chuckled as he kissed you gently, the kind that let butterflies loose in your stomach. Your hand covered the one resting on your cheek and you pulled it away to look at the time. “Three minutes.”

“Perfect timing,” he said as you carefully stood up and readjusted your panties. He tucked himself back into his pants and grabbed his computer to log into his next class.

“We’re masters at quickies,” you said as you leaned down and kissed him once more before heading towards the bathroom to clean yourself up. “Have fun in class!”

Chances were very high that Poe would get you back for this sometime in the next week or so. The way you two teased each other, you knew he’d try to hold out as long as possible and catch you completely off guard. It was such a fun and simple way to mix things up in lockdown. After all, you and Poe were practically experts in bunkering down at home, unable to go out in public and having to find ways to entertain yourselves. 

You supposed you could actually thank Hux for that. 

tag list - @ah-callie @tinygaydemonbby @gloomygoregirl @leilei-draws @imaginecrushes @i-ievu @brianamaree @yeeintensifies @spider-starry @krazykatkay456 @millllenniawrites @afootnoteinyourhappiness @my-child-gaara @myrandom-fandomlife @onebatch--twobatch @the-cry-of-youth @p3nny4urth0ught5 @porgiez @galaxy-of-stories @seeking-a-great--perhaps @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @dameronsgalaxygal @mserynlarsen @linibirdimagine @starrykitn @cloud-leader @liadamerondjarin @april-14-blog @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @xremember-me-notx @obiwanownsmyass @princessxkenobi @yourbucky084 @frietiemeloen @softly-sad @xxidontwikeitxx @roserrys @clairesmunchkin @justanotherblonde23 @voidmonny @neaveloren

[those-gremlin-grapes]

CAN YOU TELL US A BIT ABOUT YOUR OC’S?!?!?!? IM CURIOUS

disclaimer: it was not, in fact, a bit (i wrote a whole essay, sorry babes)

1/2 (this is the background info. I will respond again telling about my ocs)

YES THANK YOU FOR ASKING!! The context for them is a story/comic mayhaps that i am currently (pulling out my hair, losing my mind, cursing the gods whilst in tears) working on. Somewhere between sci-fi and fantasy, I think, my lovely ocs get magic powers and mental illness (as a treat). Apologies to my english teachers in retrospect and you in advance for the length and rambling quality of everything I both write and say, as although I am terrible at poetry, i am Far Worse at summarizing things!

The background of it, anyways, is that there's a magic energy of sorts called essence that exists in a set quantity in the word, and some people have vessel genes, which allows them the ability to harness essence in the form of um. magic powers (logic is. nowhere to be seen here lads). People with vessel genes can go their whole lives, or part of it, without having any powers, though: It takes certain circumstances or catalysts to develop them. There are also fully essence-based lifeforms which are like. monsters and various creatures.

Because of the threat to the city these essence-based monsters pose, they're legally required to be reported and then destroyed on sight by heroes. This causes problems because the line between monsterous rabid thing and eldritch bitch who's been minding his eldritch buisness goes both geniunely unseen and maliciously ignored.

People with powers are legally required to be part of a like, hero foundation thing, which has some questionable shit going on internally. Those who don't join are considered villains and criminals. The main thing they do there is like, fight monsters and villains. the big problem here is that, well, you're not useful for fighting if you're too weak, too young, too old, things like that. So if you're not able to fight but have powers, congrats! you're fucked. to the evil science lab with ye.

The most important difference, though, between monster and person with powers is that the latter is exploitable.

[ladyvesuvia]

Hi! Congratulations on 700! You deserve it:) May I have a 🍸 with James Potter? My name is Alana and I am straight girl, she/her, I am an entj-t & Aquarius. I am considered tall and mature for my age. I have thick & wavy, shoulder length dirty blond hair. I have hazel eyes and pale skin. I have a bunch of little birthmarks on my arms and on my face. I like wearing baggy clothes or anything that’s really comfortable. I enjoy reading and watching Gilmore girls, and I LOVE Greek mythology. I absolutely love learning about it! I like to keep to myself mostly but I do have a couple of close friends. I’m really sensitive:/ I cry a lot and sometimes I don’t even know why tbh. I get really stressed over schoolwork and put to much pressure on myself to do well. I’m sort of a people pleaser and can’t really say no, but with my family I have ‘the worst attitude’, so🤷‍♀️. I’m really big on activism and my mom and sister say I’m the biggest feminist they know.(biggest compliment) I daydream a bit to much ngl. Anyways I love watching horror movies with my sister, it’s so much fun. Hope this was enough info💗💗

i love u already omg sorry this took long

hope u like this sweetie <3

HOW THE TWO OF YOU MET

OK SO james is like a year older so on your first year, he was obvi a second year and james was just looking around until he found you sitting at the ravenclaw table looking tired af hAHHAAHA and he just laughed and thought to himself ‘same.’ that was like just the first and only time before you finally even talked.

the very very first interaction you had was…not good. jk why bother sugarcoat it IT WAS BAD.

you were in your fifth year and the O.W.L.s were getting near and he was at the library with remus because of an essay they had to write for potions and james is like “why bother? slughorn thinks i’m a god” /hj

and sirius came in with peter and they were all seated at the table behind you and they began laughing and ofc you were getting hella pissed because you were reading your book in peace until they came in so you just stood up and straight up shushed the heck out of them 😭

PLS JAMES WAS LIKE stifling a laugh like “you spit on me.” HAHXHDJAJA and at some point when he urged the rest of them to go back to the common room instead, he just muttered “typical ravenclaw” which just threw you off like UM,,, EXCUSE ME??? I’ve been trying to study for the past hour in peace and you lot come marching in and just ruin my progressxbsjskwoswmwmw

but after you stormed out, in your mind you were freaking out because you just scolded A GROUP of gryffindors and you were all “nope i am not apologizing” but you do anyway and james just thought it was cute af <33

imagine your surprise when he started coming to the library and sitting just across from you to give you his own reviewers from last year for the o.w.l.s like it was a secret mission HSBXHSHAJA BESTIE he’d just sit down and say, “greetings” like a mysterious man before sliding over a notebook and he always had something to give everyday

LIKE YOU DIDN’T TALK WITH EACH OTHER it was just like a secret and low-key rendezvous u know

then on the day of the o.w.l.s., he gave you a piece of parchment and you finally talked and told him “i don’t need them anymore.”

“no, i insist.” *slides the parchment back to you*

“no, i insister.” *slides the parchment back to him*

“merlin, just take it and read it after the o.w.l.s..”

“fine,” you told him, stuffing the piece of parchment into your bag before leaving the library but ofc not before turning to him and saying, “typical gryffindor.” AGH STAWP NOW I WANNA WRITE THIS FIC LMAO

and after the exams, you just plop into your bed and pull out the piece of parchment to find that he had written some good good good stuff on it: “i like your hair. also when summer comes i’m gonna get one of those cool clothes you wear. also i like you and it would be nice if you went out with me or something like that.”

safe to say that you didn’t know how to react i mean how tf do you respond to that? *convulses*

——

HEADCANONS ABOUT YOUR RELATIONSHIP

— when you finally started dating, you’d just come over each other’s common rooms and whenever you were over at his, some of the bitter gryffindors would be all “iS thAt AlloWed???” and james would just be like “my friend’s a prefect” like it’s a threat hAHAHAHA

— remember when he said “you spit on me”? oh yeah he keeps coming back to that to make the same but revised joke: “spit on me, i’m willing.” PLS HE’S SO RANDOM AND YOU’D JUST CRINGE HAHAHAHA LIKE “ew no why would i do that?” “you did it once, just do it again.”

— and oh the cuddles the damn cuddles he’s so mf good at it and you just felt at home with him idk agh

— he likes tracing your birthmarks while chilling together whenever and wherever because he thinks they’re pretty and you look like the sky and he just loves you so much and he still couldn’t believe that he was dating the girl who scolded him at the library was the one person he’d give the world to

[my-major-is-k-howard]

Just Say Yes

Inspired by this post by @politics-notmything. Wow. I did not mean to disappear for so long. I recently started university and have not had a chance to post in a while. However! I do have a few one shots ready to go that I’ll be posting in the coming weeks. And all of them are Soulmate AUs (because I’m a sucker for them)! Thank you for sticking around and I hope you enjoy the first part of this one shot. 💙💚

Word Count: 2314

———————————————————————

Cathy awoke to the sound of her alarm blaring from her nightstand and groaned. It seemed like she had only been asleep for a few minutes and the aching tiredness in her bones made that seem even more plausible. Reluctantly, Cathy rolled over in her bed and reached out a hand to turn off her alarm.

The night before, Cathy had stayed up later than usual so that she could finish one of the dreaded papers for her literature class that was due that day. She had barely completed the essay but felt confident enough that she wouldn’t fail when she had decided to go to bed. After around four hours of sleep, Cathy was hoping that her three cups of coffee she drank last night had actually been put to good use. 

Cathy heaved a sigh as she slid out of bed, immediately missing the warmth while she searched for clothes to wear for her early morning class. After throwing on some jeans and t-shirt, Cathy began looking for her favorite hoodie. She found it near the foot of her bed and quickly put it on. 

 Cathy could always be found wearing her classic navy blue hoodie around her college campus, or any long-sleeve article of clothing for that matter. Most people assumed she was just always cold but the reality was Cathy was trying to cover up her soulmate mark from prying eyes. The length always attracted unwanted attention which more often than not made Cathy extremely uncomfortable.

Though, Cathy wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed of her soulmate phrase. On the contrary, she found the ramblings quite endearing and couldn’t wait to hear her soulmate let the jumble of words spill out of their mouth. Cathy momentarily rolled up the right sleeve of her hoodie to reveal the words that trailed down her arm, rereading the little monologue with a soft smile on her face.

It briefly mentioned her literature class which also happened to be the class she was about to walk to. Every time Cathy thought about snoozing her alarm and sleeping through the day’s lecture, she would remind herself that her soulmate could be waiting for her, finally ready to build up the courage to talk to her.

With that thought in mind, Cathy grabbed her backpack from beside her desk and slung it over her shoulders. She then slipped her phone and keys into her pocket and left her dorm room. On the way to her class, Cathy picked up a coffee from the campus cafe for a much-needed caffeine boost as she was still running on only a few hours of sleep.

When she made it to the lecture hall, Cathy quickly took a seat in one of the first few rows and chugged the rest of her coffee before the start of class. She pulled out her laptop just as the professor stood up in preparation to begin her lecture about the impact of the Civil War on American literature.

Just as the professor was about to address the class and begin her lecture, the sound of someone bursting through the doors echoed throughout the auditorium. Along with some other students, Cathy turned around to see Anne Boleyn standing in the entrance of the room, looking absolutely stunning despite appearing as though she had just jogged halfway across their campus.

From her seat, Cathy could see Anne’s flushed cheeks and chest heaving for air as she looked around the auditorium for a place to sit. Cathy felt her heartbeat quicken as she appraised the girl standing by the doorway, taking in how perfectly sculpted her features were from eyebrows to her jawline to her hips. Cathy gawked at Anne for a few moments before quickly composing herself again.

Right before Cathy was about to turn back around in her seat, she swore she saw Anne’s gaze land on her and linger for a couple beats with a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. But before Cathy could even return her smile, their professor spoke up and addressed Anne from the front of the lecture hall.

“Anne Boleyn! Please take a seat,” the professor called out loud enough for the girl to hear. Anne ducked her head apologetically and scurried to one of the free seats a few rows behind Cathy, much to the latter girl’s disappointment.

It was no secret that Anne Boleyn was attractive. Everybody on campus admired her when she walked by, or at least knew of her infamous beauty. It seemed as if everyone was vying to be her soulmate and have her sole affection. And, as much as she tried to deny it, Cathy couldn’t help but dream of what it would be like to hear her own soulmate phrase flow from those red-painted lips. 

Cathy quickly shook her head at the absurdity of that thought. There was no way Anne could be her soulmate. Anne was always centerstage in the spotlight while Cathy clung to the sidelines. Anne was well-liked and popular while Cathy mostly kept to herself and her few friends. Anne was funny and outgoing with everyone around campus while Cathy buried herself with books in the privacy of her dorm. Anne was perfect in every way, and Cathy would be lucky if a girl like Anne even noticed her at all.

Cathy sighed softly to herself. She could never keep Anne out of her thoughts for long. Though they had never formally spoken, Cathy had grown quite fond of the Boleyn girl, admiring her wit and intelligence every time she spoke up about the topics being discussed in their shared literature class. While most people thought Anne’s looks were the most beautiful part about her, Cathy couldn’t help but think her mind, with all of its humorous quips and insightful analyses, was truly the most attractive part of Anne.   

Cathy was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts by her professor moving onto a new topic. In a panic, Cathy looked up to the presentation and calmed down when she realized that she hadn’t missed much of the lecture. From that point on until the end of class, Cathy stayed focused on her professor’s words and took notes diligently, pushing her thoughts of Anne aside until later. 

After class was dismissed, Cathy packed up her things and exited the auditorium, throwing away her empty coffee cup on the way out. A few paces down the hall, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, checking to see if she had any unread messages from her friends. Much to her relief, there were none. That meant Cathy had a few hours to herself until her next class, hours that would more likely than not be spent napping.

Cathy slid her phone back into her pocket and felt around for her keys. Much to her dismay, she didn’t find them. Cathy felt around her other pockets, only growing more anxious when she turned up empty-handed. Cathy turned around with the intent of going back into the lecture hall to see if she had dropped her keys in there, only to stop dead in her tracks when she came face-to-face with Anne Boleyn.

There was a moment of silence that passed between them as they stared at each other, both too nervous to say anything. After Cathy’s initial shock wore off, she looked down at her feet shyly and bit her lip in a vain attempt to stop herself from smiling. Anne Boleyn was really standing in front of her. Anne Boleyn actually wanted to talk to her.

 Cathy felt her heartbeat pulse rapidly in her chest as she nervously twirled one of her curls around her finger. “Hi, Anne,” Cathy finally said to break the silence, looking back up to meet Anne’s shining green eyes.

Anne visibly lit up at the small greeting before shuffling in place nervously as she addressed Cathy. “Hey! Catherine! I- um- you dropped these.” Anne handed Cathy her lost keys before continuing her rambled speech. 

“I’ve seen you around campus a lot with your friends and you always look super pretty and everything. Um- and the things you say in literature class are so smart. Like all of your comments about the authors’ biographies and how they play into their writing make me question everything I was reading. And, I’ve never had the chance to say anything until now but I think you’re amazing!”

Anne’s gaze suddenly dropped to the floor and rubbed her neck to hide her embarrassment. She took a quick breath before she continued speaking. “I’m rambling. Sorry! What I want to say is I really like you and I was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me sometime.” Anne looked up with hopeful eyes as she waited for Cathy’s answer.

Anne’s words swirled in Cathy’s mind, leaving her in utter shock and unable to respond. Her eyes immediately darted to her right arm as she rolled down her sleeve to reveal a perfect transcript of what Anne had just said. Cathy didn’t know how to respond, her mouth left slightly ajar as she tried to process that Anne was her soulmate. Anne freaking Boleyn was her soulmate! 

Noticing that the girl in front of her was not responding, Anne fidgeted even more in her place. She noticed that Cathy was staring at her soulmate mark and had a sudden realization. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you had already found your soulmate. I’ll go.”

Anne quickly turned on her heel and prepared to flee the awkward situation she had just made. In that moment, Cathy finally came to her senses and grabbed Anne’s arm before she could leave. Anne turned back to her with a confused expression before Cathy spoke up shyly. 

“I actually just met my soulmate,” Cathy said quietly, hoping Anne would catch on that they were soulmates. Instead, Cathy watched as Anne forced a smile at her response.

“That’s great, Catherine! I hope you two are happy together,” Anne all but whispered, trying but failing to keep the pain out of her voice.

Cathy tried a different approach. “Anne, what does your soulmate mark say?”

A small smile painted itself across Anne’s lips as she looked down to her right arm. “Mine says ‘Hi, Anne.’ Pretty vague, huh? I hear it a lot so I never actually know who my soulmate is.”

“Well, now you do,” Cathy whispered as she showed Anne her own arm, for once excited to see someone’s reaction to her mark.   

A look of realization dawned on Anne’s face as she read the words of Cathy’s soulmate mark, the same words that had been spilling out of her mouth just moments before. Her realization quickly melted away into a soft smile as she shifted her gaze to look back at Cathy.

“I really should have scripted that. I’m sorry you have my stupid rambling permanently on your skin,” Anne said bashfully.

“No, it’s okay!” Cathy responded quickly before giving Anne a little smile. “It’s actually really cute.” Cathy watched as Anne’s cheeks turned bright red and had to stifle a giggle at the sight. 

“So, about that date,” Cathy continued after a brief pause. “I would really like to get to know my soulmate sometime.” Cathy smiled shyly as she waited for Anne’s response.

Anne lit up at Cathy’s mention of a date. “Let’s go right now! Are you busy?” Anne’s hopeful eyes stared back at Cathy, making her heart flutter at the sight. Cathy’s nap could wait.

“No, I’m free until noon,” Cathy responded with a bright smile. Anne returned Cathy’s smile before grabbing her hand and leading her away.

“Where are we going, Anne?” Cathy giggled as she followed Anne toward the parking lot.

“It’s a surprise, love,” Anne answered and squeezed Cathy’s hand lightly. Cathy blushed at Anne’s nickname which Anne noticed with a smirk.

“You like coffee. Right, love?” Anne asked, smirking wider as Cathy’s blush turned a deeper shade of red.

“Yes, Annie. I’m practically addicted to it,” Cathy replied, turning to see Anne’s cheeks flush at her own nickname for her. “How else would I have been able to write that insanely long essay about the use of metaphor in Uncle Tom’s Cabin?”  

“Fair point,” Anne replied with a laugh before she stopped and turned to face Cathy. “Well, this is my car. Her name is Sally.” She gestured to the green sports car parked in front of them with a nod.

Cathy gawked at the seemingly expensive vehicle in front of them before processing what Anne had just said. “Wait, you named your car?”

“Yeah,” Anne stated as if it was obvious. “Doesn’t everybody name their car?”

“You’re the first person I know who’s named their car, Annie,” Cathy said with a smile as she gently bumped her shoulder against Anne’s. 

“It might just be my family then,” Anne said with a laugh as she unlocked the doors and opened the passenger side for Cathy to get in. Cathy smiled gratefully at Anne as she slid into the leather seat. 

“Wow,” Cathy breathed out as she admired the interior of the sports car. She had to admit that Anne’s car was pretty impressive all around. It suited her perfectly.

“If you think this is cool, you should see the ones my dad has,” Anne commented as she closed her car door. “He co-owns this car brand so he gets a lot of really awesome sports cars custom-made. He gave this one to me when I went off to college.” Anne smiled fondly at the memory. 

“I never knew that,” Cathy replied, smiling warmly at Anne as the engine roared to life.

“Yeah, my dad was really busy with work most of the time but he always put family first,” Anne said before looking over to Cathy. “You ready, Cathy?”

“Yes.”

[oyabun-draws]

yellow, aqua and pink for the ask game! ❤️

yellow: name of an artist you think is underappreciated (my response got long im sorry)

(can i say myself...fssjfsfjfs) um i am not sure if these artists are underappreciated or not but i will name some of my favorite artists from various fandoms pls give em a look i love them:

raven cycle: i HAVE to give a shoutout to @f0x-meets-w0lf they literally are the reason kavinsky is my favorite character in the series, and i am a big dream pack person, the dream thieves IS my favorite book in the series and this artist in my eyes is the BACKBONE of the dream pack fandom, we would have NOTHING without them i LOVE fox-meets-wolf and I WILL be purchasing every print of theirs mark my words. their art is perfect honestly i have no words. my proof is right here if u disagree look at that and then come talk to me anyways i could make a whole post on fanart of kavinsky also i found out just NOW that this queen is following me on one of my instas and like am i hallucinating i need confirmation bc they are literally one of my fav artists on planet earth anyways (i think u can tell i have adhd by how i respond to asks) also this post and these posts are certified iconic and i will be purchasing if they ever do prints

carry on: @i-am-weis literally gave me my rights their art of simon and baz is out of this world, they haven’t posted carry on stuff since back in the day but i am a carry on elder and I Remember. they’re talented incredible show-stopping never been done before and so so close to how i picture simon and baz. on that note @yofriesenburg ALSO has incredibly close to how i imagine them this post is EVERYTHING to me,  also this post STUN N I NG, and this artist’s stuff is fantastic, we love this one, and this one, @mara-miranda of course especially this one, this lovely post, this fantastic post, this post omg the ARTISTRY, this lovely post, lest not forget ms @vkelleyart of COURSE but specifically this one is my favorite of hers, and last but not least, THIS is my ALL TIME favorite carry on fanart and fun fact: this is the very first post i ever reblogged on this tumblr, please feast your eyes on this witchcraft and wizardry it is literally everything.

(also i have been working on this post for literally four hours trying to find all these links so if my enthusiasm is declining it is because i am pooped and not because i like any of these artists less than others. i love them ALL, all of these i have saved to my phone so i can Look at them)

aftg: @ziegenkind094 literally period all of their posts are excellent, @lnmei i- to have as much talent as lnmei.. one can only dream these  are some favs of mine  and @microolli esp this one, and this post is everything the bandages are so well done ppl never draw enough scars, @lazyleezard and @actuallyzeropercent are EXACTLY how i picture andrew and neil EXACTly their fem!andrew and neil are p e r f ec t, also this post, these posts, and lastly these posts are perfect, neil is perfect, the vibes are perfect, true artistry

yoi: everything. 

i am so tired im s o sorry u definitely did not ask i just hyperfocused and said I Will create a masterlist Right Now and spent 6 hours omg. anyways those are some of my fav artists and drawings thank u if anyone wants to know my fav non-fanartists let me know and i will make another masterlist. 

aqua: do you thrift?

yes! actually about 90% of my clothes are thrifted, I’m poor (my whole family is poor) so I have thrifted or received hand-me-downs for my whole life :) and I am not ashamed of admitting that I’m poor either, my family is very hardworking (even if you aren’t u are still valid, poor people are not at fault of the situations we are in.) I just live in the U.S. and capitalism is a desease. 

pink: what’s your natural hair color?

idk what is up, but my natural hair color has changed throughout my life, when i was born it was dark brown and then lightened to medium brown. then in late elementary to early middle school it changed to like golden brown/dirty blond whatever tf and then later in high school it became medium brown again and then now it is a grey-ish (?) mousy brown i think its called. but my hair is bleached blond almost all the time bc i like the way it contrasts with my dark bushy brows :)

okay thank u for the asks so much idk why this turned into a literal essay in length but like i love getting asks so much bc i get them quite sparingly and i like to ramble. i type almost exactly how i think/talk minus the stuttering #just speech impediment things

anyways thank u for the asks!! <3 <3 i love you

color asks

[poisxnyouth]

teacher!dave chapter 2. (d.d)

A/N: oops. enjoy. let me know what you think. -hailey

w.c.: 2.5k (sorry)

The next few weeks are slow and difficult: Mr. Dobrik loves to challenge you. He gives you the most demanding assignments you’ve ever had to complete, including weekly five thousand word dialectical essays analyzing the prose of whoever he assigns you, along with his regular AP work.

Every day during lunch, he pulls out your work and grades it right in front of your eyes.

Today, Mr. Dobrik scoots his office chair closer to the seat you always pull up, shuffling through papers on his desk and locating your weekly essay. You’d become quite adept at comprehending his messy handwriting, and since you’ve told him you can read it, he no longer attempts to make it neat and legible. He immediately leans over, paper on the edge of his desk as he reads it.

Both of you had also come to a consensus concerning rules, since you seemed to like defending yourself before he gave final comments on your grade. It was his way of essentially telling you he needed you to shut the hell up while he’s grading.

He had made a comment one day, something along the lines of, “Stop getting so defensive! I haven't even given you your grade yet. Just because I’m critiquing it doesn’t mean it’s bad, hun. You know I think it’s great.” The pet name wasn’t unheard of; many teachers call their students it and it’s not new, but hearing the word come out of his mouth as he flipped a page and met your eyes somehow changed the definition of it. He had started using it frequently when speaking with you.

Mr. Dobrik’s intently reading your essay dissecting Keats’ Endymion, scribbling his comments and circling areas. That was another rule: you weren’t allowed to look at his comments until he was finished. It was always a perfect time and gave you the perfect excuse to stare at him while he reads, scanning his features for reactions.

“‘Kay, hun, so I graded this at an 85. There’s nothing in here that’s wrong, but-.”

“Sir, it took me 6 hours to research and write this paper. I haven’t slept in two days and we have a football game tonight. It’s Friday.”

“That’s your own fault. You had all week. Manage your time better. And hun, I’m not asking you to analyze the whole damn book. It’s the first two stanzas! Anyway,” he says, “You analyzed it fine. You made sure to say all of the main points I would have. I know this is the poem you put on my desk a few weeks ago when we first started and I asked for your favorite, and I’m glad you analyzed its importance to you even deeper for me. I’ll be honest, I was expecting some Rupi Kaur bullshit. But yeah, I’m not kidding, you did great. Every essay gets better and better. I mean it. Really, the only things that’s getting you is your conjunctive adverbs and the flow of your sentences. Your conjunctive adverbs are terrible. That’s an easy fix, though.”

“Thanks.” Mr. Dobrik is leaning over, elbows resting on his knees as he looks at you, returning the essay.

“You’re very welcome. Poe’s Tell-Tale Heart next week, please. Anything else?” You shake your head no, eyes scanning through his comments.

“Then you’re free to leave, if you want.” He scoots back from you, returning to his laptop.

“Actually, can I stay in here? There’s not that much longer until the bell, anyway, like 15 minutes, and my next class is right across the hallway.” He looks surprised for a second, still not facing you as he nods his head.

“Yeah, always,” he says half heartedly, searching through his graded papers and entering them into the gradebook. “You’re going to the game, then? Since you talked about it, I mean.”

“Um, yeah. We go every week, since it’s our last year and all. Are you?” You fiddle with the edges of your essay, watching him as he works. Mr. Dobrik has one hand in his hair, tugging at the ends as his other hand continues going through his stack and entering numbers.

“I did the same thing senior year. It sucks realizing everything you’ve ever known is coming to an end. Enjoy it while you have it. I miss the hell out of high school. Why do you think I came back so quick? And yeah, I’m going.” He makes conversation, laughing lightly as you shrug.

“I dunno, to be friends with your students?” Mr. Dobrik looks at you at that, smile coming to his lips.

“That may have been part of it. I was close with my teachers. Makes sense for me to want to return it.” He keeps his eye contact, turning his seat towards you as he leans back, resting his chin against his hand.

He’d been playing a game with you since the first day, aware of how attractive you thought he was and wanting to push you in that aspect as well as academically. Even if you had been misreading his actions, wasn’t it only fair if you served it for once?

“How close?” You lean forward in response to his leaning back, elbows on your knees.

He bites his lips, still smiling as he breaks eye contact, rolling the pen through his fingertips. “Close. That’s all I’m going to say.”

You keep up the confidence, eyes flickering between his lips and eyes. “Sounds like bullshit to me,” you shrug, sitting up straight and crossing your legs. You watch as Mr. Dobrik’s eyes follow up the length of your bare legs slowly, faltering slightly before he meets your eyes.

“Language, miss. We were close. That’s all. I still talk to them.” He’s still twisting the pen in his hold, watching as you stare at his fingers.

“Sorry, sir. Close,” you repeat. “Like, platonically or…” His face twists, fingers quickly wiping at his mouth as he still flashes his smile, seemingly catching on to your game.

“Are you asking me if I’ve ever dated one of my teachers? Not that it’s any of your business, but no. That’s not what I meant. They’re my friends now, and I ask them for advice.” You throw your hands up in defense, shrugging slightly.

“It was just a question. You never know. Advice on?”

“Students,” he answers quickly, changing the subject, “What are you playing at here? What’s your angle?” You stand at that, his eyes following you up, lips parted.

“You ran out of questions. I’ll see you Monday morning.” Mr. Dobrik scrunches his eyebrows together at your words, grabbing your arm.

“No. Sit back down. We were having a conversation. Don’t be rude. If you walk away, I’m writing you a referral.” You obey, feeling giddy at his stern response and placing yourself back in the seat across from him, his hand releasing its hold.

“Let me rephrase: what do you want to get from this conversation? Because this isn’t academic, so there’s an ulterior motive to your questions. Tell me what it is.” He’s serious now, no fleeting smile spread across his face.

“Um,” you say, eyes moving to the ceiling.

“Look at me when you say it. Because I know what it is, I would just never say it,” he shrugs once more as your eyes return to him.

“It?” He nods.

“Well, you know-,”

“Wait. How old are you? Just asking. I can look it up, but you’re here, so…might as well just ask you.” His eyes are glued to yours, rolling the pen in his hands.

“18, but I’ll be 19 when I graduate.”

“Okay. Continue.”

“Okay, um, I mean, you’ve kind of like, been teasing me, I guess? And maybe - in hindsight - maybe I misread it, but like, you know, you’re cute and a really good teacher, and obviously I’m not the only thirsty one out of your students but I’m also a pretty hopeful person and-.”

“Alright, I’ve heard enough. You said what I was waiting for. By the way, it’s impossible to misread when I check you out, sweetheart.” You’re confused now, releasing your grip on your belongings and playing with your hands in your lap. You don’t know how to respond to his pet name. Mr. Dobrik’s maintaining eye contact, lacing his fingers together in his lap after placing the pen on his desk.

“So?” He asks, biting at his lips. “Let me ask you a few things. Okay?” You nod.

“You're 18. You're legal, but oh my God, I feel like such a creep for what I’m about to ask,” he plays with his hands in his lap, not looking at you. “Are you a virgin? I’m, like, legit just asking-.”

“No. I’m not.” You feel stupidly hopeful at the idea of Mr. Dobrik bending you over his desk and fucking the shit out of you, his fingers leaving dark blue marks along your hips. You shift visibly in your seat at the thought, and Mr. Dobrik notices.

You've piqued his interest now, looking at you again, “Who did? When?” His nervousness is dissolving and his normal cockiness is making its appearance again.

“Nathaniel Rogers. Spring break, sophomore year.”

“Ew,” his face twists, “he’s not even - what? How? He got lucky. Ew, oh my God, I don't want that picture in my head. You can do better than that.” You laugh, trying to ignore his compliments, as he puts his face in his hands.

“Really, um, I’ll be honest, that's the only question I had.” He puts his hands back in his lap and makes eye contact again before his eyes drop, scanning over your thighs and skirt. He meets your eyes again before speaking, “I just wanted to know.”

It’s silent for a few seconds, Mr. Dobrik taking his bottom lip in between his teeth and looking around the room.

“What do you want from me, Y/N?” You mull it over, quickly.

“Can we start over? From like, when we were going over my essay?”

He shrugs once more, assuming you want to forget about the conversation altogether. He scoots closer to you and takes the essay from your lap, leaning in closer than normal. You smell his cologne, and you can imagine him standing at the Macy’s perfume counter and smelling every option before dropping two hundred on a bottle.

“So, um,” his voice is low and quiet, “I like seeing this analytical side of you where you’re not just analyzing the author’s intent and how their life influenced their work. Like, we know Keats died of tuberculosis at 25, right? It’s really smart of you to connect it to the line where he says, ‘A bower quiet for us, and a sleep / Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.’ You point out how the times between his death and the publishing date don’t match up, but how it’s still morbid in its unintentional foreshadowing. Um, what I meant by not just analyzing the author’s intent is, you, a person who is around the same age as Keats was when he wrote this, considered the depth these two stanzas have and how they’ve influenced your life. Especially because it’s your favorite poem ever, and at least now I understand why. I feel like I know you better now. You explained it beautifully. This essay captures exactly what my goal is for the rest of my students, and I’m really proud of you, Y/N. I mean it. If I compared your first essay on this poem to this one, there’s a huge difference. You’ve grown exponentially even in this past month and a half. I won’t expect anything less from you, now, though.” As he spoke, you had leaned closer and looked over his shoulder, watching as his fingers point to what he was speaking about. He’s not looking at you but he feels your presence and how close in proximity you are to him; one wrong move and his lips would be on yours. Your fingers genuinely brush against his arm by accident, but the gentle touch seems to catch him off guard. He looks up at you, faces too close.

“God, I - shit. Are you sure?” There’s overwhelming hesitation in his voice, lazily blinking at you as you nod, murmuring a yes, please.

“Fuck,” he curses, “I really shouldn’t do this.” His eyes keep flickering between your eyes and mouth, his tongue darting out to lick across his lips.

“You can ask for advice later?” You offer, carefully reading Mr. Dobrik’s worried expressions.

“Yeah. I can. I just thought you didn't want to-,” you roll your eyes, taking initiative and leaning in because if you didn’t, he never would.

It’s a deep, timid kiss, your heads tilting as you pause briefly, your hands finding their home on his chest. For a second, you get an inkling Mr. Dobrik is going to lean out and act like it never happened, but he breathes in slowly (nervously, it seems) and leans in this time, one hand moving to your cheek.

Mr. Dobrik had been completely aware of your attraction to him from the first day, and although he hated the fact, it had been reciprocated. He never wanted his actions to reflect that, though, considering he actually liked his job for once. He had, in turn, resorted to light teasing, too much eye contact, and wandering eyes, feeling as though you always knew of his intent. He feels slightly guilty now, that you believed you were misreading everything he had done, but there's now no point in worrying about it. You know he’s attracted to you now as his tongue slides slowly against yours, one hand remaining on your cheek, the other on your waist. One of your hands have found its hold in his tie, tugging lightly on it to pull him closer. The other is on his cheek, fingers running over his stubble and down his neck, over his Adam’s apple and eventually gripping at the collar of his white dress shirt, undoing the top button before he gently pushes you away, standing.

Both of your cheeks are flushed as you look at each other, Mr. Dobrik clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair.

“Um. Can you come see me after school, sweetheart? Do you have something going on?”

“Umm, I was gonna take my friends home and get ready with them for the game, but-.”

“You don’t have to cancel your plans for me.”

“I’ll just tell them to hang around campus for a little bit, that I’m talking to another teacher?” Your voice is dripping with a strive for his approval, although you’re uneasy. He nods slowly.

“Okay. Sure. The bell’s about to ring, so, um, here’s your essay.” It’s awkward now, and you want to kiss him goodbye as his fingers move to button his shirt again, undoing your work.

“Thanks.” He nods, cursing himself under his breath before leaning in once more. He kisses you deeply, doing the work for you, before pulling away what feels like too quickly.

“I’ll see you later, hun.” You nod, not meeting his eyes as you grab your belongings and make your way out of his room, making sure he pays attention to the sway of your ass.

Mr. Dobrik’s pissed off at himself.

[klynn-stormz]

Legally Swan

I’m back! I finally finshed this chapter, sorry it took me so long. I’ve already started on chapter 5 so that should be up next sunday (cross your fingers) anyway, this chapter might be a little shorter because I ended up splitting up part of it into chapter 5. Here is Emma’s first day at Harvard. Let me know what you think!!

Can also be found on AO3: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4

Chapter 4

If Emma hadn’t looked at the map a million times she would have been lost. While the buildings weren’t as spread out as they could have been, it was definitely confusing to figure out which building was which. Her first few classes were close to each other; the Austin building and Hastings and the last class was across the campus in Everett. Once she got to the classroom so lingered outside, she was half an hour early, not wanting to be late on her first day. Without much to do, she settled against the wall and opened her book, wanting to make sure she was prepared one final time, for any questions that came her way.

She heard him laugh from down that hall, and her body froze, she recognized that laugh, Neal. Her heart began pounding as she tried to remember the plan. Stick with the plan, her mind shouted, while the rest of her wanted to leap up and talk to him right away. No! Let him come to you, she reminded herself. She wasn’t desperate, she was proving herself capable. She moved her focus back to her book, while reading over an Aristotle quote and trying to figure out what it could mean, a voice, his voice spoke.

“Emma?” Neal asked incredulously.

She looked up from her book and let the shock of seeing him show on her face. She honestly thought he might ignore her for a little bit, it was such a Neal thing to do. Pretend you weren’t there until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, but he went straight to the point.

“What are you doing here Ems?” He asked, looking so confused she almost wanted to laugh.

“Oh, I go here.” She responded as calmly and nonchalantly as she could.

“You go here? You… Emma Swan… got into Harvard?” The disbelief in his voice put her defenses up.

“What, like it’s hard? Anyway I have to go, I have class in ten minutes.” She made it sound derisive and tired for his usual condescending tone. She would have walked away right there, had he not grabbed her arm to keep her talking.

“You… you, Emma Swan. Are going to become a lawyer? And you think you can really do that. Really?” He was laughing in disbelief and she felt a surge of anger swell in her. She had known he hadn’t believed she was smart, but the condescending tone was too much. The voice in her head was screaming. End the conversation, end it and walk away, her mind chanted. She turned and walked into Law and Ethics with Professor Arendale. You knew he thought you were dumb, she reminded herself; you’re here to prove him wrong. — To say Professor Elsa Arendale was intimidating was an understatement. She stood at the front of the class with an unreadable expression, as students filled the seats. Her cool blue eyes took in the classroom with an icy chill. The Professor’s white blonde hair was pulled into a severe bun on top of her head, she wore a black pantsuit that gave her lean body longer lines, and heels the color of her eyes with stiletto points. Emma found a seat closer to the door, not in front but not in the very back, she didn’t want to seem too eager to learn, nor did she want to convey that she didn’t care. She had spent hours figuring out the best spot to sit in all of her classes. Killian had certainly helped her make the final decisions. She shoved him out of her mind for the moment; she could not be distracted. Quickly she pulled out her notebook and turned her textbook to the page listed on the board. Everyone around her was pulling out laptops, and suddenly she felt underprepared. Her laptop was an old one she’d had since high school. Ingrid had tried to get her a new one but she clung to this one pretty hard. There was no way it could handle going to all of her classes.

The clock hit 7am and the professor moved from her position to pace the length of the classroom. Everyone fell silent, watching her with equal parts nerves and intrigue. Silently she turned to the board and began to write. The Law is reason, free from passion. When she had finished writing she surveyed the room and finally spoke.

“Can anyone in this room tell me who said this famous quote?” Her voice was a cool as the rest of her.

A few hands shot up, one more eager than the rest. He was a quirky looking man, curly brown hair down to his shoulders, a small nose and thick eyeliner around his eyes. He wore tan kakis (like most of the population there), a white button-down dress shirt with a purple plaid vest over it, but the most striking of his features was the top hat he wore on his head. It was the same color as his pants, with a ribbon folding over it in the same color as the vest. Emma was impressed with ingenuity in the matching clothes, for anyone else it might have looked laughable, but on him it worked perfectly. The professor didn’t blink an eye at his outfit, merely pointing to him to answer.

“Aristotle said that.”

“Are you sure?” Professor Arendale asked?

“Um—Yes ma’am.” He seemed to falter at being questioned.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

“Jefferson Hatter.”

“Alright Jefferson, you are absolutely certain of your answer?” She asked again, when he nodded a little nervously, she continued. “Would you be willing to stake your life on it? What about the lives of your classmates?”

The question threw him, and everyone else, off. “Um— I…” Now at a loss for words, Jefferson sat back.

Professor Arendale smiled at him. “You are correct, by the way.” At his sigh of relief, she chuckled and moved back to the board.

“Throughout the rest of this semester, and hopefully the rest of your schooling, you will be contemplating what this quote means. I will not be telling you what to think, nor what to believe. You’re first assignment will be to write a five-page essay on what you believe this quote means. I expect you to be ready with your paper by the next time we meet.”

That froze Emma for a moment, a day, just one day to write a five-page paper? She was so screwed. Class went by quickly after that, with everyone typing—or writing in Emma’s case—as fast as they could, trying to keep up with all the phrases and information thrown at them. Her mind was whirling with all the new information, but for some reason, even as she felt the stress and nerves, she was loving it. Okay maybe she wasn’t loving the homework aspect, but what she was learning was fascinating.

Legal Research as also fascinating. As she learned what information was necessary for suits, where to find information, and the best way to put it together. She did receive as much homework for that class, but it was still a bit, luckily it wasn’t due until the next week. That class passed quickly as well. She had a little bit of a break before her next class, so she found a bench in the courtyard to just sit on and people watch. It helped relax her mind and gave her a moment to go over everything she learned and start filing it away. Someone sat down on the bench perpendicular to her, causing her to glance up, then double take. It was Killian, from the bar.

“Hey, Killian right?” She asked tentatively. He looked up at her and grinned.

“Emma! Fancy running into you here.” He teased. She smiled slightly, relieved at finding a familiar face. “How are you doing lo—Swan?”

“You’re learning.” Emma laughed. “Good for my first day, two classes done and one more to go. I already have homework up to my eyeballs thought.”

“Welcome to law school.” He replied cheerfully. “If you need any help let me know. I’m a TA for two of the classes here, and a part time intern as well.”

“Thanks, but I can take care of—“ He cut her off.

“Of yourself, I know Swan. It’s just an offer. Who’s this little guy?” How was he so aware of her that he knew when to change the conversation.

Henry had come with her, as her service animal she could bring him anywhere with her, he had his own little purse that she carried him in for when she had to go places that normally wouldn’t allow dogs, not many people noticed him and that meant less confrontations. Killian saw his service animal harness and asked if he was working, she nodded and rather than trying to pet him he began to ask questions about her day.

She moved to the same bench he was on and they talked for the next few minutes over classes and homework. How did she feel so comfortable talking to him? Even with Neal she always felt on edge talking about things she enjoyed. And she normally let him lead the conversation, so it rarely turned towards her. Killian was different, he was constantly asking her questions about herself—granted she did sidestep most of them—and made her laugh. She was still wary of him, not quite sure why he would want to talk to her, but he was funny and definitely not creepy like a few of the guys there. They were having a conversation about Marvel, Emma having seen his Iron Man sticker on the inside of the backpack he had, when a throat cleared behind them.

“Ems.” She turned and saw Neal, who was glaring at Killian.

“Neal, hi.” She tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Can we talk a moment?” He asked, still glaring.

“Um, sure.” She turned to Killian. She didn’t want to leave him hanging to talk to Neal. “I’ll see you later yeah?” Once he nodded, she turned back to Neal and waited for him to speak.

“I wanted to apologize for the way I acted this morning.” He gave her a half grin that looked more like he was cringing at his apology than anything else. “You just took me off guard. I never expected to see you here.”

“It seems you didn’t expect a lot of thing from me.” Emma said, not giving an inch, and trying really hard not to cave back into flirting with him. If she was going to prove anything to him and make him respect her, it was certainly not going to be by being the giggly blonde he thought she was.

“Anyway, I was hoping we could catch up and talk.” He looked hopeful and even a little… well flirtatious. Emma really didn’t expect him to do this right away. She opened her mouth to agree, encouraged by they way his hand lingered on her shoulder and the gleam in his eyes.

“Neal! Sweetheart!” A woman’s voice pierced through the haze, Emma turned towards the sound and her heart dropped. Her skin was a beautiful hue of smooth chocolate, her long black hair was twisted into a bun at the base of her neck, with a few loose hairs falling around her face, she was tall and curvy, her smile blasted at Neal like a lighthouse signaling a lost ship. Taking her in, Emma felt small and insignificant.

“Tamara!” Neal grabbed the back up his neck and glanced between the two of them. Tamara didn’t even glance at Emma, her full attention on Neal.

“I’m done with classes for the day!” She looped her arm through Neal’s and began to talk. “Most of the classes were pretty boring, but of course Professor Arendale is my favorite, she doesn’t take any shit. And oh my gosh you wouldn’t believe it, there was this blonde girl in my class that was totally not dressed appropriately, she was wearing a red leather jacket and heels. Heels Neal! I mean she didn’t even bring a laptop or tablet to class. She definitely won’t last long.” Emma cleared her throat; aware Tamara was talking about her. When she turned to look at Emma, she looked affronted.

“Oh, you’re the girl, Neal this is the girl I was talking about!”

“Tamara, this is Emma Swan, my—” Neal began and trailed off, not sure where to go from there.

“Oh, Emma Swan, you’re the college girl Neal dumped. What are you even doing here?” The snobbish tone to Tamara’s voice set Emma further on edge.

“Um Emma,” Neal hesitated. “This is Tamara, we knew each other growing up and well—” Tamara cut him off.

“We met up again a few summers ago and now we’re engaged.” She practically shoved her left hand in Emma’s face. She recognized the ring immediately. It was Neal’s grandmother’s ring, he had showed her once, saying how it would be the ring he would use for his future wife. She had thought it was a hint at the time, she was wrong. Then Emma clicked into the rest of what Tamara had said.

“How long have you been together?” Emma asked, anger rising.

“Emma, calm down.” Neal responded.

“Of a few years now.” Tamara grinned. “You really shouldn’t be angry; I mean it’s not like you two were together anyway. And even if you were, well it’s not important.” She shrugged and looked at Neal. “Are we going to go eat?” Neal let her tug him away.

Emma stood there watching them go, feeling equal parts stupid, and ashamed. She could feel the anxiety rising, so she picked up her bag, where Henry had been quietly laying, and ran.

[trash-the-tozier]

Dog Days (3/7)

Title: Dog Days

Length: ~36.6k words (5.8k for this part)

Summary: Richie Tozier is twenty years old, over halfway through a Chemistry degree at the University of Maine, and in love with his best friend and roommate, Stanley Uris. And he figures that it’s fine, with no cause for change, until he finds an injured puppy near his apartment.

Warnings: Explicit language, small amounts of smoking/drinking, mentions of animal abuse (the animal stuff is all about the injured puppy, it’s not like… a recurring theme or smthn, it’s a cute fic I promise)

Pairings: Stan/Richie, background Ben/Beverly

A/N:  An additional warning for this chapter is vague mentions of animal abuse i'm not great at writing arguments so sorry in advance if it's not great lol Huge thank you to everyone reading! ♡ Previous Parts: 1 | 2 also posted to ao3 here tagging: @80s-kaspbrak, @sunshinestanley, @tiny-tea (hmu if you want to be tagged!)

“So she's okay then?” Ben asked, starting up his car.

“She's as okay as a dog can be with a broken leg and one less eye than usual.” Richie answered. “She made it through the surgery fine, but they told me they weren't sure if she would make it through the night. I called this morning to ask, and she's still alive. They said I could visit her.”

“You're not skipping class are you?” Ben sounded rather reproachful. Richie gave him a look.

“First of all, class is so unimportant right now.” Richie insisted, but when Ben raised his eyebrows he sighed. “But no, I'm not skipping. I went to class! Got a solid B on that Steinbeck essay and everything.”

That satisfied Ben, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road.

“You got a B, and you didn't read the book or proofread the essay. Think of what you could do if you just applied yourself!” Ben said. Richie rolled his eyes.

“You sound like my middle school history teacher. I don't need to apply myself. I have Stanley. He accepts my shortcomings and enables my laziness.”

“Where is Stan, anyway? Why isn't he taking you? I thought this dog was you guys’ thing.”

Richie shrugged a little.

“He's got work. Plus, I wanted to hang out with you, Haystack.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes, Richie pointing out which turns to take.

“Hey…” Ben's voice was hesitant. “It's not a big dog, right?”

Richie shook his head.

“Nah. You could like… Fit her in a bucket, or something.”

“Buckets are so many different sizes. That doesn't help at all.”

Richie tried to explain the size of the puppy, but it was very difficult with Ben's refusal to look over at his hand gestures while he was driving. Regardless, he kept asking, Richie frowning and turning to him once they'd stopped in the parking lot.

“Are you alright dude?”

Ben climbed out of the car before answering, Richie quickly following suit. Ben avoided Richie's eyes, speaking fast.

“It's probably not the best time to tell you, but… I got bitten by a dog when I was younger. They make me a little nervous.”

“Oh. Don't worry about it!” Richie told him, hoping that he was coming across as reassuring instead of dismissive. “She's a half blind cripple. But if she tries anything, I'll protect you.”

“Thanks.” Ben wasn't nearly as sarcastic as Richie expected from an answer like that, making him a bit worried about how this was going to go. The receptionist that greeted them recognized him, smiling when they walked in.

“You're here for a visit?” She asked pleasantly.

“Yes please.”

“And will your boyfriend be coming as well or is it just the two of you today?”

“...sorry?” Richie thought for sure he'd misheard her, but she began to look just as confused as he felt.

“The young man with you yesterday? The one that…”

Then they both seemed to have revelations at the same moment. Richie realized she was talking about Stan, and she realized that she'd made a mistake.

“I'm so sorry, I just assumed, I shouldn't have--” She began, as Richie bit down hard on the inside of his cheek.

“No!” He said quickly. “No, it's fine. Yeah. My, um… My boyfriend isn't coming. He's at work.”

She simply nodded a bit, getting up to go find someone. Calling Stan his boyfriend put a little excited jump in his chest, the feeling making his leg bounce as he sat next to Ben in the waiting room.

“You just lied to her.” Been accused in a hushed voice.

“She doesn't know that. Nobody knows but you.”

“You have to tell Stanley, at least.”

That was possibly the worst idea Richie had ever heard.

“But Ben, the receptionist thought we were dating. Which means we acted like we were dating. So maybe, if I can get enough people to think we're together, he'll just get the hint and it won't matter that I'm too chickenshit to actually say anything.”

“That's the worst idea I've ever heard.” Ben said. “What are you trying to do, trap him in a common law marriage or something?”

Richie had no idea what that meant. The pointed look he was getting was enough to tell him that it probably wasn't a good thing, though.

“Stan is going to come here, and someone will say something to him about it, and I promise you that he will find it really weird that you lied and said the two of you were dating.”

“What, know that from experience do you?” When Ben did nothing but give him a look, Richie sighed. “Fine! I'll tell Stan. You suck the fun out of everything. You're a fun sucker, Benjamin. Wait, no, that makes it sound like I'm complimenting you.”

Ben snorted back a laugh, a veterinary technician Richie recognized from yesterday approaching them and calling them back. They were led to examination room one this time and it was already set up, a large blanket on the floor. The puppy was lying there, a second technician sitting on the floor next to her, gently stroking her back. Richie held in a gasp.

She had a cone on her head. All of the hair on the right side of her face had been shaved, revealing multiple sets of stitches, including some across her right eyelids that sealed the useless eye shut. She had a hard cast around her broken back leg, and it was covered in pink and blue medical bandages. As soon as she looked up at Richie and Ben, her tail began to wag.

“Hi.” Richie said softly, barely able to believe it. She was alive, her brown eye big and bright as she looked at him, moving and breathing and everything. He almost wanted to cry, leaning down and extending his hand for her to smell him. Once she did her tail began wagging much faster, struggling against the blankets in an effort to get up, whining in excitement.

“Look at that!” The technician said happily. “She recognizes you.”

“She does?” Richie had to swallow, and blink a couple of times.

“Of course, look at how happy she is.”

“Could… Could I hold her?”

“Yes, just be careful.”

Nodding, Richie sat and crossed his legs, reaching towards the puppy. She tried desperately to lick his hands as he scooped her up, placing her down in his lap. She wriggled around a little, still trying to lick him. She calmed a bit when he began to pet her, but her tail didn't slow down. She was so soft and warm and affectionate, Richie torn between lying still to keep her comfortable and smothering her fluffy body in kisses.

“She's on a lot of pain medication, so she should calm down quickly.” The technician said, and it took Richie a moment to realize that she was talking to Ben, who had his back pressed against the door.

“Do you want to pet her?” Richie offered.

“In a minute.”

Not wanting to press him, Richie turned to the technician.

“How’s she doing?”

“She's determined. We've been keeping a close eye on her, but she's been eating well and there haven't been any signs of infection, so it looks like she'll be alright.”

Richie let out a long breath of relief. The puppy was going to be okay. He held her up under her front legs, bringing her face to his, and she shoved their foreheads together, licking at his cheeks and nose as her tail wagged furiously. He felt a rush in his chest, a smile on his face that he couldn't contain even if he tried. He scooped her up completely and held her closer, pressing his face into the fur on her back.

“Oh my god, I love her so much.” He mumbled, the technician giving him a gentle smile in return.

“It's pretty plain to see that she loves you too.”

“How old is she?” Ben asked, stepping forward and sitting down with them, about an arm’s length away.

“Well, since she's just shy of twenty pounds, we're guessing that she's around eight weeks old, though she may simply be malnouished.”

“Wait, what? Eight weeks?” The puppy was bigger than some terriers Richie had met; he didn't expect her to be so new to the world.

“Yes. She seems to be on the small side for her breed, though it is a little early to tell.”

“Small side?” Ben echoed. “What breed of dog is she?”

The technician glanced between them both, and Richie knew he looked about as surprised as Ben did.

“You have what looks to be a purebred Leonberger puppy.” She said. “They sell for around two thousand dollars. It's quite amazing that you managed to find one.”

Richie gaped down at the puppy in his lap. He didn't know what a Leonberger was, but the price alone was impressive. He made a mental note to google it later, and after a bit more talking--Ben, at one point, even reaching over to pet her--it was time to say goodbye.

“How much longer will she have to be hospitalized?” Richie asked.

“Only a couple of days.” The technician responded, in an assuaging sort of tone. “We don't want to keep the two of you apart for too long.”

“Oh, I…” Richie opened his mouth to correct her, remembering what Stan had said. But even voicing the idea that she couldn't come home with him sent a sick jolt through Richie's stomach. He wanted to keep her. He had to. She knew him, and trusted him, relaxed and content in his lap. The thought of moving her just to stand up made his chest ache. “Yeah.”

“Maybe next week, when you come in for the second payment for her treatment. I can show you how to give her medications, and you can take her home with you.”

Richie nodded fervently. Then it really was time to go, the puppy beginning to whine as soon as Richie moved her, pawing at him and even catching the fabric of his shirt between her teeth.

“No.” The vet technician reprimanded. She continued in a gentler voice. “He'll come back soon. Don't worry.”

Richie and Ben left, Richie feeling like he was leaving a part of his heart behind.

He pulled out his phone as soon as they were on the road, looking up what a Leonberger was. When he saw a fully grown one, his eyes went wide.

“Oh, shit.”

“What?” Ben asked.

“These dogs are fucking huge.”

“How huge is huge?”

“Like… Like a hundred and thirty pounds, huge. High energy, hard to train, headstrong… Apparently they can be drooly and will shed everywhere.”

Ben sent him a quick glance, his eyes full of uncertainty.

“And you're sure you can keep her, Richie?”

“Yes.”

Richie wasn’t sure at all, but that didn't matter. He was going to fight to take her home with all he had.

Ben dropped him off in front of the apartment. Richie spotted Stan’s car in the parking lot, meaning he was home now, and he took a breath. Squaring his shoulders, he entered the apartment.

Stan was in the kitchen, in the middle of filling a glass of water when Richie came in. He turned off the tap and glanced over, giving him a smile.

“Oh, hey.” Stan was in casual jeans and a t-shirt, his curls only slightly out of control, tucked behind his ear on one side with his bangs falling in his face. He took a quick drink of water, and managed to look incredible while doing it, a couple of curse words going off in Richie's head. “Did you go and visit her? How is she?”

“She’s… She’s perfect, Stan.”

“Yeah? That’s good.” Stan smiled a little, looking genuinely glad to hear the news, walking over to the couch. It had homework spread out all over the cushions, Stan collecting his things together to give Richie a place to sit.

“I mean, they really did remove her eye.” Richie continued as he went over to the couch. “And she can’t really walk because of the cast on her leg, but she remembered me. She got in my lap, and kept licking me and wagging her tail.”

“Yeah, you saved her life.”

“So did you.” Richie told him. Stan shrugged a little, but there was a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“When will she be able to leave the hospital?” Stan asked. The wording of the question wasn’t lost on Richie, who glanced away.

“In about a week, they said. When we go in for the second payment for her treatment, we can take her home.”

Richie's wording wasn't lost on Stan either. His pencil paused, and a moment later he put it down.

“We can't keep her.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that. Why?”

Stan looked at him for a moment, his expression slightly incredulous.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. Why can't we keep her?”

It took Stan a moment to speak.

“We live in a pet-free apartment, for one thing. We're not allowed to have anything more than a couple fish.”

“Oh come on Stanley, we both know that rule is bullshit.” When Stan didn't agree, Richie continued. “What about the girl down the hall with three cats? Or the guy below us that owns a turtle?”

“Sure, but remember the girl across from us with the bird? She got kicked out.”

Richie waved a dismissive hand.

“That's because the bird was loud.”

“Exactly, and a dog is going to be a lot louder than a bird, Richie.”

“Come on Stan, we kept a pigeon here like all winter last year because you wanted to.”

“No, because it was injured.” Stan countered, Richie looking at him and widening his eyes a bit.

“So is my puppy. Stan, I know you don't separate out the recycling properly. Don't try to pretend you're above the law.”

Stan rolled his eyes, but Richie could tell that there was more to his argument than apartment rules.

“Well?”

“A puppy is like… Is like a baby, Richie. You're not ready to be a father.”

“I'm great with kids! I was Georgie's favorite, back in the day.”

“That's because you are a kid.”

“And you're a grumpy old man that wears the waistband of his pants up over his belly button. We'll balance out perfectly.”

“Richie--”

“I can figure it out, Stan. I know I can keep her alive, and I'll learn the rest along the way.”

“That statement right there is why this is a terrible idea.”

“She loves me, and I'm committed. I can't just abandon her because I'm ‘not ready’. We're going to work it out.”

Stan just looked at him for a moment, then gave a small shake of his head, turning back to his homework. The dismissiveness irked Richie, especially when he could feel that there was still something Stan wasn't telling him.

“I'm going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?”

“The real reason.”

Stan pursed his lips, eyes fixed pointedly on the notebook in front of him.

“Do you not like dogs?” When Stan didn't answer, Richie stroked an invisible goatee, pretending to think. “Of course not. Everybody likes dogs. Not liking dogs would be like being afraid of love. Is that it? Are you afraid of love?”

“Richie, please.” Stan's expression had turned into more of a grimace. Richie turned up the dramatics.

“Why, Stanley? Why are you afraid of love?”

“For the love of--” Stan cut himself off in the middle of a slew of angry words and threw his pencil at Richie, who jumped up to avoid getting hit. He danced around the coffee table.

“Is it because she's missing an eye? Did you have a traumatic experience with a cyclops as a child?”

“She’s too fucking expensive!” Richie didn't expect Stan to raise his voice or jump to his feet, but he was standing there, fists clenched and eyes blazing. Richie took a step back. “I know, thinking about money when it's a decision about whether or not a puppy can have a home makes me a heartless bastard, but it's something we need to do.”

“Stan, you're just focusing on--”

“I'm focusing on reality!” Stan barely stopped to breathe, let alone give Richie enough time to get a word in. “If we can't even pay for her surgery, how are we supposed to pay for her vaccinations and her food and everything else she needs? On top of that, the because of all the stuff that's wrong with her, what if she needs physical therapy or something? We can't…”

Richie faltered for a moment. Sure, the hospital bills would be a struggle for a little while, but it was a one time thing. He frowned.

“What if she were a normal dog, Stan?” He asked. “Just a happy, healthy puppy that I wanted to give a home to? Would you say yes then?”

Stan floundered for a moment, wringing his hands.

“I mean, I… I guess so, it's just… She's just so broken Richie, you said that she can't walk--”

“Broken?” Richie felt a sick twist in his stomach. “That's what this is about?”

“Rich--”

“Fuck Stanley, she was abused! So was I! And you were too, unless you've decided to ignore all the shit we went through in Derry. Where the hell would Beverly be if we'd decided to give up on her like this after she told is about her dad?”

“That's not--”

“Once the hospital bills are over and done with, then that's it. She'll cost as much as a normal dog. But she's been messed up, and now you don't want her?”

“Richie!” Stan’s eyes flashed. “Would you just fucking listen to me? It’s not that I don’t want her because she’s broken. I don’t want her because she’s broken, and we don’t have enough money to fix her. And while we’re in college with minimum wage jobs, we never will.”

Richie couldn’t really focus on Stan’s words, too hung up on the phrase Stan had felt the need to say twice. I don't want her.

“Either way, you don’t want her.” Richie met Stan’s eyes, seeing something slightly pleading behind all the agitation, and he had to look away. He was too angry to be sympathetic; too indignant to be understanding. Agitated and upset, he began moving towards the door. “I’ll move out if that'll make you happy, but fuck you Stan. I’m keeping her. Use whatever excuse you want.”

He was out the door before Stan even opened his mouth, slamming it behind him. It was incredibly windy outside, whipping his hair into his face. He didn't need to see where he was going, his feet carrying him off automatically towards the trees away from campus. His legs moved fast but it didn't serve to calm him much, even when he'd traveled past the creek and downstream. He pulled out his phone, calling the first number that came to mind, speaking as soon as the line was picked up.

“Eddie, I'm in love with you now. Stan is dead to me.”

Eddie laughed a little.

“Hey Richie.”

Richie let out a long, loud sigh, prompting Eddie to tell him to shut up and stop breathing in his ear. It wasn't the response Richie was looking for.

“No! You're supposed to ask me what's wrong and be super sympathetic to whatever I have to say!”

“If that's what you want, then why the fuck did you call me?”

“I thought you were my best friend in the whole wide world, but I guess I should have known better. You abandoned us and moved away.”

“Shut up. Just tell me what Stan did that's making you so melodramatic.”

Richie did. He explained the entire situation and his own outrage, with an emphasis on just how wrong Stan was. Eddie was quiet for a few moments.

“Stan's right, you know.”

“...what? Are you serious?”

“Maybe not as much about the money thing, but about everything else.”

“But--”

“Think about it. Like, actually think about it. You might be able to get away with hiding her if she were a small dog, but she's not. She's going to get really big, right? She deserves at least a backyard, but you'd have to smuggle her around everywhere. It wouldn't be fair.”

Richie bit the inside of his cheek.

“Okay, but--”

“Plus, I looked it up while you were talking, and this dog breed isn't recommended for first time owners. You'll have to be really strict with the discipline or she'll destroy your house, and offense, but you can't discipline anything. You almost got kicked out of Six Flags once because you couldn't say no to Georgie.”

“Did you just say 'offense’ instead of 'no offense’?”

“You’ve just got to think about this stuff, that's all. She's not just going to be kicked out onto the streets if you don't adopt her, you know. There are rescue groups and stuff, people that would be able to take care of her.”

“I know, but I just…” Richie knew the words about to come from his mouth were incredibly childish, but he said them anyway. “I want her. I feel like if I don't take care of her myself I'm going to regret it.”

“I know. I'm just saying, Richie. That is stuff you do actually have to think about.”

"Yeah, I guess.” Richie sighed, kicking up some grass as he walked. He was farther out into the woods than he'd ever gone before; it would probably be smart to start heading back. “If it were you and me, would you let me keep her?”

“I mean yeah, probably. We’re both fucking stupid, aren’t we?” He fell silent. “Bill definitely would. Mike too. And Beverly. Hell, Richie, you messed up. Probably all of us would but Stan.”

“Just my fucking luck. Figures.”

Silence fell between them for a moment, and in the quiet Richie realized he could hear something.

“Richie, hey--”

“Shut up.”

Eddie made a small, indignant noise at being hushed.

“You just--”

“Seriously, shut up for a second.”

Eddie did, though not without complaint. Richie walked in what he thought was the direction of the noise, shushing Eddie whenever his friend tried to speak. Finally though, he could hear it distinctly. Barking, howling, whining. Not just one dog though, like the time he’d found the puppy in the creek; lots of dogs, more than he could distinguish. Eddie heard it too.

“Richie? Where are you right now?”

Richie broke through a patch of trees, then stopped in his tracks.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m looking at.” He answered. He felt sick to his stomach.

“Yeah, and I don’t either. This is a phone call, genius.”

Removing his phone from his ear, Richie took a quick picture. Twenty or so feet ahead of him was a mess of crates, all stacked and stuck together, made of wooden boards and chicken wire. Dogs were crammed into all of them, many of the spaces looking much too small, and all of them were in bad shape, dirty and cramped, some even looking malnourished. It was like a compound, a whole operation full of abused animals.

Afraid and unwilling to look much longer, Richie stumbled backwards into the trees, turning immediately to start home.

“Woah.” Eddie mumbled. “Fuck. So… I think you just found a puppy mill, Richie. That makes sense, I guess. I don’t know how else you would be able to find a purebred puppy in the middle of the woods.”

The apartment was empty when Richie returned. He wasn’t really angry at Stan anymore, too shocked and unsettled by his discovery, but he was grateful anyways. He was still unsure of how he would react if he did see Stanley. Grabbing his computer from the coffee table, Richie holed himself up in his bedroom, lying down on his bed. All it took was a simple google search to confirm that what he’d seen was indeed a puppy mill, but to his disbelief, found that puppy mills weren’t illegal. Frowned upon, sure, and supposedly regulated, but not illegal.

When Richie cautiously emerged from his room to get something for dinner that evening, Stan still wasn’t there. He pulled his phone out, debating with himself for a full twenty minutes before sending a text.

To: S(a)tan Where are you?

From: S(a)tan Out.

Ouch. Okay. Richie went back to his room. He heard Stan come back sometime later in the evening, but didn’t try to say hi. Stan was off to class before Richie woke the next morning, and before it was time for him to return, Richie had to leave for work. But he was afraid to return home and see Stan there, accepting a second shift that someone needed covered. By the time he finally headed back, he was so exhausted that he forgot to be nervous, half expecting the place to be empty again.

No such luck; Stan was sitting on the couch, as much anxiety on his face as was buzzing in Richie's chest, his phone in one hand and an envelope in the other. Richie swallowed, kicking off his shoes and entering the kitchen on sock-clad feet. He wasn't going into the living room.

“Stan the Man. Hey.”

“You're, um…” Stan looked away from him. “You're late.”

“Yeah, someone needed a shift covered.” He decided to try and break the tension, unable to stand the awkwardness in the room. “Why? Didn't keep you waiting, did I?”

He tried to make his voice playful, but didn't even get a smile back, his heart sinking. Instead Stan got to his feet to approach him, and Richie resisted the urge to take a step back.

“Richie, I--”

“Stan, no.” Richie held his hands up. “I don't want you to apologize. I get it.”

“...what?”

“I called Eddie yesterday, and he talked some sense into me. And I must have been really irrational, because we all know how sensible and down to earth Eddie is.” Richie smiled a bit, but still Stan’s face was unchanged. “So I kinda see what you mean, about not being able to keep her. I still want to, but that might not be best for her, you know?”

Stan’s face relaxed into something a little sympathetic.

“I… Yeah. I don't think it would.” Stan looked away from him. “But that's not what I wanted to talk about.”

That had Richie frowning.

“What's up?”

Wordlessly, Stan handed the envelope over. It was unmarked and hadn’t been sealed, the top flap simply folded inside. Upon holding it, Richie had a feeling he could tell what was in it, but wasn't sure he believed it.

“Stan… What is this?”

“Well, I decided that if there were going to be problems between us about this, I didn’t want them to be about money. So I called the other Losers, and…”

Suspicions more or less confirmed, Richie opened the envelope. It was full of money from all of their friends. Not as much as they needed to completely pay off the hospital bills, but enough to buy them time to gather the rest of it on their own.

“Stan, no.” Richie felt his voice breaking. “I can’t take this, it’s…”

“They insisted. They wanted to help.”

“But--”

“I talked to them, and they could tell how much she means to you.”

A lump was welling up in Richie’s throat and he pulled Stan into a hug, feeling overwhelmed by the unexpected gesture.

“I called people yesterday, and they wired money over to me last night and this morning.” Stan explained. Richie leaned back, wiping furiously at his eyes.

“You need to tell me.” He insisted. “You need to tell me who did what. I have to pay them back.”

“No. Not at all.”

“If you don't tell me, I promise you right now that Crazy Frog is the only music you will listen to for the rest of your life.” Normally Richie would be all for free money, but the amount being near two thousand made him uneasy.

“You’re threatening me? After I've done something nice for you?” Stan's eyebrows were raised, but he looked amused. “Completely outrageous.”

Richie was pulling out his phone, in the middle of looking up Crazy Frog when Stan stopped his arm, laughing a little.

“Five hundred of it was me, okay? Does that make you feel better?”

“I…” Richie did some quick math in his head. “A little, yeah. Where were you keeping that much money stashed away?”

“I've been saving up.” Stan responded with a shrug.

“For what?”

“How many times have I said that we need a TV?”

“Oh by golly!” Richie adopted a high pitched southern accent, clasping his hands together and leaning towards Stanley. “You were going to buy me a TV?”

“That is a gross exaggeration, but yes.” Stan said. “I'm tired of watching stuff on tiny laptop screens.”

Stan had voiced that desire multiple times, Richie nodding a bit.

“I'll allow it!” He allotted, Stan rolling his eyes. “But only if a bigger screen doesn't cut into cuddle time during movie nights.”

It was the first time any acknowledgement had been made to their increasing proximity when sitting together on the couch, and Richie wondered if mentioning it had been a mistake. Then Stan's cheeks went pink, and he felt rather proud of himself instead.

“We don't watch movies.” Stan countered, seemingly determined to ignore the blush on his face. “We just watch television shows.”

“But we could have a movie night.” Richie said. “Let's do that! What do you want to watch?”

After some debate they ended up settling on Moulin Rouge, though Richie was unsure of how they got there. They sat awkwardly apart from each other on the couch as the movie started, Stan looking self-conscious, Richie getting up after a few minutes to make popcorn. He didn't really want popcorn, but getting up for it gave him the opportunity to run and make a crash landing back down on the couch, half sprawled not-so-accidentally in Stan's lap. He moved around unnecessarily, wriggling and stretching under the guise of getting comfortable until Stan began to complain at him. Richie ended up lengthwise across the couch with his head on Stan's thighs, but when he moved to sit up there was a hand on his shoulder, casual but insistent, so he stayed, slowly turning his attention back to the screen.

“Hold up, you never told me Professor Slughorn was in this movie!” He exclaimed, pointing at an actor that he didn't know the name of with rather terrible ginger facial hair. Stan glanced down at him.

“Have you never seen Moulin Rouge?”

Richie shook his head innocently.

“Then you'd better pay attention.”

The inane amounts of colors, sparkles, and dancing made that mission easy to accomplish. But Richie was a notorious talker and during movies was no exception, he and Stan discussing whether Ewan McGregor was hot or not, or if they would rather be a theater troupe member or a cabaret girl (Stan's answer of “cabaret girl” had Richie choking on a popcorn kernel). Every now and then Stan would run his fingers through his hair, the gesture seemingly absent-minded, and simple as it was, it made Richie's heart soar.

Stan ended up falling asleep during the depressing bit of the movie, just before the climax, and as a result Richie missed a lot of the ending. He just kept looking up at Stan's face, enjoying how relaxed he looked, especially since he spent so much of his waking hours stressed, exasperated, or sarcastic. Richie felt torn, part of him wanting to simply watch Stan sleep, part of him wanting to kiss him, and part of him knowing that both of those previous desires were creepy and that he should just go to bed. An immature part of him also  wanted to prank Stanley while he was so vulnerable, but with a great show of self-restraint on all fronts, option three won out. Well, almost. Richie took a picture of him first.

To: Lavagirl LOOK at him wtf I think we need to get staniel’s dna tested bc he cant be human I don't think it's possible for human beings to be this fucking pretty

Beverly's response took a couple of minutes.

From: Lavagirl Your compliments are so damn weird also wtf where are you what kind of vantage point is that

Richie held his phone at arm's length, taking a selfie that also had Stan's legs in the shot.

From: Lavagirl Nonconsensual lap laying is a crime, Richard.

To: Lavagirl Hey!!! who do you take me for it was consensual ok we were watching moulin rouge and he fell asleep

From: Lavagirl Gayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Richie couldn't argue with that.

From: Lavagirl Ben thinks it's gay too

To: Lavagirl Is ben doing that thing where he reads my texts over your shoulder? Bc he needs to stop that. Some things are meant to be private. Like the plans for his surprise birthday party last year.

From: Lavagirl We're in bed rn idk what you expect

That prompted a couple of mental images that Richie didn't want to have.

To: Lavagirl Did I interrupt the sexytimes? Sorry about that

From: Lavagirl Trust me rich there is not any universe in which I would stop just to answer a text from you You should see Ben's face right now he's SO red I love him

To: Lavagirl gross!!!!!!!!!

From: Lavagirl Whatever man at least I'm getting some instead of pining in the lap of the man I'm in love with

That one stung, just a little.

To: Lavagirl Watch yourself bev, I'm catching a big ol case of the Fuck You's

From: Lavagirl Well you can miss me with that shit bc I'm already on the train to Sleepytime Junction night night Richie

Richie sent her a heart back, then pulled himself to his feet with a sigh. He woke Stan, audibly cooing at the dazed and sleepy look on his face, more or less pushing the barely-awake object of his affections into his bedroom before going to his own. He crawled in bed, unwilling to go to sleep yet, sending a What's up? text to both Bill and Mike.

From: R-R-R-Rap God My art portfolio is fucking due next week and I fucking can't believe how hard Mike's nose is to fucking draw I'm going to fucking stab someone with a paintbrush

From: Black Lightning Not much. Do you ever think about how snakes just don't have arms?

Richie decided that maybe sleep was the best course of action after all.

[erikandariel]

How We Met: 3/3

Part 1 | Part 2 

Length: 6,091

Tuesday arrived more quickly than I wanted it to. This was partially because I never liked slogging through finals, but mostly it had to due with hanging out with Erik and Ariel that day. The three of us had agreed to meet up in the parking lot by my dorm a little after 11:15. Although I hadn’t told them that the dorm that the lot was next to was the one I lived in. I was honestly a bit proud of myself for thinking to have that extra layer of security in case things went badly. But before I went to look for them and their car, I stopped off at my room to switch out my book bag for my camera. Ana was sitting at their desk working on their last essay for finals. They were still sleeping when I left for my pre-test breakfast that morning, but now they were dressed and presentable as far as clothing and washing their face and such. I could tell that they were thinking hard when I entered the room because they looked like a human pretzel. They sat on one leg that was folded beneath their body and their other leg was bent and resting on the chair so that the knee was up by their shoulder. “How’s it going?” I teased. They transferred the pained expression that they have for their laptop’s screen to me. I partially mimicked the look in sympathy but said with some enthusiasm, “I believe in you!” “Thanks,” they sighed, already back to staring at their laptop. “Try not to pass out today, ya?” I rolled my eyes in mock annoyance. “You almost pass out all the time and then I go and do it once and you won’t let me live it down!” “Yup,” they snorted. And the important word there is ‘almost’.” I made a face to the back of their head as I set my book bag down. Then I grabbed the tube of sunscreen I had strategically placed on my desk and doused every inch of exposed skin with it. Then I put it in my camera bag before putting the bag’s strap over my head and on my shoulder so that it laid across my body. “Well I should get going and let you get back to work. Bye!” I made my hands into a heart shape and pointed it in their direction. Without looking away from their essay, they responded in kind. I giggled to myself as I headed out the door. As I walked down the steps from the 4th to the 1st floor, I checked my phone. It was 11:13 so I figured Erik and Ariel weren’t on campus yet, but would be soon. Knowing the people in our age group, I guessed it would be at least another five minutes. Which is why when I walked out the dorm’s front door I was surprised to hear an excited voice yell, “Hey Ken, we’re over here!” from the lot. Never mind. Apparently they showed up to places early rather than late. Ariel bounced up and down and waved at me from next to the passenger door of a silver convertible. The top layer of her long, wavy brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, with the smaller, lighter sections of it blowing somewhat in the light breeze. This time she was the one wearing a crop top. It was light blue with a flower design in the middle of the front. She was wearing some sort of high-waisted denim pants. Although they could have also been shorts. While she easily stood two to three feet taller than the cars still in the lot, I couldn’t see where the leg cuffs ended. The top of the convertible was down so I could easily see Erik sitting rigid in the driver’s seat and staring straight ahead through a pair of large dark sunglasses. Well on a normal sized person they would have been large. On him they were actually a little too small. The space he had in the car was a similar situation. It looked like he had the seat all the way back but he still seemed cramped. The theme of things being slightly too small for him continued with his white T-shirt. It clung to his body to the point where I could easily see all of his form beneath it, including individual muscles and… his nipples… He also wore his hair up, but at least on the side of his head that I could see, it looked like he had a thin ribbon or braid going from his temple to where the rest of the hair was collected in a ponytail on the back of his head. Since he seemed to be ignoring me, I tried to ignore him to and focused on Ariel. I tried to give a genuine smile as I returned her wave and walked over to the car. “Hey!…” “Do you want to sit in the passenger seat or in the back?” she asked quickly. I still wasn’t used to her and Erik’s accent so it took me longer than usual to parse what she was saying. “And if you do sit in the back do you want me to sit back there with you or no?” “Uhh…” I’d never ridden in a convertible before. Mostly because I other than these two, I never knew someone with a convertible, but I also had a slight aversion to them. I always figured that with the top down I’d end up with a lot of bugs smashing into my face and holy shit do I hate bugs. Also glasses don’t exactly come with mini wipers to clean them off. I didn’t want to be a bother and ask them to put the top up though. 1) Because I barely knew them. And 2)Since I didn’t know if either of them could have fit underneath it. “…I’ll sit in the front I guess?” I said, choosing to hope that the windshield would keep me mostly bug-free. “If that’s okay with you guys of course…” Ariel looked quizzical. “Why would I offer to let you sit there if I wasn’t okay with you choosing it?” “Well… um… good point… I guess I just wanted to make sure?” “Don’t worry, you can sit there,” Ariel said with a smile as she opened the passenger door for me. I slid in and quickly buckled up as she vaulted over the edge of the car and into the seat behind me. It was a 2-door car though, so normally someone would have to fold the front seat forward to get back there. But she’d easily made it back there in one jump with the only jostling being from her landing. I didn’t think about this at the time though because I saw how many various buttons were on the console and dashboard. There was even a touch screen. I am easily distracted by technology. Erik turned the car on and as he went to grab the stick to go in reverse, I noticed he wasn’t buckled. As much as I wanted to I didn’t say anything about it because I didn’t want to seem rude like I had at the petting zoo where we met. I must’ve had some sort of look on my face though as Erik glanced my way before quickly grabbing the seat belt and clicking the buckle into place. “Oh. I forgot I took it off while we waited for you,” he mumbled. I heard Ariel buckling herself behind me. “Safety first!” she said enthusiastically. “Yay!” I responded, turning around to giver her a thumbs up. She quickly did the same with a very excited grin. Erik grumbled something as he threw the car into reverse, out of the parking spot, then quickly shifted it into gear and sped out of the lot. I grabbed onto my door and clutched my camera bag to me for dear life. Over the roar of the wind in my ears I heard Ariel yell something at Erik. We slowed down some and when we turned onto the highway we didn’t accelerate quite as fast as before. I loosened my death hold on the car door. “Sorry,” Erik said, not sounding apologetic at all. “I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.” “I noticed,” I mumbled under my breath. He stayed silent for the rest of the trip. Meanwhile Ariel tried to ask me multiple questions, but it was hard for me to understand her over the wind until we were on the road leading to the zoo. It was a nice day, but the place wasn’t very busy; with it being a weekday and kids still in school and all. Before we walked into the zoo’s main building I did sort of try to protest against them paying for my ticket again. I always felt awkward accepting this sort of help and even more so if I didn’t insist it wasn’t necessary until they finished the transaction. “We said we would pay for you and we will,” Erik snapped at me. I shut up at that point and tried to look interested in the landscaping. After we made it inside, Ariel immediately laced her arms around Erik’s left one. “So what do you want to do first?” she asked me. “Food?” “Oh, it is time for lunch, isn’t it?” she replied. My stomach rumbled in agreement and she laughed. I tried to see what Erik’s reaction was from the corner of my eye, but he seemed to not be paying attention and staring straight ahead like he had in the car. Granted, it was a bit hard to tell since he was still wearing his sunglasses… even though we were inside. If he’d been anyone else I knew I would have teased him about it. But that didn’t seem to be his cup of tea so instead I readjusted my bag’s strap and took a step in the direction we needed to go. “The food court’s this way,” I explained. “Okay!” Ariel said as she and Erik started after me. “Do you know what you’re going to get?” I changed my pace to walk next to her. The hallways in this building were wide and with hardly any other guests around I figured it would be find to walk three-across. And if it did get crowded I figured I’d just move behind the couple. I was more comfortable being the last person in a group anyway. I quickly realized that despite my plan, I might have to walk behind them anyway because in order to keep up with I had to take longer and faster strides than I normally did. “A hamburger if they have ‘em. What about you guys?” “We ate before we left for your school,” Erik said curtly. “Oh.” “Well I’m still hungry,” Ariel said and I noticed her elbow him sharply before she turned back to me. “Do you know what else there is to eat here?” “Well we’re almost there…” I pointed to the sliding doors where we could see some tables and the first few stations on the other side. We stopped once we were in the food court to see the answer to Ariel’s question. I quickly picked out the grill area where it turned out they were actually selling hamburgers. There was also a sub shop, a place for Chinese food, vegetarian only area, and of course a spot just for ice cream. I tried to act casual while the couple talked quietly to one another in their native language about, I assumed, what she was going to get and if he was going to get anything. Near the end of the exchange it sounded like they disagreed about something and I hoped it didn’t have anything to do with me. At that point I’d realized that Erik really didn’t seem to like and that he also didn’t want to be there. However, I noticed him grudgingly give Ariel his credit card before she looked back at me with a grin. “Okay! I’m going to go the vede- veze- … vegetarian area!” she said. “Erik’s going ta go with you so you can get your hamburger and he can get himself something to drink.” And with that she gave us a small wave and left us where we were. I nervously looked at Erik. He’d partially crossed his arms and looked deflated with his shoulders hunched forward. It made him look like he felt awkward instead of angry like I would’ve expected. He flourished a hand in the direction of where we needed to go so I hesitantly led the way. We were the only ones in line at the grill station so after another cautious glance in his direction I stepped up to the cashier. “Hi. How can I help you?” they asked halfheartedly. “Hi, uh… I’ll have a double hamburger, so no cheese! And only mustard; nothing else on it.” I waited for them to punch in that part of my order. “And a bottle of sweet tea, please.” “’Kay. You can grab the tea over there.” They pointed towards a cooler a few feet away from me and which Erik was standing next to. “Anything else?” “Uh… yeah. Whatever he’s having.” I gestured at Erik while I took a step back so he could take his turn. He gave me what felt like a nervous look before taking a step forward. A single step. With his height it was a long stride, but he was still like three feet away from where most people would stand. “I will also have a bottle of sweet tea,” he said slowly. “Grab it over there.” The cashier pointed at the cooler again. I was thankful that they didn’t seem phased by his size or his accent. “Is that all?” “Yes,” he replied as he took out his wallet. “Your total is $10.74,” they told him and then nodded at me. “Your burger will be ready in a couple minutes.” I nodded back. Before flipping through the surprisingly large amount of bills he had, Erik pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. I wasn’t sure if it was the light from the station’s heat lamps or what, but it looked like he had a slight yellow color to his eyes. There was an awkward second as the cashier and I waited for him to hand some cash over. He looked down at our total on the register’s screen, then back to his wallet before he straightened himself back up to his full height and flipping again through the bills. I could feel the frustration radiating off him. The cashier cleared their throat and I saw that they were beginning to look nervous. “Uh… sir?” He turned his glare on them and they took half a step back. “Just a sec!” I told them and sidled over to Erik’s elbow and extended my hands toward his. I paused for a second as I realized what I’d done, but decided I was committed at this point with being so close to him. I also just wanted this to end for the poor cashier’s sake. “Here, I can help,” I whispered. I refused to look up at his face. He sighed and I felt the breeze from it in my hair so I knew he was looking at me. He shifted his stance to be angled more towards me. Then he held the wallet open wide with his right hand and offered the closest end of it to me. “Please,” he said in an exasperated tone. I reached up and lightly pulled the wallet down so that I could actually see in it with being this close. It turned out that Erik’s natural waistline was right about at my eye level and so while it may have worked just fine for him to hold the wallet at that height I would need to stand on my tip toes and I am in no way a ballerina so that wasn’t going to happen. Thankfully he had things organized by amount so it was easy for me to find a $10 bill. “Do you have any change you want to use?” I asked, still keeping my voice quiet. “What is change?” he asked, matching my volume. “Uh, coins; pennies, dimes, quarters…” “No,” he huffed. I quickly grabbed a 1 and offered the two bills to him. He hesitated before slowly reaching for them with large left hand and carefully taking them from me. The cash looked like they should be toy money when compared to him. He took a short step forward before shoving his hand at the cashier; who I noticed was now sweating a fair amount. They quickly grabbed. “Um. Out of $11…” they mumbled as they punched the amount in. Before the drawer fully opened they quickly put away what Erik gave them and grabbed his change. “Here’s 26 cents.” Erik glared at their awaiting hand. I edged around him and offered a palm to them in his place. “Can you grab the tea please, Erik?” I asked, hoping that I didn’t sound too nervous. He gave a grunt but put his wallet away and then stepped over to the cooler. H easily grabbed both bottles with one hand. I stepped off to the side to wait for my hamburger and he came over and stood slightly behind me. “Here,” he said flatly as a thing of tea suddenly appeared next to my face. “Thanks.” I turned a little to take it with my free hand and then held out the one with the change. “Do you want your coins back?” He forcefully pushed his sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose. “You can keep them.” “You sur-” I remembered our interaction on our way into the zoo. “Thanks,” I said instead. I hastily opened my camera bag to put them away in my wallet. He grunted in return and I figured whatever moment had happened when we were ordering was over. As I made sure my bag was securely closed, I noticed him shift his weight from one foot to the other. “Thank you,” he said. I glanced up at his face but from the angle of his head it was clear he wasn’t looking at me. “For helping me pay with… paper money.” I caught myself smiling but before I could say anything Ariel appeared between us. “I have my food!” she announced. “What are you two waiting on?” “Uhh… ma’am…?” I heard the grill cashier say. They pushed a tray with hamburger on it towards me. I tried not to wrinkle my nose at getting misgendered. After all they obviously couldn’t know from just looking at me that I was non-binary, but it still always bothered me when it happened. “Thank you,” I said instead. I quickly put my tea on the tray and grabbed it. Then turning to Ariel and Erik I asked, “Where do you guys want to sit?” “We don’t have a preference!” Ariel replied for the both of them. “Uh… okay…” I surveyed the tables near us, then at some by the large windows on the other side of the room. “How about over there?” The air conditioning was making me a little cold so I led the way to one of the tables that was somewhat in the sun. The two followed. I put my camera camera bag on the floor between the window and the seat I was sliding into. The window looked out on a tree-shaded plaza, beyond which I could see some of the zoo’s elevated walkways. Erik and then Ariel stopped next to the table instead of sitting down. “Isn’t the sun in your eyes there?” he asked hesitantly. “Won’t you get too hot?” she added. “Nah, I’m good.” I shrugged and started to unwrap my sandwich. “I’m a little cold and the sun is warm so I’ll live.” Ariel examined the table before saying something to Erik and nudging him forward. He took a deep breath in and out before taking off his sunglasses and handing them to me. “Here.” Instead of looking at me he squinted out the window. “Oh, no, I’m good!” I repeated. Pointing to my own glasses I said, “Mine sort of turn into sunglasses if there’s enough UV.” He glanced at Ariel. She said something to him before pointing at the spot across from me with one hand while easily balancing her tray with the other. He put his sunglasses back on then moved next to the chair she’d indicated. I just stared as he pulled it back far enough to touch the one behind him, then gingerly sat down. His body made a wall between me and the sun. He didn’t move his chair any closer to the table and I figured part of it had to do with his knees being almost as tall as the top of the table. Ariel put her tray down and took the seat next to me. She had her chair at a normal distance from the table, but I was pretty sure it was due to her folding her legs neatly to her side, almost as though she were riding a horse side-saddle. They both stared at me. “Aren’t you going to eat?” she finally asked. “Um, sure…” I snapped back to attention and took the top but off my hamburger to make sure there weren’t any offending vegetable on it. It was clean so I picked up the entire sandwich and took a bite. They seemed to take this as a signal that they could also start eating, or rather drinking in Erik’s case. They both took smaller samples of their stuff than I expected. He seemed surprised by the tea’s flavor while Ariel looked thoughtful for a moment or two while she processed the taste of her wrap. Then they caught me looking at them and I realized they were also watching me. To try to cover up the fact that I’d been staring at them, I took an unnecessarily large bite. Almost mechanically, they had a little more of their own things. Ariel started to say something when I discovered that the bite was a little to big for me. I hurriedly tried to open my tea. Like I didn’t have anything stuck in my throat, it was just that uncomfortable feeling I would get when I tried eating too much at once. Thankfully this was the case because my first attempt failed. “Ken, are you okay?” she asked as I changed my grip a little. “Just thirsty,” I grunted as I tried again. The lid didn’t move. So I grabbed the bottom part of shirt and held it against the cap to see if that would improve my odds. And another failure. “Let me do it,” Erik said and suddenly one of his large hands appeared over my hamburger. I passed the bottle to him. “Thanks…” I said sheepishly. “I like always have problems opening bottles…” Leaning a little over the table, he turned the cap with what looked like no effort and there was a satisfying crack and hiss as he broke the seal. He laid the lid on my tray before offering the bottle back to me. As I greedily took it from him, I accidentally brushed my fingers across part of his warm hand. I paused and briefly marveled at just how much bigger it was than mine. A shiver ran up his arm and I quickly shoved my tea into my face. I took a couple large gulps as if that would somehow make up for just how awkward this day was. Instead I almost literally inhaled it. “Don’t choke!” Ariel gasped, standing up. Erik quickly followed suit and even leaned over and placed a hand on my shoulder. I heard the table behind him move as he pushed away from his chair. “I’m good,” I tried to assure them between coughing and trying to get air in my lungs. “Just give me a sec. My body’ll calm down.” Erik tightened his grip to where it started to hurt. I looked up at him in surprise but at least it stopped my diaphragm from freaking out for a moment. He stared at his hand as though he was also surprised by how tightly he held my shoulder before quickly pulling it away. He dropped back into his chair, crossed his arms, and glared out the window. I coughed a few more times before taking a cautious sip of tea. Ariel still stood over me. She looked like she was ready to fight the bottle if she needed to. It was honestly very intimidating. “I’m fine!” I said again. I patted the air in the direction of her chair, trying to get her also sit down again. She narrowed her eyes at the offending drink but did plop back down beside me. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked seriously. “Yeah! This kind of thing happens all the time…” I said, hiding my mouth behind a hand. Erik snorted. I swallowed. “What?” I asked. I sounded more defensive than I meant to. “Okay so I know that like since we met I seem like a helpless baby, but I’m not!” Ariel studied me with suspicion. I tried to ignore her stare by taking another bite and pulling out my phone to see if I had any notifications and what the time was. After a few moments she turned back to her own lunch, only for her to say something angrily under her breath. I followed her gaze to between our chairs where her wrap laid on the floor, its contents spilled out under our chairs. “Welp. I can get some napkins to help clean up,” I offered. “No,” Erik said firmly before I could bolt to the condiment bar. “My friend and I can manage this. You finish eating.” It took me a second to realize that his “friend” meant Ariel. “No, really, I don’t-” He held up a hand to silence me as he stood up. “Eat.” I did as he said and watched him leave. Ariel knelt down behind her chair. The top of her head came to my shoulder but her long hair still almost reached the lettuce covered floor. “Ken?” she asked. “Mm-hmm?” “How exactly do I… do this.” “Pick up your wrap?” “Yes.” “Just put it on your tray? Then you can just throw it all away in the garbage before we head out.” She smiled at me and started doing so. “And hey, if you want you can go get another wrap if you want. I don’t mind waiting for you to finish eating.” She shook her head no. “Nah. Like Erik said, we ate before we picked you up so I’m fine!” “Okay… Well then, let me know if you want me to help you pick this stuff up?” She shook her head again. “Then tell me if I need to move to another seat or get my legs out of the way?” “I will!” Erik came back a second later with two large handfuls of napkins. Not just like normal person large handfuls though; his huge fists were stuffed with them. He joined Ariel on the floor and I nervously watched them work, moving my legs around or holding them up out of the way as needed. She used her bare hands to grab all the larger chunks, while he used the napkins as make shift gloves to clean whatever she missed. When they were done he tried to give her the remainder of the napkins so she could wipe her hands off. But instead she either didn’t see or didn’t care and just rubbed them on her capris as she stood up. He sighed and used them himself before putting them on her tray with the rest of the garbage. I finished my sandwich right about then so I quickly rolled up its empty wrapper, grabbed my things and got up too. “There’s a garbage can over there,” I said and started walking towards it. I saw the grill cashier standing warily about 20 feet away from our table with a broom and dust pan. I wondered how long they’d been standing there as they waited for us to leave before making sure we’d fully cleaned up our mess. The can I went to had two others next to it. Erik went to the one on my right and just… threw the entire tray into the can. Like not just the remains of Ariel’s wrap and the napkins he used and the tray liner. He dropped the actual tray in. I stare at the can and then at him. He did the same to me. Then slowly he reached into the can, grabbed the tray, shook off anything still stuck to it, then reached past me and set it on top of the one I had put on the nice little shelf above the can that was meant for holding the used trays. I tried not to giggle as I gave him a thumbs up. He looked confused at the gesture but he did start to mirror it. Suddenly Ariel appeared on the other side of me and held my free hand in hers. She was definitely not as tall as her significant other, but her hand was still a good deal larger than mine. “So what animal do we want to see first!” she asked. I looked down at our clasped hands for a moment. Partially because I hadn’t expected it and didn’t really notice the difference in our hand sizes earlier, but also because I had to marvel at how long and nice her fingernails were? I played piano growing up so I couldn’t stand it if my nails went much past the ends of my fingers. I felt her grip loosen and she started to pull it away. “Sorry! Do not want to hold hands?” she asked with much more concern than the situation called for. “No! I mean yes! I mean-” I slid my hand back into place in her palm and held it. “I like holding hands.” She smiled brightly. “Okay!” Then at the same time she and I each offered our other hand to Erik. All three of us looked surprised by this. After a beat Erik hesitantly held his own hand out near mine. “I… like to hold hands too.” I carefully took it and he gently moved our hands to his side. “Do we want to start at the petting zoo?” he asked us with a stiff smile. “I promise not to yell at either of you if we do,” I said and hoped both of them could tell I was joking. Ariel laughed and started us towards the doors leading out into the zoo-proper. “I promise not to stick my fingers in any cages!” she said, giving my a light squeeze. “And I promise-” he paused mid-sentence with a thoughtful look on his face. “You should be Ken’s shade tree!” she supplied. “To keep them from getting too hot this time!” He hesitated in his current stride until I was slightly ahead of him and he was able to block the sun. “Yes, I promise to do that.” I rolled my eyes. “That was one time!” I pretended to protest. “And anyway it’s cooler today, and I made sure to wear light colored clothes, and I’m even wearing sunscreen!” “What’s sunscreen?” Ariel inquired. “It keeps the sun from burning me.” They pulled me to halt. They both looked at me as though they thought I was going to randomly burst into flames. These mini-crises were starting to get old. “You know… cuz my skin is so light? I get sun burnt really easy? Like I don’t tan? My skin just goes straight from ghost white to red if I’m out in the sun for too long…? And I guess you’ve never had a sun burn since your skin is so much darker than mine?” “Should we leave and come back on a day when it’s cloudy?” she asked with genuine concern for my safety. Erik took another step towards me as though he were trying to keep any sunlight from reaching me ever. “No! I’m  wearing sunscreen! And it’s the really good stuff too; it’s SPF 75!” The two literally started talking over my head at each other. Exasperated, I let go of their hands and started digging in my bag for my bottle of sunscreen. “Here, look!” I first shoved the bottle into Ariel’s face and then Erik’s. He took it from me and carefully began to read the front under his breath. She shuffled next to him to try to read it too. When they were done they exchanged a few more words before handing it back to me. “We believe you,” she said as I stowed the sunscreen away again. I sighed with relief. “I thought Erik said he was going to be my shade tree anyway.” I said with a forced giggle. I did not like confrontation one bit and we’d had more than enough for one day; probably two. “And I really want to see the sea otters!” “Yes, I did say that,” he said, a small genuine smile appearing. “Good, cuz you promised!” His smile quickly vanished and he looked dead serious. “I always keep my promises,” he said solemnly. “We both do.” Ariel sounded like she was somewhat offended. So much for no more confrontation! “No! Sorry! I was… just making a joke…” I stared at the ground. Despite the temperature and Erik being between me and the sun, I could feel myself getting warmer. “Oh… Oh! We’re sorry!” she said, sounding worried again. “We’re just not used to your kind of humor…” “Yeah…” I agreed. And then my anxiety kicked in and I suddenly felt like crying. What the fuck emotions. “Ken…!” She quickly cupped my hand in both of hers and then Erik did the same with my other one. I made myself take a slow, deep, somewhat shaky breath in… and then out. “Fuck… I’m sorry…” I whispered, still trying to focus and control my breathing. I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to look at them. “Sometimes my brain just overreacts and I’m fine. Just give me a sec…” They both let go of me, but I could tell from the—surprising amount of—heat radiating from their palms that they held them only a few inches away. I took a few more deep breaths before forcing a smile and opening my eyes. Both of them had bent down a little so their faces were closer to mine. I didn’t know if they were trying to make themselves look smaller or if they were trying to get a better look at me or what. “Okay,” I said, trying to reassure all of us that I really was fine. “Okay.” “Do you want to go to the sea otters first, Ken?” she asked softly. “No, we said we were going to the petting zoo first so let’s go to the petting zoo.” I bumped my hand into her hand that I’d been holding earlier. Thankfully she understood that I wanted to hold hands again and took it. She closed her eyes, smiled, and gave me a small squeeze before standing upright again. Then I turned to Erik, who was already standing straight and tall. I moved the hand by him closer to his own and tried to ask with my expression if he wanted to hold hands again too. He accepted my offer and even though I’d noticed that so far he seemed careful about any physical contact we had, his actions seemed even… more calculated? I smiled up at my two, new, large, friends and pulled them in the direction I thought we needed to go. “Ken…?” Erik said after only a couple of feet. “The petting zoo is this way.” And he gave me a gentle tug in his direction. I looked at the nearest directional and yup. He was right. I changed course. “To the petting zoo!” I said over-enthusiastically. Ariel laughed and Erik sighed as we made our way down the path.

[a----wilson]

Erratic pt V*S

“Look, all I’m saying is that everyone at school thinks you and Elliott are going to be a thing. No wonder Natalie is acting like you’re out to get her,” Sloane explained.

Veronica paced the length of her room. She was drawing blood from chewing on her fingertips, a usual nervous habit of hers. Pausing for a moment, she turned her attention to her best friend. “That’s absurd, Elliott and I have no reason to be together.”

The bed creaked as Sloane pushed herself to her feet. “Oh please, you two are basically the same person.” She waltzed over to her trembling friend. “Give me one good reason why you wouldn’t make a perfect couple.”

There was a trace of something… something close to sadness in Sloane’s eyes as she said this. Veronica looked up at her, the filmer being a few inches taller than her. “He’s… not my type.” Sloane scoffed.

“Right, like you have a type,” she taunted, “you’ve never even kissed anyone before.” She turned and flounced back onto the cushiony bed.

“Sloane…” Veronica cautiously stepped over to the beanbag chair opposite her bed. The laid back brunette glanced at the young actress.

“What? Are you going to confess your undying love for him?” Laughter dripping from her words. Veronica took one more look at Sloane before staring at her feet.

“How did you know that you were… you know… interested in… the same gender?”

In that moment, both their hearts stopped. Veronica’s out of fear, and Sloane’s out of hope. The latter sat upright on the bed and held her gaze on the former, wondering how to respond.

“Um,” she started, a bit hesitantly. “I guess, I just never really saw anything of interest in guys. They were… too immature and rough.” Her weight moved to her feet as she stood from the bed yet again, only to drop to her knees in front of the small heap of nervousness in front of her.”Veronica.” With a fingertip, Sloane lifted her friend’s head to look at her straight on. “Do you think you might be questioning your sexuality?”

Veronica’s lips quivered as she began her next statement. “I don’t know.” Her eyes were that of a Japanese cartoon, wide and scared. “I just… I don’t know.” Her gaze finally lifted to Sloane’s eyes. “How am I supposed to know?” She whispered.

Sloane gently grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Ronnie, there are so many different ways to figure this out. And I hope you know that however you do, I’m here for you.” Veronica looked between both her eyes multiple times, slowly nodding.

Finally, Veronica reached out and pulled Sloane into her, connecting their lips in a passionate kiss. Sloane’s breath hitched when their lips made contact, quickly becoming aware of the situation. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the taste of Veronica’s lip gloss, until they were forced to pull apart for air.

“Did that help at all?” Sloane said, slightly out of breath, and currently on cloud nine.

Veronica stared at her and let a smile creep into her face. “I’ve never felt that way before,” she says, also breathing heavily. Her eyes widened as the realization of what she just did hit her. “Sloane… I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

Sloane let her fingertips gently glide over the younger girl’s cheeks and jawline until she stopped rambling. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, Ronnie,” she whispered. “Can I tell you a secret?” Veronica nodded, never taking her eyes off of Sloane. “I’ve been wanting to be able to do that for years.”

“Really?” It was Sloane’s turn to nod this time, watching as Veronica’s lips formed an adorable little smile. “Can- can I do it again?” Sloane couldn’t help but chuckle at her friend, as she moved forward until their lips were touching again.

The next day at school, Sloane was making her way to English, excited about the fact that there was only an hour and a half until she could watch Veronica singing in Thespians. She was like a roadie of sorts, not part of the club, but always there. Where Veronica went, she followed like a lost puppy. It was a little demeaning, but she didn’t care.

As she turned the corner into her final stretch of the walk, she nearly ran into someone. Looking up and shaking her head out of her thoughts, she came face to face with Natalie Swanson.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there,” Sloaner said, trying to sidestep the blonde, only to be blocked once again.

“Hey, Slaine, right?”

The taller girl rolled her eyes. “It’s Sloane.”

“Right. You’re friends with Veronica. Can you tell her to stay away from my boyfriend? I’m on to her.” Sloane’s mind strayed to last night, Veronica’s lips.

“Believe me, he’s not her type.”

“Um, have you seen them together? They’re practically joined at the hip.”

Sloane chuckled, “That doesn’t mean she likes him, that simply means they work well together. Calm down, princess.” Before Natalie could say anything else, Sloane pushed past her and sped down the hallway to her class.

That diva was too dramatic for her taste. Any small conversation could all too easily change to the end of the world. She took her seat in the classroom and tried her best not to think about Veronica’s lips.

It was a Tuesday,Sloane remembered that. It had been colder than usual, as winter started setting in, but she could feel nothing but the warmth coming from her stomach.Her skin burned in every spot that it made contact with Veronica. Their lips barely split apart for air.

Sloane knew she had an essay to finish for her Psychology class, as well as math homework. But if she had really planned on getting that done, she wouldn’t have come over to Veronica’s house. They wouldn’t be tangled in each other.

What she didn’t remember was the few seconds between the absolute bliss and when Veronica’s father appeared in the room. There were no words exchanged, no pleading or confusion. Just rage in his eyes as he lunged forward and grabbed Sloane. Everything went silent, all she could hear was the blood pounding in her ears.

He threw her out of the room, as she tried to block any hits he threw at her. The pain didn’t bother her, it was futile compared to her dad’s background in boxing. What bothered Sloane was that Veronica had to see her father in this way. No one should have to see someone they look up to become a villain.

Sloane didn’t notice the edge of the stairway until another punch pushed her over the edge. As she tumbled down the staircase, she kept her arms and legs close to her sides and tucked her head down. Her own father had thrown her down the stairs and off the porch enough that she knew how to protect herself.

When she reached the bottom, she could feel a few breaks in her joints, and an obvious concussion. Overall, she was in better shape than she had expected. Until she felt a large weight fall on top of her chest, she could almost hear ribs fracturing.

It was then that her hearing came back, at least enough to notice Veronica and Kyle panicking. Sloane’s eyes popped back open and moved to the twins. Kyle was on the phone, probably calling paramedics, and Veronica was kneeling on the ground trying to push her father off of Sloane.

With the strength she didn’t actually have, Sloane pushed against him as well, until she could wrench her body out from under his dead weight. He was unconscious, but thankfully, not bleeding anywhere. That didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt though, seeing as how Sloane wasn’t bleeding either.

[natalieturturro]

Online Writing Portfolio

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1CkUnt2TFKy090QneY52hjhL7_ZURZ76e2g-o3dBM4aY/edit

Cinemascope, Short Story Excerpt

“Can I help who’s next?”

A wrinkled man who looks more like a bull-dog than a human walks up to the counter. “For the price we have to pay for a ticket, the bathrooms are disgusting.” I am ready to respond with a smile, and apologize like good customer service calls for, but he storms away before I can defend myself. It’s not my job to clean the men’s bathroom anyway.  I walk to the end of the counter and prop my elbows over its surface, resting my chin in my palms.  From across the room, I intently stare down Charlie until he finally looked back at me. He raises his eyebrows, which means he knows what I want, and begins walking over to me.

“Would you mind checking on the men’s bathroom? Some old guy just complained that it was disgusting”

“Are you kidding? I just cleaned it! I’ll go check.”

The Fault in Our Stars was filmed in Pittsburgh, particularly in the part of the city where our theater was located, so the premiere was a big deal. The local actresses who had small roles in the film were given VIP seats, and signed autographs for the young girls waiting in line. We had at least 25 people on staff, including our two most useless staff members Bree and Thomas, who were so excruciatingly painful to work with, but at least they were attractive. Our manager paid them to dress up and greet people at the door. Management also warned us that the audience may be a little crazy, and that we needed to be on our A-game. They were right. There was one girl who showed up with a fake oxygen tank, and claimed it was her costume. The six small theaters were packed to the brim with teenage shrills. The lobby was unnaturally populated by small girls and their unhappy parents. Most of the staff stayed that night until 3am. That night was intense, but today was merely the day after. Today the tickets for our most popular attraction were already sold out, so the lobby was empty. All of the teenage girls had finally settled into their seats, and I could finally start cleaning up for the day.

Charlie exited the men’s bathroom from around the corner and opened the door to the concession. He poked his head in to grab my attention, and reached for the cleaning supplies hidden under the counter. “Someone shit in a urinal.”

2. The Intern, Short Screenplay Excerpt

CASSANDRA

What is your biggest weakness?

SALLY

I don't have any weaknesses. Aren't I supposed to be selling myself here?

CASSANDRA

You have to have one, interviewers love this question. Just pick out a wishy-washy weakness that no one would really care about.

SALLY

Um. I guess I can be a workaholic?

CASSANDRA

Perfect.

SALLY

Right. I can invest too much into my work sometimes, and neglect my other needs. I try to keep this under control though.

CASSANDRA

Great. Now, how would you handle this hypothetical situation: say you are working in our office when you learn of another employee stealing from the company, and he makes you swear not to tell or else he'll blame it on you. And also the building is on fire.

CUT TO:

Cassandra trains Sally as she does push ups, and runs on a treadmill.

CASSANDRA

Why do you wanna work for London Finance?

SALLY

It is a historically valued institution that is arguably the most innovative company of the 21st century and the frontier of finance!

CASSANDRA

How much do you want this internship?

SALLY

I want it! I want it!

3. The Test, Short Screenplay Excerpt

INDIGO

How could I possibly commit to Berklee tomorrow, while knowing there is a rice grain size living alien thing inside of me!?

SCABBY

Hey, its not an alien. It just looks like an alien.

INDIGO

No, it is definitely an alien. I’m half alien, remember?

SCABBY

Oh right, but there’s a chance that it didn’t get the alien genes though, right? Isn’t that how genetics works?

INDIGO

I don’t know, the only thing I know about genetics is from the sims! I’m pretty sure that aliens always prevail.

Indigo walks over to the violin and picks it up. Her face hardens again as she caresses its sides and frets. She brings it over to the bed, sits down, and sighs.

INDIGO

What do I do?

SCABBY

Well it it’s definitely an alien. We can’t let that thing survive.

INDIGO

Yeah you’re right.

4.  What is Art? Essay Excerpt

This brings up the question: is it possible to believe that anything is a true art? A worthwhile human experience aims proves the possibility that art can be found anywhere.

For instance, I do the dishes when they are dirty. It is a mundane task, I rinse them, and then put them in the dishwasher, put the soap in the little soap container, press the button, and then close the dishwasher. Bada-bing, bada-boom. Done. Doing the dishes seems a lifeless task, but if done with passion, it becomes an art. The way in which I run the water over each dish, and choose a place for it in the dishwasher is an art. I may not realize it, but I put thought and effort into each dish. Perhaps when I am angry I break a dish or two, and I shove them in the dishwasher briskly, loudly rattling each dish. When I am sad perhaps I do the dishes softly and slowly. When I am happy or inspired perhaps I do the dishes carefully yet efficiently, placing each dish geometrically as if the dishwasher were a mosaic. Doing the dishes is an emotional release, and therefore it  may be an art. In this sense, anything is art if it is done with passion. To be clear, I do not personally think of dishwashing as an art. To some, though, it may be an art. Anyone who thinks in that way is not wrong, for there is never a right or wrong in art.

5. Giulietta, Feature Length Screenplay, Excerpt

Sister Mary picks up a stack of papers from the teacher’s desk. She distributes them to each couple.

Marco takes the paper and begins to read the questions.

MARCO

What would you say is most important for success? Money, Independence, Self-Esteem?

GIULIETTA

Self-esteem?

MARCO

That’s such a girl thing. I’m thinkin…money?

Marco circles money on his sheet of paper.

GIULIETTA

If your feelings are hurt, how do you handle it? Talk to the person, keep it a

secret to protect them, or passive aggressively guilt trip them?

SISTER MARY

Remember, there are no wrong answers.

MARCO

I feel like there are definitely wrong answers.

GIULIETTA

I guess you’re supposed to talk to the person.

MARCO

Yeah, but we all know that you wouldn’t.

GIULIETTA

No, I guess not.

6. Giulietta, Feature Screenplay, Excerpt Two

MARCO

Think about the baby, Giules.

GIULIETTA

You’ll quit?

MARCO

I’ll quit. I’ll do anything for you two I swear. I messed up, Giules.

GIULIETTA

Yeah. You fucked up to the next universe.

MARCO

I’ll fix it. I love you. I’ll do anything. I’m so sorry. What can I do to fix it, please. I’m sorry--

GIULIETTA

--I want a family. Three kids. And a dog. A small dog. And-- a swing set in the backyard and one of those fancy food processor things --and barbecues and playdates and-- and--

Giulietta’s crying moves like a crescendo.

MARCO

And you can have all that. I’ll give you--

GIULIETTA

-- I want at least one little girl so I can put her in tiny lace white dresses and a-- a house-- a nice house-- with no dead bodies in it-- or crime-- or- or murder-- or dead bodies!!

She rests her head on Marco’s shoulder, shuddering with tears.

MARCO

I’m sorry.

GIULIETTA

Don’t do this to me again.

MARCO

I won’t. I swear. You gotta believe me.

Giulietta looks back up, shaking her head.

GIULIETTA

I don’t know if I can, Marco.

Marco winces. He begins crying, too.

MARCO

Please.