#A kid in those classes pulled his pants down while on the bus and demanded that I suck his dick

[randomtheidiot]

My school had a really weird version of the zero tolerance policy where it was all zero tolerance until a kid in the behavioral special needs class did the bullying, at which point there would be a million fucking excuses as to why that kid shouldn’t receive any sort of punishment and why I (neurodivergent but not in those classes) was a terrible fucking demon child for getting the shit beaten out of me.

[percabeth4life]

Grover Unexpectedly Loses His Pants

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || AO3

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Naturally I ditched Grover as soon as we got to the bus terminal.

I know its rude, but I’m still nowhere near able to trust him. I’m getting really mixed signals from him.

Ugh, I wish I could talk to Triton. He’d know what to do.

I fingered my bracelet and caught a taxi uptown.

“East One-hundred-and-fourth and First,” I told the driver.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Now, everyone of course knows how amazing my mom is.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she’s had a sucky life, but she deserves the world.

She’s really the best person I know and an amazing mom, even if she’s a little overprotective of me.

Her parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn’t care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she quite school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma.

The only good break she’s gotten was meeting my dad, probably Oceanus.

She won’t tell me about him, and I don’t have any memories of him except for the dreams I’ve had of being in his palace. My mom doesn’t like to talk about him cause it makes her sad. She has no pictures too.

They obviously weren’t married, Oceanus has Tethys, and Tethys is really nice, so I can see why he wouldn’t want to leave her. But I can’t understand why he would cheat on her with my mom. Unless Tethys was okay with it? Immortals don’t make any sense.

Mom just tells me that he’s rich and important, so their relationship was a secret. Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back.

Of course, Oceanus is a sea king. He’s extremely busy. And has a bunch of kids, even if most are fully grown and immortal. Of course, he can’t visit. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.

The myths speak highly of him from what I can find, and he was nice when I was there. I still wish that I had a dad here though, then mom wouldn’t need to marry Smelly Gabe.

She’s raised me all alone, taking odd jobs and taking night classes to get her high school diploma. She never ever complained or got mad, not even once. I know I’m not an easy kid, but she’s amazing.

I did my best to ignore the faint buzzing tugging at me and walking into the apartment.

Unfortunately, mom was not home from work. Instead, Smelly Gabe was in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blared ESPN. Chips and beer cans were strewn all over the carpet.

Hardly looking up, he said around his cigar, “So, you’re home.”

“Where’s my mom?”

“Working,” he said. “You got any cash?”

His greeting wasn’t a surprise, that was his usual response.

Looking at him I could see he’s gained weight. He has like three hairs on his head instead of the previous five, and all are combed over his bald scalp. As if that could make up for the rest of his ugly.

He manages the Electronics Mega-Mart in Queens, supposedly. I have no idea how he hasn’t been fired previously, seeing how he’s never gone into work as far as I know.

All he does is collect paychecks, spend money on cigars that made me nauseous, and buy enough beer to drown in. Whenever I’m home I’m expected to fund his gambling. Thankfully the river has lots of money so all I have to do is give him a little and that covers it.

The few times I’ve refused… Well let’s just say it’s a good thing I have healing in water.

“Here,” I grumbled, tossing a five at him, “I hope you lose.”

He sneered as I stalked out, “Your report card came, brain boy!” He shouted, “I wouldn’t act so snooty!”

Jerk.

I slammed the door to my room, which currently smelled like cigars and beer.

Gross.

Gabe was using it as his “study” while I was at boarding school. All the more reason to never go to another ever again.

I pulled Carl, in his newly adapted portable fish tank, from my enchanted back and settled it (and him) on the desk.

He swam in circles happily, until he noticed the mess. Then he grumbled about Gabe.

Honestly the smell was almost worse then the feeling that those old ladies gave me, definitely worse than the nightmares I had about Ms. Dodds. She’s okay now after all.

I shuffled, scratching at my arms, the feeling from the old ladies itching at me, my breathing sped up.

“Percy?” My mom called.

She opened the bedroom door and suddenly everything felt better.

She can make me feel good just by being there, it’s always been like that.

Her and Triton are safe places, I know I’m okay when I’m with them. Nothing could ever go wrong around them.

Her eyes sparkle and change in the light, her smile is as warm as a quilt, she’s got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as any where near old. Whenever she looks at me it’s like she sees all the good, all the things that make her proud, she never sees the bad. I’ve never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even when I was younger or to Gabe.

“Oh, Percy,” She hugged me tight. “I can’t believe it. You’ve grown since Christmas!”

I blinked, had I? My clothes from Triton fit the same. Though, my normal clothes were a little tight…

“And your hair is so long now, we’ll have to cut it later.”

I touched my hair.

“Oh and it’s still so blue, it looks nice.”

I smiled.

Mom looked well though. Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. She’d brought me a huge bag of “free samples” it looked like, just like she always did when I finished school, or like she did when I came home for winter break.

“Sit,” she tugged me to sit beside her on the bed now, before starting to question me.

We sat together on the edge of the bed. I attacked a thing of blueberry sour strings and she ran her hand through my hair demanding to know everything that had happened to me while I was away for the last few months that hadn’t made it into my letters.

She didn’t mention me getting expelled, she didn’t seem to care. But was I okay? Was her little boy doing alright?

I leaned into her while laughingly saying she was smothering me. Her presence made everything so much better. I’m… I’m really, really glad to see her.

I blinked back tears, everything has just been so much I don’t know what to do.

From the other room, Gabe interrupted, “Hey Sally—how about some bean dip, huh?”

I gritted my teeth, I really just want to drown him.

My mom is the nicest person in the world. She should’ve been married to a millionaire, not some jerk like Gabe.

For her sake, I kept my last days at Yancy Academy happy. I told her I wasn’t down about the expulsion, I’d lasted longer than usual this time. I’d made a new friend (even if I ditched him now), and I’d done good in Latin and Pre-Calc. Honestly the fights hadn’t been anywhere near as bad as the headmaster said.

I put the best spin on the year that I could, pasting a smile on my face and keeping my voice light.

“Until the trip to the museum…”

“What?” my mom asked. Her eyes tugged at my conscience, trying to pull out the secrets. “Did something scare you?”

I couldn’t lie, not to her. But I also can’t tell her about Ms. Dodds.

“No Mom, just… Nancy pushed Grover and I lost control of my waterbending a little. It shoved Nancy into the fountain. But no one seemed to really notice!”

She pursed her lips. “But no one noticed?”

I nodded, “Yeah.” No one that could do anything at least.

She relaxed, “I have a surprise for you,” She said. “We’re going to the beach.”

My eyes widened. “Montauk?”

“Three nights—same cabin.”

“When?”

“As soon as I get changed.”

I was excited, we haven’t been able to go for the last two summers. Gabe said there wasn’t enough money, as if we didn’t get a massive discount because my grandmother had been close friends with the person that owns the land the cabin is on. I doubt we’d be able to afford it if we didn’t have that discount, but we did so there.

Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, “Bean dip, Sally? Didn’t you hear me?”

I wanted to punch him, or better yet, drown him. But I met my mom’s eyes and I understood the deal she was offering me: be nice to Gabe for a little while. Just until she was ready to leave for Montauk. Then we would get out of here.

“I was on my way, honey,” she smiled at Gabe. “We were just talking about the trip.”

His eyes narrowed, “The trip? You mean you were serious about that?”

I bit my tongue to keep from snarling at him. Mom wouldn’t let him stop us, she never broke her promises and she’s probably already paid. If I snap now, then he might try to stop us out of spite.

I just glared.

“Of course, I’m serious,” Mom said evenly, “You won’t have to worry about money. And besides,” she added, “You won’t have to settle for just bean dip. I’m going to make enough seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works.”

He softened a bit. “So this money for your trip… it comes out of your clothes budget, right?”

“Yes, honey” she said.

I made a mental note to use some of the money I have hidden in my magic bag to buy her something nice to wear.

“And you won’t take my car anywhere but there and back.”

“We’ll be very careful.”

Gabe scratched his double chin. “Maybe if you hurry with that seven-layer dip… And maybe if the kid apologizes for interrupting my poker game.”

Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot and see how long you can hold your breath under water, I thought.

But mom’s eyes warned me to not make him mad.

I wanted to scream, I can’t understand why she puts up with this guy.

I put on my princely face just like Triton taught me and turned to him, “I’m sorry. I’m really horribly sorry for interrupting your incredibly important poker game. Please go back to it right now, don’t let us keep you from it.”

Gabe’s eyes narrowed, probably trying to use his jellyfish sized brain to look for sarcasm.

“Yeah, whatever.” He decided.

He went back to his game.

“Thank you, Percy,” my mom said. “Once we get to Montauk, we’ll talk more about… everything.”

For a second, I saw a fear in her eyes, the same kind that I saw in Grover’s. A nervousness, as if my mom could feel the buzzing too.

But then she smiled again, and I could almost believe I’d imagined it.

But the image didn’t leave my mind.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

We were all ready to leave, I didn’t bother to unpack my bags, just put Carl’s magic portable fish tank back in my magic bag. I don’t trust Gabe to not mess with my stuff so I’m just bringing it all with me (except my school books). My magic bag holds all of the important things, my books from Triton and my friends, all their gifts, and a few changes of extra clothes (the nice ones from Triton and one pair of normal mortal clothes).

Gabe took a break from his poker game long enough to watch me lug my mom’s bags to the car, griping the whole time about losing her cooking—and more importantly, his ’78 Camaro—for the whole weekend.

“Not a scratch on this car, brain boy,” he warned me as I loaded the last bag. “Not one little scratch.”

I rolled my eyes out of his sight. Obviously, I was planning to drive the whole way, I’m already twelve, might as well get the practice in. I snorted.

I watched him lumber back towards the apartment building. I felt the well of anger in me, just needing a release somehow, and I did the same symbol that Grover did before, only this time I channeled a bit of my power into it, just like I do purification powers.

The screen door slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up the suitcase as if he’d been shot from a cannon. I hid a smile and got in the Camaro, telling my mom to step on it.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

The rental cabin is on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It’s a little pastel box with faded curtains, half sunken into the dunes. There’s always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, most of the time the sea is too cold to be considered swimmable.

I love the place.

We’ve been going here forever, since before I was born even. My mom met my dad here, even if she never told me I know that’s why it’s so special to her.

It’s special to me because it’s where I waterbended for the first time.

I smiled at the sea and could almost imagine it was welcoming me back.

My mom almost seems to grow younger as we get closer to the sea, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea. They change color a lot, but this spot, here at the beach, is when they look the most like the ocean. I think it’s where they’re prettiest.

Sometimes I wonder if she has immortal blood in her somewhere, it almost seems like it with how she changes based on the place.

We arrived at sunset, opened all the cabin’s windows, and went through our usual cleaning routine. We walked on the beach, fed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and munched on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work. I left Carl’s portable tank in the bag for now, I’d pull him out tomorrow (though I did remember to feed him).

When it finally got dark, we made a fire.

We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom told me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash.

She told me about how her dad was so very handsome, she’d inherited his eyes, and how her mom had eyes the color of seafoam and had loved the sea just as much as my mom does.

She told me about all the books she wants to write someday, I really want to read them too. Fantasy books are more fun to me, if there’s audio books of her books I’m definitely reading (listening to) them.

Eventually I pulled together the nerve to ask about my dad, maybe she’ll say something new, something that would help me be sure that Oceanus is my dad. I’m almost positive of it but… but a little more confirmation wouldn’t hurt.

I mean though, who else would be a danger for me, even at the camp, to have as a parent? I would think Poseidon, but the myths are filled with his kids. He wouldn't be a danger as a dad at all. So it has to be Oceanus, he's the only one strong enough that would also be someone the gods might not like.

“He was kind, Percy,” she murmured. “Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle too. You have… had,” she gave a small laugh as she glanced at my blue hair, “His black hair, and his green eyes. Yours is a bit longer than his though.” She ran a hand through my hair.

Mom fished a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. “I wish he could see you, Percy. He would be so proud.”

I wondered if he would. In terms of sea magic, he might, I know Triton is proud. He tells me he is, that he’s very pleased with how far I’ve come. Oceanus might be pleased with me by sea standards, but would he agree with Triton that land lessons are dumb and shouldn’t count? Or would he see me, a dyslexic, hyperactive boy with at D+ report card, kicked out of school for the sixth time in six years and be ashamed.

“How old was I?” I asked. “I mean… when he left?”

Does he just not recognize me?

She watched the flames, “He was only with me for the summer and a little into the fall Percy. Just the one short time. Right here at this beach. This cabin.”

I blinked, I swear I have a memory of a smile, something…

“But… he knew me as a baby?”

He had to… right?

“No, honey. He knew I was expecting a baby, but he never saw you. He had to leave before you were born.”

My heart sank, but also lightened.

If Oceanus had never seen me then I suppose it makes sense that he couldn’t recognize me, even if he could tell that I was something familiar to him based on his comment in my dreams.

“I sense my power on you, you’ve interacted with something of mine.”

Was he recognizing me? Did he not expect me there and assumed I was someone else that had met… me?

I’m not sure but… I was still sad.a

He obviously has his duties as a king, Triton is so busy as a prince being a king must be so much worse, but still. He couldn’t even come to check on mom?

The ancient laws that Zeus made wouldn’t apply to a Titan, would they?

I only know the basics of these laws but…

“Are you going to send me away again?” I asked mom now. “To another boarding school?”

She pulled a marshmallow from the fire.

“I don’t know, honey,” Her voice was heavy. “I think… I think we’ll have to do something.”

Does she not want me around? I just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to leave again.

“Are you… are you sending me away because you don’t want me around?” I whispered.

My mom’s eyes welled with tears. She took my hand, squeezing it tight. “Oh, Percy, no. I—I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away.”

But why.

“Because I’m not normal? Because… Because I can waterbend?”

“Oh, oh Percy, you not being normal isn’t a bad thing. And your waterbending is wonderful. I just, I just want you safe. I thought Yancy Academy was far enough away, I thought you’d be finally be safe.”

Safe from what? The monsters? Does… does mom know.

I’ve been assuming she didn’t, but maybe that was dumb.

Does she know? Know who dad is? Know what I am? Does she know about the myths?

“Safe from what mom?”

She stared at me for a long moment…

“I’ve tried to keep you as close to me as I could,” My mom said. “They told me that was a mistake. But there’s only one other option, Percy—the place your father wanted to send you. And I just… I just can’t stand to do it.”

I frowned, Oceanus wanted me to go someplace special?

“He wanted me to go to a special school?”

“Not a school,” She said softly. “A summer camp.”

Camp Half-Blood. Grover had a card for it.

Triton told me about it, though not the name, the camp for Half-Bloods, half immortal, half mortal.

That had to be what mom is talking about.

“I’m sorry, Percy,” She said, her voice breaking. “But I can’t talk about it. I—I couldn’t send you to that place. It might mean saying goodbye to you for good.”

I frowned, Triton didn’t tell me much about the camp, but for good?

“For good?”

She turned towards the fire, and I knew from her expression that if I asked her any more questions she would start to cry.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I stood on the beach, a storm raging overhead.

I know that I fell asleep, that I was in the bed in the cabin. But now I’m on the beach.

Another one of my dreams? It’s not someplace familiar.

There were two beautiful animals, a white horse and a golden eagle, trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf.

The eagle swooped down and slashed the horse’s muzzle with its huge talons. The horse reared up and kicked at the eagle’s wings.

A low, familiar, chuckle rumbled from beneath the earth. The chuckle from the pit. I could hear whispered goading, urging the two animals to fight harder. The ground rumbled. Sand curled around me. Salt rubbed at my skin, lightning sparked over me.

None of it was there, but the sensations were clear.

I moved toward them, they shouldn’t fight!

“Stop it!” I called, “Stop it Mr. Pit Guy. Stop!”

I was moving so slow, like time was slower for me than for them.

The voice laughed again. “Stand away little Half-Blood,” It crooned. “Let them fight, do not interfere.”

I reached out as the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horse’s wide eyes.

I screamed.

I woke up.

For once there was no peaceful sunlight to wake from my dream to, a storm raged outside. Lightning crashed, the wind howled, the waves pounded the dunes.

There was no horse or eagle fighting.

With the next thunderclap, my mom woke. She sat up, eyes wide, and said, “Hurricane.”

It’s crazy, Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer.

But the ocean was like salt rubbing into my skin, rough and course, like there’s an open wound. The lightning was crackling across my skin. My senses are on fire. This was no ordinary storm. And it’s a very bad one.

Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my already frayed nerves worse.

Then much closer, another noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice—someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door.

My mom sprang out of bed in her nightgown and threw open the lock.

Grover stood framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. But he wasn’t quite the Grover I knew, or… now he was showing the Grover I’d been suspicious of all year.

“Searching all night,” he gasped.

Creepy.

“What were you thinking?”

Obviously that you were out to get me?

My mom looked at me in terror though—she wasn’t scared of Grover, that much was clear. She was scared of why he was here.

“Percy,” she shouted over the storm. “What happened at school? What didn’t you tell me?”

Where should I start!? Why did it seem like I was in trouble? I’ve dealt with everything before! There was nothing really new!

“O Zeu kai alloi theoi!” Grover yelled. “It’s right behind me! Didn’t you tell her?”

Tell her what.  

Grover is standing there, a satyr, mom isn’t surprised at all, there’s a storm raging filled with so much blazing power that I’m shocked it didn’t wake me sooner, and no one seems to want to explain anything.

My mom turned to me though and talked in a tone she’d never used before: “Percy. Tell me now.”

I blurted out that Ms. Dodds had turned into a vampire bat lady and attacked me, my mom listening with a deathly pale face, visible in the flashes of lightning that scorched my skin with their power.

She grabbed her purse, tossed me my rain jacket, and said, “Get to the car. Both of you. Go!”

I grabbed my magic bag, and hurried to the car, following Grover.

[biteypyrotiger]

Egyptology professor stories I’m sharing because she’s awesome and they make me laugh:

Long ass rambling below the cut.

1.)

First thing I want to say is that this professor is not a particularly imposing. She was maybe 5′2″. But often affected a stern demeanor that legitimately would have scared the shit out of me if she ever seemed truly angry with me.

At the beginning of the semester she told us very sternly that she had several rules about going on field trips and the first one was that we absolutely must keep up with her. To practice this we were going to take our first field trip to the university’s rare books library. That day she stands in the front of the class and says, sternly, “Remember. You must keep up with me. Are you all ready?”

Class: “Yes Doctor.”

Prof: “Good”

And then she proceeds to speed walk right the fuck out the door.

Now there were maybe 25 of us, crammed tightly into this really small classroom and it became immediately apparent that getting out of there was not going to be a swift exercise. So we all have to basically do the whole getting off an airplane thing and it took a good five minutes.

We all finally get outside and she’s standing outside the door, impatiently tapping her foot her foot and frowning at everyone. 

Prof: Is that everyone?

Class: Yes Doctor.

Prof: Good.

And she takes off walking fast enough that we had to literally run to keep up with her. She speeds down the steps and to keep up with her, about five of us literally jumped down an entire flight of steps. I was one of them, and even doing that she was well ahead of us.

As we head out into the campus courtyard and the blazing Egyptian sun, most of the class just gave up. Myself and maybe five others, the same ones wiling to jump down flights of stairs to not break rule #1, were running after her and then finally ridiculously speedwalking and giggling behind her. She never looked back, never broke stride and kept the most focused look on her face the whole time.

We reach the library and remember that there is no elevator available and the rare books room is on the third or fourth floor. Again, Professor flies up the stairs without breaking stride. I slowed a bit at this point as my knees really hate stairs, but pressed on as best we could. 

The Professor and us six determined students arrived and the foyar. All of us, young and relatively fit were panting and sweating profusely and giggling. I happened to stand next to professor and very close up could see that she was also sweating and breathing hard, but doing a fantasitc job of looking completely together, and with this expression of stoic disappointment as she waited for the rest of the class to catch up. 

2.

This is not a funny story, but I like to tell it so when I say that she was stern, you understand what I mean, and not that she was hard hearted or cruel. 

I believe it was her second rule that said that, when we went on fieldtrips, we must wear a head covering or we would not be allowed to attend. Because running around the Egyptian desert for hours will melt your brain without it.

So first fieldtrip, we’re with another class taught by another professor. As we get off the bus (I think this was at Saqqara) she lines us up and inspects our dress. Some people in my class forgot, or were unable to grab something. She helped one guy tie a winter scarf around his head like a turbin. Many kids in the other class didn’t have anything. She scolded all of us and said, very seriously, “For my class, I will excuse it for today, but if you do not bring a head covering for the next fieldtrip than I will fail you for the entire class. Understood?”

Class: Yes Doctor.

As we start walking into the archaeological park and Professor took the front, several students from the other class leaned into us.

“Your professor is such a bitch,” said more than one of the other students to the murmured agreement of others.

Every single person in my class who heard that glared at them. “No. She’s not,” we snapped at them. “She’s saying that because she cares about us and doesn’t want us hurt.” 

3.

On our first fieldtrip, there was an early portion where our path through the sand took us up and down sand dunes every few feet. As Professor went down the sand dunes, she would let gravity pull her down and naturally speed up. In attempting to follow rule number 1, we would jog a bit at those points to keep up.

After a few dunes she started side eyeing us. Noticing that we sped up and slowed down along with her. So she randomly started to jog. And we jogged with her. And then she abruptly slowed and we slowed with her. And she jogged again and again we followed and back and forth at random intervals until finally she stopped and we all stopped and she demanded laughing, “What are you doing?!”

Class: We’re keeping up with you!

She just laughed at us and went on.

4.

One one trip, I think it was to the Great Pyramids, but maybe something else, she intended to take us to a valley temple that would have been connected to the main pyramids. The temples are fairly far from the Pyramids and generally off limits to the public, but someone like an active archaeologist with a class, had passes to go to them and were allowed.

As we come to the corner of one of the queen pyramids, the final cover before we trek across the sand to the temple, Professor motions for us to stop and peers around the corner at a couple of guards on camels. She turns and looks at us.

Professor: Alright. We are going to walk in that direction to the temple and, though I have a pass and a right to go down there, those guards are probably going to try to stop us. So if you hear them yelling at us or blowing whistles, you are to pretend you do not hear them and continue walking. Understand?

Class: Yes Doctor.

So we start walking and, sure enough, after a few yards, we start hearing whistles and we dutifully ignore them and keep walking. And then we hear the camels come up along side us and the guards start yelling at us. As we have been caught and they are on camels that could easily outrun us, we stop. Professor and the other professor wheel on them and start arguing back in Arabic, clearly telling them they have a right and permission to go down there, but the guards aren’t having it. After a few moments of this, Professor blinks and looks at us. “What are you doing? Go!”

So we all start walking again. It takes a few minute of just walking through the hot sun and sand and then, suddenly, the two professors come running up the side of us and pass us at a full sprint.

“What are you doing?!” Professor yells at us. “Run! Run!”

And so we all break into a run, convinced the mounted police are after us. And then when we had a moment to think, we look over our shoulders and see the guards leaving. We look at her confused and she just slows to a walk and starts laughing at us.

5.

Saqqara is an archaeological park whose most prominent feature is the Stepped Pyramid, the tomb of the first Pharaoh of a united Upper and Lower Egypt named Djoser. Though the Stepped Pyramid is the focus, Saqqara is FILLED with other tombs spanning, I believe, centuries, as people tried to build close to the first Pharaoh. Some of them are smaller, today much more dilapidated, pyramids, most of them smaller tombs built more like a tomb. Areas of the park are also covered with broken pottery shards. Now, in a lot of places, ancient pottery shards would be things that historians and archaeologists would gobble up all of these, but in Egypt, there are so many artifacts that they’re not particularly considered worthwhile and, they’re so ugly compared to the many other beautiful artifacts that they’re not well desired.

However, being good little wannabe archaeologists raised in the West and taught to respect and be careful of every bit of ancient artwork we found, we were all terrified of stepping on them and going through a great effort of picking our way around the stand to not step on them. Which was difficult.

Professor eventually noticed us dancing around and asked “What are you doing?”

Us: We don’t want to step on the pottery, Doctor.

She looked at us like we were adorable, but relatively stupid. “Oh. You’re all very sweet, but just give it up. You’re not going to be able to get anywhere like that.”

6.)

In a similar way, she found out that some of us were having a lot of issues with vendors and cab drivers in the city that could get very aggressive in pushing for a price or trying to force you to buy their wares. And the women in the class were having issues with men being pushy in general (hate to say it but Cairo is known to have an extremely high rate of sexual harassment, and I can attest to that).

Part of the problem, that I will attest to, is we all felt like we were constantly required to be incredibly mean to people, often to just walk down the street and while we might be willing to do it sometimes, we all felt terrible about doing it constantly.

Professor looked at us all fondly. “You all are very nice and you can go home and tell your mothers that she taught you very good manners. However, if you want to get by here, you need to drop all of it. You do not speak to your cab drivers aside from agreeing to a price, you walk away and the two most important words in your vocabulary are now ‘la’a’ (no) and ‘imshee’ (in her words, ‘bugger off’).”

In general: She was stern in a kind way. She cracked us up constantly. She lightly teased us and let us lightly tease her, usually by way of her frustration with another Egyptologist which was an endless well of amusement. At the end of the semester we played a quiz game to review in class and she asked for team names. I gave my team, the first name of the Egyptologist that annoyed her as the team name. The utter irritation on her face every time she had to call on us was great.

She was also a legitimately world renowned Egyptologist. And she never acted like it or said anything. Another professor subbed for our class one time and made absolutely emphatically clear to us that we were lucky to have her as a teacher.

[krizaland]

Quarantined Chapter 4

First Chapter   Previous 

Heyo! I just re-watched the Invader Zim pilot and I’m filled with inspiration!

“What’s your plan, Zim?” Your eyes twinkled with hope as you spoke.

“Oh don’t worry about that! Zim will take care of everything! Just let me drop you off at home and everything will be just fine.” Zim insisted as he patted your head.

“But Zim I-”

“Wait! Before you leave, you should probably take this.” Zim reached into his pocket and pulled out a communicator.

“Use this communicator bracelet if the Dib-monkey starts bothering you again, got it?” Zim explained as he dropped the communicator into your hand.

“Ok! Will do I guess….” You murmured as you put on the bracelet.

“Excellent! GIR!”

CRASH!

GIR fell down from the ceiling but quickly jumped back up.

“Yeess?”

“I need you to take Y/N home!” Zim commanded.

“YES MY MASTER RIGHT AWAY!”

And with that, GIR plopped you onto his back and flew you back home.

“Thanks for the lift, GIR.” You smiled as you carefully climbed off his back.

“You’re welcome! Anything master’s special freeeeind!” GIR sang as he flew back to Zim’s base.

You rushed inside and hopped into the shower.

You scrubbed and scrubbed until your skin turned pink. You didn’t want any traces of Dib left behind on your skin.

Once you were finished, you threw on your favorite PJs and climbed into your bed.

Considering what had happened earlier, you knew damn well you weren’t going to be able to sleep tonight.

You decided to play on your phone while you laid down in bed to calm your nerves.

It wasn’t long before you managed to get sleepy.

However, whenever you closed you eyes, all you could see was Dib’s manic grin staring back at you.

Through out the night, the cycle repeated.

You finally calmed down. You closed your eyes.

BAM!

Dib appears once more!

Eventually, the sound of your alarm broke the cycle.

Despite how groggy you were, you couldn’t help but dread the day ahead.

You knew that Dib would no doubt be waiting for you at Skool today.

A shudder ran down your spine as you could only imagine what horrors he had in store for you.

Luckily, your mind was graced with an idea.

You were unsure if it would work, but it was worth a try.

You went to your closet and threw out the least attractive outfit you own.

You didn’t even bother to make yourself look even remotely presentable as you trudged downstairs.

Luckily, your parents were still asleep, so no one noticed that you looked like a walking train wreck.

After eating breakfast, you hopped onto the bus and prayed that Dib wouldn’t be at Skool today.

Unfortunately, the universe must have really hated your outfit today, because not only was Dib waiting for you, but Zim was nowhere to be seen.

You felt your heart drop into your stomach!

Without thinking, you quickly tapped a random student on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, have you seen Zim today? At…all?” You asked nervously as a few beads of sweat dripped down your head.

“That weird green kid? I haven’t seen him.” The student muttered nonchalantly as he walked off to class.

Great. Just great. Zim was gone and Dib was staring into your soul!

All you could do was pray that your disheveled appearance would deter him.

You took a deep breath, swallowed hard and tried to walk by Dib to get to class.

You were just inches away from the Skool’s doors when

“Y/N?! What happened to you?!”

The sound of Dib’s concerned voice made your blood run cold.

You shook away your fear and ran inside as fast as your legs could take you

“Y/N, wait!” Dib cried out as he chased after you.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you ran and ran throughout the halls.

“Y/N! Come back!” Dib wailed as he continued to chase you.

After what felt like ages of running, you finally managed to make it to class.

You were about to enter but

“Y/N….Please…Stop… Running….” Dib panted as he grabbed your wrist.

You let out a squeak as you tried to pry your wrist free.

“Look, I know you’re upset with me about last night but I was doing it for your own good! Zim is controlling you! I can’t just sit by and let him hurt the person I love more than anything!” Dib ranted as his grip tightened.

WHAP!

You let out a loud scream as you managed to slap Dib off of you.

The impact caused Dib to tumble onto his bottom, giving you time to zip into class.

Dib shook away his shock and rushed after you.

“Y/N! I’m sorry! I just-”

“Dib! Quit your yapping and sit down!” Ms. Bitters commanded as she pointed to his desk.

“Yes, ma’am.” Dib sighed as he slithered back to his desk.

“Class, today’s horrible lesson is about something horrible. Open your horrible textbooks to page 238!” Ms. Bitters grunted.

“Looks like Y/N has a boyfriend.” Snickered one student.

“Poor Y/N. I would die of embarrassment of Dib was my boyfriend.” Tutted another.

Pretty soon the class came alive with whispers and snickers.

Sweat poured down your face as your eye twitched.

Every sound the others made made your anxiety grow larger and larger by the second.

“Alright, now it’s time to work in pairs again. Y/N! You will be paired with Dib!”

The moment those words left Ms. Bitters’s lips, you finally snapped.

“Ms. Bitters! May I please see the Skool nurse?!” You pleaded as you waved your hand about.

“No! Put your hand down, Y/N!” Ms. Bitters snapped.

Your breathing grew heavy as you felt a panic attack come on. You didn’t even want to be in the same room with Dib, let alone be his partner again!

Without thinking, you threw yourself onto the ground and flopped about.

You wriggled and writhed as you jerked your head about.

“What was that?!” Ms. Bitters demanded as she slithered over to you.

“Ms. Bitters, I think Y/N is having a seizure!” Called out one of the students.

“I can see that!” Ms. Bitters huffed as she slithered back to her desk.

BEEP!

BAM!

Ms. Bitters pressed a button under her desk and two nurses burst into the classroom.

“A student is having a seizure, take them to the nurse!” Ms. Bitters grumbled as she pointed to you.

“Woah! That’s the worst seizure I’ve ever seen!” Cried one nurse.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll get you all better.” Cooed the other as she strapped you onto a gurney.

And with that, the nurses carried you off to nurse’s office.

“Y/N! No!! Zim must’ve done something to them!” Dib yelped, “Ms. Bitters! May I use the restroom?”

“Fine. But this is your last bathroom break for the rest of the Skool year.” Ms. Bitters grumbled.

“Yes, ma’am!”

And with that, Dib chased after you as fast as his legs could take him.

Next

[fanficimagery]

Imagine chaperoning your little brother on a field trip of his, only to end up chatting with Captain America.

Steve X Reader

With your parents both working around the clock, it's no surprise they both forget to schedule a day off to chaperone your little brother on his field trip. So on the day of his trip, you find yourself being woken up just a few hours after you'd gone to bed to take their place on the bus. You're not sure what the trip is about, so your mouth falls open in surprise when the school bus rolls down into the private garage of Stark Tower.

All the little kids seem super excited and after the night you had last night you can't help but cringe at all the noise they're making. Leaning across the aisle and tapping a fellow chaperone on the shoulder two seats ahead of you, you ask her what exactly the trip is supposed to entail.

"The Maria Stark Foundation is opening up several learning centers around the city for underprivileged children. We're here because our kids were chosen to test run the programs and various activities they have."

"Oh. Well I wish I had known beforehand," you muse while pulling a pair of large sunglasses down over your eyes. "I would have dressed more appropriate."

Your fellow chaperone eyes your sloppy bun, loose cardigan, and yoga pants, she stifling her laughter as she shakes her head in amusement. "You'll be fine. Just grab a cup of coffee when we get inside. You look a tad hungover."

You smile sheepishly. "Just a tad."

The teachers then grab everyone's attention, explaining that Mr. Stark is going to have breakfast for everyone in the cafeteria before you’re all to head on up to the seventh floor where they set up a learning center for today's activities. And then once everyone has a grasp on what to do, you're all let off the bus in a single file line and led to the cafeteria.

The kids are all fed pigs in a blanket and you find solace in the numerous fresh pots of coffee waiting to be consumed. You then manage to scarf down a breakfast burrito and then cap off your third cup of coffee when everyone is set to move on.

The seventh floor is filled with low tables and small chairs for the kids, numerous of state of the art computers lined up to be used. There are also some round tables where tablets reside and various adults at every station to explain how to use the learning programs that will soon be available to them in the coming months.

As the kids are encouraged to find a place at any station, all the chaperones head off to the side of the room and take a seat on the adult chairs.

You're blowing on the cup of coffee in hand through the small sipping hole when you hear a familiar, grating laugh and let your gaze trail off to the right where Stacy Hoskins- the school's infamous not-so-single mother who likes to hit on anyone with a pulse- walks her fingers up and down a clearly uncomfortable Captain America's arm. The other chaperones look on in amusement, while the others from Stark's tower look on in a mixture of amusement and horror at the woman's boldness.

Seeing as no one is saving the poor soul, you take a moment to think up a plan. Unclasping the lid to your coffee, you leave it in your seat as you stand up and make your way towards Captain America and his unwanted admirer. So keeping an eye on your brother, you make it seem like a total accident as you bump into Stacy's knees and spill your coffee all over her lap.

Stacy shrieks and your eyes widen in horror. "Oh my god. Stacy, I'm so sorry! I didn't see- I didn't mean-"

Now standing herself, Stacy forces a smile as she fruitlessly wipes at her coffee-stained jeans. "Of course you didn't," she grits out, flipping her bleached blonde hair to the side. "I don't see how anyone can see through those ridiculous glasses you wear."

Grinning, you push your sunglasses up on top your head. "Well I needed something to deflect the glare from that bad dye job of yours," you muse, gesturing to her hair.

Stacy gasps in outrage, not hearing the snort coming from the one she just had her claws dug into moments ago, but decides to not make an even bigger scene. Instead, she lowers her voice and mutters, "You're a total bitch, Y/N," before marching off.

Turning to follow her with your gaze, you smirk. "That comment is not as offensive as you think, Stacy. If you're trying to hurt my feelings you totally failed."

The other chaperones are laughing behind their hands and their own cups of coffee, and you shrug when several gazes meet yours. Hearing a throat clear behind you, you tense up when you remember just who you had saved from Stacy's clutches. Cringing, you slowly turn back around and glance up, only to meet the now standing Captain America's amused gaze. "Well.. that was something."

"I'm really sorry," you chuckle nervously. "Stacy is- I just couldn't watch that train wreck happen. You looked uncomfortable and I decided to step in, so I'm really sorry if I overstepped."

He laughs. "No apologies needed, ma'am. I needed a way out and was hoping a friend of mine would save me, but they apparently enjoy watching me squirm." You follow his pointed gesture to see a beautiful redhead sitting next to none other than Tony Stark himself- the latter of who salutes you with his own cup of coffee. "I'm Steve, by the way."

Facing him once more, you smile and nod. "Y/N."

He gestures to the seats beside the two of you and you take a seat with him. "So which one is yours?" He asks, taking your now empty cup of coffee and tossing it into the bin behind the chairs. "I'm assuming you're here as a chaperone since I've never seen you around the tower before."

Clasping your hands in your lap, you grin. Then looking out towards the children who have made themselves comfortable running back and forth between stations, you find one kid in particular and groan when you see him reaching towards a rather expensive looking vase in the corner. "Robert!"

The kid whirls around. "I didn't touch it!"

"Of course you didn't," you shout back. "Now go find a station." Robert's shoulders drastically droop as he drags his feet towards the nearest station, he then sitting in a chair in front of a tablet. 

"He get in trouble often?" Steve wonders.

"So-so. I usually keep him out of trouble with mom and dad since I'm the bad influence, but we're not at home right now. He breaks that vase and it's me who'll be yelled at when we get home."

"Oh. So you're not his-"

"Mom?" You meet Steve's gaze, cocking an eyebrow at him. "How old do you think I am, Steve?" You ask, mentally feeling smug when you see his lips quirk at the use of his name. Not Captain America, not Mr. Rogers, but Steve. Just Steve. "Robert's my little brother. Mom and dad forgot to take a day off of work, so they asked if I could skip classes for a day to chaperone the little terror. Luckily for me I'm on good standing with my professors and they trust me to make up the day's work within the week."

"That's awfully nice of you. And your professors."

You shrug your shoulders, feigning innocence. "What can I say? I'm very likable."

"I think Stacy would say otherwise."

Snorting, you bite your bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud and drawing attention. Then when you're under control, you say, "Yes. I'm sure she would." A moment of silence falls over you, it then turning slightly awkward when everyone keeps glancing in your direction. Jerking to sitting upright, you sheepishly meet Steve's gaze. "I, uh, I should go and make sure Robert is actually.. learning or something. It was nice meeting you."

"Yeah, you as well," Steve muses.

Stalling for a brief moment, you slowly stand to your feet while saying, "If you see Stacy coming, run. Or come find me," you grin. "I'm not afraid to chase off crazy women when they're clearly not wanted."

Steve stands with you, tucking his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "I will. I hope you and your brother have fun."

You nod and then scan the room for your brother, and try to not make it seem like the hounds of hell are on your heels as you make a beeline for him. 

What the hell was your life coming to when you got to talk one on one with Captain America?

Lunch rolls around and you lead Robert to an empty table so he'll focus on his food and not his friends. The cafeteria is abuzz with excited voices and you manage to mostly keep your little brother in line. And just when you're about to let him run off, you see his eyes widen as he slowly retakes his seat and stares at something- or rather someone- above your head.

"Excuse me, but do you mind if I sit with you?"

The newly familiar voice gives you pause and you now understand why your little brother seems so starstruck. Captain America- er, Steve- is standing right behind you. Slowly glancing over your shoulder, you're starstruck yourself for a moment before clearing your throat and gesturing with a hand. "Go ahead. Stacy find you?" You then grin.

Steve laughs as he pulls out a chair. "No. But I did see her eyeing me in hopes of sitting next to her."

"And you brought your tray over to my table? Don't I feel special," you tease.

"Y/N! You can't flirt with Captain America," you brother exclaims.

Your head snaps in his direction just as Steve snorts and you narrow your eyes at Robert. "Don't you have friends to make trouble with? Go before I find the Black Widow and tell her all about your crush on her."

Robert's grin vanishes, a pout replacing his amusement. "Fine. But you're taking my tray."

And before you can deny his demand, he's up and out of his seat only to be racing to the opposite side of the cafeteria.

"That was harsh of you," Steve muses. "You should never out a boy to the woman of his dreams."

You scoff. "Please. As if I'd actually go up to the Black Widow and make conversation. That woman is both beautiful and terrifying. I'd never have the guts to speak to her."

Steve laughs. "I'll tell her you said that. She's bound to be amused."

"Please don't. Or do," you then reiterate. "The lone lady Avenger needs all the love she can get. According to People magazine it's a tight race between you, Iron Man, and Thor."

"You actually read that tabloid?"

"Only when I need to kill time. I don't believe anything written in them, but I do find the polls rather amusing."

"That's a relief." Steve starts assembling his lunch, he taking a quick bite before following it with a sip of what looks like sweet tea. "So how's your day been so far?"

"Tiring. In case you hadn't noticed, I was a bit hungover this morning," you huff. "I bartend nights and last night was a friend's birthday, so we stayed later to celebrate a bit. I think I'd only been asleep for a few hours before I was being woken to chaperone Robert."

"Hungover? I think you were still drunk," Steve says. "Luckily for you, no one could really tell."

"It was all that coffee I drank. Trust me, if Stark hadn't had the cafeteria opened I would be dead on my feet right now."

"Well I'm glad you're feeling better. And for all that coffee you drank. If it weren't for you, I think I'd be stuck with Stacy right now." Following Steve's gaze, you grin as you spot Stacy glaring directly at you. Mockingly wiggling your fingers in a wave at her, Steve snorts and ducks his head. "Don't antagonize her."

"What," you feign innocence. "It's not like you have to drive home with her. And besides, the other chaperones will get a kick out of it. Stacy is widely known at my brother's school and her reputation isn't exactly squeaky clean. Her not getting her way today will be what all the other mom's will be talking about for the rest of the year."

"Yeah. Her, you, and me," Steve then says.

You freeze mid-sip, your eyes subtly widening. "Fuck. My mom's gonna hear about this. She's never gonna let me live this down."

"Language."

You startle at the admonishment, but his lips twitching and eyes crinkling at the corners causes you to droop in relief. "God you're such a little shit. How do people not know this about you?"

"Their belief is that Captain America is highly virtuous. And since Steve Rogers is Captain America, they think I'm the same way. I've learned to go with the flow and troll them unexpectedly."

"Oh man. What I would give to see that in person."

A moment passes in silence as the two of you take a few bites of food, and then Steve's clearing his throat. "You can," he says, gaze solely focused on his tray as he talks. "See the trolling in action, I mean. Would you.. like to grab coffee some time?"

You blink in surprise, mouth gaping. Just as you're about to retort, a strangled noise escapes instead and you click your mouth shut. Steve stares at you in amusement then, and you roll your eyes. But before you can give your answer, a chair across from the both of you is being pulled out and someone is taking a seat.

But it's not just anyone, no. It's James Buchanan Barnes aka Bucky. Former Winter Soldier. Steve Rogers' best friend.

"Uhh..."

"Thanks a lot, punk. Ditch me for a pretty girl while leaving me to stage four clinger Stacy over there," Bucky says, gesturing over his shoulder. "Did you at least get to askin' this one out?" He then asks, staring at you.

You can feel your face heating up and Steve groans. And before you can think anymore on it, you blurt, "Yes."

"Yes?" Bucky wonders.

Looking at Steve, you say, "Yes. To the coffee." Steve's startled expression turns pleased and this time it's Bucky's turn to groan. But before he can retort with something embarrassing, you say, "And now that that's out of the way, I'm gonna go.. and be somewhere else to get my heart rate back under control."

"How will I contact you?" Steve asks as you stand, collecting your and Robert's tray.

"Uhh.."

"Just rattle it off," Bucky muses. "The punk will remember it. He has a good memory."

"Oh." As you rattle off your number for Steve, you only have a moment to regret doing so when you see Bucky typing it into his own phone, smirking all the while. You have a feeling both these gentlemen are going to bring a lot of amusement in the near future. "So, uh, it was nice meeting you guys." Looking at Bucky, you say, "I guess I'll see you around? And you," you shyly smile as you then stare at Steve. "I guess I'll be seeing you sooner rather than later."

Steve grins. "You will."

"Okay then." Leaving the table in a slight daze, you manage to dump both trays in hand before finding your little brother.

As you take a seat next to him out in the hall, he asks, "Did you really give Captain America and the Winter Soldier your phone number?"

"I.. think I did," you gulp, suddenly paling. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Cool! You are officially the best sister ever. If he becomes your boyfriend, you're bringing him home to dinner."

"Shut up, Robert."

[presleepthoughts]

How about a spider Beca au? For bechloe?

I literally have had this draft on my computer for over a year now. Didn’t plan on releasing it until I completed it but if you’d like to read it, here it is 😬😀

I planned this to be multi-chapter fanfic so there’s not much Bechloe in the first chapter so excuse me 😂 

If you don’t like it, we can just pretend it never happened. 

but if you are interested in more, just let me know and I’ll show you the rest.

Powerless - Chapter 1

Sheflexed her muscles trying to break out of the straps that trapped her limbsdown on the bed. A middle-age man stood beside her in a white lab coat with aneedle in his hand filled with blue liquid. Beca’s eyes widened in panic and fearas she struggled to fight for her freedom. She couldn’t go through this again.This was the fifth time this week.

“Subjectis ready for the injection. Third attempt. 5-milliliter dosage.” He listed hisactions as he grabbed Beca’s IV tube and placed the needle inside, pushing theliquid into her veins.

Becapanted, preparing her body and mind for the virus to hit her immune system. Shefelt the pain slowly spread through her forearm all the way to the top of hershoulder and her body shot down. She started shaking violently, trashing backand forth as the venom spread through her body. Her body was rigid to the pointwhere she feared her spine was going to snap at any moment.

Unbearablepain attacked her heart and she let out a scream.

Thedoctor observed her reaction, ready to step in at any moment. “Her heart rate’sincreasing. Vitals are low.” He watched her heart monitor as it started to beepfrequently. “We’re losing her.”

Anautomatic voice rang through the room from the speakers. “Give it a minute.”

Thedoctor obeyed and stayed put. Beca felt tears sliding down her cheeks becauseof the pain that she was powerless to stop. Her eyes rolled back into her headas her body finally lost the battle and she fainted. Her heart monitor sloweddown to normal rate.

“Thirdattempt failed. Subject unconscious.”

Thedoor opened suddenly and another professor walked in. “Give me the chart.” Hedemanded and flipped through the pages, mumbling under his breath. “It’s stillmissing something. But what?”

Hesighed and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “I need to go back to thelab. When is she gonna wake up? We need to keep trying.”

“Shecan’t take anymore. Her heart is going to fail and she’ll die. She needs therest.” The doctor said, releasing her wrists from the handcuffs. “Let’scontinue tomorrow when she’s recovered.”

“Fine.”The professor said nonchalantly and disappeared through the door.

Shewoke up in a white room the next morning, vision slightly blurred. She scannedaround her and glanced down her arm, finding three glowing red dots on herwrist. She sighed; she’ll have a hard time covering them up. It’s no wonder whyeverybody in school thought she was a drug addict.

Carefullysitting up, she grabbed her phone from the bedside table and checked the time.School started in an hour. She needed to get going if she wanted to be on time.

Shegathered her strength and pushed herself off the bed and immediately grabbedher stomach, feeling the nausea coming full force. She reached for the emptybucket placed beside her bed and dry heaved for a couple of minutes. She hadn’teaten since yesterday morning when she was whisked away to the lab.

Dr.Harris peaked his head through the door.

“CanI come in?”

Becagroaned in pain as another wave rolled through her body. The doctor took thatas a ‘yes’ and walked inside with a clipboard.

“Howare you feeling? Aside the nausea. Headaches? Pain in the limbs?” He scrabbleddown something on the paper, unconcerned about the girl on the floor.

“What’s– what’s happening?” Beca weekly coughed out, finally able to take a breath as herstomach relaxed.

“Yourimmune system is trying to reject the venom but it is too powerful. So, theonly other way to get rid of it is by vomiting. It’s natural. You should befine once every drop of toxic left your body.”

Becawanted to snicker and throw something at him but she opted to use that energyto stand up slowly. “How many times?” She asked exhaustedly.

Withoutany context the doctor understood her. “3. It wasn’t safe for us to continuewith the treatment.”

Us. Beca shook her head with alifeless smile. Like she wasn’t the one who almost died yesterday. “That mustbe a record.”

“Hesent me to examine you and determine when are you ready for the next trial.”

Becacollapsed down on the bed. “Great. Awesome. Can you hurry up because I have togo to school.”

Becahurried down the corridor as fast as her body allowed her. The check-up ranlater than she thought and she missed the school bus, making her walk fifteenminutes to the school. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem but she still felt theeffect of yesterday, heavily in her body.

Shetucked down her sweatshirt to cover her wrist and knocked on the classroomdoor. Mrs. Andrews looked at her pointedly but continued the lecture, allowingBeca to slip in the back row without a verbal confrontation. Dropping her bagon the ground, she pulled out a notepad and a pen, blinking rapidly to not fallasleep.

Aftercopping down everything on the board, Beca quickly became bored. Twirling thepen between her thumb and index finger, she looked around the classroom. It wasfilled with the almost entire football team, including the cheerleaders aswell. Beca saw two IT kids from the Tech Club and two lead singers in DramaClub. Front and center sat the cheerleader captain, Aubrey Posen and her secondin command Chloe Beale.

Becatilted her head in wonder.

WhileAubrey embodied every single stereotype of a cheerleader, Chloe was different. Becanoticed her talking to strangers nicely, treating everybody with respect andkindness.

“Ms.Mitchell, you were late and now you don’t even pay attention to the lesson.”Mrs. Andrews’ voice rang out loud, shocking Beca out of her thoughts.

“I’msorry, Mrs. Andrews. I’m listening.” Beca spoke out, shrinking in her seat asthe classroom turned to her. She briefly caught Chloe’s ocean blue eyes beforethe cheerleader turned back around.

“Wonderful.As I was saying…”

Afterthat Beca tuned out, slowly progressing to lay her head down on her desk. Shefought to keep her eyes open but were unable to and she fell asleep.

Theschool bell woke her up violently as she swung her head up and saw peoplegathering their stuff and leaving the classroom.

“Ms.Mitchell, a word please.” Mrs. Andrews’ were sitting at her desk, staring atBeca disapprovingly.

Fuck.

Staciewere waiting for her outside the room, leaning against the wall.

“Whattook you so long?” Stacie questioned, holding her books to her chest.

Becashowed her the pink note in her hands with the words DETENTION splattered onit. Stacie winced as they made their way to the next class that they shared.

“Ouch.What did you do? Mrs. Andrews is really cool usually. It’s hard to piss heroff.”

“Well,I succeeded apparently. I ran late, didn’t pay attention and to top it all off,I fell asleep.” Beca listed bitterly, coming up to her locker. “It’s a miracleshe didn’t send me to the principle.”

Thelast thing she needed was her father to be called in school. She shuddered justthinking about it.

“Whathappened yesterday that made you so tired?” Stacie’s mouth opened wide. “Didyou pick up some hot girl? Oh, tell me everything. I wanna hear all about it.With details.”

Becasnickered as she opened her locker and pulled her history book out. “Like Icould do that. Please. I’m the only lesbian in this school. Who would I pickup?”

“Justbecause they are not out, it doesn’t mean that there isn’t any girl to choosefrom. Believe me, you are not the only one. Plus, it’s a small town, noteverybody is as brave as you.” Stacie stated shrugging.

“Yousure do know a lot about closeted lesbians here. Are you trying to tell mesomething?” Beca smirked jokingly and Stacie rolled her eyes.

“Please,you know I fell in love with people. Not gender.”

Becalaughed. “How poetic of you.” She lifted her arm to grab the strap of her bagbut her sweatshirt shifted down, revealing the evidence of yesterday’s trial.Stacie’s eyes immediately zeroed on the three angry dots and she sucked in adeep breath.

“Whatare those?” Her tone was controlled as she pointed at Beca’s wrist.

Beca’seyes widen as she quickly lowered her arm, pulling the material down, hidingthe marks again.

“No- nothing. I – I just doodled on my hand. It’s ink.” Beca would’ve been proudof her quick thinking if Stacie’s expression hadn’t hardened. She didn’tbelieve her.  

“Don’tlie to me. Beca you said you weren’t doing that anymore! Are you stupid?”Stacie asked strongly, taking a step forward.

Becastepped back. “I’m not doing anything.” She said defensively. As the firstrumors started going around school that she was a drug addict, Beca hadn’tbother to come clean to Stacie. It was easier to let the girl believe thatthose marks came from herself when in reality he was the cause of them.  

“Itdoesn’t look like it! Beca, are you using again?” Stacie in her anger grabbedBeca by the shoulder, squeezing tightly, trapping the girl between herself andthe lockers.

Suddenly,Beca was back in the lab as the assistant strapped her down forcefully onto thehospital bed. No matter how hard she fought, he held her down strongly as hestabbed the needle in her arm and pushed the medicine that made her so woozy,she couldn’t tell from up and down.

Herbreathing picked up as her heart beat out of her chest. Acting on pure panic,she pushed Stacie away by her shoulders, watching as she stumbled backwardswith her eyes wide open in shock.

Bothfrozen to the spot, Beca was aware of the growing crowd around them, curiouslywaiting for something to happen, phone ready in hand to record. She pushed downthe tears threatening to escape and ran down the hall, away from prying eyes,away from Stacie and out the door.

[inyournightmares97]

hello!! ive been busy lately and ive missed reading your stuff! could i request 87 and 99 for the drabble challenge w brian please! thanks so much and have a good day! xx

YoungK + “Are you five” + “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

(Childhood Enemies!au)

Oh, how passionately you hated Brian Kang.

Brian, your next-door neighbor who had been trying to get people to call him YoungK since he was seven years old, but had yet to succeed three years later because everybody everywhere unanimously called him Brian. Even his so-called best friend, Sungjin, had long ceased using the nickname. But your hatred for Brian didn’t stem from his poor name-picking skills. It was a much older feud, one with a long, bloody history and that went back many years…

Well. Six years to be exact. Brian had moved into the house next door on the day you turned 4 years old, and while your mother had only invited him to come play with the other kids out of politeness, he’d ruined what was meant to be the best birthday party ever.

“Who ate all the cake before I could even blow my candles?”

Of course, the culprit had been caught too easily because Brian had pink Barbie-cake frosting all over his hands and mouth while he chattered happily with your older brother, Jae. You had a sneaking suspicion that Jae had been the one who told Brian it was okay to eat the cake but it had been his pudgy little hands and uncontrollable tongue that had ruined your special Barbie-themed birthday party.

And thus began what would be six years of hell.

Brian was generally a nice guy and most of the kids around the block liked him well enough. He let the other boys borrow his nice bike and sometimes helped some of the girls climb trees. But Brian held grudges for a long time and he never forgot how you humiliated him and made him cry for eating your cake at his birthday party. So he began his mission to make your life hell.

When you both started the first grade together, he somehow convinced the other kids in your class that you’d pooped your pants. None of them came near you and you spent most of that year without any friends but with the occasional taunts from Brian. Nothing particularly creative, mind you, just the standard you’re ugly, and you’re stupid and the worst one, are you five? That last one hurt the most but no matter what Brian stupid Kang said, you were not five, you were six and a half years old, so he could suck it.

When you reached the second grade, you realized that something had to change. You were not one to be let yourself be stepped all over, so you began to hold your own. On the first day of school, you told all of your new classmates that Brian had eaten your Barbie cake and that he secretly liked Barbies. While it didn’t cause his friends to abandon him completely, he still endured an entire year worth of teasing from his male friends. By the time you both reached third grade, it had become an all-out war and everybody knew about it.

Your mother had forced you to invite him to your birthday party again, so he’d made you a card with an enormous turd drawn on the front and with the words ‘Poopy-head’ written on it. You were unimpressed as he handed you the card with pleased sniggers,

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” you asked sarcastically, tossing the card aside while you frowned at him. Your older brother Jae had already taught you all the bad words that you needed to know and Brian’s limited vocabulary was unimpressive. “Ugh, how do you not even know any actual bad words?”

Brian frowned. “I do too!”

“Oh, really? Then what’s the baddest word of all time? Huh? Tell me, tell me.”

Brian’s face turned red. “I bet you don’t know either!”

“I do know!” you announced triumphantly, lowering you voice and whispering. “It’s fuck.”

Brian gasped. “I’m telling your mother you said that!”

And hence Brian Kang also ruined your 8th birthday party, by getting you into trouble with your mother and banned from watching television for two weeks. (She might have been more lenient if she knew that you’d learned the word from Jae, and not from the television, but you weren’t a tattle-tale like poopy-headed Brian).

Throughout all the time that Brian had annoyed you and teased you (and you’d admittedly teased him back) you’d developed a passionate mutual hatred for the boy that took up an unusually large share of your time and energy. But it wasn’t until you both finally entered middle school that Brian finally crossed the line and made you actually cry.

It was Valentine’s Day on the first day of middle school, and you’d gotten exactly thirty-two Valentine’s Day cards. Your female friends had been overly generous that year, but you were one of the few girls who actually got Valentine’s cards from some of the boys because you’d joined the middle school basketball team that year and most of the boys in your class were just transitioning from the girls-have-cooties, to the girls-are-cute stage, so you had a little attention on you. Brian had joined the basketball team as well, at the insistence of his best friend Sungjin, and so he was present when most of the team members came up to you and handed you Valentine’s Day cards shyly.

It was on the bus ride home that the crime occurred.

“What’s so great about Valentine’s Day cards,” Brian asked snootily. He was sitting in the seat in front of you. You both sat near the front because as much as you hated each other, you were both too scared to sit near the older kids at the back of the bus. Brian was talking to Sungjin loudly, knowing you could hear him. “I think counting how many Valentine’s Day cards you got it stupid, most people just hand them around even to those they don’t like.”

You were annoyed. Who was he to burst your bubble. “How many did you get, Brian?” you demanded.

Brian glared at you. “I don’t know, I didn’t bother counting.”

“Yes, you did!” Sungjin piped up, turning back to give you a pleasant smile. “He told me that he got eight.”

“Shut up!” Brian hissed.

You beamed, understanding why Brian was being so annoying. He was just bitter that he hadn’t gotten a lot of Valentine’s Day cards. To be fair, you knew a couple of girls in your class that thought Brian was cute but none of them had the guts to actually go up to him and give him a card. All the same, the fact remained that you’d gotten a lot more than him and you couldn’t wait to rub it in. You reached into your backpack and pulled out the stack of cards you’d received that day, holding them in front of Brian’s face.

“I got 32,” you said proudly. “Want to see?”

“No,” Brian snapped.

You ignored him. “Look, let me show you who gave me a card. This one’s from Mina, this one’s from Hyojin, this one’s from Eunji-sunbae, this one’s from Jackson from basketball-”

Brian flinched. “Jackson gave you a card?”

“Yup! A lot of the guys from basketball did. Here- Jackson gave me one, so did Mark, so did Jaebum… oh! And this one’s from Sungjin!”

Brian turned his eyes sharply to his best friend. “You gave her a card? Why?”

Sungjin looked lost. “She’s our friend…?”

“No, she’s not! In fact, you know what I think of all your stupid little Valentine’s Day cards?” Brian demanded, snatching the whole stack out of your hands. Before you could speak, Brian had stuck his hands out of the bus window and dropped the entire bunch-all thirty-two cards- out of the window. You watched in absolute horror as all the cards given to you by your friends fluttered out of the window and flew into the air, some of them landing on the street, the sidewalk, and still others disappearing from sight.

You watched silently for a few moments, your hands covering your mouth in horror. Then you turned to Brian with a look of pure hatred, feeling your throat close up.

“I hate you,” you croaked out, leaning back in your seat and turning away from him so that he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

–

It was later that evening, while you were doing your homework, that your mother yelled for you to come out of your room. “Brian’s here to talk to you!” she called out. “Come downstairs!”

You went down to see Brian standing on your front porch, shifting uncomfortably between his feet. You glared at him, furious. You’d loved every single one of those Valentine’s Day cards and now you didn’t have any of them. Part of you wanted to punch him right in his pretty face but you held back, folding your arms across your chest and glaring at him.

“What?” you demanded.

Brian bit his lip and stared at the ground. “I’m sorry I threw your Valentine’s Daty cards out of the bus.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever, Brian. You’re a jerk and I hate you, so why don’t you-”

“I know I shouldn’t have done that. You got all those cards because people like you, and people like you because you’re a nice person, so…” he trailed off, handing you a small bunch of cards. “You can have all eight of my cards. And… the one on top is from me.”

Before you could respond, he had turned around and rushed back to his own house, his cheeks pink and refusing to look you in the eyes. You looked down at the stack of cards in your hand. The eight cards at the bottom were addressed to Brian but the one on top was addressed to you. You opened the small pink card with a picture of a cartoon boy and girl holding hands and saw the printed message inside.

You’re cute! it read, and Brian had scribbled his name at the bottom. It was simple, nothing particularly touching or over-the-top or romantic.

But it was the nicest thing Brian Kang had ever done for you, and you hated him a little bit less that day.

–

A/N; Ahhhh, this one was so hard to write! I can’t even remotely imagine what Brian must have been like as a kid somehow, haha. @ijustwantacue​, I kept thinking of your Three Little Kings stories while writing this, hahaha.

[sitkowskiryan]

their sickly first kiss. [joshler]

If he had to do it over again, he would not change one thing. It, after all, had led to the best day of his life.

This all started at the tender age of eleven, his first day of middle school. The brunet boy had never been more excited to go to school. It was unusual for a child at his age to be excited for school, but you see he was not like the other children. He had been home schooled through primary school and would have gone all the way to his high school graduation if his mother had her way. Obviously Kelly had not gotten her way since he was now standing outside of his history class too shy to walk in just yet. Despite his nerves, he was glad that his mother had not gotten her way.

Kelly was worried about her son, he was her first baby and this was his first time being away from her for more than a few hours at a time with no one he knew. She had begged her husband, Chris, to “please let him stay home, just one more year!” But the patriarch was determined to see his son have a normal childhood. It was abnormal for a child to only be friends with their siblings and no other kids in the neighborhood. Chris would never forget how his son had longingly looked out the window during one of his wife’s lesson at the kids getting off the school bus. It was then that he decided that his eldest was going to go to middle school when the time came.

This leads to where the eldest son is standing now, with the late bell ringing startling him out of his thoughts. Of course he would be late on the first day of class! The door squeaked as he pushed it open and he internally winced as all the eyes turned towards him. Being homeschooled had caused him to have rather severe shyness and anxiety, even at eleven. This anxiety buzzing around in his head tuned out the teacher as she shared his name with the class and other information that he had no clue how she knew.

“Why don’t you go sit back with Joshua? Joshua, raise your hand,” the small brunet boy made his way towards the curly hair boy who raised his hand towards the back of the room. He, like the other students, was wearing a crisp uniform of a plain white shirt, black slacks, black dress shoes, and a simple red tie. Only this ‘Joshua’ had a small pin on the collar of his shirt. It was an alien, he realized once he was seated. The pin was black and the alien’s eyes were white. It matched with the uniform perfectly, but he had the sneaking suspicion that if the teacher knew what Joshua had on his collar, she would take it and maybe even send him to the principal. He had very limited knowledge of how schools actually worked outside of TV shows.

“Pssst, hey,” a soft voice sounded next to the brunet, a pointy elbow knocking into his own for a second before it went back to its own desk. He glanced at the boy next to him and made a small ‘hmm’ noise to let him know that he was listening without attracting the attention from the teacher. “My names Joshua Dun, but you can call me Josh. What’s your name?” The kid, Josh, already knew his name, seeing as the teacher had announced it to the classroom without his permission, but maybe he wanted to make sure he was actually not an alien?

“Tyler, Tyler Joseph,” the brunet smiled politely. The grin he got back was well worth the step out of his comfort zone and giving away his name. This was the start of a beautiful friendship.

It was two years later when their friendship shifted. That fateful exchange of names had led to Josh and Tyler spending all of their time together. They were always together. Their parents expected to have the other to be with their son every day. If you found Josh, you found Tyler and vice versa. They were inseparable. The only time in those two years that they were separated was the day that Josh showed up with a bloody nose and a black eye. Tyler remembers was if it was a part of his body.

“Josh? What the hell?!” Tyler had shouted, the thirteen-year-old staring at his best friend as if he was one of Josh’s beloved aliens. It had been the one day that Tyler stayed home because he was too sick to go to school. He had been texting Josh all day long, but he had not said anything about someone fighting him. “Come here,” Tyler demanded, reaching out towards Josh, the other boy moving towards his friend. He winced when the clammy fingers touched his face, not from the feeling of them but from the pain in his face. “What happened?” Tyler whispered, shifting and letting out a soft groan at the soreness of his body.

“Some guys jumped me after school, it’s fine Ty. Do you need anything?” The older boy – only by a few months – asked, running his own fingers through Tyler’s sweaty curls. It was not normal behavior for adolescent boys, but Josh and Tyler had never been normal. Not with Tyler’s homeschool experience and Josh’s anxiety with others. The two depended on the other for a lot seeing as they were each other’s only friends. Tyler snapped back to the present when Josh’s thumb stroked his cheekbone to get him focus.

“No, mama said something ‘bout soup ‘while ago,” his voice was nasally, but Josh seemed to be able to follow along well enough. “Why’d they jump you?” Tyler asked shyly, hand reaching up to wrap around Josh’s wrist, though not moving his hand from his hair. Josh sighed gently, knowing that Tyler was not going to drop the subject. The older boy went to speak, but the clicking of a door had him burying his face into Tyler’s shoulder. If Kelly saw him with a busted nose she would tell his parents and inform the school. He couldn’t let that happen.

“Oh! Josh honey, I didn’t even know you were here. You are going to get sick though,” she said, taking in the sight of Josh curled against her eldest chest. Tyler tangled his fingers into Josh’s curls and held him closer.

“He had a rough day, mom.” Tyler explained loosely, staring at his mother pointedly. She frowned in concern and looked down at the other boy before placing the bowl of soup on Tyler’s beside table. She stopped for a brief minute to pat his head before leaving the room, the door clicking close behind her. Josh pulled back, frowning at the bit of blood that was left on Tyler’s shirt from his face. He reached for the soup and took a quick sip from the corner of the bowl before handing it over to Tyler. The chocolate eyes stared at Josh’s mocha ones waiting for him to start talking.

“They had said something about you being,” Josh paused for a second, looking down at his slacks and picking a loose thread that was hanging from them. Tyler ate his soup quietly, not wanting to interrupt Josh’s story. “Gay.” Hearing that word had Tyler’s back straightening and he let out a slight whimper. Josh’s fingers reassuringly stroked his hair. “Kept calling you my boyfriend and stuff like that and so I stood up for you and said we were just friends.” Tyler had no idea why that confession had hurt more than being called gay. His parents were more accepting than others and he knew that being gay was not bad, but still not many boys his age were. Being called gay was still a slur that hurt most of the boys his age and made them defensive. “One thing led to another and I ended up telling them that I was bi,” Josh paused when Tyler made a confused noise in the back of his throat.

“What’s that?” Tyler asked gently, not sure what Josh meant by the word or if it was a bad one.

“Bi?” At Tyler’s nod, Josh let a small smile slip on his face before continuing. “Bisexual. It is when you love boy boys and girls. Though I think I may like boys more than girls.” Josh admitted shyly, once more looking down at his pants. Tyler sat confused for a second, trying to process the information. Josh liked boys? There was something other than straight and gay? You could like both? His sick addled mind was swimming. “Apparently they think bi is a synonym for gay and beat me up. Don’t worry, I caught a few lucky punches as well,” Josh smiled, his lips and teeth a bit red from the blood that had spilled from his nose. Tyler had never thought he looked handsomer.

“You can like both?” Tyler asked, looking down at his soup, spoon moving around the noodles within. Josh looked over Tyler as the brunet distractedly pushed around his soup. Even in the littlest activities and sick Tyler still looked beautiful to him. Tyler was everything that Josh was not, but instead of feeling envious, Josh felt complete. Tyler completed him and the puzzle piece that was missing.

“Of course you can Ty, there are no rules on love,” Josh said gently, watching as the sick boy raised his head to scan Josh’s face. He could see hope in Tyler’s eyes and maybe even a bit of astonishment.

“Can I try something?” Tyler whispered, gently setting his soup to the side and shifting closer to Josh. Upon seeing his wince, Josh moved closer for Tyler so he wouldn’t tire himself out more. Now sitting a couple inches away from each other, the two stared at each other. It was a game of chicken to see who would make the first move. Josh finally nodded his head at Tyler’s question, realizing that maybe that is what Tyler is waiting for. And sure enough the younger boy tilted his head forward. It felt like slow motion.

To say that either of them forgot the taste of blood and chicken noodle soup to this day would be a lie. And to say that Josh regret getting sick the next day was an absolute lie. He would not have changed a thing about that day.

ØØØØØØ

hey guys! i hope you like this! i think it is really cute and stuff, but i'm not sure if people in my class will like it! oh well! i love it! if you wanna talk to me or ask for any plots or situations, send me an ask on my tumblr, scarycis

comments really keep me going guys so let me know what you guys think!

[pains-of-lgbtq-in-sg]

2 Oct 2021, 06:23

As a kid, before I knew who I was, I used to hear others talk about Gay Rights. And it confused me why gays had to have rights, when we don’t go around talking about heterosexual rights. And each time I would be no closer to a conclusion and would shelf that thought away again until the next time it popped up uninvited.

I was just who I was. A kid. A regular kid. A regular kid who enjoyed sports and being in shirts and pants because then no one would keep hounding me to sit with my legs “closed.” I hated the long hair my mother wanted me to keep. It made me warm in humid Singapore, was always messy, and was a chore to dry after each shower. From every practical standpoint, skirts and long hair made no sense to me. My mother was a girly-girl, who wanted her girls to learn the piano, dress in skirts and have long ponytails. Sadly, other than the piano, I was a huge disappointment to her.

I had always been an old soul in a young body. Everything had to make practical sense or I would have a hard time accepting it. Growing up, school was hard for an old soul like me. Kids everywhere seemed childish, and my best friends were books, which could help me escape reality, even if just for a while.

When I got older, I was happy to join the workforce, where I thought I’d be around mature adults, and my world would start to make more sense to me. Boy, was I in for a shocker. I had not realized that common sense was not common, basic courtesy was not basic, and ownership and accountability were not owned by many. I also learned that ethics and integrity counted for nothing when you were in sales and in the Insurance industry dominated by ruthless managers. After 6 years watching those honest fall, and those merciless soar, I dragged my sorry ass back to school, hoping and praying grad school would be different.

That’s where I met her. I remember that first day of introductions, when she sat at my 2 o’clock. I remember her introducing herself from country ABC and having hobbies in culinary and photography. I remember our class having to walk to the library for a school tour after, and me sidling up to her side as the lights turned red where we waiting to cross the road. I oh-so-casually looked at the birds on the tree above, the old guy taking a smoke just a distance away, and then finally, just nonchalantly turned to her and said, “Hi, so you’re into photography too? What’s your favorite camera?”

And that was the start of our last 4 sweet years together. During school breaks that 1st year, we took trips to Bangkok and Australia, and school took us to more trips in U.S., Switzerland, and Italy. We were young, and everything was rosy. We took budget planes for just 2 to 3 days out of Singapore on a whim, and did budget road trips for weeks, just booking the following nights’ accommodation as we went along. We visited her family in country ABC and took them on their first road trips to different states, and those improved her parents’ estranged relationship as well. At that time, we made do, living out of her tiny common room rental for 850 a month, in a small condo unit shared by (officially) 5 other housemates. 2 guys were in the master bedroom, a girl in a similar common room, a guy in the bomb shelter and a girl in the kitchen storeroom (where the last two had no windows and therefore, kept their doors open every night). I was her regular “secret” guest, and the neighboring room always had her boyfriend over.

That place was a nightmare. The room was tiny, fitted with a queen bed, a 0.4m x 1m wide study desk, a simple foldable IKEA chair, and a narrow (1.5m high) two panel wardrobe. With all the furniture against the 4 walls of the room, there was only a 0.5m walkway between the door and bed, and bed and wardrobe + study desk. (Think how you couldn’t even pull the chair all the way out to sit at the desk!) Luckily, she only brought one suitcase with her, and that had nowhere else to go except to be balanced precariously on top of the flimsy wardrobe held up by duct tape. There were tiny bugs constantly on the headboard of the bed, the walls, and the sides of the wardrobe, and squishing them only left small dots of red on the wood and paint.

After school ended, we both found basic jobs in the financial sector, earning basic salaries (3k each) that were barely enough to cover rent and the 50 grand of study debts. We lived simple lives on her culinary skills and moved out to a slightly bigger place (with no bugs!) as soon as the previous rental contract ended. Deciding on a small studio in the far areas of Western Singapore was hard when we only had a budget of about $1500 for rental. Fortunately for us, heaven smiled down on us during our search. I will never forget the moment we signed on the line to rent that new place, and the pure elation on her face mirrored my emotions the first day we wheeled her luggage through the door. We were both so overwhelmed that we just stood in the middle of the completely unfurnished unit, just turning around and around to look at the “huge” space we now had. The landlord was kind enough to provide us the keys 7 days before New Year’s Day, and we enjoyed our first homecooked Christmas dinner there. Just 400 square feet of luxurious blessing (including our very own bathroom).

2018 to 2019, we were happy. As happy as can be. If Singapore allowed, I would have married that girl, and made her my wife. I knew that I wanted her around, through thick and thin, bugs and all, for as long as I could. But because we couldn’t, we tried to apply for PR for her. Twice. And failed twice. Despite everything, we were happy. She enjoyed her work and colleagues, and I had a job I enjoyed, in a decent company, with great colleagues and a great leader. Everyday, time seemed to fly by as I get so engrossed in picking up new experiences and knowledge at work. And at the end of each day, I was happiest, running to catch the bus that would take me the few short stops to her office, and we would head home together.

2020, the world went crazy. When Covid-19 started, nobody took it seriously. When they finally did, it was too late. Singapore being small, seemed to put its economy before citizens’ health, and pretty soon, we saw new policies introduced so fast and furious, it was hard to keep up. Racism escalated real fast as fear grew. Everyone’s primal survival instinct kicked in, took over, and overwhelmed. We saw hoarding like never before, where previous proud displays of extravagance in the form of luxury goods, were replaced by flaunting of overstocked pantries of unnecessarily excessive daily necessities. Households storing shelves of toilet paper and rice, splashed out on social media, instigated herd mentality, and created dangerous vicious cycles. It was at this time that our rental contract was due for renewal, and because of travel restrictions, we saw a larger than usual demand for rental property. We saw increased negative correlation between our salaries and expenses but still, we were thankful for just having each other.

Unfortunately, fate reared its cruel head, giving us first-hand experience of Murphy’s law. Her father was diagnosed with cancer towards the end of the year, and that was the start of the end of the improving relationship between her parents. Both our companies also underwent major restructuring that year. Coincidently, both companies started offshoring parts of operation to neighboring country XYZ. And it seemed ridiculous then, because the number of Covid-19 cases in that country was heading north at breakneck speed. Every single day, more than half of both of our offshore teams were on medical, hospital or compassionate leave. Work was not getting completed, and to make things worse, both offshore teams seemed to have the same zero accountability and pride in their work. Every day was a mental torture to engage them in their finger-pointing, others-blaming games, even when evidence of their negligence was staring at them point-blank in the face.

Having a slightly better command of English than her, I took it in my stride facing these “Taichi experts.” But when my boss (that I had a huge respect for) lost his job due to the restructuring (and workplace politics), I started looking out. I was fortunate enough to be able to land another opportunity and left.

Her job was harder hit. Her team now had to rely on the offshore team to finish the daily BAU wok before Singapore team could check and sign off. I remember when she first joined, she was trained for a month before she caught up with the daily deadlines and managed to complete the day’s checks by 5pm daily. Somehow, their XYZ offshore team were still exceeding all deadlines by a wide margin (with massive amounts of repeated errors, which they would then trigger new blame games), causing the Singapore Team to finish their checks (and “fights”) and call it an end mostly after 10pm.

While barely keeping her sanity at work, watching her constantly forcing a smile to comfort her mother, who was struggling with a self-centered patient exploiting his illness, I saw the bags under her eyes gain prominence over the months. We tried desperately to find a new suitable job for her, as her initial Singapore team of almost 30 (mostly seniors with more than 10 years’ experience) dwindled to the last 5 of them. During this time, her mouth struggled to maintain its curve upwards, and it was heart-wrenching to witness the glimmer of hope fade from her eyes. I knew she missed her mother, as Covid-19 prevented us from traveling back to see her. I knew she was not enjoying her “new” role at work, working with the XYZ team. But my hands were tied. I begged everyone and anyone I knew to look out for any suitable job willing to consider a foreigner. It was a losing battle.

After 8 months, she started applying outside of Singapore as well, thinking to leave it to fate. Shortly, a call from ABC country offered her an interview. Things went fast, and in a few short weeks, they were extending an offer, with one condition, that being she was to board the first available plane back after completing her notice period.

I was crushed. I knew I couldn’t make her choose me (and continuing working with XYZ team), but suddenly I felt like I had been told I have just one more month to live. My life, as I knew it, was ending in just 4 very short weeks. We both knew her current job in its current form, was destroying her mental health, and I couldn’t bear to keep her here like that.

After the initial roller coaster of emotions calmed down, we strategized, trying to accommodate all the local places we had always talked about visiting, with the packing and shipping of her stuff.

Today marks the 33rd day she is not by my side, and all this time, I have been trying not to be cynical when considering the factors that contributed to our current situation. Days and nights blur into one, as I try tirelessly to find myself a job in country ABC, hoping against hope that we may soon reunite.

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 66.1

Zim, Dib, Pepito, and Squee's class go on a camping trip for the weekend. Previous! Next!

Camping Trip of Doom Part One

           Squee sighs heavily as he flaps the opening of his sweater. “Man, I’m hot.”            “Maybe if you weren’t in jeans and a sweater,” Dib points out, who’s wearing just shorts, a t-shirt, and sandals.

           “The day I go outside in anything less than full body clothing is the day I die,” Squee grunts.

           “So is that what you’re gonna wear all weekend?”

           “No, Devi and Tenna packed me a punch of shorts,” Squee groans, “that’s why I’m convinced I’m gonna die on this trip.”            “Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Dib smiles, “look, even Zim is wearing camping clothes…er, kind of.”

           Zim is wearing shorts and a tank top. But underneath he’s in a skin tight black suit, along with his usual boots and gloves.            

           The tenth grades are waiting outside the Skool for their bus. From Friday to Monday morning, they’ll be at a nearby lake, called Lake Grim, for a camping trip. They’ll all be doing camping activities, sleeping in cabins, and chilling around the lake.

           “The bus is gonna be here soon,” Dib says as he looks around. “Where’s Pepito?”            “He texted me that he’ll be running a little late,” Squee replies, “slept in.”            “Figures,” Zim grunts.

           As if on cue, they spot Pepito squeezing through the crowd of their classmates. He’s dressed in summer clothes too along with a baseball cap with holes cut just above the lid for his horns to poke through.

           “Hey, guys,” he chimes. He eyes Zim judgementally. “Zim, what the hell are you wearing?”            “I refuse to show off as much skin as the rest of you,” he scoffs.

           “Then why wear shorts and a tank at all?” Pepito asks.

           “It’s the usual human convention.”            He smiles wearily. “Well, at least you got the spirit.”

           The bus arrives not long after. Everyone files on and takes their seats. Zim, Dib, Pepito, and Squee make their way to the back of the bus when Pepito gets tugged back.

           “Pepito, sit with us,” Jessica chimes as she and the other popular girls tug him to their seats.

           “Uh, well, I was-.” He tries to argue.

           “Come on, you don’t really wanna sit with those losers,” Sara scoffs. They force him onto their seat and start coddling him.

           Squee glares at them with annoyance as he sits down at the back of the bus, next to Dib and Zim.

           “Wow, that’s annoying,” Dib comments, “he should just tell them off.”            “He won’t. He’s too nice for that,” Squee says then mutters, “even if they do deserve it. Bunch of harpies…”            Dib looks at him with surprise then starts snickering.

           “What?” Squee questions.

           “Sorry, it’s just there’s not much that really ruffles you,” Dib says, “not like this anyway. Are you jealous?”

           Squee flinches with surprise.

           “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he adds, “you have every right to be. He is your boyfriend after all, even if nobody else knows that.”            “It’s fine,” Squee grunts, “Pepito’s nice, good-looking, fun. Of course he’d be popular. But he would never cheat on me. I have nothing to be jealous about.”            “Except for those girls stealing all of his attention,” Zim points out.

           He shrugs. “I get his attention all the time. I can go one weekend without it.”            “I suppose you’re right,” he nods, “Pepito is super clingy. This will probably be a good break for you.”            Squee doesn’t say anything in reply. He just stares out the window silently as the bus takes off.

           The drive is long but uneventful. Most of the kids keep to their own groups, listen to music, play games, or read books.

           Squee tries to write a story in one of his notebooks, but every so often he’ll glance over the seats and spot Pepito acting chummy with the girls. He tries to ignore them but despite his best efforts, it still has him fuming.

           Zim and Dib can see it bothering him, and while it’s amusing on a lot of levels, it’s also slightly concerning.

           “Hey, Squee,” Dib says, catching his attention. “Did you know that the lake we’re going to is home to a monster?”        

           “Really? What kind?” Squee asks.

           “It’s a water monster that dwells deep within the lake,” he explains as he opens something on his cellphone and shows it to Squee. It’s a screenshot of a grainy photo that shows some kind of silhouette floating on water in the distance.

           Squee stares at it then glances at Dib incredulously. “This looks like those fake photos of the Loch Ness Monster.”

           “No way, this is totally real,” he insists, “I mean Nessy is real too of course. But ours is called the Lake Grim Monster.”

           “Ugh, that is such a rehash. Is there any proof? I mean good proof.”

           “Not yet. But that’s why I’m so excited to go. We’ll find some good proof.”

           “Can’t we just leave it alone?” Squee asks wearily, “if this monster is real, it probably just wants to keep to itself.”

           “But what if it’s dangerous?” Dib questions.

           “Has there been any proof that it’s dangerous?”

           “Actually, about twenty years ago, lots of people would disappear in the northern part of the lake. Everyone assumed they were drowning or something so that part of the lake has been deemed off limits and nobody’s gone out there since.”

           “Great, so it’s blocked off. We’ll never get over there on a Skool trip.”            “Oh, that part will be easy,” Dib scoffs, “the hard part will be finding the monster’s lair. I couldn’t sneak on any scuba gear so I hope you’re a good swimmer.”

           Squee winces and looks away awkwardly.

           “Well, count me out,” Zim grunts, “no way am I setting foot near that much water.”

           “Then why come on the trip in the first place?” Dib asks.  

           “Usual human convention.”

           The rest of trip Dib chats with Squee about the monster, the activities they’ll have to do, and generally just tries to keep him distracted. It works, and Squee doesn’t spend the majority of the trip fuming in jealousy.

           They finally arrive to the lake by the afternoon. Everyone files off the bus and lines up in front of the teachers: Mr. Garland, Mrs. Tell, and Miss Sweeties.

           “Okay, who’s ready for a fun weekend in the woods?” Miss Sweeties chimes.

           Most of the students groan apathetically. Squee sighs and leans closer to Dib.

         “Why does Miss Sweeties have to chaperone us? Honestly I would’ve preferred Ms. Bitters,” he whispers.

           “I don’t think Ms. Bitters can be out in the sun too long,” Dib whispers back.            

           “Everyone follow us and we’ll show you around,” Miss Sweeties orders.

           The kids follow the teachers into the campground and Miss Sweeties explains where everything is. The biggest building is the mess hall, where all the meals will be held. Across from that is the rec center, where a lot of the students will be doing activities, along with the washrooms. Beside that is the lake which is surrounded by forests except for the sandy beach connected to the campground. And further in are seven cabins and a chalet.

           “So first you’ll drop off your stuff in your assigned cabins,” Miss Sweeties explains, “and then we’ll meet at the mess hall for lunch. And break!”

           The students split off into their groups and head to the cabins with their luggage. Zim, Dib, and Squee look around for Pepito and spot him still being coddled by the girls. He’s smiling awkwardly and trying to back away but he’s not trying too hard.

           “Let’s just go,” Zim grunts, “he’ll catch up.”  

           Zim and Dib walk off. Squee lingers a second longer, glowering irritably, before following.

           They find their assigned cabin and let themselves in. It’s rather small with three bunkbeds, one against each side wall and one against the far wall. The only windows are two small ones on either side of the door.

           “I call a top bunk,” Dib exclaims as he races inside.

           “You can take it,” Squee grunts, “I will never sleep on a top bunk.”

           “Zim deserves nothing less than top,” Zim states.

           They drop off their stuff and set up their beds, claiming their territory.

           Squee takes off his sweater and changes from jeans to board shorts. His discomfort is clear on his face.

           “Nice knees, Squee,” Dib comments.

           “I hate showing this much skin,” he grumbles.

           “You should wear a body suit like me,” Zim suggests.

           “Mmmm nah.”

           As they’re finishing up, the door flies open and Pepito falls through. He slams the door closed and leans up against it, panting.

           “Look who decided to show up,” Zim grunts.

           “Sorry,” Pepito sighs, “those girls are driving me nuts.”            “Just tell them off,” Dib says.

           He groans uncertainly but doesn’t give a proper reply as he drops his bag on the top bunk over Squee. He hangs his head, sighing, and glances at Squee. His face lights up immediately.

           “Wow, Squee, you’re in shorts!” he exclaims.

           “Yeah,” Squee groans. “Devi and Tenna wouldn’t let me pack pants.”

           “They look good,” he comments.

           Squee smiles bashfully.

           They leave the cabin and head to the mess hall together. The students are lined up outside the doors. After a couple minutes, the doors open and everyone files inside.

           “Go ahead and pick what you want for lunch,” Miss Sweeties demands. Across the room is a buffet table with a big pot of hot soup, premade sandwiches, and assorted crackers and cheeses along with milk and different juices.

           Everybody grabs a tray and starts filing along the table, gathering what food they want.

           “At least this stuff looks better than the cafeteria food,” Dib comments.

           “Still human food though,” Zim grumbles, “fortunately I brought some actually good food to eat later.”

           “You mean Irken food,” Pepito says.

           “Same thing.”            They start to head to a table when Jessica and Sara pop in from out of nowhere and scoop Pepito’s arms.

           “Come sit with us,” Jessica chirps.

           “Yeah, come on, Pepito,” Sara chimes.

           He stammers uncertainly but doesn’t try to argue as they pull him away. Zim, Dib, and Squee watch him leave and Squee glowers irritably.

           They sit a table, away from anyone else and start eating. Well, Dib and Squee eat while Zim sort of just picks at his food.

           “Hey.”

           They look up at Kat- Tak’s human disguise- standing beside them. They blink with surprise.

           “Tak-I mean, Kat,” Dib says as she sits down with them. “How long have you been here?”            “The whole time,” she replies like it’s obvious.

           “We didn’t notice,” Squee says.

           “That’s by design because my disguise is actually good,” she states.

           Zim scoffs. “I prefer to stand out.”      

           “I’ve noticed,” she grunts, “so where’s Pepito?”

           Dib hooks a thumb across the room to where Pepito is being swarmed by the popular girls.

           “Hm,” Kat muses and looks at Squee. “That doesn’t bother you?”

           He just shrugs dismissively. “He can sit where he wants.”            “Yeah, but-,” she starts to argue but Zim kicks her underneath the table. She flinches and glares at him. He glares back and subtly shakes his head. Kat blinks curiously.

           After lunch, the students gather in the middle of the campground while Miss Sweeties and the other teachers address them.

           “We’re gonna be going for a walk around the lake,” she explains, “it’s a long walk so be sure to take some water with you. And go to the bathroom if you have to because we won’t be back until evening.”

           Once everybody’s ready, they take off down a trail leading into the trees. All the kids walk in their own groups- Zim, Dib, Squee, and Kat walk together. Pepito is still be crowded by the popular girls. They’re not even giving him an inch.

           The walk is peaceful and beautiful. The bright sun streams through the branches overhead while a breeze rustles the leaves. Birds are chirping in the distance while the lake lapping against the shores can be heard nearby.

           They reach a spot where the trees thin out and the lake can be seen clearly. It’s only a couple feet from their trail.

           “Be careful here,” Miss Sweeties orders, “the water level really rose last spring so stay in the middle of the trail.”

           Dib grabs Squee’s shoulder, stopping him.

           “This is the northern part of the lake,” he says excitedly, “where the Lake Grim Monster lives.”

           “The what?” Kat asks.

           “It’s a monster that lives in the lake, Kat,” Dib groans, “keep up.”

           Squee looks off in the distance. “It’s blocked off by buoys. That’s effective,” he comments sarcastically.            “I wonder if I can see it’s lair from here,” Dib says excitedly as he inches closer to the water.

           “The water’s way too dark to see anything,” Squee points out, “come on, Dib, let’s just-.”

           Before he can finish, Dib’s foot slips in the mud and he slides right into the water.

           “Dib!” Zim, Squee, and Kat cry out.

           Dib gasps as he pops out of the water and crawls back onto the ground. “I’m okay.”

           “What happened?” Miss Sweeties asks worriedly as she hurries over.

           “Dib fell in the water,” Squee replies as he, Zim, and Kat help him up.

           “Oh, Dib,” she sighs, “I said to be careful. Go back to the camp and dry off.”            “We’ll go with him,” Zim states and the four of them head back down the trail.

           They laugh amongst each other as they walk away. Behind them, the other students are laughing for different reasons.

           “What a loser,” Jessica comments while the other girls giggle meanly.

           “Totally,” Sara nods, “right, Pepito?”

           Their laughter falls on deaf ears as Pepito watches his friends walk away, a forlorn expression on his face.

[toshler]

♂️♂️Driving Instructor Josh

top! josh x bottom! reader (male) triggers: slight age gap, dominance, public sex, bareback

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

the dmv can make even the most collected individuals nervous. but your anxiety went further than the typical nerves, so you brought a friend along for moral support. anxiety has caused you to put off getting your license for longer than necessary, but you decided enough was enough. as you waited for your number to be called, you fought off negative thoughts about how the driving instructor would hate you, or that you’d fuck up somehow. deep breathing never worked, so you tried visualizing yourself passing. your friend helped by convincing you that if failing was the worse thing that could happen, you had more chances and would learn from it.

a turn of events happened once your number was called. you met the instructor who’d be giving you your test, and he only looked to be in his mid-to-late 20s. when you seen him, your eyes lit up and you couldn’t help being flattered when his apathetic demeanor turned to one of interest upon seeing you. he gave you a sly smile before holding his hand out to shake yours.

“hi, i’m josh. i’ll be giving you your test today. excited?” he asked knowingly. he could sense a vulnerability in you that went beyond the typical pre-test jitters.  

“nervous” you confessed, and he gave you a small, empathetic smile.

“i remember my first time. it’ll be fine, i promise” he said, giving you a small pat on your arm. the physical contact surprised you, but still made you feel safe. you took his words of encouragement and affection as a sign that the instructor definitely didn’t hate you, but you weren’t free and clear just yet. you followed him to the car that your friend let you borrow and practice in a few times, feeling a bit more confident.

you did the typical things before starting the actual driving portion. he had you start the car first, then got out and had you show that the brakes and both blinkers were working. when he got back in, he jotted a few things down and you glanced at him, biting your lip. he caught you and grinned playfully.

“don’t worry baby, you’re doing fine” he reassured. your eyebrows raised a little at the pet-name and you felt more heat wash over you. you couldn’t help but wonder if your mysterious driving instructor flirted with all his pupils this way. you had to admit, it did feel intimate being so close to him, but you needed to clear those thoughts and concentrate. the rest of the test went a little like this:

“back out, good, now go straight...turn left at the stop sign…pull in here...”

after a while, you realized that you were a natural and wondered why you didn’t do this sooner. your confidence soared as he complimented your driving skills, and you watched out the corner of your eye as he continued to jot stuff down in his clipboard. he had you perform a turnabout midway, which you were sure you screwed up on. your heart raced as you neared the dmv and finally parked, eager to hear your results.

“well, the bad news is...just kidding, no bad news. you passed!” josh announced, and you smiled, practically bubbling over with joy. your friend was right, this was definitely worth the risk and you couldn’t wait to get back and tell him.

“thank you, josh” you said politely, even though you really wanted to hug him for being so nice. you both walked back into the dmv so you could retrieve your paperwork and official license. when your friend seen you walking back with a huge grin on your face, he knew you got it. you thanked him for letting you borrow his car, but he couldn’t give you a ride home since he lived quite a ways in the opposite direction. You understood and were used to taking the bus and walking, so it wasn’t a problem. Soon you’d have a job and your own car so you wouldn’t have to take the bus anymore.

“see you in class thursday” you said, waving at him before walking to the bus stop. it was going on 5 pm, and the bus showed up 10 after, so you had some time to kill. you scrolled through random feeds on your phone, until you heard the light beep of a horn. you looked up to see a black car, and then a familiar face. it was josh, your handsome, mysterious driving instructor. he must have just finished his shift and was going home. you were a little shell-shocked to see him out of his place, grinning at you in the most seductive way.

“heeey, you need a ride?” josh yelled, passenger window rolled down. you got up and walked to the passenger side to talk through the window. you told him where you lived, expecting him to decline and say it was too far out of his way, but he said it was fine and to get in.

“so, was that guy your boyfriend?” josh asked, a hint of jealousy in his voice.

“no, just a friend” you answered, and you could practically feel him relax.

“how do you know i’m not a serial killer? do you always get in the car with strangers?” josh asked. he did have that predatory vibe, but being a bottom, you were fine with it. besides, you just knew that he was harmless somehow.

“well, you’re not, are you?” you shot back, laughing.

“you didn’t answer my question. i should punish you for being such a little smartass.” josh deadpanned. he glanced over at you, checking you out before looking back to the road. the sun was already setting, and he was halfway to your house. And the suggestion in his tone had you half hard.

“oh, please do it.” you found yourself saying, maybe sounding a little desperate. the tension has gotten to you, and you were to the point to where you just wanted him to show you what he was made of.

“fuck…” josh growled. he pulled off to the side of the road, parking the car. you were admittedly a bit surprised where your smart mouth had gotten you. the older male was eyeing you up shamelessly, making you squirm in your seat.

“get in the back” josh ordered.

“here?” you asked timidly, seeing a couple cars go down the road.

“yes here, right now” josh demanded. you knew he meant business when he began undoing his jeans, so you immediately crawled into the backseat. he soon followed, wrapping his arm around the back of your neck and kissing you. you held him to you, moaning softly as his tongue slid past yours. his other hand worked to undo your pants, pulling your hard cock out and pumping in languid strokes.

“you think you deserve to have my cock in that ass, sugar?” josh whispered, causing you to wordlessly groan in pleasure. he could not possibly expect you to form coherent sentences while his hand was working mercilessly. “i’ll take that as a yes. on your knees.”

you hesitated as a few more cars zoomed by, rocking the car gently. it felt dangerous and exciting, so you got on your knees for him, humming happily as you felt his hands pulling your hips back. your pants went down your thighs, along with your briefs. his hands were rough as they roamed over your bare ass, squeezing and slapping you harshly. you felt his naked, hard cock nudging against your hole, putting slight pressure.

“fuck, such a sexy, tight asshole. i wanna hear you beg for my cock, slut”

“please sir, i’ve been so good for you.” you whined.

“more”

he paused his movements and you heard the pop of a cap and slick, wet sounds as he coated himself. you bit your lip, thinking of ways to impress the demanding instructor. he teased you by rubbing his slick cock between your cheeks, coating your hole.

“please, josh sir, give me your cock. i need you to fuck me so badly, please”

it sounded pathetic, even to your own ears. another car zoomed by, rocking it gently and josh grabbed onto your hips to steady himself.

“ok, if that’s what you want, slut” josh laughed. your stifled cry was music to his ears as the head of his cock breached your entrance for the first time. he bottomed out, meeting some resistance and marveling at how tightly you hugged around his cock.

“fuck….fuck fuck fuck” you moaned, biting your arm as he rocked in and out of you. it felt so good, you weren’t sure how long you’d be able to last as your cock dripped onto his carseat. you’d be able to cum untouched with just his cock sliding past your sweetspot, feeling every inch. his moans were vulgar and lustful, matching the way you felt.

“come on baby, wanna hear you” josh growled, speeding up his thrusts and slapping your red, bruised ass. you removed your arm from your mouth, allowing your moans to fall freely from your lips. he slammed into you, each thrust becoming harsher as he neared his orgasm. his expert hands brought you closer, one sliding up your shirt to play with a nipple while the other coiled around your cock and set a rhythm.

“josh, i’m gonna, i’m... fuck” you whimpered, falling apart as he kept fucking and jerking you. you shot your load straight onto his seat, moaning and shaking from oversensitivity. you felt his weight shift on top of you and smooth, hard abs against your back. “Fuck, that was so hot, sugar” he groaned against your neck. you felt him speed up before slamming into you for the last time, filling you up. He remained still, hugging your body to his and kissing your neck sweetly while softening inside you. In a few minutes, you both reluctantly pulled your pants back up in the cramped space before making your way into the front seats.

“So what time can i pick your hot ass up tomorrow?” josh asked as he pulled into your driveway. 

[unstable-cherub]

The First Time and the Aftermath: Growing Up A Niña Peluda

I was always aware of my body hair. When I was a young girl, I used to lay down on my mom’s bed at her feet while she watched tv. Sometimes, if she wore pants that stopped mid calf, I would run my hand up and down her shin. She didn’t shave and her leg hairs were long and prominent. Even back then, I had just as much leg hair as her, but she never saw her leg hair as something to be ashamed of, so I thought nothing of mine either. It was just a fact of life. The sky was blue, our house was green, and I had hairy legs. And arms. And, well, just about everything else. I was a hairy kid.

The earliest, clearest memory I have of a time when I was made to feel ashamed of my body hair was when I was sitting in class. I was 9 years old. The teacher had assigned us to do group work, so the boys in my class had huddled around in a group near my desk. One of the boys named Trej was talking loudly enough for me to hear, so when he said my name, I turned to look automatically. I turned just in time to hear him say, and I quote, “Jasmine and Lolita, they’re hairy as hell, they’re like monsters. That’s why Lolita wears sweaters all the time now. She tries to hide it, because, you know–” and here he paused, ran his hands up and down his forearms, scrunched his face up in disgust, and shuddered dramatically while all the boys surrounding him laughed. I remember it with perfect clarity. The moment forever burned into my brain. I remember freezing. I remember going numb. I remember turning to look at Lolita who sat only a few desks away. I noticed that she was, in fact, wearing a sweater even though no one else was. I took in the way she looked down at her desk, the way her shoulders sagged. It was then that I knew that she had heard everything too. She looked defeated. That’s when the feeling of absolute shame and humiliation washed over me. I felt like an idiot. My classmates thought I was disgusting, and here I’d been completely oblivious to it. That was the last time I showed my arms in class.

There were other instances throughout my childhood and each one is, unfortunately, embedded in my memory. By seventh grade, I’d stopped showing my legs as well, after my cousin had made fun of me and said that I’d had “monster-hairy legs”. I guess monster analogies were popular. It wasn’t just my arm/leg hair that made me the target of jokes. It seemed like every aspect of my body was up for grabs, but to stay on the topic of body hair, they also made fun of my sideburns, my thick eyebrows, and the peach fuzz on my upper lip. Maybe if it had just been the kids at school, I could have endured the teasing a lot better, but my siblings were just as ruthless. Perhaps more so.

It got to the point where my mom and my oldest sister finally confronted me the summer after seventh grade. They got me alone in my parents’ bedroom and then asked me what was wrong. At first, I tried to deny everything, but they were persistent, so eventually I stopped denying it. I told them everything. When I was done, my sister said, “well, if you want to, you can start shaving. It’s easy. If you want, you can just shave your legs. I don’t bother shaving my arms, even though they’re hairy as fuck. It’s too much work for me.” My mom just looked down at the ground and said, “but I like you just the way you are now. I never bothered with all that shaving stuff.” and I sniffled and said, “but I bet the kids at school never called you ‘gorilla’.”

The next day, I got home from school to find a grocery bag on my bed. Inside was a canister of shaving cream. My mom never mentioned it, so I didn’t either. The first time I shaved, I did just the top of my left thigh. I just wanted to see what it would be like. I remember being unable to stop running my hands up and down the smooth patch of skin there. Eventually, I managed to pull my pajama pants back up and go about my day again, but that same night, as I lay in bed, I stuck my hand down and felt my thigh again. I hadn’t been able to place the feeling building inside me earlier, but as I lay there half-asleep, I finally placed it. It was relief I felt.

For the next few weeks, I shaved my legs, but I continued to wear pants. For some reason, I felt kind of embarrassed about displaying my newly smooth legs. Then one day, my mom and younger brother asked me to help them give our dog a bath, so I ran into my room and threw on some shorts and then ran back down the stairs before I could convince myself it was a bad idea. They both did a double take when they saw me. My brother said, “what the–? you’re wearing shorts again?” and my mom looked down at my legs and said, “oh”. I ignored both of them and they didn’t say anything else.

Since then, I shaved my legs consistently, but my sister’s words stayed with me and I never bothered to shave my arms. I tried hard not to be self-conscious about my arm hair, and for the first two years of high school, I almost managed to convince myself I was over it. Then one day in Photography class, the boy sitting next to me turned to his friend and very loudly pronounced, “I just don’t understand why some girls won’t shave their arms. It’s not fucking hard and really, no one wants to see that.” Thankfully, I was wearing a long-sleeve cardigan that day, but I remember turning beet red anyway. I’d worn short-sleeve shirts in that class before. There was something else besides embarrassment that day though. For the first time, I also felt annoyed, because I had looked down and noticed this guy’s arms were hairy. Once I realized that, I immediately realized he had no fucking business telling anyone else to shave their arms. The only difference between him and I was that he had been born a boy, and because of that difference he felt confident enough, comfortable enough to demand that girls do something he himself couldn’t be bothered with. I was irritated beyond belief.

Still, even though I knew it was unfair, I stopped showing my arms again after that. It had been a nice two years, but that incident set me back and I was too embarrassed to show my arms again. I confided in my best friend at the time, told her that I’d been made fun of my whole life and that after hearing him say that in class, I couldn’t bring myself to show my arms anymore. I thought she would understand, even though she was pretty smooth-skinned herself. Maybe she did understand the seriousness of how I felt, but I’d prefer to think that she didn’t. It hurts less that way, because one day, we were arguing. We were always arguing, that was the basis of our friendship, but on this particular day, we were at Disneyland with the rest of AV Club. It was late and we were waiting for the bus to pick us up and take us back to school. I don’t remember what started that argument, but I remember that we had an audience. Two boys named Jaime and Pepe. Not quite friends of ours, but friendly nonetheless. They were listening to my best friend and I bicker and they were laughing. I said something, I don’t remember what it was anymore, but it made me feel smug, especially when I heard her gasp and the two boys laugh. I think I must have won the argument. Until she spoke up.

I should have known better. She hated losing. Absolutely hated it. So I shouldn’t have been all that surprised when she shouted at the top of her lungs, “Well, at least I don’t have hairy man arms!” But I was surprised anyway. I didn’t know what to say to that, because I’d told her that in confidence. I’d cried about it to her. I didn’t think she would ever use my insecurities against me. So I just froze and stood there while Jaime and Pepe laughed and while she stood there snickering at me. I tried to shrug it off, tried to tell myself she didn’t actually mean it, but looking back now, it’s obvious that she did. She knew it would hurt me and that’s precisely why she did it.

It’s not hard to see why I spent the next year too ashamed to show my arms when I had her making snide comments about my arm hair at every opportune moment. Eventually, she and I stopped being friends, but to this day, I still don’t show my arms very often. I try not to let people’s comments, past and present, affect me, but it’s hard trying to battle years and years of merciless bullying, mean comments, and insecurities. I still only ever show my arms around family and friends. It’d probably be easier for me if I just shaved my arms like I do with my legs, but for some reason, I don’t like the idea of doing that.

A year ago, I bought a hair removal cream because my friend said she liked it better than shaving. I put a little bit on my arm, just to see what that would be like, like I did with my leg so many years ago. The cream worked fine, but I didn’t feel the same sense of relief as I did back then, so I didn’t apply the cream to the rest of my arm.

I don’t think I could ever get rid of my arm hair. Every time I think about it, I can’t help but think of the guy from my Anthropology Lab class. He’d liked me. I know he did, because I’m clueless as fuck and for me to pick up on it, he had to have been pretty obvious. He’d added me on Facebook though, and one day, he shared a video of women celebrating their body hair, and he’d captioned it “freaks”. After that, I kept him at a distance. I couldn’t cut him off completely because he was my lab partner, but I kept our interactions to a minimum. If that’s what he thought about hairy women, then it didn’t matter that he liked me. He only liked me because he hadn’t seen my arms. If he ever did, I’m sure he would have been just as disgusted with me as he was with the women in that video. I’d liked him a lot and yet, it never seriously occurred to me to shave my arms for him. Shaving my arm hair would have felt like betraying those women. Maybe that sounds stupid, and maybe I’m just making my life more difficult than it has to be, I already shave my legs and get my eyebrows done after all, but for some reason, getting rid of my arm hair is where I draw the line.

I guess it's because I’m trying hard to love myself, but I have to keep some semblance of my past self in order to do that. I feel like it wouldn’t count otherwise. And maybe I won’t ever achieve self-love, maybe I’ll always hate my arm hair, maybe I won’t ever feel comfortable showing my arms, but I won’t ever stop trying. I won’t let those comments from the past get the best of me. I owe it to the little girl I once was. She deserved to know that what those people said about her wasn’t right, that there wasn’t anything wrong with her to begin with, and not shaving feels like the right way to do that.

[xaviervworld-blog]

Three Windows of Life: Memoir

My earliest memories as a child are looking through an old window in our apartment building from the second floor. The blue curtains swayed from side to side as I could feel the spring breeze with my window that was slightly ajar. My parents were afraid that I would eventually try to prove that I could fly, so my window was rigged to only open a few inches. My twin bed was near the window on one side of the wall, while my baby brother’s crib was on the opposite side of the room. All of the apartments were so close, that I could clearly see into our neighbor’s kitchen from my bedroom window. I spent hours playing with all of my matchbox cars in my room or watching all the muscle cars driving down the street. I could see people walking on a nearby dirt path which was made into the neighborhood trail. As I look back, my brother must’ve thought I was his personal entertainment as I focused on making him laugh during all times of the night. My mother worked all day, came home and cooked, then stayed up half the night with my brother. Through my young mind, I thought I could help my parents out by climbing into my brother’s crib (if he woke up at night) in order to help my brother, go back to sleep. Sometimes I helped find his pacifier, pulled his blanket over him, or turned my bed into a trampoline, so he would laugh his way back to sleep. I can remember the day my feelings changed toward my entire family, as my preschool teacher whispered into my father’s ear that I was sleeping all day and failed to participate with any of the class work. My father was a big disciplinarian, so he believed that a few of my actions could be corrected with a belt, switch, or whatever was within reach. He didn’t realize that as my brother woke up at night, I tried to console him, so my mother didn’t have to get up at night. One day I forgot to climb out of my brother’s crib and was abruptly awakened by my father and his brown leather belt. I felt completely misunderstood, angry and alone. I focused on looking at all the cars pulling into the small apartment complex. As I look back, I remember seeing cars or trucks parked in the parking spots, half way on the sidewalk, some were in the grass, some were backed in, in this tiny parking lot for our apartment building. All of the oil spots that stained the parking lot seemed normal, as we walked outside and down to our car.  As I looked out the window in my bedroom there was always men and women, some were married or single gathering in the parking lot of the apartment complex, wearing the same uniform. A uniform with the same color shirt, the same color pants, the same boots and hats, and the same chains around their necks. All of these people, including my father were active duty soldiers in the military, trying to earn a living for themselves or their families and protect our country. Sometimes the stress of those everyday demands of my dad’s job as a soldier, felt as though it was aimed at me, my mom, and my brother.

I felt that I had one of the most fun childhoods that a young kid could have but as I look back on the whole situation I feel as if there were a lot of good lessons that I learned and some lessons I didn’t learn until I got older. When you’re a child you may feel as if you should challenge things that your parents would say or do because you might not agree with anything they have to say. I challenged my bed time as a kid because I could still see kids playing outside, while looking through my window. I could still hear the music playing from the cars in the parking lot on any night of the week. Sometimes my parents went outside to join the “parking lot parties” and other times they didn’t join. I remember asking for popsicles before dinner was ready but most of the time I was turned down. Sometimes I would get up at night and carry my bathroom stool into the kitchen and get the popsicle out of the freezer. As I look back, I don’t know why I did this while knowing that I would get in big trouble if I was caught doing two things wrong. First, getting out of my bed after my bedtime and second getting popsicles that I was told I couldn’t have that day. I asked my mom questions about why I couldn’t have the popsicle. It was hot outside and I had a long day, so I deserved the popsicle.

After we moved into house, I met so many kids in the neighborhood. I was at a new school, new area, and there was a Dollar General right around the corner from our new brick house. I thought I would have my own room, but my younger brother convinced my parents that he was scared to be in a room by himself. The next day I came home from the Boys & Girls Club, there were bunkbeds in our room. I admit, at first, I was pretty angry, but it was good having my brother in the same room. We stayed up late at night, talked about the new neighborhood, and how there were so many kids playing outside until almost midnight. As a young kid, I liked to play all the rough sports inside of school and also sports leagues offered outside of school.  I was one of those kids that saw myself as invincible while playing on any field, such as the football field, baseball fields, or even the basketball courts. When I say “invincible” I’m talking about getting big groups of kids together after school to play tackle football in the fields of our neighborhood. When someone yelled “down, set, hut” we ran at top speeds to obliterate any and everyone who blocked, who held the ball, or anyone that looked like they would help the team score. As a defensive tackle, I remember squaring my shoulders, lowering my hips, and taking the first steps to stay low as possible to get through the blocks. We were a bunch of kids going through puberty, trying to hurt each other just for fun but we loved it. We walked away from the fields laughing, turf burn on our elbows and knees, but we felt like we had just gone to war. We walked back home to ask for some cash to head to the Dollar General around the corner from the house.  

As I looked back, I realize that a lot of kids in the neighborhood were really cool but got into a lot of trouble at school with not listening to the teachers, challenging any substitutes in the classroom or being the class clown every day. I admit, I laughed at them or laughed with them as we sat in the classroom. At the time, it was funny but as I look back, I realized that I they were from broken homes rough around the edges which grew up a little rough around the edges as a one of my classmates.

As I’m always thinking about my childhood and decisions that I made, some of my childhood memories are eye openers and others pretty much give you that feeling like “wow I really did that when I was a kid”. For example, remember when you would be outside from at least after breakfast time to the time the street lights came on? Or even when you’re all the parents that lived on your street would visit and talk for hours leaving you and all the neighborhood kids to stay out for at least an extra hour? Coming up my childhood consisted of chasing that one ice cream truck, leaving the house clean with a high chance of coming home dirty, feeling like you had to be the neighborhood mechanic fixing your friends bicycle chain because the chain had popped off, or even playing basketball in the street with that one old tire, or those large bricks that always sat on the back of the goal where the water was supposed to be. I always think about the times that I had played tackle football in the grass with no equipment, or tried to see who the best thrower in my group was by throwing the football over cars when they had come down the street, or even who the fastest runner was too. It was crazy that we had to explain to our parents and talk about why the shoes that we had just gotten in not too long ago were already banged up and ready to be thrown away a week or two later. Also let’s not forget that one friend that we all had that naturally thought they were the best with the all the neighborhood girls of course. In this case, this was my good friend. This was one of those friends that just thought that all you needed was abs and then all the girls would come to you naturally. I never liked school at all because every time I looked up, I always remember sitting in the principal’s office getting an earful about the principal running low on patience or how I was running out of chances. I looked at school honestly as a way to socialize even if that meant that you might be getting that phone call home that you already knew was coming because the teacher told you. I never knew why I couldn’t get it together in class, but I could easily make the best jokes or say something that wasn’t meant to be funny but the whole class ended up laughing at. In middle school I eventually got to the point of me being so insubordinate that the only way that I could function naturally was in on campus suspension. The school that I went to was a really old building in a really bad neighborhood that always seemed to have a broken window or two over the weekend, literally just because the kids that lived in the surrounding neighborhood hated the school that bad. I remember making funny jokes in class, throwing crumbled up paper into the trashcan from a distance, and even making those folded up pieces of paper that used to make an unnecessarily loud pop noise and get the class off track to get a reaction. We all had that one accomplice in the classroom that would do pretty much everything that you would, but it always seemed to have more of a negative impact. One day I remember just having all the fun in the world cutting up in class until the next day, my parents had beat me to school because I was always on the school bus. I was military child and my father was in the army, and even though I knew the consequences I guess I thought that maybe this punishment wasn’t going to be as bad. Well I can in fact say that I was very wrong because all I could always remember was my mother and my father walking down the school hallways with the school issued visitors passes with those irritated looks on their faces because they had to get off of work to come see what the situation was. Seeing my father was always the scariest because he would always come to school with the standard army ACU’s and the thing is that I would never see him first, but I always had that friend that would be on a bathroom break or run an errand and come to class and say “bro your parents are here” making you get that gut feeling like you just caught the world’s worst stomach ache. I’m so glad that I grew out of that phase, and glad that I got to experience those lesson learning memories!

           As I look back, I realized that I had a much more difficult life lesson awaiting when I entered high school. I’m not quite sure how I didn’t get some of the psychological games or hundreds of verbal cues from my father. He seemed to be the happiest as he watched me on the football field, unless I made a mistake. I was so angry when I made a mistake because I knew I would never hear the end of it from my father. I wanted to make him proud, but I still didn’t know what the hell he wanted from me because nothing was good enough. How could I have expected him to know how to be a good father when he was abused by his own mother? He had a scar on his arm, a keloid, that was created when his mother slashed his arm with a shard from a broken vase. I was thankful that my mother was like the rock of our family, but she could only do so much to strengthen and lift our spirits. My mother was loving and prayerful, yet funny, strong and crazy all at the same time. When I say “crazy” I don’t mean that she was in the psych ward or anything. I mean that she was fearless with protecting our family or standing up for what she believed. My mother had to step into my father’s shoes as the disciplinarian when my father deployed. As I reflect, I realize that I pushed limits and boundaries with my mother far too many times. Before I jump too far ahead, I will start off by saying that things in our family took a turn for the worst, so my parents got divorced. My brother and I saw the arguments progressively getting worse and at times escalated from emotional to physical abuse. I’m not sure if it was the additional stress from deploying so much, anxiety of trying to measure up to his internal perception of himself, or continuance of the cycle of abuse from his upbringing. Regardless of why it occurred, it was still unacceptable. After the divorce we moved away from all of my friends and everyone that made the city home. I do not know why divorce and moving away seem to go together, but I was not sure how I felt about going to a new school and starting over. At 7:00 am, we pulled into the parking lot on my first day of school. Classes started at 7:30 but it there was already policemen standing in front of the school, a gang task force unit, and guys trying to prove they had the “juice” early in the morning. People were already talking about how the football season would go, ladies dancing in the hallways, and a few dudes throwing up “gang signs” from their set. As I waited to get my new schedule from the counselor, a police officer and a student came into the office. I was sleepy before I arrived at school, but I suddenly was awake with all the action happening so early in the morning. There were so many beautiful ladies walking by the office and some even waved to me as I waited. I was too busy watching all the ladies walk by the office so I didn’t hear the police officer introduce me to the student which I will call “Ray” to protect his identity. The police officer says, “Ray has been into a lot of trouble in the past but has turned his life around.” I wasn’t quite sure what to think about Ray. I wondered if he had been to jail, was in a gang, or what exactly happened in the past. Ray reached out his hand and said, “what’s up bro, I’ll show you what’s what today.” As soon as we stepped in the hallway, Ray was greeted by teachers, principals, the ladies and anybody that was anybody. Ray vouched for me that day and it turned out to be one of the best days of my young life. Most of the time I made good decisions during my first year at this school, but I had some bumps in the road with drinking, skipping school, and smoking that drove my mother crazy. Although my parents were no longer together their co-parenting skills were much better, so there wasn’t a way to divide and conquer. Ultimately, I started making better choices because I did not want to live with regret as I looked in the mirror. I started taking school seriously and my outlook on life started to change. I realized that I could still have a good time but focus on creating better goals to be successful in my life. I may not be able to change the past but I could definitely change the future.

[jilliancares]

Cat and Mouse: Chapter 12

Word Count: 3.3k

TW: murder (i mean,, yeah. but like,,, not graphic!!!!)

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CHAPTER TWELVE:

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER:

“Are you paying attention, Mr. Howell?”

Dan was not. He currently had something rather annoying stuck between his teeth and was putting all of his effort and attention into removing it. Finally, finally, it came loose on his thumb nail, and Dan eyed it with disgust before flicking it to the floor. He looked up at his teacher.

Mr. Parson was an old, balding, and easily aggravated man. He hated Dan’s guts, mostly because Dan wasn’t the nicest kid around. He slept during class, never did any of his homework, and only passed his tests because he already knew all of the shit anyway. Mr. Parson seemed to think it was funny to give Dan bad grades; Dan thought it was just as funny to persuade the man not to.

Yes, Dan was was a star student. A student with a record of straight A’s, the occasional, believable B thrown in there, because Dan didn’t want his achievements to look like overachievements. He was probably the only student with near perfect grades who every teacher seemed to despise. Of course, it was looked down upon for a teacher to outright, openly show their hatred for a student, so they did their best to hide it—their best was just really shit.

“Of course,” Dan lied. Mr. Parson glared at him, his hand clenched infinitesimally around the paper he was holding.

“Care to enlighten me then?”

Dan huffed through his nose, annoyance flickering through him. He didn’t have time for this shit. He had much, much better things to do—everything that happened after school hours was more attention worthy for him. But still, everyone in the class was looking at him now, some with raised eyebrows, others with distaste shining in their eyes. Not many people liked Dan, but he could live with that.

He let his eyes flick over to his seat partner’s paper. Her name was Michelle. She took diligent notes and was absolutely terrified of him.

“You were just telling us about the Black Plague,” Dan drawled, and Mr. Parson rolled his eyes. Dan squinted and leaned closer to Michelle’s notebook. “Also known as the Bubonic Plague, the Black Death, and…” he turned to Michelle. “What does that say?”

“La Peste.”

“La Peste,” Dan repeated, looking up at his history teacher triumphantly. Mr. Parson looked about ready to murder. “French, for the plague,” Dan informed him.

“I know what it means, Mr. Howell.”

Dan gave an elegant shrug. “Just making sure, sir.”

Grudgingly, Mr. Parson continued on with class, and slowly the rest of the students turned back around in their seats to pay attention. Michelle was practically quivering at Dan’s side, and he turned to smirk at her.

“Thanks for the help,” he purred, leaning closer to her, his breath washing across her ear. He saw her jaw tighten.

“Any time, Dan,” she said stiffly.

Dan leaned back in his seat, slouching down comfortably and looking up at the board, already bored again. He ran his tongue along the back of his teeth and triumphed when he felt another piece of food stuck in between two—this would be a challenge of the ages!

—

Dan whistled as he walked down the sidewalk, the final bell having just rung. He had to walk to school, seeing as his mother got up early every morning to go to work, and otherwise he would have to ride the bus. Dan didn’t like the bus. And it wasn’t like he could drive himself yet either, seeing as he was only fifteen, though everyone else in his grade could drive by now.

“Why don’t you ask for it back, loser?” someone demanded, loud enough to be heard but not close enough to be seen. Curiously, Dan kept his eyes peeled as he strolled down the sidewalk, not bothering to pick up his pace.

“Not gonna say anything?” the same voice taunted. Dan turned his head as he passed an alley, immediately spotting two figures. The speaker was a man named Bryce, only recognizable because he was known for being the bully around Clarington High. He had too many muscles for someone his age and much too big of an ego for an idiot. The other boy was recognizable for being in Dan’s grade, Piers.

Both Bryce and Piers turned to look at Dan when he appeared in the opening of the alley.

“Beat it, dweeb,” Bryce snapped.

“Dweeb?” Dan repeated incredulously. “What kind of shitty movies are you pulling your lines from?” Bryce looked stumped. Dan felt inclined to believe that the man’s brain was the size of a walnut.

Piers was also glaring at Dan, though technically, he should be looking at him with adoration for being his savior. Piers always glared at Dan when he saw him though, not that Dan could figure out why. Sure, he’d taken Piers’ voice away, but there was no way Piers knew that—Dan had told him to forget, hadn’t he?

“Now go home and forget you ever saw me!”

But ever since that night, Piers had very clearly hated Dan’s guts, even if he’d never said anything about it. His friend, Carl, had moved away mere months after the incident. Dan had heard that his family was distraught over the new mutism of their boy, and that they’d hoped a change of scenery would help him.

Maybe Dan had messed up that night. Maybe, telling Piers to forget he’d ever saw Dan wasn’t enough, maybe he still remembered hearing him, or something. Or maybe he just knew that Dan hadn’t spoke for a long time, and then suddenly, he was speaking whenever he wanted, while Piers found himself completely unable to do the same.

Still, even if he did have an inkling that it was Dan who’d done this to him, he’d never alerted anybody. Not that there was anyone likely to believe him, anyway.

“Listen,” Bryce finally said to Dan, taking a step away from Piers and towards him. “If you don’t—”

“No, you listen,” Dan abruptly interrupted. Bryce did. He shut up and listened. “If you don’t stop bullying people you’re gonna regret it. Now go home.” Bryce nodded. He walked away from Piers and past Dan, exiting the alley. Piers was still glaring at Dan. Dan bowed to him, nice, low, and mocking. When he stood back up, he winked and continued on his way.

—

Dan had been having plenty of fun lately. He’d invented a few neat things, first off. He’d made these cool little contact lenses, based off the idea of a cat’s eyes—able to see incredibly well in the dark. He’d even made them look like the actual eyes of a cat, mainly for aesthetic purposes. He’d also been designing this kind of fabric. He hadn’t gotten very far with it yet, but he was trying to make it more resistant and resilient than other fabrics. He’d also created a sort of prototype of a pair of shoes—they lent strong support to his ankles, and along with what little of the fabric he’d begun to successfully make, wrapped around his knees and waist, he could jump from much higher places than most people. And he usually landed safely, too.

All of this was because he found it was fun to sneak out in the middle of the night. He tricked and scared people he saw, all the while brainstorming how to better his own costume. With the contact lenses he could see magnificently, and with those hearing devices he’d created back in sixth grade, now changed to look like a pair of cat’s ears, he could hear anyone coming from a block away. And he wore a mask, of course, though it was hard to find any that didn’t look completely stupid. Eventually he’d have to make his own.

And so Dan waited for something to do. His midnight escapades had started sometime in seventh grade. After Phil moved away, Dan had stopped being so quiet all the time, he’d started using his voice, started talking. He’d started asking for what he wanted, and getting it.

At first, Phil had sent him a few letters. Dan had ignored them of course—he cringed now, thinking back on his ten year old self, telling Phil he loved him. Obviously that’d just been a childhood crush, an infatuation.

Dan suddenly perked up, hearing something out of his left ear. He turned his head to look, although there was nothing to see yet, the sound still far off. And so he waited.

He could hear what sounded like breathing—loud breathing, the panted breaths of someone running. Dan stood up on the store roof he was currently atop of, trying to get a better look. As he watched, a tall, thin figure came pelting around the corner, long hair flying behind her.

And then a man came barreling around the corner as well, his strides long. He was much faster than the girl, and he was gaining on her, clearly close to catching her. The girl glanced behind herself and let out a small moan of despair, trying to run even faster than she already was.

Dan jumped off the roof, sprinting to intercept the two. He’d been running a lot lately, and because of this he was much faster than many others, his regular practice helping him to improve. He stopped in between two stores, watching as the girl and man quickly approached. The girl’s breaths were clear to distinguish and sounded panicked while the man’s were just loud and labored.

As the girl ran past, Dan shot a hand out and grabbed her arm, yanking her back into the alley. She tried to scream, but Dan covered her mouth, sending her a quick, intense look. She looked older than him, maybe by a year or two, though he’d never seen her before.

“Quiet for a moment,” he instructed. She nodded, though she had no choice but to.

The man ran past, Dan now leaning comfortably against the building beside him, the girl stood at his side.

“Whatchya doin'?” Dan asked. The man came to a hasty stop, turning to face Dan, panting idiotically. Apparently he hadn’t noticed Dan reach out to grab the girl, probably thanks to his black-clad outfit.

“Hey!” the man grunted, making a lunge towards them. Swiftly, Dan stepped backwards, using his hand to shove the girl back as well. She sent him a furtive look. Dan tugged his crappy mask tighter onto his face.

“Hello,” Dan greeted. “Whatchya doin’?” he repeated.

“Give me the girl and I’ll let you get out of this alive,” the man growled. Dan quirked an eyebrow, pursed his lips.

“Tempting,” he said. The man growled, and Dan grimaced. What was he, a dog? “How about, you walk away, and I let you live.” Dan punctuated this with a winning smile. The man, apparently not appreciating the finery of Dan’s smile, lunged for him.

Dan darted out of the way. He grabbed the girl, and jumped. This was a new part of his shoes he was working on—it didn’t always work, a flaw that he’d have to fix, but thankfully it worked this time. He jumped much higher than one normally would, and he stumbled onto the thin window ledge, a good way above the hulking brute of a man’s head.

“You wait here for a bit,” Dan said, giving the girl his winning smile. She, at least, knew a winning smile when she saw one, and so she nodded. Dan jumped back onto the ground.

“Give me the girl!” the man roared.

“That girl?” Dan asked. He pointed at her, feigning confusion.

Apparently, the attacker didn’t like to play games, or have fun, or appreciate sarcasm. This was looking to be a boring battle indeed.

Although normally, Dan didn’t fight people hand to hand. Usually he stole something, or picked on someone, and ran away laughing as they chased him, managing to escape them just in time. He figured that that was a bit more fun, rather than doing something just because it was right, but he wasn’t about to let some girl get kidnapped right in front of him.

The man’s fist swung towards Dan, and he ducked out of the way just in time, only to be tricked. The man’s other fist was apparently waiting for him, and Dan was struck in the stomach, the air punched from his lungs. Dan glared. He hadn’t wanted to use his persuasion just yet, but he wasn’t about to let himself get beat up either. He often returned home bloody and bruised, but he wasn’t going to let himself get pounded by someone way above his skill level. Maybe that’s why he kept running from (and sometimes fighting) every person he managed to piss off—he was doing some kind of training. He was training to be bigger and better some day, for what, he didn’t yet know.

“Back off,” Dan snapped, as the man came in to punch Dan once again. He did so immediately, and Dan stood up straight, his stomach throbbing. “Tell me why you were chasing this girl.”

“Pretty girls make a lot of money to the right buyers.”

Dan curled his lip—this guy was fucking disgusting.

“Practice fighting with me,” Dan instructed. “But don’t hit me.” And so, without the pain, Dan practiced with the wretched man. He saw where he was sloppy, where he wasn’t quick enough, where he was, in fact, too quick. He saw where he needed to step, how he needed to swing, where he needed to move. And then he grew bored, of course.

“You know the river down south of here?” Dan inquired. The man nodded. Dan nodded back. “Go drown yourself in it.” And the man walked away.

Feeling sweaty and sore, Dan looked back up to the windowsill to retrieve the girl—but she was gone.

“Ah fuck,” Dan muttered. He thought back over what he’d told her—Be quiet for a moment, wait here for a bit. “Fuck,” Dan repeated. Of course, both “a moment” and “a bit” were short amounts of time, but he hadn’t wanted to command something too binding of her in case he forgot to undo it. But this was just rude! Here he was, taking time out of his day to make sure she wasn’t kidnapped by some creep, and she didn’t even stick around to thank him!

Muttering to himself, Dan slunk out of the alleyway and down the street. He noticed a convenience store still open, and with nothing better to do, he stepped inside.

“The fuck?” said the man at the cash register. He eyed Dan, from his black (high tech) boots to his cat ears. “The fuck you wearing cat ears for?” he said.

“You’re asking about the ears?” Dan said. “Not the mask?”

“Robbers don’t wears cat ears,” the man said. Dan cocked his head.

“This one does,” he decided. And then he walked up to the counter and held out his hand.

“Yeah right,” the man laughed. “I’m not scared of a little boy in a cat costume.”

Dan jumped—this time, his boots worked again, which was really quite good, as otherwise he would’ve been embarrassed. He jumped all the way up towards the high ceiling, only to land with a crash on the counter. Now the man’s eyes were wide, and with a quick movement he slapped his hand down on some button behind him. Immediately, alarms started blaring throughout the shop, and Dan cried out, the sound magnified in his ears.

“You just had to call the police, didn’t you?” Dan snarled. Not bothering to wait for a response, he kicked the man in the head and stomped on his cash register. It flew open, revealing the day’s worth of money, and Dan snatched it up.

“One day a lot of people are gonna be scared of these ears,” Dan said, walking languidly towards the door. “You’d have been smart to be one of them.”

The man was staring at Dan, bleary eyed, and Dan waved before taking that final step out of the building. He started running after that, but it didn’t take long for the police to find him. Honestly, there was barely anyone out on the streets, and no one was dressed quite like him.

“You’re under arrest!” a cop declared through a megaphone. Yes, Dan was currently surrounded by cops, all of them holding guns pointed his way. Their cars were flashing with red and blue lights, and Dan was squinting in the chaos of it all—but that did not mean he was under arrest. He debated telling them this himself, along with telling them to just go ahead and leave him alone, but he didn’t see where the fun in that would be.

“Stand down, Black Cat!” one officer commanded. Dan wrinkled his nose.

“That sounds lame,” he decided.

“Put your hands up, Catman!” another called. Dan just shook his head.

“No, that one’s lame too.”

There was a loud pop as someone fired off a gun, which Dan was just barely able to jump out of the way of.

“Don’t shoot me!” he shouted in shock, and breathed a sigh of relief when they all put down their guns. Honestly, he wouldn’t be able to deal with getting shot.

Still, Dan hummed thoughtfully. He did need a name, these policemen were right. But Catman just sounded dumb, like a boring imitation of Batman or something. And Black Cat was just plain shit—he wasn’t some idiot little kid, he needed a cool name, one that didn’t make him sound like a fucking twelve year old. No, he needed something better.

“Call me… The Panther,” Dan decided suddenly. That was better, right? It was a black cat, after all, but it didn’t sound nearly as stupid as just outright calling himself it. And Panthers were known for being strong and fast, for stalking prey and climbing everywhere. They were pretty badass. Dan could be a panther.

“Stand down, Panther,” one police officer instructed. Dan grinned.

“Never!”

—

Junk Mail:

Unread messages:

1 Message from: sci.guy@coldmail.com

Hey Dan! I know it’s been a while, and you’re probably even wondering how I got your email (your mum gave it to my mum who gave it to me, not that I asked)(not that I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known she’d had it) but how are you? How’s school?

Alright, that sounds like bullshit, yeah. But I’m just kind of worried for you—I saw on the news that there’s some kind of bad guy attacking people in our neighborhood at night. Or—your neighborhood, I guess. My old neighborhood.

I just wanted to make sure you’re safe and stuff. Apparently he’s been going by “the Panther”, and some news stations are going so far as to call him some kind of super villain or something. They say he’s somehow really persuasive and that he has freaky gadgets and things. I guess just if you see him, run the other way. I attached a few pictures of him in case you don’t know what he looks like, but apparently he wears all black and is distinguishable by his cat ears (and cat eyes!!!).

Stay safe Dan, I miss you! Maybe I can come back to visit some day or something.

Phil

~~

next chapter  

[she-could-only-destroy]

I need to get my story out there.

For those of you who don’t know, I’ve been in a committed relationship for over 5 years. A year before that, however, I was in an abusive relationship. I want to tell my story (and show off how lucky I am to have my current boyfriend). TW; emotional abuse, attempted sexual abuse, threatened physical abuse. Also, WARNING: Strong language

As I mentioned, I have been in a committed relationship for over 5 years with the love of my life. Before this, I had a few "serious" (what I thought were serious) boyfriends, & I was with one of these boys for over 6 months. I know, not a long time, but FOREVER when you're 13 like I was. This boy emotionally and verbally abused and scarred me, and towards the end it got dangerously close to physical and sexual abuse. Like I said, I was 13 when we started dating. We were in 8th grade, and I had been crushing on him for about 2-3 years prior. When he finally asked me out, I was ecstatic, and even THAT is an understatement. Little did I know...my life was about to become hell. It started like any other middle school relationship; sitting beside each other in bus room and at lunch, calling each other every night, and texting each other a lot when we both got a cell phone. Then it turned into him texting me 24/7, even at school, to see what I was doing. If I took more than ten minutes to reply (even at school), I got accused of cheating and “being a whore”. Keep in mind, at this point we’d only kissed a few times. This was around 2 months in, & I just thought he was being over-protective because of how much he cared. We said “I love you” for the first time sometime that month, and I believed him. At barely 13, I was ECSTATIC to be “in love”, so when I would go to his house & he would demand things from me (I’ll let you imagine, but not actually having sexual intercourse), I let it happen. I let the red flags slip because he wasn’t hitting me. I wasn’t in physical pain, so it had to be healthy and normal, right? Keep in mind, this was only about 3-4 months in. This behavior went on for another month or so, and then it got worse. EXPONENTIALLY worse. When I’d go over, we would play “hide and seek” with his little brother while his parents had their attention elsewhere. The only real rule was that their room, that they had shared at the time, was off limits. So, of course... my then-boyfriend would take me & “hide” in there since his brother wouldn’t be checking. (He was only around 9 at the time, I believe, so he didn’t know any better). He would make a blanket fort on the bottom bunk (his bunk) of their bed, and we would lay there and make out for, like, ten minutes until his brother gave up and yelled for us to come out. One time during a game of hide and seek, he pulled out a condom from his sock drawer. A grape-flavored condom. At THIRTEEN fucking years old. We were both virgins, and I didn’t have any desire to change that. I didn’t even realize what it was until he asked if I was ready to have sex with him. I said “no” repeatedly, and he just kept saying “come on,” “it’ll be fun,” “you know you want to,” “just let me do it,” etc. and kissing me and trying to take my clothes off and put his hand down my pants, getting more angry and aggressive as he went. He was not letting up and I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified. At this point I yelled, “Time’s up, (brother’s name)! We’re in here! (Boyfriend’s name) cheated!” That, of course... made him even more furious with me. He angrily tossed the condom back into his drawer as his brother came in the room, and that was that. Neither of us spoke about it to each other ever again. Around month 5, he threatened to hit me for the first time. I was in Tennessee at my grandma’s on vacation. We were texting about how much we missed and loved each other, and he asked if I had been seeing another boy while I was in Tennessee. I told him “no,” but he didn’t believe me. He just kept pestering me about it until eventually, I got tired of his constant accusing and put my phone in another room and just relaxed with my family. After a few hours, I went back in and got my phone. I was flooded with a stream of “WTF are you doing?”, “I know you’re cheating right now you stupid whore,” etc. I texted him & told him I “had” to put my phone away because I got in trouble for being on it too much. He said “I don’t believe you, I know you were cheating on me.” After a while of me crying my eyes out in the back bedroom trying to convince him of the truth, he finally believed me. I remember the next text he sent me word-for-word. It’s been nearly 6 years and I can still recite it perfectly. “I swear to god if you ever cheat on me, I’ll kill the boy and get you with whatever strength I have left.” My heart sank. My fairytale had turned into a horror movie, and I was terrified. I didn’t tell anybody, and for the rest of the trip he kept telling me what he would do if I ever cheated. When I came back home to West Virginia, I made up every excuse not to see him. Freshman band camp was starting soon after I got back, so of course that was my main excuse since only band students can be there (or so I said). After discussing the overview of that summer’s events with friends (I left out the attempted rape & threatened physical violence), I knew it was time to end it. I texted him that it was over (dick move, I know). He pulled the “I swear I’ll kill myself if you do this,” “I’m crying so hard I can’t breathe,” etc. So I texted his parents to check on him & they said he was fine. I ended it then & there. I was free. Until school started, anyway. Luckily by the time classes began, I was dating a “big bad” junior. He would not even DARE talking to me because he was terrified of my new boyfriend. So...that was the end of that (you know, except the depression, anxiety, and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder [PTSD])... I had already been showing signs of Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), but my mom was holding off on treatment for me in hopes that it would be better once I was free of the hell I was in. But...it got worse. I developed full-blown MDD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), and signs of PTSD (not diagnosed so I don’t know for sure if it’s that or just a sub-set of my anxiety). From then, I had the boyfriend that scared him off, but that only lasted a few months. Then came...the big one. My first love. The only one I would ever want to be with. (Or so I thought). To make a long story short: this kid and I had been off/on for a few years, best friends since we were in diapers, and I had known I loved him for a while, but pushed it off because he wasn’t interested at the time. We dated for a few months for the last time, and then he broke it off because he “wanted to be single”...even though he started dating someone else a few days later. But we’re on good terms now, so I won’t get salty again. Then...when healing from my broken heart, I decided to message the first single, attractive boy on my Facebook IM. (Yes, it was still called Facebook IM, with the automatic pop-out boxes and everything...damn I’m old). This boy & I knew each other for a few years prior, because he was (still is) best friends with my older brother. We talked on Facebook for a few days and then exchanged phone numbers. We were in the same section in band, and we sat next to each other at community band practice. After about a month of being close, I knew I really liked this kid and there was something special. He asked me out one night at 3am & I said yes. 5 years later (as of June 10th, 2017) here we are. We’ve had an apartment together for over a year, and we’re more in love than ever, and keep falling deeper in love every day. This man has loved me through everything. Every psychotic break, every inconvenience, every suicidal moment, EVERYTHING. Somehow he hasn’t given up on me. I don’t deserve to have someone like him who loves me even half as much as he does, but GOD am I lucky. I truly believe that we are two halves of a whole, and we were destined to be soulmates. He is my other half, and I’d like to think that I am his other half as well. I could not be any more thankful for this amazing man. He is my soulmate and my saving grace, and I honestly don’t think I’d be here without him. To make this whole story short: Life was shit, but then Andrew came along. And I love him so much for that and everything he does. Side note: HUGE thanks to my amazing Criminology professor for helping me realize that my story matters, and it is valid. The abuse may not have been physical, but it left me scarred. And that’s okay that I am scarred, because I am lucky enough to be able to come forward today & tell my story from the outside. If ANYONE has anything like this that they feel they need to talk about, whether it’s advice or just venting, I AM HERE. I will always be here. YOU ARE WORTH MORE. I love you.

[sad-trash-writing]

idk if you've seen that extra gum commercial where this guy draws little comics on gum wrappers, and he has this crush on this girl. they date and he draws things from their relationship on the wrappers and he draws one to propose to his gf and she says yes. and the song playing is "i can't help falling in love with you". i really would love to see a skimmons version of that. it could be a high school-college au

I know this took ages, but I hope it’s worth it. Thanks for the prompt! It was a ton of fun!

AO3 Link

Whoever invented high school clearly hated teenagers. Daisy huffed out a dramatic sigh and leaned back in her rickety wooden desk. The teacher kept droning on about some boring battle in the Civil War (which Daisy swore they learned about last year, too). Worst of all, she had forgotten her backpack at home today so she didn’t even have anything to doodle on to kill the time. 

A slight rustle in front of her drew her attention from counting the ceiling tiles to Jemma Simmons, the only redeeming factor of this class. US History was the only class Jemma wasn’t in the advanced section of (since she was British and only moved to America last year) so Daisy got to stare at the back of her head and listen to Jemma’s voice every time she asked a question.

The sound that drew Daisy’s attention was just Jemma digging a pack of gum out of her bag. A lightbulb went off in Daisy’s head when she realized that it was the type that had the little foil wrappers, or in Daisy’s universe, something to draw on. 

She leaned forward across her desk and lightly tapped Jemma on the shoulder. “Can I have a piece?” Daisy whispered. 

Jemma lurched slightly in her seat, but pulled a second piece of gum out of the pack and handed it over her shoulder. “Of course.”

She shot Daisy a bright smile and turned back to her notes. 

Daisy’s heart really should not be beating this hard from that seven-word conversation. So maybe she had a little crush on the super genius Brit she never saw outside of history class. Sue her. 

Once her pulse returned to normal, Daisy slipped out the pencil she always kept stuck her ponytail and started sketching. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Um, excuse me? Do you mind if I sit here?”

Daisy’s head whipped towards the accented voice and instantly regretted taking Miles’ bet that she couldn’t fit a whole order of spaghetti in her mouth. 

“Jemma!” she exclaimed through a mouth of pasta. “Yeah, sure you can—”

Daisy quickly realized that Jemma couldn’t understand her and she would probably choke if she tried to swallow right now. Instead, Daisy planted a foot on Miles’ chair and shoved him far enough down the table that there was space for a chair next to Daisy, ignoring his indignant noises.

Luckily, Jemma didn’t seem disgusted by Daisy’s antics and just smiled and pulled up a chair next to her. Daisy quickly choked down the remainder of her spaghetti and tried to remember what a normal sitting posture was. 

To distract herself from the sudden presence of the girl she had a major crush on Daisy held her open hand out to Miles. 

“Pay up, I did it,” she demanded. She half expected Miles to argue with her, but he slyly glanced at Jemma, who was suddenly engrossed in her sandwich, and slapped a $5 bill into Daisy’s hand. 

“So, Jemma—” Daisy started, but was cut off by Jemma mumbling under her breath. “Uh, what was that?”

Jemma peered at Daisy and blushed. “I bet you can’t fit that whole piece of garlic bread in your mouth,” she muttered with a mischievous glint in her eye. 

Daisy balked for a moment. Whatever she expected from the quiet British girl, it wasn’t that. “You’re on.”

Once she won Jemma’s bet, after nearly inhaling garlic bread crumbs while laughing at Jemma’s shocked expression, Daisy slipped a spare scrap of paper out of her bag and doodled a tiny scene on it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, Jem. Wanna watch Sharknado or Paranormal Activity?”

Jemma wrinkled her nose. “I can’t believe those are the options you’re giving me.”

“Well, do you want to take apart the science of demons or sharks forming a tornado and eating people?” Daisy countered. 

Jemma rolled her eye. “I suppose Sharknado. I know there’s at least two more Paranormal Activity movies that you’ll try to force me to watch next, so let’s avoid that.”

“Oh, don’t worry. There’s four Sharknados, too!”

Jemma groaned loudly as she and Daisy strolled towards the bus stop. Jemma had started sitting at Daisy’s table everyday for lunch and even choosing Daisy every time they had a partner project in class. Daisy wasn’t complaining. She even managed to shove aside her stupid feelings for awhile to just spend time with Jemma as a friend. 

And friends watched terrible movies at each other’s houses every weekend while over-caffeinating themselves and staying up way too late. 

“I can’t stay too late tonight, though. I’ve got an interview tomorrow for a college scholarship,” Jemma said. 

“College? We’re sophomores. How have you started looking at that already?” Daisy replied. 

Jemma shrugged. “I’ve just had a few contact me because of my test scores and thought it would be a good idea to check my options now.”

Daisy chuckled. “Well, you always do know how to over-prepare. But I guess we’ll only watch Sharknado one and two tonight then. The others can wait until next weekend.”

“Unless every copy of the DVDs mysteriously goes missing by then.”

“That’s what the internet is for, Jem.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This has got to be my favorite song,” Jemma announced. 

Daisy looked up from her ice cream with a frown. She hadn’t even realized there was music playing, honestly. She was just tired from the school day and not looking forward to the amount of homework she had to do later. Luckily, Jemma agreed to help her out, on the condition that Daisy took her out for ice cream first. Only when Jemma mentioned it did she notice that Can’t Help Falling In Love With You was quietly playing over the speakers above them.

“Didn’t take you for an Elvis fan, Jemma,” Daisy teased. 

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Well, not Elvis per se. Just this song is beautiful.”

Daisy snorted. “Seems a little sappy to me.”

Jemma tossed a wadded up napkin at her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daisy blinked away the tears before Jemma could notice them. Jemma was occupied, cramming more bags into her dad’s car while Daisy stood off to the side, wringing her hands just to keep busy. Despite her somber mood, Daisy couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled out of her throat when Jemma had to crawl into the backseat and pull one of her bags from the inside, while her dad pushed it from the outside. 

Once the bag was stuffed into the car, Jemma tumbled out of the car, dusted off her hands, and admired their handiwork. 

“Why’d you have to be such a smarty-pants and graduate early anyway?” Daisy teased. 

Jemma flashed her a sad smile. “I’ll be back for holidays and summers still, I promise.”

“I know, but now I have to sit through history alone,” Daisy whined. 

“For that, I am truly sorry,” Jemma said with a smirk. Despite the attempts at humor, Daisy could see tears welling up in Jemma’s eyes as well. Daisy grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her in for a tight hug, burying her face in Jemma’s neck. 

Daisy didn’t know how long they held each other, but she vaguely heard Jemma’s mom clear her throat at some point. Jemma just waved her off and kept squeezing Daisy like her life depended on it. 

Eventually, they broke apart, both giving up on containing their tears. 

“You’ll keep in touch, right?” Jemma asked in a tone that sounded more like a demand. 

“I-I—” The ‘I love you’ that Daisy desperately wanted to say caught in her throat. “I will.” 

Jemma smiled and gave her another quick hug, before jogging over to the car where her parents were impatiently waiting and hopped in. As they drove away, Daisy stuck her hands in her pockets and found a crumpled gum wrapper. She smoothed it out and started drawing. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daisy tried to keep her promise. She really did, but life happened. The first six months Jemma was away at college, she and Daisy Skype’d almost daily and texted after every class. But then Jemma had research deadlines come up and Daisy had to study for midterms and they lost touch. 

Years passed. Daisy was accepted into her first choice school for graphic design and packed up to move across the country. She quickly acclimated to the dorm life with her new roommate, Bobbi.

How she got paired up with Bobbi as a roommate, Daisy would never know (Daisy being an art kid and Bobbi majoring in biology). They got along well enough, despite their differences, and it turned out that Bobbi’s sometimes-boyfriend, Hunter, was an art student as well. 

They had a standing lunch date at one of the cafés on campus between the art building and their dorm. Daisy jogged in, late as usual, with paint and charcoal smeared on her shirt and a handful of paintbrushes jammed into her pockets. 

“Hey! Only ten minutes late this time! Maybe next time you’ll actually be here on time,” Bobbi teased, sipping her coffee. 

Daisy rolled her eyes and flopped into the chair across from her. “My lateness is a performance art piece on the societal construct of time. And Professor Rogers made me stay after to clean the paintbrushes again.”

“I’m surprised you can resist calling him Mr. Rogers and asking how things are in the neighborhood.”

“Why do you think I had to clean the paintbrushes?”

Bobbi chuckled and glanced towards the door. “I hope you don’t mind that I invited someone else to join us today.”

“Oh? Who?”

“A girl from the bio lab. She’s our age, but a couple years ahead in her program already,” Bobbi said. 

Daisy groaned. “Great, so I’m going to have to sit here and listen to two of you biobabble at me?”

“Don’t even act like you don’t rant about your dorky art stuff at me. Sorry I don’t know the difference between Dega and Dada.”

“Okay, those two aren’t even in the same category. Dadaism is a movement—” 

“Daisy?” A new voice cut in. 

Daisy’s attention shot to the new voice and her jaw dropped. “Jemma?!”

They stared each other down, wearing matching expressions of shock. Once Daisy’s brain caught up to her eyes, she shot out of her seat like a rocket and swept Jemma up in a bone-crunching hug. All these years later and she even smelled the same. Not that Daisy remembered what Jemma smelled like.

After a few long moments, they loosened their grip and started babbling over each other. 

“I thought you were going to some fancy private school—”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming here—”

“—I didn’t know you were going here or I would have said something—”

“—It’s been so long I wasn’t sure I had your phone number anymore—”

Bobbi clearing her throat behind them stopped the tirade of overlapping statements. “Uh…So you two know each other?”

“Daisy and I went to high school together,” Jemma supplied. 

“And we were really close, until someone had to graduate two years early,” 

Daisy accused, with a teasing smirk. 

Jemma just rolled her eyes. 

Bobbi smirked. “Then, I guess you two have a lot to catch up on.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite the years apart, Daisy and Jemma fell right back into their old patterns of movie nights and teasing each other. Nearly every Friday, they would squeeze onto Daisy’s dorm bed with Bobbi and Hunter and project a movie onto the opposite wall. Daisy finally gave in to Jemma’s begging and agreed to watch something that wasn’t a SyFy original and threw in some pretentious movies her fellow art students loved to brag about, exclusively to pick them apart. 

Unfortunately, those stupid feelings Daisy repressed for years reappeared the moment Jemma did. 

One day, a new face appeared in Daisy’s dorm room. 

“Everybody, this is Will,” Jemma introduced, “He’s an aerospace engineering major.”

Daisy waved a hello with the others, but for some reason decided she didn’t like this guy. Sure, he may be a perfectly nice guy, but he stood just a little too close to Jemma  and stared at her with just a little too much fondness. 

That night, Jemma chose to sit on the futon below Daisy’s lofted bed with Will. Daisy spent the duration of the movie grumpily glaring in the direction of the movie, but not really watching it. 

A few hours later, Bobbi flicked on the lights and everyone shuffled out of the room, leaving just Daisy and her roommate. 

“What was that all about?” Bobbi demanded once the door clicked behind Hunter (always the last to leave).

“Hey, I didn’t pick the movie this week,” Daisy defended while she stacked up popcorn bowls.

“That’s not what I was talking about. You’ve never been that quiet during a movie night ever and, every time I looked over at you, you were glaring at the floor.”

Daisy flushed. “It’s just been a long week and I’m tired. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Bobbi muttered, unconvinced, but she let the subject drop. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fall weather had officially settled in, making it suddenly bearable to be outside. Daisy had to dodge at least three runaway Ultimate Frisbee games on the way to lunch and couldn’t help herself from stopping to pick some of the small fall flowers out of the dining hall’s landscaping. She had a mixed media project coming up that she could probably use them for.

As usual, Daisy was one of the last to arrive for lunch. Bobbi and Hunter were already settled in, bickering about something, but still eating off the same tray. Fitz was tinkering with some new gadget, while Trip leaned over and kept trying to poke at it. The only person missing was Jemma. 

“Hey, you’re not the last one here for once,” Bobbi teased as Daisy sat down. Daisy waved her off and tossed her bag on the table, despite Fitz’s indignant protests. She had barely opened her mouth to ask where Jemma was, when a flurry of brown hair and lab reports ran into the table. 

“THE ORIONID METEOR SHOWER IS TOMORROW NIGHT,” Jemma shouted, slamming her hands on the table. 

Her statement was met with blank stares. “Um…Kay?” 

“We need to try to see it! It’s supposed to be spectacular,” Jemma continued. 

Daisy shrugged. “I’m game. I might finally see my first shooting star.”

The rest of the table mumbled their agreements and Jemma launched into planning mode. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daisy hadn’t realized how much stuff they would be bringing to go watch the stars. Why they needed an inflatable pool was beyond her, when some ratty blankets would do just fine. She hauled the giant box out of the back of her van and dropped in in the middle of the field Jemma had staked out for the group. Even though it seemed unnecessary to Daisy, Jemma found the idea on Pinterest and thought it sounded fun, so Daisy would go along with it. 

Once she wrenched the wad of plastic from the box, Daisy hooked up the automatic air pump to the pool, flipped the switch, and then sat back and waited. 

The sun was just beginning to set on the grassy field. The tranquil silence was broken by the jarring whir of the pump, but the scenery was still beautiful. Jemma had really outdone herself when picking this spot to watch the meteor shower (she was very insistent that it had to be far enough away from the town to avoid light pollution). Daisy could only imagine how beautiful it would be out here when the stars came out. She rooted through her pocket and found a folded up scrap of sketch paper. She pulled out a pencil and started sketching the trees that lined the field and dotted the horizon. 

The pool was just starting to take shape when Jemma’s tiny hatchback pulled up beside Daisy’s van. Jemma hopped out of the driver’s seat and popped the trunk open, while grumbling under her breath. 

“Hey, Jem,” Daisy greeted. “Where’s the rest of the group? It’s going to be hard for them to find us when it gets dark.”

“They’re not coming,” Jemma huffed. “Bobbi and Hunter said something about a last minute date night and Fitz called and rambled some nonsense excuse regarding a project he was working on with Trip.”

Daisy frowned. “Huh. That’s strange. Oh well, I guess they’ll miss all the free wishes.”

“So, you want to stay?” Jemma asked, hopefully. 

“Yeah, of course.”

Jemma breathed out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god. I was hoping you wouldn’t want to leave because everyone else cancelled.”

“I didn’t come out here for them,” Daisy blurted. She ducked down to fidget with the pool in an attempt to hide her blush. With a sly peek out of the corner of her eye she caught Jemma’s shy smile.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. Want to help me unload the car?”

The trunk and back seat of Jemma’s car were both stuffed full of pillows and thick blankets, which Daisy and Jemma dragged out by the armful and tossed in the misshapen pool. 

Once everything was arranged and the pool had taken shape, they shut off the noisy air pump and flopped into the giant nest of blankets. Jemma tucked a bag of popcorn and a thermos of hot chocolate in the folds of the blankets and they snuggled in to wait for the meteor shower to start. 

Silence settled over the pair for a moment, before giving rise to the sounds of nature. Crickets chirped their last odes to the summer weather before the frost would inevitably sweep through. A light breeze shuddered through the branches of the distant trees, rattling the drying leaves together. A lone owl hooted in the shelter of the trees. 

Jemma sighed contentedly and nestled further into the blankets. “The highest concentration of meteors ought to be around the Orion constellation, over there.”

Jemma gestured towards a cluster of stars, but Daisy had no clue where she was pointing. Daisy was too busy staring at Jemma, illuminated only by the dim starlight and talking excitedly about the origin of the Orionid meteor shower. 

Daisy smile and nodded in agreement, meanwhile berating herself internally. Why, why did she have to fall for one of her best friends? Her straight best friend. Nothing good could come of this. Only awkwardness and heartache. Daisy pushed the thoughts of her killer crush away when Jemma offered her the bag of popcorn. 

A few hours after it was completely dark, they saw their first meteor. Daisy almost wasn’t sure she had seen it. It happened so quickly so thought she may have imagined it, but Jemma’s slight gasp told Daisy that it was real. After the first one, they came more frequently, until they lit up the sky almost before the previous one had faded.  

Jemma and Daisy both stayed mostly quiet, preferring to enjoy the natural phenomenon with minimal conversation. Daisy was so entranced by the streaks of light cutting across the sky that she hadn’t even noticed Jemma fidgeting with her hands until she spoke up.

“Daisy, can I talk to you about something?” Jemma asked in nearly a whisper. 

The tone betrayed the serious nature of whatever Jemma wanted to say and Daisy’s eyes snapped to Jemma. “Of course. What’s up?” Daisy replied with forced casualness. 

Jemma fidgeted for a moment more with her eyes fixed on her hands before she spoke up. “I— Well, it’s—There’s been something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about for awhile, but it’s—it’s just never seemed like the right time and there’s always someone else around, or we’re busy or—or—”

Daisy waited with bated breath while Jemma paused to collect her thoughts.

  “I—um. I like girls, I guess,” Jemma finished. 

Daisy’s heart leaped and a tiny hopeful part of her brain started cheering, but Daisy quickly shoved it away. This isn’t about you, asshole, she thought. 

“Oh. Cool, um, thanks for trusting me with that,” Daisy replied, “Actually, while we’re on that subject—”

“I know, this probably isn’t the best time, but I don’t want to keep any secrets from you,” Jemma rambled. She briefly reached for Daisy’s hands, but seemed to think better of it and folded them in her lap. “You’re my best friend and I don’t want anything to change between us because of this.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I just completely bowled over you. We’re you going to say something?”

Daisy blanched. “No, never mind. It’s not important.”

“Please, I don’t want anything left unsaid between us now,” Jemma prompted.

 “Let’s get it all out ther—”

“I love you.”

It seemed even the crickets were silent following Daisy’s confession. If she wasn’t in the middle of nowhere, Daisy probably would have bolted for the nearest closet to hide herself in for the rest of her life. 

Jemma’s silence was almost worse than if she had run away in disgust. Daisy mentally begged her to say something. Anything. 

“…Really?” Jemma finally whispered. 

Daisy nodded, though she wasn’t sure Jemma could see her in the dark. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Let’s just pretend I never said—”

Now it was Jemma’s turn to interrupt. She leaned across the narrow space between them, capturing Daisy’s lips mid-word, and slid a hand around the back of Daisy’s neck to pull her in closer. 

Daisy’s body processed this new development before her mind caught up, kissing Jemma back fervently before she was even fully aware what was happening. 

By the time they broke for air, Daisy’s brain had finally caught up. “I thought you said you didn’t want anything to change between us,” she said, stupidly. 

“That was a complete lie,” Jemma chuckled. “I’ve been mad about you since high school.”

“Really? Why did neither of us say anything before now?” Daisy asked. 

Jemma just giggled and leaned in for another, more gentle kiss. Meteors continued to streak across the sky the rest of the night, but they passed completely unnoticed by the pair curled up in the inflatable pool together. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What? Even I can tell you that’s a terrible— No, he’s great, but I know your— Hey, don’t yell at me, you’re the one who’s dumped him four times!” Daisy screamed into her phone. “Hello?…She hung up on me.”

“Um…Is everything alright?” Jemma cautiously asked. 

Daisy groaned. “Bobbi just decided she’s going to move in with Hunter at the end of the semester.”

“Oh. That’s…good?” Jemma guessed. 

“The school can’t find anyone willing to move into the dorm halfway through the year, so they’re going to make me pay the 'single-room’ price. I can’t afford that!” Daisy complained. 

“I can see why you’re upset now.”

“Yeah. I supposed my van is big enough to throw a mattress in the back. As long as campus security doesn’t get weird about me parking it somewhere.”

“You can come live with me next semester,” Jemma shyly suggested. 

Daisy’s heart sped up. “What?”

“I have a full scholarship that covers my rent as well as tuition, so you wouldn’t have to pay anything,” Jemma explained, “I wouldn’t mind having someone to live with. It can get a tad quiet.”

“Are you sure it’s not too soon? I mean, we are dating now. Would it be weird for us to live together so soon?” Daisy asked. 

Jemma shrugged. “I was going to ask you to move in with me any way. Do you really think I’d let my girlfriend live in her van?”

Daisy pulled Jemma into a tight hug in answer. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jemma’s apartment was nice. Very nice, in fact. The extra scholarship money allowed Jemma to afford a place right off campus, away from the noise and annoyance of the fraternity houses. It was small, but not cramped. Just enough space for Jemma’s sparse belongings. 

And now Daisy’s. Jemma failed to mention that her apartment was only a one-bedroom before Daisy had hauled the first box of her possessions up the stairs.

 Daisy hadn’t wanted to presume anything, so she tossed her pillow on the couch and looked for a corner to cram her stuff into. Jemma had just chuckled, grabbed her hand, and dragged her towards the bedroom. 

Daisy was surprised by how easily she settled into domesticity with Jemma. Given that she was completely prepared to live out of her van, Daisy didn’t expect to find herself so comfortable now. They settled into an easy routine. Jemma left at the crack of dawn for her classes, Daisy following around noon, Jemma went to the lab for a few hours after class, and Daisy went to work at the campus bookstore. They both returned to the apartment late and collapsed into bed or watched TV for a few hours. Friday night, they would make sure to be home in time for dinner and one of them would cook something nice. 

The cooking was the one thing Daisy never got the hang of. Her artistic talents definitely did not translate into the culinary arts. The most complicated thing she had ever managed to make herself was a can of chicken noodle soup that she put in the microwave, so she struggled whenever it was her turn to make Friday night dinner. 

But she was going to try her hardest anyway because she loved Jemma and wanted to make her something nice. 

So here she was, fighting her way through making spaghetti. Jemma was perched on the corner of their bed with her headphones on full volume, typing away frantically at a report that was due early, and made it clear that she should not be interrupted until either she or dinner was done. 

Daisy grumbled to herself about the inconsistency of using a 'clove’ of garlic as a form of measurement. Daisy made the mistake of buying the already diced garlic that came in a jar (much to Jemma’s dismay), so she just guessed and threw in a full teaspoon with the meat. Hopefully that was enough. 

Next, she grabbed the jar of sauce. Daisy twisted the lid, but it didn’t budge. Daisy squeezed and twisted harder. Nothing. She tried clamping the jar between her knees and using both hands to twist. It was like the lid was cemented on the stupid jar. 

Daisy huffed. What was the trick Jemma always used? Tapping it on the counter! 

Daisy gingerly tapped the rim of the jar against the edge of the counter a few times and tried again. Still no movement. She tapped it harder. Nothing. Daisy glared at the offending jar. Now it was starting to feel personal. 

Daisy gave it one last try and whacked the jar on the counter, but heard a cracking sound rather than the pop of the lid she was hoping for. 

“Damnit,” she grumbled. She grabbed the lid and it twisted right off. 

Which took the top half of the jar with it. The jagged edge of the jar cut into Daisy’s palm as she twisted. 

“Shit!” 

The stripe of blood that welled up on her palm started small, but quickly began trickling down her hand. Daisy set the ruined jar on the counter and grabbed for a paper towel to put some pressure on the cut. She barely got the paper towel ripped off the roll when the timer for the noodles went off, startling her. 

She jerked back, hitting the sauce jar with her elbow, which sent it tumbling towards the ground where it shattered on impact. 

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Is everything alright out there?” Jemma’s voice called from the bedroom.

Daisy sighed and glanced at her still stinging wound. “Hey, Jem. You know how you said to only bother you if something was on fire or I was bleeding?”

Daisy heard the bedsprings creak as Jemma rolled of the mattress and shuffled toward the kitchen. “I sincerely hope you’re being dramatic again or you’re paying the security dep— OH MY GOD!”

Daisy looked up from her cut and saw the carnage of the red-splattered kitchen where she was the focal point. Right after she said she was bleeding (because clearly nothing was on fire). No wonder Jemma was freaking out. 

“Oh, no no it’s just this!” Daisy announced holding up her (relatively speaking) tiny cut for Jemma to see, “I can’t really get to the mop without stepping on glass so…”

Jemma stared, wide-eyed, for another moment. Then she burst into a fit of giggles. Soon, the giggles turned into raucous laughter and eventually Jemma was bent over, gasping for air between fits of cackling. 

Even though Daisy felt terrible about ruining dinner, she couldn’t help laughing along with Jemma at the entire situation. Her laugh was infectious.

Jemma grabbed the mop and helped Daisy clean up the mess and Daisy went to pick up some Chinese take out. Later that night, when Jemma went back to pouring over her computer Daisy found a red pen and sketched the scene on the back of a receipt and tucked it away. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jemma shoved the apartment door open with a bit more force than was truly necessary. It had been a very long, arduous day and all she wanted was to eat a pint of ice cream and go to sleep early. 

She shuffled through the door, knocking into the wall with her stack of reports and struggling to keep them from falling. She grumbled to herself as she kicked some of Daisy’s art supplies out of the way, so she wouldn’t end up tracking paint through the apartment (again) and trudged towards the bedroom. 

A little flashing light from the kitchen made her pause. The 'new message’ light on the answering machine to the landline the apartment required them to have flashed insistently. Jemma frowned. Typically, no one called that number. If they needed to get ahold of one of them, Jemma and Daisy both had cell phones that they checked more regularly. 

Jemma threw her stuff down on the table and jammed the little button. 

A chipper voice cut through the silence of the apartment. “Hello! This message is for Daisy Johnson, regarding the job you applied for at Creative Concepts. It turns out we will be able to cover your relocation to New York City, as well as offering you a percentage more than the listing stated. We would like to get you settled and starting work by late next month so if you could give us a call back at—”

The number the woman rattled off was drowned out by the slamming of the front door. 

“Jemma, you home? I got out early and was thinking we could go do something—,” Daisy rounded the corner and saw Jemma’s face, “—fun? What’s wrong?”

“You got a job in New York?” Jemma asked, tersely.

“I what?” Daisy replied. 

“A place in New York just called and said you’ve got a job. They want you to start in a month,” Jemma gritted out through her teeth, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Daisy blinked at her for a moment. “I thought you’d be…happier.”

“Happier?!” Jemma snapped, “You never even told me you were looking for jobs, much less ones in New York City!”

“Well, duh. What did you think I was going to do, mooch off you the rest of my life?” Daisy spit back.

Jemma recoiled. “I thought you would at least tell me that you were thinking of moving across the country. What am I supposed to do? Quit my job and follow you at a moment’s notice? Or were you just going to leave and not even talk to me about it?”

“I thought you’d be excited! This is a great job and I’d finally be pulling my own weight,” Daisy shouted, more confused than angry. 

“Without me!” Jemma yelled, “We’re in a relationship. We’re supposed to talk about things like this together. Why did you hide this from me?”

“I didn’t…I didn’t actually think I would get it, I just wanted to see what would happen,” Daisy said. “What do you want me to do? Not take the job?”

“Yes! No. I—” Jemma huffed. “I don’t know, I just…I need a minute.”

She stalked off to the bedroom and slammed the door behind her. Daisy groaned and thumped her head against the wall. Eventually, she shuffled over to the answering machine and replayed the message to write down the call-back number. 

Daisy hung around the kitchen and nibbled on a fingernail nervously. She and Jemma had never had a fight like that before. Sure, they occasionally fought about little things, like Daisy leaving paint lying around or Jemma stealing Daisy’s leftovers late at night. Those were insignificant and usually ended in sex, so they weren’t too bad. 

But nothing like this. Daisy wasn’t used to people sticking around after a fallout and kept waiting for Jemma to charge out of the bedroom with a packed bag and leave forever. 

But that wasn’t Jemma. And Daisy wasn’t about to let what they had fall apart over this. Not after everything they’d been through. 

She gave Jemma a few more minutes of alone time and tiptoed over to the bedroom door. She tapped gently on it, but got no response. 

“Jem? Can I come in?” Daisy asked tentatively. After a few seconds with no response, Daisy was preparing herself to sleep on the couch, when a whispered 'yes’ filtered through the door. 

Jemma was curled up on her side on the bed, facing away from Daisy. The occasional muffled sniffles told Daisy that Jemma had been crying and it broke her heart. 

She slipped into the bed behind Jemma and slowly scooted herself next to her. When she wasn’t forcibly shoved away like she was expecting, she curled up around Jemma and rested her hand on Jemma’s waist. 

“I’m sorry,” Daisy whispered, “I really wasn’t trying to hide it. I just…wasn’t thinking. I’m still not used to this 'serious relationship’ thing, I guess.” Daisy nudged closer to Jemma’s back and rested her head in the crook of her neck. “I’ll call them back first thing and let them know I can’t take the job,” she mumbled. 

Jemma sighed and rolled over to face Daisy. “I don’t want that. I’m sure it’s a great job and I know you’ve been wanting to get out of this city. I only wish this wasn’t the first time I had heard about it.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Jemma whispered, “But, now we can deal with this. Together.”

Daisy nodded. “Agreed.”

She leaned forward and kissed Jemma gently, and then smiled to herself. 

“Hey, Jemma,” she muttered. 

“Hm?”

“We just survive our first big fight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They kept their promise to each other to deal with the new job situation together. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as seamless at Daisy would have hoped. Jemma couldn’t get away from the work she was doing for the university until at least the end of the semester, and then still had to find a job in New York City. So far, her hunt had hit a dead-end. 

Daisy, however, couldn’t put off the start of her job and would have to move without her. As much as it would kill them to be apart for so long, they would have to make it work for now. They both promised each other that it wouldn’t end like the last time they were separated. 

Daisy found a small apartment that she could afford on her single salary for now, and threw herself straight into work for a graphic design company that contracted out artists to client companies. The work was mind-numbing at times and she called Jemma nearly every night to complain about her thickheaded clients, but she was at least doing work she enjoyed and had many opportunities in New York to find an audience for her art. 

Jemma continued to work at the university laboratory, apply for research-based positions in New York, and coordinate with Daisy when they would have a free weekend to visit one another. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jemma’s phone rang early one morning while she was eating breakfast. Well, it was a reasonable hour for herself, but for most of the population, it was early. It was especially early for Daisy, who’s name was the one that popped up on caller ID. 

“Hello?” Jemma greeted. 

“Hey.” Daisy sounded breathless on the other line. “Remember how we talked about you having a free weekend coming up? I really think you should come up here.”

“Alright, why the urgency, though?” Jemma replied. 

Daisy was quiet for a moment and seemed to be catching her breath. “I got a gig at a gallery! I get to use the entire gallery to display some of my projects!”

“Daisy, that’s wonderful!”

“I know! This is gonna be such a great opportunity. All the best people are gonna be at the opening,” Daisy rambled. “So can you make it?” 

“I’ll book my plane ticket immediately.”

The silence on the other line didn’t concern Jemma, because Daisy was probably just fist-pumping the air. 

“I’m so excited. I can’t wait to see you,” Daisy finally responded. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few phone more phone calls later and they pinned down the details for the trip. Jemma’s flight was getting in the morning of the gallery opening, so she and Daisy would have some time to explore the city together. 

The minute she landed and turned her phone back on, their plans were upended by a text from Daisy. 

Super super sorry, but I can’t get out of work til later :( I left a key under the mat at my apartment so you can drop your stuff and nap. Sry ily

Jemma huffed, but understood and went to gather her things at baggage claim. When she went to hail a cab, she notice a nicely dressed man standing near the exit holding a sign that read Jemma Simmons. 

Jemma frowned and approached him. At least Daisy spared her from having to trek through New York City with all of her bags. 

“Mrs. Simmons, I presume?” the man asked. 

“Miss, but yes,” she replied, adjusting her bags. 

The man smiled. “My mistake. Can I grab your bags for you?”

The driver loaded her things into a sleek black car and opened the rear door for her to enter. 

Once on the road, Jemma couldn’t help but ogle everything she drove past. The massive buildings sparkled in the morning sun and every variety of cafe seemed tucked into the lower floors of them. Cars choked the streets, allowing Jemma plenty of time to stare and memorize the source of every mouth-watering smell that she wanted Daisy to take her to. 

Even more than the cars, was the sheer amount of people, bustling this way and that. How they could even move with some many people cramming the sidewalks was a miracle. 

They passed through Times’ Square and the blinding lights from every corner dazed her momentarily. 

They finally pulled up to Daisy’s apartment building, which Jemma recognized from the pictures she had sent when she first moved in. It was nothing compared to the glitz and glamor of the center of the city, but it seemed cozy enough. 

The driver unloaded Jemma’s things for her onto the sidewalk and bid her a good day. Jemma rifled through her purse for some cash to give him a tip, but he had returned to the car and sped off before she could find it. 

Strange, Jemma thought, but, then again, Daisy is always saying how weird New Yorkers are. 

  Jemma shrugged and headed towards the elevator. 

Sure enough, a small key was tucked under the welcome mat in front of Daisy’s apartment. It still had enough of Daisy’s form of personalization scattering the floor and stuck to the walls to remind Jemma with a pang of their shared apartment. Jemma called Daisy’s name, hoping she would have made it home by now, but found the apartment empty.

She grumbled to herself, a bit annoyed that Big City Girl Daisy couldn’t seem to spare any time for her girlfriend who she dragged up to see her. She tossed her things in a corner in Daisy’s bedroom and headed to the kitchen to find a snack. A small piece of folded paper was propped up on the counter when she got there. Jemma snatched it and found another apology, but this one included cash. 

Dear Jemma, sorry again I’m flaking out. I have a few more things to wrap with the gallery before the opening tonight. Here’s some cash so you can get yourself a nice lunch. There’s a diner two blocks down that you might like. The Wi-Fi password is Alhambra.

Also, I included a bit extra so you can go down to the boutique on 7th and get something nice to wear tonight. You get to be my arm candy after all ;) See you tonight. Sry and ily.

Daisy 

Jemma rolled her eyes. She wasn’t really interested in seeing the sights in New York alone, but she probably should get a nicer dress for the evening. She had a feeling that 'nice’ was a different standard at a New York gallery opening than anything in Jemma’s college town. She snatched the cash and the spare key and headed back out the door. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite what Jemma told herself, she did go see some of the attractions near Daisy’s apartment. She found a nice souvenir stand where she bought herself a mini Statue of Liberty magnet and a foam hat that she was going to make Daisy wear everywhere tomorrow. Then she headed down to the boutique that Daisy had mentioned to find a nice outfit. 

She picked out a flattering sparkly dress that, normally, she would never buy for herself, but she wanted to impress the people coming to see Daisy. If it made Daisy drool over her and regret leaving her alone all day, that was just a bonus. 

When it got close to the start of the event, Jemma was fully dressed and made up and Daisy was still nowhere to be found. Jemma was starting to worry that something might have happened to her, when her phone buzzed with another message from Daisy. 

Hey things got crazy so I’ve got to stay at the gallery until it opens. There will still be a car by the apartment to come pick you up at 6:30. 

Jemma frowned and typed back, Did you just have plans with your new girlfriend all day?

Jemma was mostly joking, but the lack of response way worrying. Sure, she figured Daisy was busy with the gallery and all, but it wasn’t like Daisy to be so cagey. 

The car pulled up in front of the building at 6:30 on the dot, with the same driver who picked her up from the airport. He held the car door open for her, told her she looked 'ravishing,’ and then hopped in the driver’s seat. 

The drive was mostly silent, with Jemma being too grumpy to initiate conversation and the driver too occupied with not crashing into every person who cut them off. 

The gallery they pulled to a stop in front of was small, which Jemma expected. What she hadn’t expected was the dimness of the light filtering through the windows facing the street. Inside, Jemma could see a few small spotlights pointed at framed works on the wall that were much smaller than what Daisy usually created. 

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Jemma asked the driver.

He just nodded with a smile. “Daisy’s waiting for you inside.”

That was all the encouragement she needed. Jemma was expecting a bit more fanfare about a gallery opening, even one this small, but there didn’t appear to be anyone here yet. 

She pushed through the door and strode into the gallery, her slightly uncomfortable heels clicking loudly on the wood floors. She peered around corners looking for Daisy, or really any other person, but didn’t see anyone, so she paced around and looked at Daisy’s art. 

Then, Jemma was more confused. Everything framed and stuck to the walls was just doodles on the back of a receipt of a gum wrapper. It wasn’t the kind of work that would normally be put up in a gallery. 

“Do you like them?” a familiar voice called out behind her. 

Jemma spun around and saw Daisy, dressed to the nines, slowly walking towards her. 

“I…I guess. I’m just a little confused,” Jemma admitted. “And where is everyone? I thought you said everyone important would be here.”

“They are,” Daisy replied, her eyes fixed solely on Jemma. “Let me show you around.” This wouldn’t be the first time Daisy had to explain the intricacies of her art to Jemma. Just like Daisy took awhile to grasp microscopic biochemical processes, Jemma was not adept at interpreting art. 

Daisy just smiled. “Don’t you recognize them?”

Jemma furrowed her brow. Why would she recognize doodles on gum wrappers? Daisy guided her back to the one by the door. It was a crumpled gum wrapped that had been laid flat with two poorly-drawn stick figure girls sitting in desks speaking. There was a tiny plaque under it with the title First Words. 

It still wasn’t any clearer to Jemma, so Daisy took her hand and walked to the next one. This one was a lined piece of paper, clearly ripped out of a notebook, that had the same two girls at a long table, but one had some red scribble in her mouth and was titled Spaghetti Challenge. Jemma chuckled, since that one reminded her of the time in high school where Daisy had been dared to cram an entire spaghetti order into her mouth. 

Daisy moved onto the next one and the pattern started to dawn on Jemma. The picture was on another gum wrapper and featured a small blue car and one of the girls leaving in it. The background was a wide road that faded into the distance where there was a big castle labelled College. The other girl had a small broken heart above her head. Daisy scratched her ear nervously and moved onto the next wall. 

There was apparently quite a time skip here and the art style drastically improved. This one was drawn on a scrap of the same sturdy paper Daisy left lying around their apartment all the time for her class projects. It was a doodle of the two girls, which now that they had more fleshed out features, Jemma could tell were herself and Daisy, hugging in a café while another figure (presumably Bobbi) stole their food. 

The next was a situation that Jemma recognized as one of their Friday movie nights in Daisy’s and Bobbi’s dorm, but she didn’t recognize the exact context. There seemed to be an astronaut sitting next to Jemma and Daisy was throwing tiny daggers at him. It was labelled Jealousy. 

Jemma shot Daisy a curious look, but she just grinned and walked on. 

The one that followed was obviously a focal point, with its multiple spotlights and larger frame. This one was also ripped out of a sketchbook, but it was a larger page and contained more detail. The simple, stick-figure style was the same but it had a light colored pencil gradient sketched into the sky above the two girls in a pool in an open field. Some flecks of white paint made up the stars accompanied by a single streak of white for a meteor. The plague underneath read Best Meteor Shower Ever. Jemma smirked at the memory. 

The pattern continued. Sketches of Daisy and Jemma’s first date, second date, third date, that time Daisy made Jemma think she had gruesomely injured herself while making spaghetti, rendered in gory detail with vicious strokes of a red pen, the time Jemma made Daisy snort soda out of her nose with a particularly bad pun. Every landmark of their relationship scratched out in minimalist form on the backs of gum wrappers, receipts, take-out menus, etc. Basically, anything Daisy could get her hands on at the time. 

Jemma circled the gallery in awe. Daisy had kept these scraps of memories for years, almost a decade in some cases, and documented everything. 

Jemma circled back to the beginning of the display and noticed a solitary frame in the middle of the back wall. There were multiple spotlights aimed at this one lonely picture, as well as one pointed at the floor a few feet away. Jemma moved closer to the tiny scrap framed on the wall so she could see the detail. 

It was on a gum wrapped that was pressed so flat, all the creases had been carefully ironed out. The two girls were again the main feature. 

One was standing in the middle of an art gallery looking shocked. 

The other was in front of her, down on one knee. 

Jemma gasped and whirled around. She hadn’t noticed Daisy drop her hand or leave her side, but she slipped away while Jemma was entranced with reliving their memories. 

Now, Daisy knelt in the middle of the strategically placed spotlight, with a small velvet box in her shaking hands. Daisy pulled a smirk, but Jemma could tell it was wavering and she was cripplingly nervous. 

Daisy opened and closed her mouth a few times before frowning amusedly at herself. “You know, I had this whole romantic spiel planned out once I got to this point, but…I kinda just forgot the whole thing.” Her eyes sparkled with happy tears. “And you crying definitely isn’t helping.”

Jemma hadn’t even realized that she had tears rolling down her cheeks. She gave a watery laugh and stepped towards Daisy. 

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, you know,” Jemma teased. 

Daisy chuckled. “I know. But with all the crap we’ve been through, the one thing I’ve known the whole time, without a doubt…is that you and I belong together.”

That was it for Jemma. The tears flowed even more freely down her face as she threw her arms around Daisy’s neck. Daisy huffed a short laugh, but Jemma could tell from the dampness on her shoulder that Daisy was crying too. 

“So, is that a yes?” Daisy muttered into Jemma’s neck. 

Jemma laughed breathlessly. “Of course it’s a yes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wise men say, only fools rush in.

But I can’t help falling in love with you. 

The minute the first chords of the song played, Daisy hoisted up the front of her dress and squeezed through the crowd toward Jemma. Jemma was sprawled out across two chairs at the 'in-laws’ table, her bare feet propped up on one and her discarded high heels tucked underneath it. Any other time, Daisy would have stopped just to watch her giggling into her glass of champagne with her family around her—now Daisy’s family as well, she realized with a jolt—but right now, she was on a mission. 

“Can I steal you for a dance?” Daisy asked, extended a hand to Jemma. Jemma turned her flushed face towards Daisy and beamed. She set her glass down on the table and rose to meet Daisy with more grace than Daisy was expecting, given the amount of champagne Jemma had already consumed. Still, she took Daisy’s hand and strolled out to the center of the dance floor beside her. 

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Somethings are meant to be

Take my hand, and take my whole life, too

The standard hold for a partner dance was too distant for both Daisy and Jemma’s tastes, so they smushed the combined bulk of both of their white dresses together and held each other in a hug-like embrace while they swayed on the floor. All the practice they had done in Daisy’s cramped apartment the preceding weeks was unnecessary. It didn’t matter how they looked or how well they could waltz. 

All that mattered was that Daisy now could hold Jemma, her wife, as tight as she wanted and nothing was going to take her away. As Daisy glanced out the windows of the banquet hall, over the bright city lights that glistened off every surface, Daisy started to understand why Jemma loved this sappy song. 

So won’t you please

Take my hand, and take my whole life, too. 

'Cause I can’t help falling in love 

In love with you

'Cause I can’t help

Falling in love

With

You.

The End.