#I make the rules and I say its pre haircut

[askteiteisukone]

((It's dumb obsessive OC hour have some weird girls I love themmm

Ik it has nothing to do with this blog but I am alive and drawing and almost back! See yall soon lol))

[catvampire]

i saw your reblog of the Matt gifset and what do you mean by "they ruined both of you for this arc?" I get that they made Barnes more despicable in cm compared to cmbb but what about Matt? Is it that the lack of references to his time in the IRT or his reduced role in the Barnes storyline despite their established history in favor of JJ or something else?

it's two different issues, it was just funnier to say that

my bigger issue is barnes, who was absolutely stripped of any and all actual characteristics she had, including but not limited to her positive sides. and god, you can see kim try to do interesting, non-obvious choices, like the few times where she plays some lines like she might just genuinely confused about the hostility and is trying to understand the team better on some level. they took away not just the nuance in her, but also just the most basic fucking things about her, down to using chess metaphors when she specifically says that she "likes boxing" when asked about her aptitude in understanding internal politics as chess. she even got an even shorter haircut than in cmbb, just so we all know she's an Evil Woman.

as for matt. they actually brought in something from the IRT. they actually had something tying to the other show. they could've actually displayed the emotional impact that barnes on matt, allowed for a character episode that ties into something other than family, and expands on the circumstances that led to him transferring. the set-up had SO MUCH POTENTIAL. in blowback, barnes tried to hammer the IRT down when she had every reason to think they were at fault, but eventually took a risk and arrested someone while knowing full well she would make waves and would need to quiet down some details as soon as the evidence was on the IRT's side. in the finale, she pushes for the rules hard, very clearly emotionally distancing herself in the situation bc there's just nothing that be done until jack's wife gets through her and she tells IRT to break the law to get ryan. and after that, presumably they got caught anyway and the unit is disbanded. that's twice she's been an antagonist, twice that she's been the key to saving the day; once fully by the book (if mismanaged by her temper and desire to get things Done over doing things with care), and once by breaking it, which turned out for the worst.

so here we have matt, whom i see as "compassion within the rules" and needs extreme circumstances to blatantly break from that, against barnes, who is "rules regardless of compassion (so make the compassion fit within the rules or help you god)". the bau has had a string of extremely risky behaviour, some acts that absolutely err on the side of wrong from a bureaucratic perspective, and after multiple already concerning events that have included the team, an agent finally died. it is the perfect storm to introduce her to, matt being the perfect opponent and the reason to care about and fear barnes.

so how in the fuck do you manage to not make matt the main character in the ensemble for a single episode during the entire four episode arc.

HOW DO YOU WRITE A THIRD OF THE SEASON TO REVOLVE AROUND THIS AND AT EVERY POINT, THE MOST OF WHAT WE KNOW ABOUT ITS IMPACT ON MATT IS THROUGH REACTION SHOTS SHARED WITH OTHER PEOPLE

HOW IS MATT A MARGIN MENTION IN AN ARC ABOUT HIS OWN ANTAGONIST. WHY IS IT SPENCER THAT COMPELS EMILY TO STAY AND NOT MATT, WITH WHOM EMILY ALREADY HAD A PRE-BAU DYNAMIC WITH AND WHO OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD BE THE ONE GOING "I KNOW WHAT'S AT STAKE, AND YOU SHOULD STILL STAY."

anyway tl:dr; barnes being ruined was about her character, matt about the writing of the episodes

[lolalovesu]

concerning the alternative scene's recent rise in popularity (and why it is likely to fall again):

warning !! essay long text under the cut

to give a bit of context, i was a pre teen to young adult from the mid 2000's to mid 2010, which i call the middle to end of that time's "alt scene boom". recently alternative culture experienced a rise in popularity again - funnily enough around the time a staple of that era's music scene, my chemical romance, announced their return (which i will come back to at a later point as they are, in fact, important to note, whether you personally like them or not) - and with that rise in popularity there weren't just new and younger people joining but some even found their love for the alternative subculture again. i use alternative as an umbrella term here as it should be. there are of course multiple different 'camps' hidden underneath that.

very recently i watched a documentary about the "death of the classic goth scene" which was very interesting in so far as it gave me an insight as to why i saw so many alternatively dressed people walking around in my teen years to a shocking dwindling of that number. the documentary explained that the goth subculture in itself got divided into more and more 'camps' (such as steampunk, cybergoth, victorian goth, etc) until there was no real "grapevine" between them anymore. to explain what i mean by that: when people start to gatekeep between those camps, communications stop. and as a consequence the bigger scene gets dissolved:

the alternative scene lives from new input and new ideas. if that is not given because you do not step outside your specific 'camp', don't let anyone in who's for example only interested in a specific aspect of that 'camp' and are also not allowed to take from another, or even just new people trying out something new entirely, then there also cannot be any growth because after a while there are no new ideas, no fresh input that would keep it alive.

that same thing already happened under the bigger umbrella of "alternative", people were forcefully dividing themselves or being divided into different camps like punk, goth, emo and others. while looking for a specific term and therefore identity under which to group to find others that might be interested in the same aspects of alternative culture that specific subculture stands for, it also led to people from those subcultures turning their back on the other subcultures they were technically siblings to. for that we can just use one of our generations favorite terms: gatekeeping.

the different subcultures gatekeeping their culture, fashion, history, music and so on led to an ending to the different 'camps' influencing each other. this proved fatal: the alt scene Needed each others influences to grow and change, and simply stay alive.

that is why bands like my chemical romance worked - because they took input from different subcultures across the board. basically, when people stopped holding hands, so to say, alt more or less "vanished" from the public eye.

if not the most popular, there is no denying that my chemical romance is the most influential alternative band of that specific time period. it even went outside the line of “alternative” as for example wearing military style jackets experienced a sudden boom in popular fashion after 2006 - the year my chemical romance published their most famous album the black parade and wore military jackets to each of their concerts. singer gerard way’s classic shaggy longish hair with bangs became known as the classic ‘emo’ haircut which then slowly made its way into mainstream fashion for boys everywhere. ‘guyliner’ was a broadly used term in teen magazines and even if men wearing eyeliner was done before, it was suddenly not just a thing for a specific subculture anymore. of course that all wasn’t received positively by everyone but nevertheless: alternative culture was seen and seen everywhere and you were able to find gerard way’s skeleton painted face on the same magazine page as hannah montana’s miley cyrus.

but why were they so influential? why did they rise to the top that fast and were known by most subcultures under the “alternative” umbrella?

simply put: they took inspiration from across the whole board and put it together. different aspects of different subcultures were made anew. fresh and accessible, they opened their arms to everyone, speaking for the outsiders and underdogs, as long as you listened to any type of rock music. and it worked because they themselves originated from different subcultures. musically, lead guitarist ray toro himself said his biggest influence was always the metal genre. rhythm guitarist frank iero was the biggest punk rock influence of the band, and the way brothers, singer gerard and bassist mikey, were both deeply into gothic rock and britpop. of course the broad scope of new jersey’s music scene, where the band originates, made all fans and members of those subgenres of rock music interact - and therefore influence each other. 

it is a fitting example explaining why they were such a big influence and also why the alternative scene rose to popularity as it did. it also explains why it came to a fall: without new input, new influence, and gatekeeping between groups the scene stopped being accessible. it stopped growing and changing, until it stagnated and fell to obscurity again. while many of the bands didn’t stop making music and also didn’t stop being popular, the alternative scene in itself fell into obscurity. 

now, as alternative culture experiences a sudden rise in popularity, more and more gatekeeping rules start cropping up, rules about who is a real punk and which parts of different subcultures you dare not take for your own. and that is exactly why it is likely to fail again. if this ‘revival’ of the alternative scene is supposed to make an upwards trend - and i call it revival, but let’s face it some of us have been there the whole time - then something has to give.

this concludes, as i fittingly said somewhere farther up in this essay of a textpost:

we have to start holding hands again.

[commaclear]

she took the kids au idea

so based on the last lore stream i had an idea

sally lets wilbur spend one day with fundy after ages of begging and this would probably be pre zero contact but definitely right before fundy starts giving dry responses and excuses not to answer wilburs calls

wilbur gets ready and becomes as pristine as he can be. he cleans his trenchcoat like 50 times over, he gets a haircut (quackity makes a joke abt how he liked the long hair but short hair suits him). he cant really hide the eyebags but he still looked nice.

he spent the day playing catch, a fishing videogame fundy had, and talking with him

of course they were at sallys place which wasn't preferable but sally told him to forget it if he didn't agree to her rules.

basically fundy does what he does in the stream and tells wilbur that he didn't care enough and he doesn't want wilbur to be around him. and I don't think he really means it he's just going through it and that's probably why he's not always there when he and wilbur call

and fundy tells him that hes happier because he actually has someone there for him. and wilburs heart is just about shattered

sally tells him she thinks its best if he goes back home after fundy storms to him room. and when wilbur says he wants to talk to fundy she stops him saying that she invited him so he can see fundy is healthy and he's okay living here. when wilburs voice breaks, begging her that he's all wilburs got, she said that he should go back home and he still has quackity.

wilbur doesnt know when he got home, he remembers getting into his car and now he's parked in his driveway.

he walked inside and goes straight to his bedroom where quackity was watching tv "hey! howd it go? did you have a good ti-" quackity looked at wilbur, who looked back at him lost. quackity pulled him onto the bed and into a tight hug as wilbur broke down to sobs.

"shhh, shhh its okay, i love you its gonna be okay" "he- he hates m--e quacki-" "he doesnt hate you wil,," "he does! h- hic- he does! I'm a terrible dad" quackity tried his best to tell him wrong, but everything he said just flew over wilburs head.

basically wilbur stays in their bedroom for about a week, he does his work from there, quackity brings him coffee and tries to get him out by offering a walk or going out for dinner but wilburs either dived into his work or not in the mood

but hey he n slime watch tv together when slime comes home from school!

hm upsetting...... *adds to pile of plausible angst*

[welllpthisishappening]

By City-Wide Decree

It's a crush.

And in any other situation, that would be it. He'd be able to keep going about his day in normal pining fashion. But nothing about this is normal. Because in the last few minutes Bellamy's complained about shredded cheese and Clarke's making jokes about Bleecker Street and apparently there's some city-wide rule about car services now.

Or: the last thing Bellamy Blake expected during a national health pandemic was being forced to kiss his neighbor.

----

Rating: Teen Word Count: Just over 5.6K AN: Hey there, internet. It was really only a matter of time until I wrote some kind of nonsense here. But I do want to say that this story does include COVID-19 stuff, so if that is not for you, I totally get it. That being said, this admittedly very silly nonsense, is very much just that and hopefully it offers a bit of a distraction for a few minutes. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam

----

He almost drops the box of macaroni in his hand. 

The edge stabs his palm, a weird pain that's really more like the general sense of Bellamy’s frustration because just a few seconds ago he witnessed two grown adults glaring at each other over the final few rolls of toilet paper in aisle five. And there aren’t really that many other people in this grocery store, which he supposes is a good thing. Everyone taking social distancing seriously and staying home and he’s got every intention of doing the same, but first he’s got to deal with this. 

“Pre-shredded cheese,” he mumbles under his breath, glancing at the box. He’s bent the edge. He hopes he doesn’t break the box. There weren’t many left in that aisle, either. Just the one thing of shells Bellamy had been able to grab and four boxes of whole wheat linguine, which, really, almost offends him more than the idea of pre-shredded cheese. 

In a variety of flavors. 

And adjectives. 

“Cheese should not have adjectives attached to it,” Bellamy continues, and apparently he’s reached the crazy portion of his day. 

That also seems to be the standard for most of the world, though. He’d been very close to breaking up the toilet paper fight. So maybe he’s just catching up to everyone else. He needs to go home. He needs to—

“Pick a goddamn cheese,” he says. Whatever sound he makes at his own private conversation isn’t so much a sigh, but rather another round of frustration and possible resignation and taco-flavored cheese can’t be that bad. 

Right? Maybe. 

He can’t imagine what kind of preservatives are used in taco-flavored cheese. Like..are there even spices involved? There should be spices. When all of this is over he’s going to write a strongly worded letter to the Kraft family. 

Bellamy sighs again, drawing more than a few looks and a glare or too, and he’s going to give himself a headache if he keeps rolling his eyes at their current rate. He lunges forward, careful to account for the box of macaroni and the small thing of buttermilk that’s honestly starting to make his fingers go numb and—

An arm moves next to his. 

She’s also a little off-balance — a backpack that’s close to bursting and something that might actually be paint streaked across her left cheek, but Bellamy can barely register that when she’s already starting to stumble back, a package of margarine clutched in her hand. 

“Oh,” Clarke breathes, eyes going wide and what looks like the first hints of a smile tugging at the ends of her mouth. “Hey, Bell.”

His stomach flies into his throat. 

As per usual. 

That might be the most normal part of his day so far. 

To say that he’s been harboring a pretty monumental crush on Clarke Griffin since she moved into the apartment across the hall from Bellamy would be—

Accurate. 

It would be accurate, honestly.

In almost painful fashion. 

Six months ago, she showed up with a handful of boxes and paint on her jeans, and a smile that seemed to reverberate through him. In a way where that doesn’t sound insane. Maybe he wasn’t catching up to everyone else. Maybe he was just sprinting past them. Towards crazy. 

The kind of crazy that also means he’s stupid into his neighbor. 

She’d said hi first that day too. So he offered to help her carry some boxes and she’d promised she’d be ok, but he was stubborn and a little overwhelmed by the very specific color of her eyes and she really did have a lot of stuff and they’d ordered from the Thai place up the street after. 

And if that's not the basis for a pretty solid friendship, then Bellamy isn’t sure what is. 

Only that’s really all it is. Because, well—Bellamy isn’t sure. Octavia would say he’s being an idiot and to some extent that’s true, but he and Clarke are pretty good friends now and sometimes she curls up on the corner of his couch when she’s stressed about the arts budget of the high school she works at in the Bowery or he kicks on her door when he’s got some new pages he thinks she might like to read and it’s—

Good. 

Normal. 

In a world that is very quickly spiraling out of control. 

He hopes those people didn’t actually start yelling over toilet paper. He’s not sure his brain would be able to cope with that. 

“What are you doing here?” Clarke asks, taking another step back and he hadn’t noticed she’s got another bag of art supplies in her left hand. 

“Glaring at cheese.” “I’m sorry, what?” “Glaring at cheese,” Bellamy repeats. He nods towards the minimal selection, Clarke’s eyes widening at his admittedly petty reaction to the cheese issue. It should not be an issue. “I—well, I’m running low on some food and I—” He grits his teeth, suddenly hopeful that he’ll be able to melt into the supermarket floor. 

That’s probably not hygienic. 

“Is it super top secret, then?” Bellamy clicks his tongue. “No, it’s—ok, do you promise not to laugh?” “Absolutely not.” “You look like you staged a battle getting here.” “Nah,” she objects, but there’s a slight blush creeping across her cheeks and it’s probably wrong to feel some kind of victory at that. Just, like—with everything else going on. Flirting should probably be a low priority at this point. 

“Then…” “Why are you angry at the cheese?” “Mostly the selection of cheese,” Bellamy admits. “Because I’m supposed to use a very specific kind, so—” “—For what?” “My mom’s mac and cheese recipe.” She gapes at him. Which is not the reaction he was hoping for, really. He’s not sure what would be better, but he had been pretty partial to the blush and he’s positive this is somehow the paint streak’s fault. 

Clarke has a habit of getting paint everywhere. 

There’s still a stain on his floor from three weeks ago. 

“Did you think I was going to laugh at you making your mom’s mac and cheese recipe during an international health pandemic?” Clarke cries. It draws another round of curious stares and one set of incredibly narrow eyes from a woman with a cropped haircut and a cart practically overflowing with paper products. 

Clarke sneers. “I might actually fight someone for bulk-buying things. God, people are—” “—The worst?” “Is that why you’d thought I’d laugh at you being adorable?”

Bellamy forgets all about his stomach and its current location in his throat. He’s far more preoccupied with the matter of his exploding heart. Which is not nearly as painful an experience as he would have assumed. 

His smile threatens to take up most of his face, muscles unaccustomed to the movement when everything else seems to be going to shit. He hopes standing this long in the dairy aisle doesn’t adversely affect the buttermilk. 

That’s a key part of the recipe too. 

“Adorable, huh?” “Oh shut up,” Clarke grumbles, kicking her foot out of habit. She’s still a few feet away from him. That probably shouldn’t be disappointing either. In any situation, honestly. “Seriously, are you out here being weird about cheese because—” “—A quick detour out of adorable.” “Only because you keep interrupting me.”

He smiles wider. “When I was a kid, my mom used to make this mac and cheese for every major event. Birthdays, holidays, great grade on a test.” “Because you were a nerd?” “Look who’s interrupting the flow of the story.” “You should consider speeding up your approach” Clarke laughs. “The lady with forty-thousand paper napkins might come back and start pelting you with them for taking so long.” “You think she bought those paper napkins for reasons not related to eating food?” “God.” His shoulders shake a little when he chuckles — another threat to the pasta and his grip on any of the groceries he’s trying very hard to buy. “Moral of the story? I’m stressed out, people continue to be the worst, I saw a bunch of people, including actual grown adults, sitting out in Washington Square like nothing is wrong, so in an attempt to combat the general horribleness of the world I am going to make my mom’s mac and cheese recipe. Only apparently a lot of other people have had the same thought—” “—About your mom’s mac and cheese recipe?” 

“Bring the paper napkin lady back here so I can throw stuff at you.” Clarke grins, and the overall brightness of her eyes is probably just a byproduct of the lighting in the dairy aisle of Gristedes. Or so Bellamy will tell himself for the next forty-eight hours. 

“Taco cheese does not scream mac and cheese,” he continues. “But I’m also not willing to stage some sort of quest for the appropriate kind of cheddar. Or blocks of cheese.”

“It can’t be shredded cheese?” “Eh. I’m willing to make some sacrifices at this point.” “Wow,” Clarke drawls. “How gallant of you. And you wanted to make it yourself, then? No thoughts of take-out from Murray’s.”

“Don’t insult me like that.” “You have issues with a place that actually has cheese in its name?” “Murray’s Cheese Bar is an overpriced tourist trap that does not need my business to stay in business. I’m sure they’re perfectly fine.” “Murray himself?” “Or whatever corporate chain that place is owned and operated by. Plus, have you ever had their cheese plate? Like—just, it was gross. We got, maybe, half a dozen crackers.”

Clarke presses her lips together, but her laugh still manages to find its way into the six-feet of mandated space between her and Bellamy. “Did Octavia order the cheese plate at Murray’s once?” “And a bottle of chianti.” “Fancy.” “Gross,” Bellamy amends. “I can’t stand red wine.” “Why didn’t I know that you hated Murray’s so much? Do you feel that way about—” “—Most of the places on Bleecker?” Bellamy finishes, ignoring Clarke’s wide-eyed stare at yet another interruption. They have got to get out of this store. The processed air is obviously going to his head. Or, whatever. 

Maybe just the state of his heart. “Down with the establishment, huh?” Clarke quips. She absolutely, positively does not rock towards him. Bellamy is sure. 

He hums, and maybe his issue really lies in the overall state of his heart. Explosions cannot be healthy. In a biological sense. “Why are you here, then? I’m assuming it’s not just to share the very high opinions you’ve got about the restaurants on Bleecker.” “Ok, that is not what I said at all. I’m not advocating we start doing some kind of Bleecker restaurant crawl when this is all over, even if that one Gelato place on the corner is good.” “Tourist trap.” “Is the oxygen thinner on that high horse you’re riding?” Bellamy scrunches his nose when he makes a vaguely ridiculous noise in the back of his throat, part agreement, part unspoken suggestion to keep talking. “Whatever,” Clarke grumbles. “I am here because I needed butter to make cookies. But there’s only this garbage.” 

She brandishes the margarine, arm flung out in front of her and Bellamy refuses to be held accountable for whatever noise he makes at that. Just as ridiculous as the last one. With even more flirting involved. 

“I walked down here,” Clarke adds. “There are no other stores open and—” “—Walked from where?” Bellamy asks sharply. He doesn’t mean for the words to come out quite like that, but he’s also not entirely sure what feeling is shooting down either one of his arms. 

He’s very glad Octavia isn’t here. 

She’d make fun of him. 

More so than usual. 

“Relax,” Clarke mutters, jerking the bag at her side. “I needed stuff for class, but most of my supplies are still at school and it’s not like I can get into school any time soon, so I went up to Marmorino. Nyko agreed to open for, like, twenty minutes so I could get some new brushes and—” She shrugs, all nonchalance. Like walking twenty blocks to the art supply store in the middle of that previously discussed pandemic so she can keep teaching kids how to paint isn't equal parts absurd and wonderful.  “What are you going to paint?” Bellamy asks. “We’re doing life studies. Figured it’d be a good way to get parents involved too. You know, kids paint their mom or their dad or...whatever. Like I said, I just needed a brushes. And butter.”

“Those go hand in hand, huh? You know I have butter.”

Clarke blinks. And her grip on the bag noticeably loosens. “What?” “Butter,” he repeats. “That’s how this all started. I kept opening my fridge and the butter was sitting there, like it was taunting me and—”

“—Can the butter form coherent sentences?” “I’m offering you butter, princess. And mac and cheese. If you want it.”

Another blink. 

That’s...Bellamy doesn’t want to consider what that is. Because this is not the first time he’s done this. Or vice versa. Far from it. They both live alone and they’re friends and it’s not that far across the hall, after all. 

There’s just not usually an international health pandemic involved. 

“Yeah?” Clarke asks softly, like she’s waiting to shout surprise. Or throw paper napkins at them for standing in the dairy aisle for so long. 

Bellamy nods. “Yeah. That’s how humanity survives, right? We pool resources and seek out companionship in times of difficulty.” “Something like that, I’m sure.” “Ok, so you leave the gross margarine here and I’ll deal with the taco cheese.” “I have cheddar in my fridge.” Maybe this is a dream. Maybe the after-effects of his exploding heart have left Bellamy hallucinating in the middle of Gristedes. Maybe he got food poisoning from the cheese plate at Murray’s when Octavia visited three weeks ago and he’s only just now discovering it.

Clarke smiles. 

“If you want it,” she adds. “I—well, I’d had big plans for grilled cheese quarantines, but there was only block cheese at that point and I haven’t even opened it. Yours for the taking.” He nods slowly, trying to come to terms with all of this. It’s not flirting. No one flirts like this. They shouldn’t flirt like this. 

“Yeah,” Bellamy says. “That’d be great. A, uh—COVID team, huh?” Idiot. 

Idiot. 

He’s sure Octavia knows about this. Somehow. A sixth sense that alerts his younger sister to his overwhelming idiocy and she’d been annoyed that he hadn’t invited Clarke to Murray’s with them. 

“Something like that,” Clarke says again. “Ok, then let me pay for a car back home. I don’t know if my shoulders can cope with this backpack and—do not offer to carry this backpack for me,” she adds as soon as Bellamy opens his mouth, “I’ll get the paper napkin lady back here, I swear to God.” “She’d probably call a manager on you.”

Clarke scoffs, but her smile hasn’t changed and Bellamy spends most of the next twenty-four minutes standing in the checkout line thinking only about that. Until Clarke tells the guy in front of them to “stop being a dick” to the cashier when he starts complaining about the lack of bread in aisle two. 

The guy doesn’t say anything else after that. 

And the cashier definitely mumbles “thanks” when Bellamy puts his slightly bent box of pasta on the conveyor belt. 

They don’t spend long waiting for the car — and Bellamy can’t imagine business is exactly booming, which is part of the reason he agreed to this and the rest is entirely selfish and possibly a little stalker’ish and he just likes spending time with Clarke. No matter the world’s collective health situation. 

“You two together?” the driver asks, hardly opening the window and it’s not easy to understand what he’s saying.  

Bellamy furrows his brows. “Excuse me?” He swings open the door, sliding across the backset and moving his feet so Clarke’s backpack can fit comfortably between them. And he’s not one to pass judgement, particularly not now, but the whole thing looks a bit like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie. There are sheets of plastic wrap stretched between the front seats, the driver wearing gloves and casting impatient glances in his rearview mirror. 

Bellamy glances at Clarke’s phone — the driver’s name is Bryan. 

“C’mon man,” Bryan presses. “I need an answer.” “I don’t—” Bellamy starts, shaking his head and that dream theory is starting to make more and more sense. “What are you talking about?”

“The rules.” “Ok, that doesn’t clear it up. Can we just go?” “Nope. I need you to tell me. I don’t want my license revoked.” “What the hell are you talking about?” Clarke lets out a soft gasp, eyes going impossibly wide. “Shit. Are you kidding me?” “What part of nope are you guys having a difficult time wrapping your heads around?” Bryan asks. “Listen, I can’t break the law, ok? I—we’re living in crazy times and—” “—Seriously what are you talking about?” Bellamy snaps. 

Bryan takes a deep breath, shoulders moving with the effort, and Clarke hasn’t looked Bellamy’s direction in what feels like an eternity. He can’t rationalize the chill that slinks down his spine, a growing dread that threatens to tug him through the backseat or take up residence in between his ribs and he’s got to stop making so many sweeping biological assessments. 

There are no facts to back any of this up. 

And yet he can’t quite understand the look on Clarke’s face either, teeth digging into her lower lip while she refuses to meet his gaze. “Guys,” Bryan groans. “In or out, yes or not, just—prove it.” Bellamy opens his mouth again, ready to demand answers if need be, but Clarke is already talking and the words don’t process immediately — mandate from the mayor and I totally forgot and only real couples. 

She grits her teeth when she finally looks up, a pained expression that almost makes Bellamy shiver. It’s unnaturally warm in the city that afternoon. “Did you not see the press conference?” she mutters. He shakes his head. “I, uh—I totally forgot about it, but ride-share services are still cool and essential, they just...if you share, you have to be a couple.” “Real couple too,” Bryan adds. “That’s what the mayor said.” Clarke squeezes one eye shut. “He did, yeah.”

Bellamy has no idea what’s happening. That’s not hyperbole. He genuinely cannot keep up with the conversation or the events of the last few hours and he’s certain this is now somehow the fault of the paper napkin lady and those toilet paper people and— “So,” Bryan continues, “either prove it or lose it?” “Lose what, exactly?” Bellamy rasps. He doesn’t take his eyes off Clarke, can see just how tight her jaw has gone and the exact moment her tongue flashes between her lips and maybe it would just be better for everyone if he grabbed her backpack and sprinted the fifteen blocks back to their apartment. 

Apartment building. 

They don’t live in the same apartment. 

Seriously, screw the toilet paper people. 

“My services,” Bryan answers. “Seriously. I’m not getting fucked over by this. So prove you're a real couple or start walking.” “And how would you like us to do that, exactly?” “Kiss her.” It is several different miracles that Bellamy does not rip down Bryan’s plastic wrap wall right then and there. He considers it, fingers flexing and head at a sudden angle while he glares at the rearview mirror. But something keeps him from actually reacting and it might be Clarke’s soft ok a few inches away. 

They are no longer the appropriate six feet apart. 

“Wait, what?” Bellamy asks, only marginally disappointed when his voice manages to crack over both words. 

Clarke’s smile doesn’t waver, but it shifts slightly — a little cautious and a little nervous and, maybe, a little hopeful. She leans forward, ignoring the goddamn backpack and how straight Bellamy’s spine has gone, breathing quickly like he did run those fifteen blocks. “Just a kiss, right?” she mutters. “Couples kiss. That’s—” “—Real couples,” Bryan amends. Bellamy might strangle Bryan before they get out of this car. 

“Right, right, right. And that’s—it’s not a big deal.” Bellamy’s never going to blink again. 

“I don’t know how else to double check,” Bryan admits. 

Clarke hums, still moving and Bellamy doesn’t flinch when her hand lands on his bent knee. So, points or whatever. Her tongue flashes once more, a soft huff of air that barely reaches his cheek when she’s close enough and this can’t possibly be sanitary. 

God, he does not want to be thinking about that now. 

Bellamy doesn’t remember bending his neck, but it appears to have happened anyway, curls threatening to fall in his eyes. That’s not right. The top of Clarke’s backpack digs into his chest, what feels like an actual paint brush pushing against the side and he’s going to say something. He is. He’s going to promise that he can walk and he’ll carry the backpack and just meet her at home, but none of the words seem all that interested in coming out of his mouth and his lips pop softly when they part, another bit of movement and a direct violation of social distancing and—

His eyes flutter shut when Clarke kisses him. 

With Bryan watching intently. 

And it’s not...well, it’s not quite the way Bellamy had always imagined when he’d let himself imagine this. Far more often than he should. It’s stilted and awkward, weird angles and bumped noses. It’s chins jostling for position and that fucking backpack, both of them far too aware of the two bags of groceries at their feet. 

Bellamy does his best not to actually sigh — even more frustration, that does not belong in a situation like this, but then his eyes open and the tip of Clarke’s tongue finds his lips and everything kind of spirals after that. 

His hand flies up, curling into her hair and pulling her closer, a crunch that is absolutely the box of shells, but the shells can go fuck off for all Bellamy cares. He opens his mouth, lets his head tilt slightly until they find a rhythm that’s a bit like driving at seventy miles an hour on an open highway. That’d be impossible anywhere in New York. 

Even under quarantine. 

And yet. Bellamy feels like he’s rushing towards something, everything and anything and a variety of words that should be far more overwhelming than they are. He nips at Clarke’s lower lip, lets his nose drag along her cheek until he’s practically tracing that streak of paint and the sound that draws will be branded on every inch of him for the foreseeable future. They only break apart to catch their breath, the rhythm going almost desperate when Clarke’s nails scratch at the back of Bellamy’s neck and—

Bryan coughs. 

He might not tip Bryan. 

No, he’ll definitely tip Bryan. It’s a fucking pandemic. 

Bellamy’s not a total dick. 

Just…

“So, uh, cool,” Bryan says, already pulling out onto the street. “Thanks for the, uh—for the demonstration, then.” Clarke jerks back. 

And Bellamy feels like he’s been thrown in the East River. Specifically. Because that river is notoriously grosser than the Hudson. 

He’s gross. 

He twists, trying to put as much space between them as possible when they’re still in Bryan’s silver Toyota Camry. And he doesn’t actually count the minutes that it takes to get back to their building, but it’s awfully close because it seems to take a lifetime and happen far too soon, Clarke mumbling her thanks and hoping Bryan doesn’t have to drive too much in the future and Bellamy doesn’t want to think about the state of that box of shells. 

It feels far too literal. 

And they don’t rush up the stairs, both Bellamy and Clarke taking even steps as they do their mutual and collective best to stare at their shoes. But then he’s tugging his keys out of his back pocket and the air feels like it’s crackling around him, enough tension to power the island of Manhattan — especially when Clarke follows him inside his apartment.

“So, uh—” she starts, a click of her jaw when she notices the look on Bellamy’s face. 

His eyes have started to water, they’re so wide, standing in the middle of his exceptionally tiny living room. “Clarke, I—” “—Oh shit, I forgot the butter.” “Clarke.” “No, no, I should go get the butter, right? Yeah. That’s—shit, I didn’t even think. I...sorry, sorry, it’s—” She shakes her head brusquely, like she’s trying to shake away the awkwardness and Bellamy wishes there weren’t any awkwardness. He wishes he’d asked her out before the world started falling apart. 

He’s back in her space in a few more steps, fingers finding her flailing hands. She’s biting her lip again. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.” “No?” “Absolutely not,” Bellamy promises. “I might, though. I just—I didn’t realize what was going on and then—” “I’m going to go get the butter,” Clarke announces, sounding almost disappointed at the idea. She pulls her hands back, a quick hiss of pain when she manages to elbow herself in the side in the process, all but running out of his apartment. Her backpack is still on his couch. 

Bellamy doesn’t move. He’s not sure he can, honestly. His legs feel like they’ve locked themselves in place, waiting with those same wide eyes for something he’s not sure he can have because it can’t possibly happen like this and Octavia is probably hysterical on the other side of the country. 

And he’s still not counting seconds or minutes, when he finally manages to get his feet to cooperate. So he can wash his hands. Like a responsible adult. Not one who hoards paper products. 

The footsteps that return to his still-open door a little slower than usual. 

“You didn’t close your door,” Clarke points out. She kicks back, a tremulous smile and Bellamy can’t believe this is going to happen while she’s holding butter. And at least two pounds of flour. He’s not sure what’s going to happen, exactly. “Did you even turn your oven on?” He shakes his head. “No.” “Real fond of that word all of a sudden, aren’t you?”

Bellamy doesn’t think he imagines the edge in her voice, narrowing his eyes slightly like that will help him pick up on certain conversational cues. It doesn’t — especially when Clarke breezes by him, marching into her kitchen like it’s hers or could be hers and that’s probably when he decides. What he wants to happen. “Do you want to make the cookies or the mac and cheese first?” she asks, and that question sounds more determined than any Bellamy’s heard before. Some of the tension in his shoulders disappears.

“Hey, will you talk to me?” 

“About something other than our cooking order?” “Yeah,” Bellamy nods. “Definitely about something other than our cooking order.” “I’m really hungry, though.”

His laugh has a certain strangled quality to it, but that may be a product of his heart, recently reformed and re-exploded. As soon as Bellamy realized what kissing Clarke was like. “I’m not going to let you starve,” Bellamy says. “Just—c’mon, look at me at least.”

She doesn’t. She pushes up on her toes instead, stabbing at the buttons on his oven. Bellamy sighs, doing his best not to start proclaiming things, giving voice to the sentiment that’s been bouncing around his soul for the better part of the last six months, and the flour that’s sitting on his minimal counter space is half open. 

The top’s rolling up, a haphazard curl to the paper, which only makes it easier to reach his hand inside without Clarke noticing. 

And immediately flick his fingers in Clarke’s direction. 

Her eyes flash, mouth dropping open, but Bellamy just grins, another flick that leaves flour clinging to Clarke’s cheek and the ends of her hair and she’d never washed that paint streak off. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demands. 

“Got you to look at me.” “Are you kidding me right now?”

“Am I laughing?”

Clarke groans, trying to shake the flour off. All it does is ensure her hair shifts and the smell of her shampoo takes over most of the air in his kitchen. “You’re an idiot,” she sneers, “that’s what you are. I’m trying to feed us and—” “—You’re really very concerned about that. We’ve got to reorganize this conversation.”

Bellamy needs to get more flour before he can go for the third flick, but that proves to be his undoing. Clarke moves before he can, reflexes that he’d like to have a very serious discussion about eventually and she doesn’t flick. She slams her hand into his chest, a perfectly formed print in the middle of his shirt, twisting the fabric under her like that will make sure the mark stays there. 

Things are starting to feel a little literal again. 

At least he hopes so. 

So, it’s only reasonable and passably romantic to retaliate in kind — letting his flour-covered fingers flutter over Clarke’s hair and one of them gasps, but it’s difficult to figure out when they’re as close as they are, her hands dragging across his side and dangerously close to the top of his jeans and Bellamy’s definitely the one who groans when Clarke works her way under the hem of his shirt. 

Clarke beams. Bright and honest and her eyes are blue enough that Bellamy briefly considers getting lost in them for those minutes he’s still refusing to count, but then—

“God, I can’t believe I had to use some stupid marshall law bullshit to kiss you,” he mutters. 

“Is marshall law the right term there?” “No, not at all.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, hand staying exactly where it is. “I didn’t think so. And I—this was not some elaborate ruse, just for the record.” “Were you looking for elaborate ruses to make out with me?” “We’ve got to work on your vocabulary. Make out doesn’t seem right either.” “A work in progress.” “For the words, or…” She gasps again. Presumably because Bellamy’s ducking his head and his arm has curled around her middle and it’s easier to kiss her when there isn’t a backpack between them. Bellamy’s hand flattens against the small of Clarke’s back, a curve there that is quite suddenly the only thing he’d like to talk about for the remainder of the day. 

And they’re just as good at this as they were in Bryan’s car, but there’s something inherently different about the second go-around. An ease to the angles and the now-familiar rhythm, like they’d simply been waiting for the chance or the opportunity and—

“Maybe make out was an acceptable description,” Clarke mumbles against Bellamy’s mouth. He grins, dropping down so he can kiss her jaw and the side of her neck, only a little pleased with the goosebumps he notices there. “Oh, don’t get smug,” Clarke adds, “that’s not a good look on you.” “That certainly sounds like you’ve got opinions on my looks, actually.”

She clicks her tongue, leaning back to get in his eye line. “Maybe a few.” “A few?” “Bell, c’mon, that’s—” “—I have a very big crush on you.” Clarke blinks. Opens her mouth only to close it. Smiles. Scoffs. Blinks again. And then she’s kissing him and it’s good and great and both of those things feel wrong during a pandemic, but Bellamy assumes there's something to be said for the human spirit. Or whatever. 

“Makes for a good story, though,” Clarke says, eyes gone a color Bellamy’s never seen before. “You know, if you’re looking for something to write about.” “You want me to write about us? I write history books.” “Is this not historic?” “Oh, now who’s fishing for compliments,” Bellamy chuckles. Clarke blushes. Again, or still. “I would have liked to kiss you under less dramatic circumstances, but, uh—it also wasn’t the worst first kiss I’ve ever had.” “High praise.” “We’re very good at kissing each other.” “Yeah, I figured we would be.” “Did you just?” Clarke hums. “I’m pretty sure my friends had some kind of pool going. Especially now. When I’d finally give in and just like...attack you with my mouth or something. I talk about you all the time. At school. To Raven. Strangers on the street.” “Strangers on the street?” “I mean, Bryan assumed we were a couple.” “That’s because the mayor required him too,” Bellamy argues. “But, uh—I get the opinionated peanut gallery. O was convinced we were secretly dating when she was here.” “Before or after the chianti?” “Well before.” “Oh,” Clarke says, like that’s somehow surprising or good. Bellamy hopes it’s good. He’d like some good at this point. “You should probably change shirts.” “That sounds like a suggestion to take my shirt off.” “Wow, weird.” Her laugh turns into something far closer to a giggle when he kisses behind her ear, a fact he’s already stored for future reference, but then they’re moving and there are discarded clothes and kicked off shoes and neither one of them bothers to get up when the oven finishes pre-heating. 

“I have a crush on you too,” Clarke says, head propped up on her hand. In Bellamy’s bed. They’re in Bellamy’s bed. 

Her backpack is still on his couch. “Good,” he grins. “You want to eat, or…” “God, I’d thought you’d never ask.” And they do make both things, Clarke announcing that this is the best mac and cheese I’ve ever had while Bellamy does an absolutely terrible job of stealing cookie batter on the sly. She moves her backpack eventually too — into the corner of his living room. It’s easier that way, something about pandemics and limiting movement and if one of her students notices the change of scenery during their live-streamed class two days later, none of them say anything. 

[punkscowardschampions]

Jac & Amelia

Jac: [So the vibe is evidently just showing up at the pre-drinks at this gfs house, we'll have to be some level of wasted to have the nerve so from the off it's a mood lol] Amelia: [a select gathering of the gays that you weren't invited too, but it's okay because Amelia can't throw you out when everyone else is like yeah come through] Jac: [literally you'd have to make such a drama and that's not you and also no one knows why you stopped being besties so it clearly appears chill from the outside, I vote the club should be a gay one so you have to commit to that hen] Amelia: [agreed because clearly her gf has planned this because Amelia's plan was to go and get that haircut and outfit with her mum so] Jac: [too pure for this bitch, we all know this is just an excuse for her to party like any other night really, which is rude, do something special but no, at least you're simply that hoe so it's not like we even have to work hard here, the flirting is blatant] Amelia: [it hurts my heart because you know Jamelia would have gone IN for each other's birthdays] Jac: [and her last one was start of transition year so they would've still been friends, AND it was her 16th so it would've been really poppin'] Amelia: [brb sobbing] Jac: [thank god jac is also miserable and only pretending to be living her best life or this would be even ruder] Amelia: [and thank god Amelia isn't in love with this gal] Jac: [and that lmao] Jac: [to me it should be like they just straight up make out on the dance floor 'cos her girlfriend is the 'its not a big deal omg!' type but even if it weren't, it is because it's Jac] Amelia: [hence when Amelia loses it it's Jac she's shouting at and being like how could you do this to me etc not her gf] Jac: [mhmm mHM we all know she's barely speaking at this point so she's not gonna say anything and your gf will be going off 'cos she looks the gobby type so you can slap her if you need babe lol] Amelia: [she so is the gobby type, Amelia just straight up dismissing her because this isn't about you babe I gotta scream at Jac rn thank you] Jac: [meanwhile we're just trying to walk away like the audacity] Amelia: [literally like SAY SOMETHING! because is there anything more frustrating than when someone won't react and you're literally 💔] Jac: [there is not, just shouting 'I'M SORRY' ala Tracy because we do not sound sorry at all but she is never a loud person so everyone else is gonna be shook like damn] Amelia: [your aunt Cass would be proud of that, but Amelia just gonna walk away] Jac: [good lord go home gal, or at least a different club lol, also like to point out she has a September birthday so also would've been after Savannah left so that would've been cheery lol] Amelia: [nice parallel because we know Amelia's walking home but fuck knows how far it would be, we're not at Erin's house now hens] Jac: [I'm sure you don't live right in town, your fam seems a suburb type so that'll be a nice trek, you poor bitch] Amelia: [just sobbing the whole time probably, even though she's not a crier like Savannah is] Jac: [you'd have to have a cry, if Jac hadn't gone catatonic as a defence mechanism, she would be too] Amelia: [which is why we're not getting our parents to pick us up because don't wanna be sobbing to this degree in front of them and her mum already hates the gf so we don't want the I told you so either] Amelia: [plus her mum probably thinks she's over Jac by now because we downplaying things forever] Jac: [parents can only be so much of a MVP at this age] Amelia: [I think when they see each other again it should be another argument that turns into Amelia kissing her because that's a trope for a reason] Jac: [yes, you are both owed it without the audience tbh] Amelia: [like I have no idea where they are when that happens, are you gonna show up on her doorstep to have another argument or what gal lol] Jac: [maybe you had somewhere you went together, idk where or what vibe, so you know she's gonna be there, even if it's just a different club and you're outside angsting] Amelia: [ooh excellent, yeah there's any number of places that could be 'theirs' you've known each other long enough] Jac: [precisely, it can be as everyday and unspecial or the opposite as we'd like, Dublin centre is not that big it's not insane to suggest] Amelia: [when do you think that is, clearly pretty soon after because the emotions have gotta be high] Jac: [yeah, sooner rather than later, like we did this for a reason and like you said, it's too frustrating when someone won't react to you] Amelia: [literally could be the next day/night I'd believe it] Jac: [i literally thought you meant the same night so yes i agree lol] Amelia: [omg that's even better tbh] Jac: like you turn round like AND ANOTHER THING, tensions are beyond that high] Amelia: [exactly] Jac: [at least Amelia is angry enough to break it off 'cos the levels of fucks you don't give rn about anything] Amelia: [yeah she's angry and sad enough to be like ffs what am I doing and actually go home] Jac: [thanks babe, we all know it happens but don't need it to literally look like 2nd choice to your hoe gf 'cos it ain't that] Amelia: [how am I gonna start a convo from here because I clearly am lol] Jac: [thank god you both drunk, I can do it if you want] Amelia: [go ahead if you think you can boo] Jac: you home safe Amelia: no, I'm dead in a ditch Jac: great Amelia: it'll make life easier for you, yeah Jac: my life couldn't be any rosier Amelia: 🥀🥀🥀 Jac: glad to see your flare for the dramatic ain't died in that ditch with you Jac: flair, which one Jac: idk Amelia: you took that over from me, remember Amelia: you really fucking did Jac: aren't you impressed Amelia: if you'd got there earlier you could've pushed me out of the way to blow the candles out on the cake my mum bought too Jac: you don't wanna be kids no more? Jac: could've said sooner Amelia: she's not a doll, she just wants to look like one Jac: who? Amelia: the girlfriend you wanted to share so badly Jac: oh her Jac: bride of chucky maybe Amelia: you did scare everyone with your apology Amelia: very exorcist-ish Jac: I was going for Carrie Jac: oh well Jac: still a better match than you two ain't it Amelia: oh you were trying to win a prom queen sash with acts of charity Amelia: I get it Jac: shouldn't you be throwing all this shade at her Amelia: wait, I'll add her in Jac: ha Jac: go ahead Amelia: she won't accept, sorry Amelia: I did try Jac: devastating Amelia: are you home safe? Jac: yeah Amelia: you do have the 👿👹👺👻 inside protecting you, I guess Jac: its always got a home inside me Amelia: well yeah, you don't ever kiss anyone long enough for it to transfer hosts Jac: you'll wanna get rid of the girlfriend then Jac: before you get infected Amelia: you already did that for me, such a good 🥳🎂🎁 Jac: couldn't think what else to get ya Amelia: 💐? Amelia: no? Jac: thought she might have beat me to it Jac: made a bit of an effort Amelia: she wanted me, that's all I needed Jac: past tense Jac: and that's definitely not the first time she's done that Amelia: what do you care? Jac: you think this is how i'd show it if I did Amelia: I try not to think about you anymore Jac: there's no need to make yourself sound stupid in the process Amelia: not when you're there to make me look it Jac: you'll get another girlfriend Amelia: because that's what is ripping my heart out about this Jac: that's your problem Amelia: stay the fuck away from me Amelia: if you'd done that I wouldn't have a problem Jac: I plan on it Jac: done what I needed to do Amelia: great Jac: enjoy what's left of your big day then Jac: have some 🎂 Amelia: you've made sure I can't Amelia: where's Savannah Moore with a 👏 emoji when you need her? Jac: Sligo Jac: last I heard Amelia: those poor country lads Jac: you've never cared about any lad a day in your life Jac: you can just admit you miss her Amelia: 😂 Jac: hilarious Amelia: not really Amelia: but I physically can't cry any more, I must be dehydrated Jac: unsurprising Jac: me either Amelia: 🍾🥂 Amelia: have a nice life then Amelia: probably leave tonight out of your achievements during the uni interviews Jac: nah Jac: diversity and adversity is all the rage Amelia: that's why I'll be mentioning it Jac: you're welcome x2 Amelia: 🙌 Jac: you sure she don't wanna join Jac: 'cos she's annoying me Amelia: I don't care what she wants or feel sorry for you Jac: yeah Jac: then tell her that Jac: not relaying your message Amelia: I have Jac: she's a liar too, makes sense Amelia: you're well suited Jac: besides the obvious Amelia: that you've done what you needed to do, yeah Amelia: tell her that Jac: I have Jac: not my fault she's so thick she only understands actions Amelia: if she's been messaging you since the 💋 you'll have had time to tell her everything I didn't Amelia: even if it has to be via charades Jac: the fact I didn't fuck her is all the information she's getting from me Amelia: the dancefloor's a bit public even for her Amelia: but maybe she'll be willing to break the rules for you, that's what people do Jac: let's not pretend it was about her Jac: only room for one delusional person in a relationship, don't you know? Amelia: you're ready for that, are you? Amelia: I don't know anything about relationships as it turns out Jac: first cut is the deepest Amelia: if you're going to sing, it's meant to be Happy Birthday Jac: yeah, you wish Amelia: I only got the one and I've already used it Jac: don't tell or it won't come true Amelia: I don't remember it now anyway Jac: bullshit Amelia: if it was 💇🏻 related it definitely didn't come true Jac: you didn't get a fringe Amelia: I still hate it Jac: it's not why you got cheated on Amelia: thanks, that makes me feel loads better about 👧🏻 Amelia: can you just take the posts down please Jac: I dunno Amelia: Jac Jac: fuck sake Jac: one thing Amelia: just do it Jac: then that's it Jac: there's your present, I don't owe you nothing Amelia: no, then that's it because I don't want anything to do with you Amelia: it doesn't make us even Jac: I don't give a shit about being even with you Jac: I win Jac: end of Amelia: it's not a fucking game Jac: you're the only one not playing Amelia: so leave me out of it Jac: that's another favour Jac: pick one Amelia: fuck you Jac: i'm keeping the pictures up then Amelia: enjoy your win Jac: naturally Amelia: 👏👏👏 Jac: you aren't her Amelia: you aren't you Amelia: it still doesn't make us even Jac: maybe you never knew me Jac: we weren't friends, after-all Amelia: there's no maybe about it, if we were ever friends you wouldn't treat me like this Jac: nothing is as simple as you'd like it to be Jac: but sure Amelia: you really hurt me again, it's that simple Amelia: and this time it was deliberate Jac: and you don't hurt the people you love Jac: grow up, Amelia Amelia: not like that Jac: that's easier for you Amelia: what about ANY of this is easy for me? Amelia: you told me to try, I did Amelia: now what? Jac: it isn't my responsibility to worry about that Jac: you figure it out Amelia: I had it figured out and you tore it down Amelia: take some fucking responsibility for that Jac: what, with your shit girlfriend who doesn't give a fuck about you Jac: that was wrecked before I got there Jac: deal with that Amelia: you wrecked me before she got there Amelia: I still think about you all the time, miss you all the time Amelia: and I do have to deal with that, all the time Jac: and I've got nothing to deal with Amelia: of course you do Amelia: happy people don't gatecrash and ruin other people's birthdays Jac: then you'll forgive me for not feeling sorry for you Amelia: I don't want you to feel sorry for me, I want you to be sorry for what you just did Jac: you want a lot Amelia: not this time Amelia: it's bare minimum Jac: I'm happy to disappoint and leave you wanting Amelia: then you win again Amelia: congratulations Jac: yipee Amelia: Don't contact me again unless you're got something to say that means something Jac: fine Amelia: you sound faker than Savannah could ever Amelia: it'd be impressive if it worked Jac: have I contacted you before now? Amelia: that doesn't matter because today you did Jac: today I ruined your relationship and birthday Jac: then I asked if you got home Amelia: yeah, and that all means something Jac: it means I wanted to fuck up your life Amelia: at least that wish came true Jac: there's always shooting stars and eyelashes when there isn't candles Amelia: there isn't a quick fix for this Jac: there's no fix Jac: there's only out and it's still 2 fucking years away Amelia: you were supposed to give me time, that's supposed to be one Jac: well I didn't feel like it today Amelia: clearly Jac: get over it Amelia: I'm not even through it, it literally just happened Jac: I'm not apologising, I can't be any clearer Amelia: then don't Amelia: I didn't know how to beg you when we were friends, I can't do it with this version of you Jac: Done? Amelia: I was done before I actually got home Jac: Well I've not gone home Jac: so we both lied there then Amelia: Where have you gone? Jac: what's it to you? Amelia: I don't want what happened to Is to happen to you, or worse Amelia: I care about you Jac: it won't Amelia: I'm calling your parents Jac: maybe I've told them you're obsessed with me already Amelia: maybe but it's still ringing Amelia: they can decide what they want to do Jac: you're such a snitch Amelia: because I really care what you think of me right now Jac: nah, just hope it makes you feel good about yourself worrying my parents for nothing Amelia: I don't feel good about myself because of you Amelia: your parents are irrelevant to me Jac: we've got that in common then Amelia: they're probably going to want to talk to you and I don't so goodnight Jac: Bold of you to think I'd answer Jac: but it is a reason to turn my phone off so yeah Jac: later Amelia: you're really 😎 we get it Jac: that's what I'm doing Jac: you're so smart Amelia: it's why you want to keep the pics up Amelia: like a 🏆 Jac: i wanna keep em up so you have to see them Amelia: I don't have to see them, I've already blocked you both Jac: 😂 Amelia: What's funny? Jac: 🤡😥 would've been more applicable, perhaps Amelia: probably Jac: you can pal up with Is again, she's up for it Amelia: yeah because I really want to drag her into whatever 🎪 you've started up between us Jac: you're so considerate Amelia: something really fucked up happened to her, you were there, don't act like you don't remember Jac: and you weren't there Amelia: I know that Jac: then you don't get to say shit to me about it Amelia: I'm not, I'm saying this isn't about Is Jac: when is it ever Jac: poor girl Amelia: stop it Jac: you walked out on her Jac: she didn't have enough daddy issues? Amelia: I walked out on you Jac: same difference Amelia: you said you'd let me Jac: and I did Amelia: until now Jac: you're only 17 once Jac: it's not going to happen again Amelia: it shouldn't have happened at all Jac: should woulda coulda Amelia: promise me that this is it Jac: I don't fancy your girlfriend Jac: kissing her was bad enough Amelia: I mean, promise me that I don't have to look over my shoulder for the next 2 years in case you decide that you want to ruin my life again Amelia: because I can't Jac: Amelia Amelia: I'm serious, I'll leave school before I let you do this to me for a third time Jac: I'm not in a position to be making promises about anything, to anyone Jac: I'll try Amelia: okay Jac: just Jac: I don't know Jac: never mind Amelia: you're scaring me, you know Amelia: I should've made you promise not to do any reckless shit back then instead of the other way round Jac: everyone's scared Jac: they say it like I can change it Amelia: I thought I was doing the right thing but everything just keeps getting worse Amelia: for me, you and Is Amelia: even for Savannah, Sligo for fuck's sake Jac: even if you'd done it different Jac: I'd still have done the same Jac: it still would've all happened Amelia: what are you going to do now? Jac: nothing matters now Amelia: you matter Amelia: to me Amelia: come to my 🏠 I'll call your parents back Jac: we're not doing this again Jac: no Jac: it's bad enough i have people in my life i can't get rid of Amelia: we're not doing anything Jac: stop caring about me Amelia: I can't Jac: how much more do I have to ruin your life Amelia: you have ruined it, that doesn't mean I want you to be dead in a ditch Jac: all I'm going to do is break your heart over and over and then I'm going to leave forever Amelia: tonight it's already broken and that's all I'm talking about Amelia: take the guest bedroom Jac: no Jac: because then my family will just think we're friends again and that I'm fine Jac: I'll go home, okay, just stop Amelia: if you stop lying, I'll stop this Jac: I'll send you proof, for fuck's sake Amelia: okay Jac: fine Amelia: [we're just waiting for that pic like] Jac: [however long this is gonna take, at least you're probably a bit more central, the most begrudging pic of the front door lmao] Amelia: no, put your outfit in it so I know it wasn't stored on your phone Jac: 'cos I just have pictures of my door Jac: [but does, some weird angle to not get your face in] Jac: haven't got a newspaper, so sorry Amelia: if you hadn't stopped the party early, they might have been delivered Jac: it was a crap party anyway Jac: she hadn't even booked a table Amelia: Yeah Jac: at least you can have a better girlfriend for your 18th Amelia: can I? Are you going to let me Jac: probably not Jac: but if she's less easy to ruin then there's nothing I can do about that Amelia: you'd have to try something else, that's all Jac: obviously Jac: I'm still smart Amelia: I'm not giving you a compliment Jac: I'm not saying I'm not going to ruin your chances at happiness Amelia: it's not like I need you to Amelia: SO capable on my own Jac: it's not taking credit if you're making excuses for me Jac: but alright Amelia: I'm talking about the 💇🏻 which you can't take credit for Jac: it suits you Amelia: that is the most hurtful thing you've ever said Amelia: take it back Jac: it's also true Jac: and you wanted me to stop lying Amelia: 😒 Jac: at least you don't look like every other girl now Amelia: you think I did before? Amelia: also that's because no other girl wants to look like 👧🏻 Jac: I mean everyone has the same hair Jac: you stand out more Amelia: you don't Jac: well I'm special, obviously Amelia: I know Jac: 🙄 Amelia: 😉 Jac: you're an idiot Jac: Jude better be at a sleepover Amelia: her hair stands out Jac: you should tell her that Jac: she'll be so glad her attention-seeking doesn't go unnoticed Amelia: she think I'm flirting with her so no Jac: oh yeah Jac: you're a predatory lesbian now Amelia: I kissed you Jac: after I kissed your girlfriend Amelia: you don't fancy her Amelia: that wasn't why you did it Jac: she fancies herself enough Amelia: So does Savannah, that wasn't a problem for you Jac: don't talk about her Amelia: sure, I wouldn't want to upset you Amelia: what's the point being �� if you're not the saddest Jac: she's gone, there's no point talking about her Amelia: my parents know hers, she's not gone from dinner table conversation at my 🏠 Jac: sucks for you then Amelia: sucks more for her that she's been sent to catholic school Jac: Catholic school? Amelia: yeah, her dad had that brainwave Jac: that is unfortunate Jac: probably a better school than ours though, so she'll be thrilled Amelia: it's my dad's favourite joke threat now Jac: at least you could avoid me Amelia: true, I should call his bluff and take him up on it next time Jac: go for it Jac: it's only me that has to write off this shit school on her uni app Amelia: the rest of your app will more than make up for it Jac: that's the plan Amelia: exactly, so it's not technically a compliment Jac: you're shit at this Amelia: thanks Jac: no, that really wasn't a compliment Jac: not one of your not technicallys Amelia: 😏 Jac: did you get a car Jac: I bet you got a car Amelia: [a picture of it because why not say she did] Jac: just got to pass now Jac: then you can go where you like Amelia: then I can runaway Jac: nah Jac: they'd take you off their insurance and you'd be fucked Amelia: because I'd never drive without insurance Jac: the police would be frantically looking for you as is Jac: that's always how murderers get caught out Amelia: 🤫 you're ruining this too Jac: you fantasize on your own time Amelia: this is my own time, you're home safe Amelia: I don't owe you my full attention now that your 👅 isn't in my ex girlfriend's mouth Jac: have you kissed anyone else Amelia: no Jac: do you regret it being her Amelia: it wasn't you, that's what I regret Amelia: but it couldn't be so Jac: yeah Jac: at least it was a girl Amelia: I'm not stupid enough to kiss any boys Jac: some just call it heterosexual Amelia: and I'm not so it'd be stupid for me Jac: alright Amelia: but I should probably kiss more girls Jac: why should you Amelia: because she'll think all the wrong things if I don't Jac: true Jac: I thought you didn't care about what people thought though Amelia: I'm going to have to find new friends from somewhere Jac: don't you gays stick together Amelia: she sticks with them and I don't want to see her Jac: you move fast Amelia: I don't really have a choice, do I? Jac: I don't need friends Amelia: handy since you don't have any Jac: that's why I don't Amelia: yeah, because you only care about what you need Jac: duh Amelia: did you ever care about me? Jac: don't be stupid Amelia: did you ever care about me when it wasn't because you needed something? Jac: what kind of question is that Amelia: one I need the answer to Jac: we were friends forever Jac: what did I get from it half the time Jac: no more than you did or didn't Amelia: okay Jac: that was a dick move making me answer that when you already knew Amelia: I didn't know Amelia: whenever I talk to you I end up with more questions than answers Amelia: and end up questioning my sanity Jac: you don't need to Jac: your work here is done Amelia: you can't tell me what to do when you don't even do what you said you were going to Jac: so you're going to continue to make a bad decision, just to be awkward Jac: that's smart Amelia: because you have such good reasons for doing what you did earlier Jac: 'course I do Amelia: go on then Amelia: tell me them Jac: already did Jac: I wanted to fuck it up for you Jac: felt great Amelia: there's smarter ways to feel good, and easier Jac: I've tried those Amelia: oh well I loved being your little experiment, thanks Jac: whatever Jac: it needed to be done Amelia: no it didn't Amelia: you keep saying that Jac: you don't get it Amelia: I don't buy into your fake bullshit, no, and that's all you've given me all night Jac: what's fucking fake about the fact I can't stand to have anyone around me happy? Jac: there's nothing fake about misery being the only thing I can stomach now Amelia: you didn't break up your parents or ruin your brother's music career, you sought me out when I haven't even been around you Amelia: you're full of shit Jac: trust me, I'm doing my best Jac: and you're full of shit if you're now trying to say you don't see me every day Jac: and that it isn't the fucking worst Amelia: I thought it was, until you did this Amelia: now I can say today was the worst Amelia: you're so fucking selfish and cruel Jac: nothing has changed Jac: I sped up your inevitable break-up, that's it Amelia: no, you went out of your way to hurt and humiliate me Amelia: everything has changed Jac: if you say so Jac: it wasn't the first time for me Amelia: who are you? Jac: it doesn't matter Amelia: who the fuck are you? Jac: I don't know, Amelia Jac: alright Amelia: you can't treat people like this Jac: then tell everyone what I did Jac: I don't care Jac: you could've done something about it Amelia: what did you want me to do? Jac: I thought you might put up more of a fight Amelia: for what? Against what? Jac: because I humiliated you Amelia: it wasn't the first time for me either Jac: never like that Amelia: I'm not going to fight you Jac: your loss Amelia: I keep telling you, I care about you, I don't want to hurt you Jac: I wish you'd stop Amelia: I wish I could Jac: yeah Jac: well Amelia: it's my loss, like you said Jac: don't worry, I've got my own Amelia: that makes me feel loads better Jac: it should Amelia: it doesn't Jac: you're infuriating Amelia: says you Amelia: I'm so angry at you Jac: because I wanted you to be Jac: that's the correct response Amelia: no, because I love you too much to hate you Amelia: because it won't go away Amelia: and I don't want to feel like this for the rest of my fucking life no matter what you do Jac: I don't have the answer Jac: If I could make you stop then I would Jac: but I don't know how Amelia: me either Jac: there's nothing I can do if you don't hate me by now Jac: I dropped you for Savannah Jac: I did everything I did tonight Amelia: I was there, I don't need you to recap Jac: I couldn't have made it easier Amelia: there's something wrong with me, there must be Jac: not as bad as me Amelia: my mum said at the time that I fell in love with you years ago and I can't expect to fall out of it in a few weeks or months Jac: logic adds up Amelia: she thinks I'm over it now so clearly not Jac: you probably said you were Jac: or near enough Amelia: the girlfriend thing kind of said it for me Jac: yeah well Jac: I've had loads of boyfriends Amelia: you're not in love with me Jac: I meant it doesn't mean anything, necessarily Amelia: yeah Amelia: my mum is more old fashioned though Amelia: romantic or whatever Jac: more romantic than your girlfriend, yeah Amelia: 🙄 Jac: she wasn't good enough for you anyway Amelia: I'm not good enough for anyone Amelia: I'm literally still in love with someone else who isn't them Jac: it isn't that simple Jac: you can feel things for more than one person Jac: you just, didn't for her and she wasn't worth it Amelia: maybe other people can but I don't Jac: how would you know Jac: it just hasn't happened yet Amelia: I'm too self aware if anything Jac: that's some lesbian nonsense Amelia: I'll put it in my bio then Jac: tinder Amelia: I'm not kissing that many girls, she'll definitely think all the wrong things Jac: be kicking herself, like Jac: or is it only okay when she does it Amelia: probably Jac: just like a lad Amelia: 😣 Jac: awh Amelia: I can't be bothered Jac: with girls? Amelia: I'm not trying anymore, you didn't keep your promises anyway Jac: what does that mean? Amelia: it means I don't care, my life can stay the mess you wanted it to be Jac: alright Jac: not like I can turn around and say 'no don't' now Amelia: and if you turn around you won't see me Jac: what? Amelia: school, I'm not doing it either Jac: shut up Amelia: online maybe so my dad doesn't rage Jac: that's bullshit Amelia: so is this Jac: no, fuck you Amelia: 😂 Jac: so you all get to fucking leave and I'm the one stuck dealing Jac: nah Amelia: I've got nothing to stay for Jac: it's school, no one does Jac: jesus Amelia: you said yourself it sucks having to see me every day Amelia: I'm doing you a favour Jac: you are ridiculous Jac: you think you can just run away like this is some shit indie song Amelia: I've tried the alternative Amelia: it didn't go great Jac: you think Savannah is bad? at least her parents made her go Jac: you're such a spoilt brat Amelia: I don't think about Savannah Jac: you don't think about anything Jac: christ Amelia: your audacity is another level Jac: your stupidity is worse Amelia: yeah, I've proved that loads of times over Jac: fucking hell Jac: your life is so hard, Meelie, yeah Jac: everyone thinks its my fault, what happened to Is Jac: and the more she says otherwise, the more it sounds like it was Amelia: no they don't, I don't Jac: well you love me so you're clearly insane and a bit biased Amelia: even if I hated you I'd still know that you weren't the one who assaulted her Amelia: it's his fault, nobody else's Jac: me and Sav still ran like we had something to hide Jac: that's all anyone cares about, working out what Amelia: you were scared, in shock probably Amelia: you felt like it was your fault Amelia: that doesn't mean it was Jac: all I know is she's fucked off, no one will say anything to Is, so it's all down to me, whatever people wanna say or think about it Jac: so yeah, sorry I think your idea is fucking laughable but been there, done that Jac: didn't solve anything, it only made the rest worse Amelia: I know it's a stupid idea, alright Jac: you can't go, alright, you just can't Amelia: you know I'll fight the whole school before I'd ever fight you Amelia: I'll do it for you too, if that will help Jac: Yeah, I do Jac: nothing will help but Jac: at least you're still here Jac: nothing else is the same Amelia: I'll be in detention every day for the next 2 years if that's what it takes to shut people up Jac: I don't deserve it Jac: or anything but hate from you, and I do fucking know that Amelia: you don't deserve to get the blame for being there and being her friend Amelia: I should've been too Amelia: and after it happened we should've talked Jac: maybe it's just karma Jac: I've never been a good friend to her and by the time it happened Jac: well Jac: I made you leave Amelia: I ruined our friend so I had to leave Amelia: *ship Amelia: that's not your fault either Jac: maybe it is Amelia: it's not Amelia: I shouldn't have told you how I felt Amelia: or been jealous of Savannah Amelia: or made such a big deal about the date you went on Jac: no Jac: I get it Jac: you weren't wrong Amelia: I did the wrong thing by leaving you and Is Jac: I couldn't wish the alternative on you Jac: having to stick around and watch Amelia: I still had to watch Amelia: I couldn't go that far Jac: I know it's my fault because it happened again Amelia: what? Jac: Savannah Jac: I kissed her Amelia: I don't understand Jac: you should have been jealous of her Jac: I mean Jac: you know what I mean Amelia: you mean you felt something for her Jac: I didn't want to feel any of it Jac: but she was straight and you weren't so having her around was meant to be easier Amelia: why didn't you just tell me? Amelia: you lied and lied and made me feel crazy Jac: because I feel crazy Jac: I fucking am Jac: I just Jac: it's not like I left that conversation and told her Jac: I kept on and got with lads and pretended to like it, tried to Amelia: everything you said, everything you did Amelia: oh my god Amelia: I can't Amelia: I can't take this in Jac: like I said, it's fucking karma Jac: I fucked it with you and it happened to me Amelia: I'm supposed to feel what, that she queerbaited you? Happy? validated? Jac: I don't know Jac: probably Amelia: did you know how you felt about her when I told you how I felt? Jac: why? Amelia: because you told me over and over again that you liked boys and you'd change that if you could Jac: yes, and I told her the same thing Jac: and I acted accordingly Amelia: I've spent so long feeling horrible for putting you in that position and none of it was real Jac: it was real Jac: I don't want to be Jac: I want to be straight Amelia: it isn't a choice Amelia: and you can't just twist everything to make it one Jac: acting or not acting on it is Amelia: so why did you choose to act on it by kissing her, if that's what you think? Jac: it was a mistake Jac: when we left Jac: after Is Jac: and it was just us Jac: then it destroyed everything and she's literally run away Amelia: and then you destroyed what was left after she'd gone Jac: yes Amelia: great Jac: I'm aware Amelia: are you? Amelia: for years I thought things were one way only to be told they weren't and now you're telling me an entirely different story again Amelia: 🤯 Jac: because we don't live in the ideal world where I accept myself for liking girls and I choose the right one and we live happily ever after Jac: we live in the world where I kissed Savannah and she looked at me like I was the boy who assaulted Isabelle Jac: and that's how I feel about it, and I would rather pretend to be straight forever, and have no real friends again, than have to do that, and feel that disgust again Amelia: we live in a world that doesn't revolve around Savannah fucking Moore Amelia: because she doesn't accept you, you can't accept yourself? No Jac: it's not her fault Jac: the rules don't make no fucking sense Jac: do you know how often she told me she loved me, how beautiful I was, and smart and perfect and kind, that she wanted me in her life forever? Jac: but that doesn't mean she wants to kiss me Amelia: that's why it literally is her fault Amelia: she flirted with you more than I EVER have, or would dare to openly do because I would get called a predatory lesbian and she gets likes and follows Jac: but she meant it Jac: I know she did Jac: that's just friendship to her Jac: it's too confusing Amelia: you want her to have meant it the same way you did, like I wanted you to with me Jac: but I did Jac: I lied Jac: so I know it doesn't make a difference now Jac: but still, you weren't wrong and I did, I am, whatever Jac: it was shitty to lie, I know, I accept it Jac: but she meant it all but she is straight...how does that work Amelia: I don't know Amelia: straight people are weird Jac: I don't want to find that relatable Jac: I want to be normal Amelia: I'm not abnormal, shut up Jac: fine, straight Jac: I don't want to ever have to think about this ever again Amelia: why do you want it so bad? Jac: so I don't feel like this Jac: the not knowing Jac: how much it hurts Jac: boys are easy, I told you Amelia: because you don't like them Amelia: if you were straight you'd get hurt just the same Amelia: you said it, Valentina's no different than a lad Jac: lads just like me Jac: I've never kissed any lad and had them recoil Amelia: they liked me too, it doesn't mean I had to like them back Jac: I mean it's not the same Jac: if a lad didn't like me, he'd have reasons Amelia: loads of girls like you too, I was friends with them for a bit, I heard all that gossip Amelia: Savannah's reason is that she doesn't like girls, any of them Jac: but she loves me Jac: more than she ever did Ty, I fucking know it Amelia: not like that, like Is loved us Jac: I can't stand it Amelia: I know Jac: you know I am sorry Jac: don't you Amelia: yeah Jac: you just had come so far and had done so much work Jac: it wasn't fair Jac: what I did wasn't, but it wouldn't have been to act on it, when I wanted so badly to be straight, for everything I did tell you to be true Amelia: no, I was in exactly the same place that we left each other in Amelia: you're not the only one who can lie Jac: I'm just so sorry but that's worth fuck all Jac: I hate how stupid all of it seems now Jac: redundant Jac: but that's close to a fair punishment, I suppose Amelia: you've already been punished Amelia: and sorry always means something when it's a real one Jac: I feel Jac: I don't Jac: I'm broken Jac: I don't even want to be a person now Amelia: I don't want to find that relatable Amelia: but it is Jac: fuck's sake Jac: see, why would I choose this? Jac: even if they're weird, this never happens to straight people Amelia: of course it does Amelia: Savannah's parents are fucked Jac: just because they don't love each other no more Jac: when they got together, I'm sure they both knew Amelia: still, her mum's so broken she's barely a person Jac: all I'm saying is we're getting dangerously close to comparing being gay to a mental illness Jac: which is what homophobes say and I'm not trying to be the confirmation Amelia: it's not being gay, it's loving the wrong person Amelia: there are happy gays, I've met some Amelia: and your brother isn't being held back by it Jac: don't get me started Amelia: Jude's love life is messier than his Amelia: more dramatic Jac: he'll end up with a girl Amelia: you don't know that Jac: wait and see Amelia: yeah, I'll stalk him from afar like a fangirl Amelia: 🤢 Jac: it's not the same either Amelia: you love a competition Jac: yeah, this is so much fun Jac: him and Jude are the same Jac: it doesn't mean anything to them, so they aren't getting hurt Jac: they don't care, it's not serious Amelia: you've got me, we're very much the same Amelia: in this anyway Jac: I don't want to love anyone ever again Amelia: then don't Jac: that's why I have no friends Amelia: yeah well you don't need them, that's the line and the lie, right? Jac: it's not funny Jac: I can't be trusted Jac: with any kind of relationship with a girl Amelia: I'm not laughing because me either Amelia: I make bad choices and I'm proven stupid, remember Jac: it's so fucking isolating Amelia: school is anyway Amelia: we're all in boxes Jac: you never used to hate it this much Amelia: now you understand how much I hate everything Amelia: how exhausted I am Amelia: it'd be nice to have the solidarity if it wasn't so horrible Jac: I'm just trying to get used to it Jac: accept it Amelia: at least you don't have to see her every day Amelia: maybe that'll make it different Jac: I never get to see her again Amelia: you don't know that either Jac: I do Jac: she's unlikely to stop by when she's seeing her mum Amelia: you verbally recoiled from me, ruined my birthday, nobody would call it likely that we're talking Jac: naive optimism is exactly what got you here Jac: don't even need to scroll for the reminder Amelia: ouch Amelia: you always find new ways to hurt me Jac: you really did just say you made bad choices and were stupid Jac: continuing this conversation is just another one for the list, probably Amelia: I can say it and do so you don't need to Jac: alright, alright Amelia: you're blocked though, this is the only place you could try to Jac: I could make another post but the point has been made well enough I reckon Amelia: it's not my birthday now so there's no point Amelia: ⛅ Jac: sod you then Jac: don't want you getting the wrong impression Amelia: 😂 bit late for that Jac: yeah Amelia: my dad'll be up soon I'll just wait ☕ Amelia: don't need you to entertain me any further Jac: you gonna tell him about your shit birthday Amelia: I'll tell them both we broke up and they'll be thrilled Amelia: it's all they want to hear Jac: you can tell them it was my fault, it doesn't matter to me Amelia: why would I do that? Jac: dunno, but having someone else's parents take over and shout at me for a bit might be mildly entertaining Amelia: they think I'm over you, they want me to be better Amelia: I'm not going to ruin the lie Jac: rude Jac: but fine Jac: guess you don't owe me Amelia: no, I don't Jac: enjoy your coffee then Amelia: it'll taste disgusting like it always does Amelia: the biggest lie of all Jac: you aren't as exhausted and sad as you say you are Jac: the taste would've been acquired by now, you massive child Amelia: I've had to hide it longer than you Amelia: I'm just more skilled and hilarious Jac: so you're better at being sad? Jac: and I love a competition 🙄 Amelia: 😏 Amelia: I've acquired a taste for anything with a high enough alcohol content, there you go Jac: I was drunk before I got there and that was still apparent Amelia: haven't needed stitches yet Jac: that's something Jac: anyway, how'd you figure you've had to hide it longer? Amelia: because I have Amelia: you were sitting pretty on a ☁ with Savannah for ages Amelia: nothing could touch you up there Jac: that's where you're wrong Amelia: I'm not letting you win again Jac: 😏 Jac: it's not like I was fucking boys because I thought I wanted to Amelia: okay 🏆 no need to make me cry thinking about that Jac: they aren't that bad Jac: well, usually Jac: just not as interesting, it didn't make sense Jac: why we would waste time we could be together instead Amelia: it's really sad Amelia: as 💔 it was seeing you with lads, I thought it was at least what you wanted Jac: they aren't the ones that made me 💔 Amelia: I know but Amelia: I can't imagine doing that, or how it would make me feel if I thought I had to Jac: well you're much softer than I am Amelia: excuse me, it took you years to break me, Savannah did the same to you in 1 Amelia: you're not that hard Jac: I think that says more about Savannah than it does you Jac: but alright Amelia: right, because she's so perfect Amelia: I actually can't compete Jac: shut up Amelia: it's true Jac: it isn't that simple, I keep saying Amelia: it's as simple as you've already said, she's straight and I'm not Amelia: it was safer for you, except it wasn't Jac: you make it sound Jac: ugh Amelia: isn't it? Jac: you think I'm a right cold, calculating bitch Jac: and I'm not saying you're wrong but it was nice when you thought otherwise Amelia: we can't go back, you really drilled that into me Jac: I know Jac: oh well Amelia: oh well? that's the best you can do, yeah? Amelia: doesn't sound very calculating and well planned out Jac: because it's all over Jac: the only thing I've got left is uni and the career I want Jac: nothing else can or is going to exist Amelia: that's more than I've got Amelia: I haven't exactly been concentrating on my app Jac: well you're going to run away and find your Thelma aren't you Amelia: you ruined that fantasy with reality Jac: yeah right Jac: you're still a hopeless romantic Amelia: with a 🚗 I can't drive yet Jac: have you had any lessons yet Amelia: no Amelia: I keep asking my dad but he's always too busy Jac: go ask him now Amelia: I've drank too much to go now Jac: well duh but he'll feel so bad for you he'll make time tomorrow or whatever Amelia: and we're back to calculating Jac: someone has to if you wanna be wild and free Amelia: 😂 Jac: how early is it Jac: will the library be open Amelia: it's weird that the library is still open at any hour Amelia: you're literally the only person who ever goes there Jac: excuse me, only child Jac: you try and study with a house full of annoying kids and dogs Amelia: I'm fine with a 🏠 swap, I don't feel like studying Jac: yeah only if you make it permanent Amelia: you wouldn't take my guest room for a night, I don't think I'd be able to make that happen Jac: because you were there Amelia: rude Jac: sensible Amelia: nothing's going to happen Jac: yeah exactly Amelia: what does that mean? Jac: it means we aren't going to be friends Amelia: why not? Jac: I told you why Amelia: I'm not asking you to care about me, I'm saying I'm here for you Jac: No Jac: I wasn't joking when I said I can't have friends Amelia: I know you weren't Jac: that includes you Jac: especially you Amelia: okay Jac: okay Amelia: good morning then Jac: 👋

[thechekhov]

These two questions are quite similar, so I hope you don’t mind me answering in the same ask. 

First of all, it’s maybe a good idea to visit my curly hair tag - I’ve talked a lot about curly hair maintenance before, and it is worth re-reading. 

My number one piece of advice to you BOTH is probably the most important thing I will ever say to any person ever:

IF YOU WANT A GOOD CURLY HAIRCUT.... GO TO A CURLY HAIR-SPECIFIC SALON! 

I am SERIOUS! There is a reason that curly haired people everywhere consistently say that they do NOT trust straight-haired stylists with their hair. That’s because stylists who are not specially trained with curly hair will consistently BUTCHER curly hair cuts. I am not exaggerating. 

Things that are red flags when someone is cutting your curly hair:

- They wash/shampoo it before they cut it

- They use a hair dryer on a high setting

- They re-curl your hair with a curling iron after they’re done cutting

Here’s some basic, run of the mill rules that your stylist absolutely MUST follow if you have curly hair:

1) ALWAYS cut curly hair when it’s DRY! 

Why? Because unlike straight hair, curly hair behaves completely differently when it’s wet vs. when it’s dry. Cutting it while wet guarantees you that your haircut will look completely different the next day. In fact, it guarantees that your haircut will probably not look good the next day either.

Curly hair loses inches when it dries. The shape, the length, it all changes! 

I think it’s fair to say we all notice this, but when it’s wet, curly hair could almost pass for straight hair. Don’t fall for this trick!

In a good haircut, what you need is to be able to see how the hair falls when you are finished drying it. For this reason, curly hair is always cut while it’s dry, and then washed/shampooed later. 

Second - PLEASE stop combing your hair! 

Combs, boar bristle brushes, etc... They will fuck up your hair. You know how everyone with curly hair complains about frizz? The results are almost ALWAYS due to two major problems:

1) Your hair is too dry - you’re using too much shampoo, and not enough conditioner.

2) You’re brushing/combing your hair and completely pulling apart all curls.  

This is what your hair probably looked like at some point. This is what ALL of our hair probably looked like at some point.

Does this sound familiar?

Your mom hands you a brush. “Brush your hair!” she complains. You have brushed your hair. But the more you brush it.... the bigger it gets! It tangles even more, it catches everything in its radius like a small planet with its own gravitational force. You know what people look like after you rub a balloon on their head? That’s every day for you, with or without balloons. 

Why does this happen?

Simple. By brushing out your hair, you are separating your curls from their natural groupings. 

See, in straight hair, all hair just hangs out together in one big thing. But your curls all have curl-friends. They NEED their curl-friends to stay nice and not-poofy.

When you brush or comb, you are literally pulling apart well-formed intentional curls, and they all gain 300% volume and 500% disorganization.

Here’s what curly hair looks like when it’s NOT brushed out:

“But Chekhov?! What the heck am I supposed to do if I don’t brush it?! Won’t it get tangled?“

Not if you take care of it properly it won’t.

1) Get in the shower

2) Turn down the shower heat to lukewarm.

3) Wash your hair by shampooing ONLY the scalp (seriously, stop washing it too much. By washing it too often, your hair tries to overcompensate for the lack of oil and becomes EXTRA oily. It’s super hard to undo later. I’ll make another post about it.).

4) Use copious amounts of conditioner and use your fingers to untangle your hair while it’s got the conditioner in it. Go through and untangle everything. At this stage, you can comb it with a wide-tooth comb while in the shower. 

5) Rinse (NOT WITH HOT WATER. LUKEWARM.)

6) Get out of the shower, dry yourself off and-- DON’T TOUCH THAT TOWEL. Get a cotton t-shirt. Lean forward and flip your head upside down. Dry your hair by squishing your hair upwards with the t-shirt. 

Why can’t I use a towel? 

Because your towel is like a brush and will pull apart your curls way more than a t-shirt will. Rubbing and fluffing will lead to the same frizziness.

7) Leave the dryer alone. Pile your hair on your head, wrap it in a t-shirt if you want, and leave it to dry overnight or during the day. (If you need it to be dry NOW, then I recommend a diffuser, or a dryer on the coldest setting you have.)

Notice - I did not include any fancy schmancy curl products here. You can benefit from them, but this routine change alone can carry you quite a ways. 

I know some of these go against many people’s pre-conceived notions of how to take care of hair. But trust me when I say - taking care of straight hair is NOT the norm! It doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to listen to your straight haired relatives telling you how to take care of your hair. They don’t know squat. 

A lot of people recommend not washing daily - I personally don’t, and most curly haired people also do not. 

However! 

For someone who has been washing their hair daily, the transition is difficult. If your hair knows it will be stripped of all its protective oils every night, it works its hardest to replenish them every day. That’s why for people who try to stop washing daily, what they often find is that their hair gets extremely oily. What that means is - you need to grin and bear it for a LONG time before your head chemistry is recalibrated. You have to basically give your scalp time to realize “wait, the dryness from the shampoo isn’t happening every day anymore? I can.... relax? And stop re-oiling myself so often?” That takes... sometimes a week. Sometimes up to a month. It depends on the person. I recommend easing up gradually and going from once a day to once-every-other-day or something, instead of quitting cold turkey. 

Disclaimer: If you’re about to reblog and comment with how much this routine isn’t for you, then just don’t. This routine isn’t for everyone, but what I’m trying to communicate here is the BASICS. If your personal situation is different, that’s great, but it doesn’t disqualify how helpful this can be for someone who has never had anyone tell them how to take care of their hair type before. 

[idkstark]

ENDGAME SPOILERS

Please don’t read the following if you haven’t seen the movie, there will be major spoilers!

I just saw the movie and I just wanted to recap/jot down things that happened/stood out to me during the movie! Similar to what I did last year after seeing IW.

Right kiddos, let’s get into it

I honestly thought Tony was fuckign dead on that ship, the fact that Nebula was shaking him n shit?? I was scared outta my mind.

They really just ... killed Thanos within the first ten minutes lmao dfkhdsvgsjdhg. I was not expecting it at all. They cut his left arm off and then decapitated him, it was absolutely wild. 

At least Thor aimed for the head

OH and Tony yelling at Steve when he’s back on earth? yo i was looking around at my friends like uh is he ok ?? he needs some milk 

As soon as Thanos was like aha yea i destroyed the stones owo I KNEW they were gonna go back in time

Five year time jump? wack. BUT AHHHHHHHH

TONY HAS A DAUGHTER. i cried. Also his new house by the lake? its just to cute im happy for him

Scott’s daughter, Cassie, is a full-grown teen!!!

Thor plays fortnite with korg and miek 

he also uhhhhh gained a bit of weight. he isnt doing too well in new Asgard :(

Professor Hulk! smthn that i wasn’t expecting so early on

AHH Carol’s new haircut? that’s some good shit

The time travel was pretty neat

Cap fighting himself, tricking hydra, using Loki’s staff on himself. wild y’all.

tony and steve going back to the 70′s honestly made me cry. peggy was right there in-front of steve, and tony was able to have a conversation with his dad. it was actually wholesome too??

anyway, they get three stones from 2012

nebula and rhodey go to get the power stone. 2014 peter quill is dancing along like he does in the movie, gets knocked out. its quite amusing. 

rhodey jumps back but nebula cant bc uh oh!!!! thanos (from a different timeline or smthn) finds out what she’s doing!!

she gets captured

Evil nebula pretends to be future nebula and jumps back to the HQ using her gear

Thor goes back to asgard, talks to his mum, anddd he gets Mjolnir back! so he has both the hammer and Stormbreaker

the soul stone. omg. Nat and Clint were the only two there and they had a small fight over who should be sacrificed. it was like some lion king shit; natasha hanging onto clint whilst dangling from a cliff and letting go. i cried ?? i felt so bad for clint.

He goes back, avengers are like uh oh fuck. but they have all of the stones!

STARK GAUNTLET BABYYYY

banner uses it and snaps back those who were dusted. his arm gets a bit fucked up, but he tolerates it bc he’s in the form of the hulk.

it works! but then evil nebula uses the quantum realm thingy to bring Thanos’ ship to the HQ

immediately sends a bunch of missiles down, i really thought someone would die but thank god everyone was ok

this sets up the final battle ground!

Thor, Cap, and Tony all fight Thanos. They’re getting pretty fucked up. thor drops both of his weapons

dramatic music plays and Mjolnir hits Thanos and flies back around only to land in sTEVE’S HAND!!!!!!

HE’S WORTHY SAKDHSDKFS. The entire theatre cheered

just ???? seeing him wield Mjolnir and use the shield???? holy fuck

Thanos beats them up a bit more and then he calls on his army and like. they all form behind him and it looks like everyone is gonna get fucked up to be quite honest

BUT THEN you hear sam’s voice and u see dr stranges portal!!! 

a bunch of portals form and everyone walks out; t’challa, shuri, okoye, their army. the guardians. PETER!! bucky, literally everyone. they all stand behind steve and he says ‘avengers....assemble’ and everyone starts running towards one-another.........poetic cinema 

AHH and pepper is there!! she’s rescue!!!

the stark gauntlet is handed to t’challa (by clint) then handed to peter who hands it to carol.

also um. peter saw tony and he started rambling abt wht happened and tony just pulls him in for a hug. it made me cry again

all of the female heroes help carol bring the gauntlet towards Scott, who has his van, so tht they can destroy it or smthn. it had something to do with time travel and the quantum realm skfbsdg

uh oh they don’t get it there

Thanos sees them doing this and makes his army send more missiles down (which does deplete his own army by a large amount)

He’s right beside the gauntlet and so is tony

tony looks at strange who holds up one finger. the one in 14 million

thanos puts the gauntlet on and almost snaps his fingers but he’s stopped by carol. 

he removes the power stone and uses it to blast her away, then he puts it back in.

tony grabs his arm before he can snap, thanos shoves him away

i fully thought that was it for the avengers BUT MY BOY TONY!!!!!

Thanos goes to snap but nothing happens. turns out tony somehow transferred them to his own, built-in/nano-tech gauntlet!!!!!!! everyone cheered again y’all.....

he says “I am Iron Man” before snapping his fingers

lmfao thanos and his army turn to dust. by bye purple man.

by this point i was like yall where the fuck is tony he better be ok

yea about that.

I started to sob.

Tony is leaning against some debris and he’s struggling to breathe, right arm all messed up. Everyone rushes over. 

Peter starts saying smthn like “come on mr stark, we won. tony please” idk what he said exactly because i was sobbing.

Pepper comes up and says “we’ll be okay. you can rest now” and i, a fool, continued to sob.

he’s staring into the distance and his arc reactor dies.

i was SOBBIng

full on

i didn’t stop crying until the credits rolled

anyway, tony’s funeral.

his ‘proof that tony stark has a heart’ reactor is sitting on a bed of flowers that’s floating along the lake in front of his home

everyone is there. the guardians, black panther fam, avengers (minus nat), fury, etc etc.

even Harley from iron man three !! he’s so grown up now D:

Thor joins the guardians and leaves valkyrie to rule new asgard!!

Steve has to go back and return the stones to their rightful timelines but haha he stays there.

he grows old with peggy and they dance in their home. they were married yall!!!

Bucky, sam, and Bruce turn around and see him sitting on a bench a little while away.

same goes up and talks to him

i thought he was pre-serum steve but YIKES he’s old instead

he passes the captain america mantle to sam, i was so happy

there’s a lot i didnt mention but this is long enough as it is sdfgsdjhfg.

this movie just made me cry so much. it was the perfect end to this ten-year journey. i mean i would obviously love if they didnt kill off tony. he’s my favourite character so god damn was it hard to see him go. but it made it that much more emotional. marvel will always remain my favourite franchise of all time, this movie was absolutely everything i wanted yet so much more.

please dont be afraid to dm me about ur thoughts on the movie! cry abt everything with me!! ask questions!!

[rachelthompsonauthor]

Hi, everyone! It’s time to venture back out into the world which is a little scary, right? That’s where we are in Northern California – like turtles starting to stick our heads out just a little bit. We’re starting to visit family, actually going to the grocery store, and getting haircuts for everyone – a good thing since we’re all looking a bit like muppets.

Though with the latest numbers in California, who knows where we’re headed. It’s terrifying. Masks, masks, masks, wash, wash, wash.

In case you missed the last two installments of my blog posts, you can catch up by clicking here for week one and here for week two.

This week I’m thrilled to share an insider look into the mind of author Barbara Delinsky, who just dropped her latest hot read, A Week At The Shore, which immediately hit the New York Times bestseller list – her twenty-third novel to do so.

Both Pip and I enjoyed A Week At The Shore immensely.

Full disclosure: Barbara is one of my BadRedhead Media clients (and I’m supremely grateful for that!). I handle her social media, street team, blog and book review optimization, and a good deal of her book promotion.

After finishing the book (which I loved), I had a few questions for Barbara about her writing style, so I emailed them to her and she was kind enough to respond.

A Week At The Shore by Barbara Delinsky Interview

Q: I notice you don’t only use ‘she said’ for dialogue, which I personally love, though as I’m sure you know well, it’s a DEBATE.

A: I’ve actually spent a lot of time thinking about this. I don’t use half as many other words (“she exclaimed,” “she intoned,” or “she declared”) as much as I used to. Yes, there’s something to be said for simple and real. That said, the constant monotony of “she said” gets boring, so I try to find a comfortable balance. This actually ties in with your next question.

Sometimes, the sub for “she said” can express emotion, as in “she cried,” or “she dare say,” or “she whispered.” So it does add something. Still, though, not quite the “show, not tell” rule (see more on that below).  

Q: Also, the ‘show, not tell’ rule regarding feelings. You sometimes say what emotions Mallory {Ed. the main character} feels (at times). If I wrote that in my creative writing classes, my teacher would’ve jumped out a window, yet it works. Again, love. All this ‘do this, not that’ advice can be confusing for writers, regardless of genre, myself included.

A: Yes, it does work at times, at least, for me. But then, I never took a creative writing class, so maybe I just don’t know how to show rather than tell. Here, too, I think you have to be guided by common sense. If by “show,” you mean having a character “start to huff and puff,” to show upset, rather than simply to “cry in alarm,” I’d opt for the simpler.  

The image of huffing and puffing will distract the reader from what you’re saying. IMHO, the “show, not tell” rule applies to larger things, like rather than saying “her husband could be nasty,” saying something like, “her husband could see her scrubbing the dinner dishes and tell her she was made for this.” So, it’s really giving an example of what you’re saying in summary. Does that make sense?

Q: Yes, absolutely. Also, you write about the past in the present tense – I do this with memoir and blog posts, and prefer to read books or even blog posts/articles written this way. It’s more immediate. When I work with writers in my workshops, they tend to write in the past tense. I haven’t read all of your other books, so I wonder if you do this with all your books?

A: I’m actually not even aware of writing about the past in the present tense, unless it’s a bonafide flashback, in which case it would be in the present. I’ve been experimenting with different tenses book to book. My last book, BEFORE AND AGAIN, was in the first-person past tense, A WEEK AT THE SHORE is in first person present tense.  

The latter took some getting used to. And it’s possible that I botched the flashback tenses simply because I’m not ultra-experienced with first-person present. My editor didn’t catch or change anything, though. I agree with you. There is an immediacy to first-person present tense that is nice. That said, the new book I’ve started is in first-person past tense.

Q: Basic skills – I get it. This is how new writers learn. You aren’t new (after writing hundreds of books and stories), so you break rules – is that it?

A: I’m not “schooled” in writing, so I don’t know I’m breaking the rules!!

Q: You’re so skilled, Barbara. Your characters are intricate and layered. This book is a CLASS in writing. Do you ever think about young writers reading your work and learning from you?

A: You are too kind, Rachel. Seriously. I’m just muddling along, basically doing what works for me as a reader, since I have no formal training. Truly. Now I’m just enjoying it.

Barbara has written a few articles for me on my biz site about breaking the writing rules, which I hope you’ll read. She’s a true writer’s writer. I hope you’ll read her books and articles. She’s also an avid reader herself and does weekly book reviews on her blog.

What I’m Reading Now

I’m now reading the third book in the Discovery of Witches series, The Book of Life, and it’s fabulous, just like the others in this series. I’m not going to spoil it for you if you haven’t read these. Harkness is a wonderful writer, and she weaves history, passionate love, and the supernatural together in a way that carries you into other worlds. Even though it’s vampires, witches, and demons, it’s not glowy, corny vampires and evil witches on broomsticks. Harkness’ stories are wholly imaginative.

When I found out Sundance made the first book into a series, I paid for the app ($5.99/month – totally worth it) and watched the entire series in one day. SO GREAT. Perfectly cast, well-acted, leaving me yearning for more. I’m now re-watching it.

What Else I’m Watching

I never did see Being John Malkovich so I watched it with my daughter. Weird flick. Good, but super weird. Definitely takes the, ’15 minutes of fame,’ motto and turns it on its head. Speaking of heads, I’ve never seen such horrible hair in any movie.

Have you seen it? What are your thoughts?

Space Force just came out on Netflix and it’s hilarious. If you’re super conservative, you may not like it, so beware (though they poke fun at both parties). If you can laugh at the ridiculousness of government, please watch. Carrell is great, as usual, and the relationship dynamics are brilliant (and there’s John Malkovich again – great, as usual).

Vanderpump Rules I mentioned previously that this is the one reality show I watch with my 20-year-old daughter, Anya, and we watched the reunion shows – all three of them. I know, ridiculous. Jax is such a joke (his blatant homophobia disgusts me, though he says he supports gays – what?), Jax and Brittany together are just ugh, and Max makes me want to vomit (breaking news – he just got fired – ha!).

And honestly, could Vanderpump be any more white? We’ve been saying this for years.

SO much has happened since last week – wowzers. They’ve fired four people as of this writing for making racist remarks. Either the show will be retooled or canceled. I’m sad to see the epitome of white-girl whiteness Stassi gone – she was at least honest about her privilege. What do you think?

I’d be pretty much done with this show if it wasn’t for my daughter begging me to watch with her (we do watch movies and other shows as well). I’m glad Pumpy fired their asses, otherwise, I’d be done DONE.

Compassion

What’s missing from most reality shows is compassion, which is why I don’t enjoy watching them. We see (and hear, loudly and repeatedly) the negativity, toxicity, and the worst in people because that’s what the editors and producers know will keep viewers coming back – drama.

There are flashes of compassion, e.g., when dealing with the death of a loved one, coming out, infidelity, or mental health issues. I appreciate when Bravo, for example, handles these issues well. I don’t appreciate it when they have not – and they have not in many cases. An overall lack of compassion appears to be missing from many of these people’s lives; however, using The Four Agreements, that’s an assumption on my part; we don’t see behind the scenes or when the cameras are off.

I do have compassion for the casts of these shows who have decided money is worth more than their privacy. They are adults making decisions about their lives, and all that comes with it, as any celebrity does. Now, they’re dealing with the fallout.

“Make good choices!” as Jamie Lee Curtis’s mom in Freaky Friday admonishes a young Lindsay Lohan’s Anna (and we all know how that turned out). Oh, Lindsay. Honestly, she’s such a product of dysfunction, it’s truly sad, but that’s a whole other post.

If only people would listen to their Hollywood movie mothers…

Products Supporting Black Lives Matter

In no particular order, here’s what I’ve bought and am loving:

YUBI: The original fingertip makeup brush is amazing. Worth every penny. How did I not know about this?

Pat McGrath Real Makeup: I’m a sucker for a great eye shadow palette. McGrath’s are pricey but fab-u-lous. Why so spendy? All her products are highly-pigmented so you don’t need much; they’ll last a good long time. Here’s the one I purchased on Amazon. For when, ya know, I actually have somewhere to venture out to.

Body Butter Lady: Lip stuff and of course, body butter. Affordable, smells amazing, and will last a good, long, time.

LipBar: Lips for days, tons of colors and textures to suit anyone.

LipSlut: Awesome colors, and 50% of all proceeds go to support women and children’s charities all the time. Right now, they’re supporting Black Lives Matters. 50% towards charity, 100% against tyranny. Cruelty-free, Vegan.

Their newest shade, F*ck Trump on pre-order, will support civil rights organizations specifically targeted by the Trump organization – I mean, administration. Oopsies.

Here is my current personal selection (F*ck Kavanaugh is a favorite – a pretty brownish-red that wears well):

  ***

So that’s it for this week. Would love your feedback on COVID-19, books, movies, shows, makeup, racism, or whatever you want to discuss. Thanks for stopping by!

Read more about Rachel’s experiences in the award-winning book, Broken Pieces.

She goes into more detail about living with PTSD and realizing the effects of how being a survivor affected her life in

Broken Places, available in print everywhere!

        The post Venture Out Of Quarantine With Me appeared first on Rachel Thompson.

via Rachel Thompson

[newstfionline]

Headlines

NYC reopening (AP) New York City hits a key point Monday in trying to rebound from the nation’s deadliest coronavirus outbreak. For the first time in three months, New Yorkers will be able to dine out, though only at outdoor tables. Shoppers can once again browse in the city’s destination stores. Shaggy heads can get haircuts. Cooped-up kids can finally climb playground monkey bars instead of apartment walls. Office workers can return to their desks, though many won’t yet. The virus has been blamed for over 22,000 New York City deaths. The death toll has been in single digits in recent days. Infections are down, but between 200 and 400 people have still been testing positive for the virus each day over the past two weeks, according to city data.

Another shooting in Seattle protest zone leaves 1 wounded (AP) One person was wounded in what was the second shooting in Seattle’s protest zone in less than 48 hours, police said. The shooting happened late Sunday night in the area near Seattle’s downtown that is known as CHOP, for “Capitol Hill Occupied Protest,” police tweeted, adding that one person was at a hospital with a gunshot wound. The Sunday shooting followed a pre-dawn shooting on Saturday in a park within the zone that left a 19-year-old man dead and a 33-year-old man critically injured. The CHOP zone is a several-block area cordoned off by protesters near a police station in the city’s Capitol Hill neighborhood.

With no flights, Argentine sails across Atlantic to see parents (AFP) “Mission accomplished!” That joyful declaration came from Juan Manuel Ballestero, an Argentine sailor who, unable to fly home from Portugal due to the pandemic, crossed the ocean alone in his modest sailboat to see his aging parents. The 47-year-old completed an exhausting 85-day odyssey in his small boat, the nine-meter (30-foot) “Skua.” After testing negative for COVID-19 on arrival, Ballestero was cleared to set foot on dry land to see his mother 82-year-old Nilda and father Carlos, aged 90. “I’ve achieved what I’ve been fighting for these last three months,” he told AFP. “It came down to this: to be with the family. That’s why I came.” Ballestero, who works in Spain, hatched his ambitious plan for a single-handed sea passage after flights back to Argentina were canceled because of the pandemic.

Surprise medical bills (NYT) Last week, my colleague Sarah Kliff noticed something strange. A medical lab in Dallas had charged as much as $2,315 apiece for coronavirus tests, even though a test typically costs $100. Sarah called the lab to ask about the price—and the lab quickly dropped it to $300. In her years of covering health care for Vox and now The Times, Sarah has frequently reported on the arbitrary nature of medical costs, often highlighting extreme examples. After these examples receive public attention, health care providers sometimes reduce the price. Of course, most medical bills don’t become the subject of journalistic investigations. Which means that medical labs, drug companies, hospitals and doctors’ offices are often able to charge high prices to insurance companies and patients, without consequence. “If you look at pretty much any other developed country—Canada, Britain, France, Germany, Singapore, the list goes on—the government does some version of rate setting,” Sarah told us. “The United States doesn’t.” That’s one reason that the cost of health care in the U.S. is higher than in any other country.

Turkey’s lonely tourist attractions face make-or-break week (Reuters) Turkey’s Mediterranean coasts and historic attractions face a critical week as the government presses to open borders and salvage at least part of a tourist season already battered by the coronavirus pandemic. With beaches largely empty and many hotels deciding whether to open, Tourism Minister Mehmet Ersoy told Reuters he hoped the world’s sixth-largest destination could attract up to half of last year’s 45 million arrivals. But much depends on talks to begin flights from Russia, Germany and Britain—also hard hit by the virus—which should reach some conclusions by early next week, he said. The stakes are high for Turkey, where a rebound this month in COVID-19 cases has raised concerns in a country where tourism accounts for up to 12% of the economy. Foreign arrivals fell by two thirds in the first five months of the year.

Virus cases surge in India, US, but slow in China, Korea (AP) The world saw the largest daily increases yet in coronavirus cases, with infections soaring in India’s rural villages after migrant workers fled major cities. India’s coronavirus caseload climbed by nearly 15,000 as of Monday to 425,282, with more than 13,000 deaths, the health ministry reported. Nearly 90% of India’s poorest districts have cases, though the outbreak remains centered in Delhi, Maharashtra and Tamil Nadu states, which are home to major cities. Infections slowed in China and South Korea, suggesting some progress in stemming their newest outbreaks. But despite clear headway in containing the virus in regions that suffered early outbreaks, globally the number of new virus cases has soared in recent days. In Brazil, Iraq, India and the United States, hospitals are scrambling to cope.

China Knocks Out Tyson Imports Following Coronavirus Outbreak (Foreign Policy) China has temporarily suspended the import of poultry products from an Arkansas-based Tyson Foods processing plant after reports of a mass coronavirus outbreak at the company’s processing facilities. Tyson is the second largest chicken processor in the world with chicken sales of $13.1 billion (out of total sales of $42.4 billion) in 2019. The World Health Organization says there is no evidence that a person can contract the coronavirus from food or food packaging, but Chinese authorities—chastened by a recent outbreak at a Beijing food market—seem to be taking a hard line. China-based experts have floated the possibility that any more problems with U.S. food exporters could lead to a dissolution of the trade deal on natural disaster grounds—and an end to $36.5 billion in agricultural products that China must buy from the United States as part of the agreement.

Australia Fears Second Wave as State Tightens Virus Controls (Bloomberg) Australia’s second-most populous state has tightened coronavirus controls as a spike in cases triggers fears the nation could be hit by a second wave of infections. Victoria extended a state of emergency by four weeks to July 20, halved the number of visitors allowed in homes to 5 and delayed a planned increase in the size of gatherings in cafes, restaurants and pubs. The weekend announcement, and a jump in cases in countries including the U.S., Israel and South Korea, heightened market concerns about the difficulty of reviving economic growth while controlling the spread of Covid-19.

As Lebanon sinks into crisis, fear of crime grows (Reuters) A financial crisis that has swept Lebanon since last year means more and more families have little means to cope as the currency collapses and the state offers little or no help. The country faces what is seen as the biggest threat to its stability since the 1975-1990 civil war. In the first four months of 2020, murders in Lebanon doubled from the same period last year. Car thefts jumped nearly 50% and burglaries 20%, according to a report by the Beirut-based research firm Information International, based on police data. As the currency plunges, more unrest is feared in a country with a tumultuous history and where sectarian tensions are never far from the surface. As the currency plunges, more unrest is feared in a country with a tumultuous history and where sectarian tensions are never far from the surface. A World Food Programme report this month found that 50% of Lebanese, as well as 63% of Palestinians and 75% of Syrians in the country, had feared they would not have enough to eat over the past month. A security official linked spiralling prices to what he described as friction in the streets. “We’re still at the start, it’s only going to get bigger,” he said.

Dubai set to reopen for tourism, allow residents to travel (Washington Post) Dubai authorities announced late Sunday that the city would once again be allowing in tourists—with a negative coronavirus test result—starting July 7. Residents will also be allowed to travel again starting Monday. The new travel rules for Dubai, a wealthy Persian Gulf emirate known for its soaring skyscrapers, luxury hotels and beaches, reflects the importance of tourism to the economy. Unlike United Arab Emirates capital Abu Dhabi, Dubai does not have oil and its economy relies significantly on international travel and tourism. In 2019, more than 16 million tourists visited Dubai. The hotels, restaurants and other facilities catering to visitors have been desolate since a ban in late March on all arrivals except citizens. Even residency-visa holders—some 90 percent of the population—were not permitted to return to the country until just recently.

[ssironstrange]

endgame rant

SPOILERS AHEAD PLEASE AVOID IF YOU HAVENT SEEN IT YET

yeah i know i said i wouldn’t post spoiler shit but listen i gotta get this off my chest ok

i have some REAL BIG FUCKING ISSUES with the way the russos handled a lot of plotlines. don’t get me wrong, this movie was amazing and epic and fucking award worthy, but as a fan i’ve taken offense to a Lot of things.

clint

nothing about his ronin story makes a lick of fucking sense in the mcu. his family is dusted so he…… goes on a mass murdering spree??? decides that he should get a haircut and spend the next five years getting an edgy tattoo sleeve??? um. okay then. destroy the past like 10 years of his character having one of the best moral compasses of the entire team. why did he take up using a fucking SWORD in present day? do you know how long it takes to master swordsmanship at the level he was? with at least half of the world’s teachers gone? more than five fucking years thats for damn sure. and between him and natasha dying for the soul stone? it should have been him. i know he had a family and all but listen. nat went through physical and psychological torture. her body was modified against her will. she was brainwashed and used. and finally, FINALLY she gets free of it all, finds a family in the avengers, and continues to try and better herself to make up for things that weren’t even her fault to begin with. and clint? what did he suffer? oh thats right. nothing. he’s just damn good at his job and loves his family. the fact he has a family sucks for sacrifice, but they are well taken care of and every single one of his kids are old enough to understand AND nat would have stepped in immediately as a parental figure to help laura. they fucking fridged nat for clint and i will never forgive that.

thor

here we go. thor’s character legit made me uncomfortable. they went way overboard with the new thor personality. but… fatshaming and making fun of his very real depression and ptsd?? wtf russos. like, haha he let himself go so funny but its NOT. he wasn’t even like…. fat, for one. just a normal dadbod and beer belly. which by the way seems a lot more realistic according to most norse myths of the gods. they were warriors, yeah, but they drank a fucking lot and feasted a fucking lot so. anyway. thor has lost his entire family. not only that but he watched them all die. he saw his mother bleed out. he watched his father disperse into nothingness. he watched the brother he has loved and cherished no matter the amount of times of betrayal and misdeeds get his neck snapped and his lifeless body thrown to the ground. and then the sister he never knew he had killing almost all of your people and then being forced to find a way to kill her. can you imagine trying to cope with that??? and when you put his age into our perspective, he’s only in his 20s. so imagine seeing your whole family die before you’re even 25, then taking on the responsibility of ruling your people. said surviving people are then massacred in front of you with only a few dozen escaping. THEN living with the guilt of blowing your chance to kill the man responsible for that and unable to stop him from decimating half the universe. (and even when he does get revenge on him, it’s too late) tell me you wouldn’t have an atomic level meltdown. thor is suffering so much and all they can do is make fun of him for it and shame him for it. he deserved better.

steve

yall know i don’t like steve. i don’t hate him and i’m not anti-steve, i’ve just never enjoyed his rather inconsistent character and self-righteousness. it felt like we were FINALLY getting a steve i could get behind in this. a steve that swears like he should. a steve who still puts on a brave face for the public but behind closed doors with friends he’s miserable and broken like the rest of them and SHOWS it to them. a steve who realizes he is stuck in the past and just can’t seem to move forward. a steve who i can finally see the culmination of EVERYTHING he’s been through resting on his shoulders and eating him alive inside. finally we were getting a properly layered steve rogers. and then tony came back and that all fell apart. we didn’t get the apology steve owed him (and tbh tony owed him one too but we’ll get to that), we didn’t get a remorseful steve. he didn’t even address the goddamn issue. he went straight back to his bullshit. admittedly he was a better listener this time around and a far better team player overall. it wasn’t a total loss. but. BUT. his ending? no. hell fucking no. i’m happy he and peggy got their life, but it still shouldn’t have happened. how fucking selfish. how fucking backwards of his character. i get he didn’t have a choice in being brought back into the present and that is unfair and sucks for him, but what fucking right did he have to mess with a timeline like that? what right did he have to just decide without telling anyone he was done and giving up? why did he get the fucking happy ending???? steve rogers who looked tony in the eyes and said he wasn’t the kind of man to lay on the wire for someone copped out. steve rogers who knows of all the social progress we’ve made decides to go back to a time where he would be forced to accept segregation and extreme gender inequality and rampant, blatant, gross racism of all sorts oh and more war and alkjdalksdhkas NO plus they broke their own time travel rules so like whatever i guess right?? it’s okay if steeb gets his stupid happy ending right? god is it SO MUCH TO ASK FOR JUST ONCE TO HAVE A GOOD CHARACTERIZATION OFCAP???? it’s not your fault cevans honey you’re doing amazing your directors just have no fucking idea 

tony

frankly this has been amongst rdj’s best performances of tony. i’m still partial to a lot of his acting in the iron man movies BUT this was FANTASTIC. him finally being allowed to absolutely go off on steve was fucking delicious and everything i was waiting for. let it all out tony baby. buuuuut we should have also had something more. i know my fellow tony stans typically don’t believe it but tony was wrong in civil war too. surprise they both fucking were. ANYWAY. i was waiting for an honest apology between them both. after everything they just went through, NONE of the petty bullshit they went through before matters at all. and yet the closest thing we get is tony just being like “turns out i don’t like to hold grudges” or what the fuck ever. why is it so hard just to make one of them say i’m sorry, the other say i’m sorry, admit it was a bunch of BULLSHIT hug it out and then go forward???? ugh. their choice to make tony suddenly care about his dad and be happy to see him???? disgusting. they made it canon that howard was an abuser, neglectful, cold, and hateful. it’s been a BIG DEAL how tony has struggled with the relationship to his dad because of how shitty the man was to him. and then they do tHAT? fuuuuCK that!!!! i’m not saying tony isn’t allowed to forgive howard. thats fine and expected tbh. but they pushed it way too far. the tony stark we’ve known for the last decade would never get all giddy and happy to see him and hug him and fucking thank him??? what the fuckk?? god that was gross. you know what we should have gotten? what tony deserved more than howard fucking stark? MARIA STARK!! and then, of course, my main issue. they fucking killed him. which only tells us, the audience and fans that no matter what you suffer and sacrifice that your only way to redemption is death. jesus fucking christ i am SO angry over this. they killed the two who suffered the fucking most. the two who every single goddamn day worked on being a better person. nat and tony both deserved so much better than waht they got. how the fuck did it make sense to kill tony who now has a fucking CHILD, who still has a future, who FINALLY FOR ONCE IN HIS FUCKING LIFE FOUND A SHRED OF PEACE????? and then let steve just go selfishly galavant through time as he pleases to have the cute happy ending? FUCK that ending. fuck it right up the ass with a huge unlubed cock. steve should have been the one to use the gauntlet. period. he should have been the one to die like that. i would have still fucking cried but you know what?? that would be the most cap thing ever. i wanted a mirror of pre-serum steve jumping on that grenade, but this time grabbing the gauntlet and not hesitating for a split second to snap. but no. they killed tony who left behind a wife who DESERVED MORE THAN HAVING THE MAN SHES LOVED AND SUPPORTED AND MARRIED AND HAS A CHILD WITH RIPPED AWAY FROM HER!!! tony who left behind a daughter too young to really comprehend yet why her daddy isn’t going to be coming back. fuck you russos. the injustice of it is astounding. i’m never going to get over it. you know how they could have killed tony? if they really felt like they needed to? have him grow old and die naturally of old age with pepper in their cute little lakeside house after watching morgan grow into such a strong and brilliant person. but oh. they gave that to steve. right.

stephen

i’ll never complain about having more stephen content but uhhhh i’m gonna complain that we didn’t get more than what we got cause after sitting in the soulworld for five fucking years you canNOT tell me he didn’t get even stronger with time to practice and meditate and work through every iota of information of mystical shit in his head. and yet they sidelined him??? after we’ve SEEN what he’s capable of in IW? just gonna put him on flood control???? something that any of those goddamn sorcerers could have done while he helps wipe the floor with thanos or any of the thousands of enemies? fuuuuuuuuuck that. can you fucking imagine how quickly thanos would have been taken out if it were wanda, carol, and stephen all three against him? jesus. he’s literally amongst the most powerful people but nah, just have him stand over there.

the gay russo

FUCK you for that. i am LIVID about it. yall can’t fucking make valkyrie bi???? or carol????? yall can’t GET AN ACTUAL GAY ACTOR? “ We felt it was important that one of us play him, to ensure the integrity and show it is so important to the filmmakers that one of us is representing that. “ WHAT????????? are you fucking telling me a WOC WHO IS OUT AS BISEXUAL AND WANTS HER CHARACTER TO BE BISEXUAL COULDNT ENSURE THE INTEGRITY OF AN LGBT CHARACTER???????????????? “ It is a perfect time, because one of the things that is compelling about the Marvel Universe moving forward is its focus on diversity.”  SEE PREVIOUS COMMENT????? oh my god fuck them forever.

lets make rules for our time travel then break them immediately

idek whats going on in the timeline anymore. they utterly fucked up and BROKE the timeline of 2012 avengers after letting loki get away with the tesseract. which should have cascaded into their future but, well, it didn’t. so i GUESS now we’re just pretending that made a new timeline which makes no goddamn sense but whatever i guess. steve going back to completely fuck with his timeline, or a timeline at least, and having no consequences in the future besides being old. okay. sure??? we can do all that but we can’t fucking get natasha back. right. cool. okay.

anyway i’m sure theres more bugging me but these are the things bothering me most.

and frankly i don’t care if anyone disagrees i’m not arguing or debating any of this. 

[mind-writing0]

~Chapter 9

Hey lovelies!! So I’m going to be starting a tag list for this story! If you want to be part of it, you can comment on this chapter or just tell me in my asks! (just make sure it’s not anonymous)

When Virgil woke up, he immediately felt guilty and humiliated. He buried his face into the pillow, and despite its unbelievable comfort, he felt a storm of anxiety in his stomach. Virgil was telling the truth that night—he had no intentions of winning the prince's heart—but that didn't mean he had to give up his dignity in such a way.

 And to think who could have seen! Part of the forms had read that he wouldn't mind being filmed at certain parts of the day, for the Report, and he was lucky no cameras were there to document his breakdown. 

His breakdown to Prince Roman. Despite what was said, Virgil believed wholeheartedly that his time was up. Why would the Prince—a man that had so many guests solely for the Selection of a husband—want to keep someone that had flat out said they didn't want to be there? For entertainment reasons was cold, though Virgil did say he wanted to stay— 

"Sir Virgil?" One of his maids knocked, "It's time to get up, sir. It's a big day!" 

Virgil groaned into the sheets again. "Okay, do y'all—I mean you guys have to help me get ready?" 

"Yes, sir." The maid responded, and Virgil could hear the humor in her voice. She opened the door and brought in a tray. On the plate was the most exquisite breakfast Virgil had ever seen in his life, which is underestimating as he usually didn't eat breakfast. Waffles covered in syrup and strawberries, hash browns, sausage, bacon. Anything imaginable for a perfect meal was there. 

All three of Virgil's maids came in and sat at a small table near the bed. They had some tea set out, but nothing else. "

Um...do you guys want some of this? I might feel sick after eating this much so early." Virgil spoke up, but he felt dumb afterwards. 

They looked surprised for a minute, then giggled. "No thank you, sir. That's all for you." The one that guarded his door last night said. "

Do you, um, ladies have to call me sir all the time? I mean, you can if you want but...if you're going to help me, I think I should at least know your names." 

"Okay," the maid with the short brown hair replied, "my name is Katie. This here is Romelle," she gestured politely towards the blonde maid who was helping herself to some tea. "And this is Allura." A maid with dark skin and darker hair waved in a small gesture as she set out some cards. 

"We're so glad you are the contestant we are to care for. It will be an honor to work with you." Allura said. She had an odd accent; Virgil would have to ask where she's from sometime. 

As for right now, he smiled a little before digging into his breakfast. It seemed as if every time he ate something, it reappeared a moment later. Though he knew it wasn't true, it still made it hard to finish. 

"I'm getting full. What do you do with leftovers here?" Virgil asked cautiously. He sat up more in vain, knowing that nothing could make him look like the professional image his maids were expecting. 

"We...um...throw them out. Sometimes the workers in the castle eat them." Romelle replied before taking a sip of tea. 

"You mean you eat scraps like dogs?" Virgil demanded. For a moment, his voice was angry—almost powerful—until he saw Katie flinch. "I'm sorry. I just meant...that's wrong. Here," Virgil pushed his tray to the end of the bed. "I'm not hungry anymore." He had only eaten one waffle from the pile, and that was enough for him. 

The maids looked at the tray in disbelief, then back up at Virgil. "Are—are you sure, sir?" Katie asked, her voice shaking. 

"Yeah, of course. Go ahead and hurry. What's the plan for today?" Virgil asked. 

"You'll be given a make-over today by some of Ailea's finest make-up artists!" Romelle stated, her excitement only slightly overshadowing years of professionalism. 

"Great," Virgil muttered sarcastically with a scoff. 

His maids looked at him oddly, but soon dismissed his tone. They cheerfully yet professionally chatted about the palace doings, never delving too far into their personal lives. After they finished breakfast, Virgil's maids helped him into his first suit. He was fine dressing into a dress shirt and pants—he had sung at parties wearing just these—though the suit jacket and tie was something new entirely. Being told that he'd have to learn how to tie his own tie made him detest royalty even more. If he were prince, he'd establish a formal-but-not-too-formal rule. 

After he got dressed, he was lined up with the other Selected in the hall, and they were being walked to somewhere else. Down the stairs and to the right, they were shown a giant room with all of the latest technologies and commodities. Couches and chairs were all over the area, so this mansion of a place could have been a relaxation room. 

"This is the Mens' room." Their guide/instructor, Emily, demonstrated. She tucked a loose strand of straight grey hair behind her ear. "It is where you all will work on your studies or relax. That is, when you are not with the Prince. Moving on," she continued, walking towards the next room with the twenty five young men following her. 

Virgil heard a giggle, and someone clung to Virgil's arm. "Hi!" A cheerful voice whispered, and it all reminded him of Valerie. "I'm Patton. I know this sounds a little silly, but I can't wait to meet the prince! Oh, sorry!" Patton let go of Virgil's arm. "That's just something I do with my friends. Please don't be mad if I wrinkled your jacket or anything." 

"Of course not," Virgil checked his arm. This blond boy was kind of adorable, and he reminded him of Valerie so much that he couldn't be mad. "It's nice to meet you, Patton." 

Patton smiled and went back to talk to some of the others. Lance came up and walked with Virgil, though they were relatively quiet. "

What are you gonna want with your makeover?" Virgil asked as they came up to the door of a new room. 

"A mullet, obviously." Lance joked, and they both laughed at that. "

How are you going to add hair on?" Virgil asked, taking a poke at Lances already short dark brown hair. 

A maid opened the doors for Emily, and they all walked in. This room was smaller than the Mens' Room, though it was still larger than required. The stylists immediately clamored about, bringing the Selected to different tables. "

Sir Lance," a stylist stopped in front of him, "table six. Sir Virgil, table seven." 

Lance and Virgil were both hurriedly escorted to tables like ones the Twos and Threes went to for haircuts. Virgil cut his own hair and shaved the sides, though he guessed that would make him seem barbaric in the eyes of these people. 

"Lean back, please." A stylist ordered, and Virgil leaned back in his seat, cautiously handing control of his messy curls to her. She put many different kinds of goos and creams in his hair, then she got out a small pair of scissors. 

"I actually like your hair," she said, "though a lot of the Selected want different things. Whatever the prince would like, they say. What would you like, Sir Virgil?" 

"I like it the way it is," Virgil replied timidly, then he spotted a magazine on one of the counter. On it was a Two, a popular actor with brown hair. There were blond streaks in it, making it glow. "Can I get some of those, though?" He pointed to the magazine, piratically sweating from nerves. 

 "Highlights?" The stylist asked, seeming surprised. "Okay, though I warn you that it might not look professional. What color would you like?" 

 Virgil thought about it for a moment. Back home, he'd had some of these things thought out, what he'd do if he were a Two. Though he was preparing for life as a Six, so now that he was here, he had no idea. He thought of his favorite color, and then the rose that lay single in its thin vase. 

 "Purple," Virgil decided. 

 "Oh, you definitely won't look professional. But if it is what you want...who am I to argue? Let's get started." 

 The process was shorter than Virgil imagined. First, there were bleached streaks in his hair, then they were painted in dye by a small brush. Virgil imagined how happy Valerie would be to realize that you could paint hair as if it were a canvas. After drying and washing again, he was set to go. 

 "My, my, Sir Virgil, that is quite the design you've settled on," a woman in a pantsuit came up to him, a few cameras and people behind her. "What made you come to that decision?" 

 Assuming this was for the Report, and his family would be watching, Virgil smiled at the camera. "I decided on it just now, and there wasn't much to it. I just thought it would look cool." 

 "And it does." she replied, "Tell me, how does it feel to be given a makeover by some of the finest stylists of Ailiea?" 

 "It's nice," Virgil said, turning to give a more genuine smile to his stylist. "They definitely do their job well." 

 "I agree," the reporter nodded. "So, how do you think Prince Roman will feel about your change from the picture sent in?" She held up a picture of Virgil from his entree form, where he was beaming at the thought of marrying Dan. Damn, that stung. 

 "I think..." I think I don't give a damn what Roman thinks, Virgil thought. "I think he will definitely be...interested, I guess." 

 "Ah, standing out. Good idea, Sir Virgil, that will be all." She stood up and straightened her outfit, then walked off. "Look forward to the Report on Friday!" 

 Virgil clenched his fists in his lap, half out of anger, half out of anxiety. After a few more minutes of waiting, they wrapped up and were taken to a new room. 

"Good morning, gentlemen." Prince Roman sat stiffly in an intricate chair at the end of the room. The King and Queen weren't there, and Virgil wondered if he'd see them today too. 

 Virgil felt a wave of nerves rush over him, and he chided himself. Though it had nothing to with how the other guys felt—these weren't nervous butterflies—he still felt the nerves of a pre-going off. What he felt when his mother was in a bad mood, when she raised her hand up— 

 "I hope you all won't mind, but I would like to have a short talk with each of you, just to...get a feeling for your personalities." He smiled, though it didn't seem as genuine as it was last night. "I'm sure you would all like to get to lunch, as would I, so I'll try to make this quick." 

 They all sat down, and the first young man went over rather excitedly. It seemed that whoever was at the end of the table, closet to the loveseat that Roman moved to, went to visit next. 

 Virgil, being more towards the door, was to be one of the last to go. Before him went many others, and the prince was not good at keeping a poker face. Some of them obviously bored him or made him cringe. Most of them made him smile politely with about as much interest as you show to relatives. Some of them, however, made him smile genuinely and made him blush with whispers. 

 By the time it was Virgil's turn to go, he was practically shaking with nerves, though he tried not to let it show.

 "Virgil Singer," Prince Roman sang jokingly, "oh, how I've been looking forward to seeing you again, my dear." 

 "Don't start," Virgil muttered, but he couldn't help smiling. "You are?" 

 "Oh, yes." the prince sighed, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "Some of these young men are...unbelievably boring. Or lying. You're not going to lie to me, are you, Virgil Singer?" 

 Virgil tried not to blush at the closeness of Roman's voice, but he shook his head. "No, you'd find out anyway. So...you're not going to kick me out?" 

 "Of course not, my—Virgil. As I've assured, I find you rather—" he looked up at Virgil's curls. "You put purple in your hair." He noted. 

 "Yeah," Virgil sighed, "the reporter and the stylist both claimed you wouldn't like it, but I said I didn't mind." He crossed his arms as if challenging the prince to argue. 

 "On the contrary, it's...it's pretty." Roman turned around and crossed his arms as well in a joking pout. 

 "What's wrong, Princey—oh, sorry!" Virgil laughed at the accidental nickname. 

 "It's just that you're so...ugh, you're so cute, I can't even look at you. You come into what is potentially my kingdom, looking the way you do, giving me a nickname, and you are still the only one that swears you are not here to win my heart." Roman scoffed. "It's unbelievably unfair of fate." 

 Virgil sat in the loveseat, taken aback, yet annoyed. "I'm sorry to inconvenience you, Your Highness. Though I do have another idea." 

 Roman turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. "Yes?" 

 "I could...oh, this sounds stupid...we could be friends?" Virgil questioned. "You said that the guys here lie, but I'll be brutally honest. I'll tell you who's doing what behind your back." 

 Roman looked intrigued, "That sounds...interesting, Sir Virgil. In all honesty, I don't really have any friends. It sounds like a fine idea! Now, Virgil, as much as I'd like to continue talking with you, I do have other Selected. I do hope we talk again soon." 

 Virgil nodded and smiled weakly, still fighting his nerves. No, he breathed a sigh of relief as he got up from the loveseat to sit back down with the others, he would not be going home today. 

 He watched as a few more young men sat and chatted with Roman. After the last one left, he stood. "Thank you all, for your patience and...interesting personalities. If I have asked you to stay, please do. Otherwise, please feel free to follow Miss Emily to the dining room for lunch. I will be with you shortly." 

Suddenly crowded, Virgil felt obligated to move with them to the hall.

"I wonder why he wanted to see them for longer." Virgil wondered aloud to Lance as they were lead down the hall. 

 "Probably arranging dates already," Lance sighed with a grin, "they're so lucky to stand out." 

 They entered the dining room, in which the king and queen sat at what looked like less-intricate thrones. There was a chair to the left of the king that was empty, and that was where Prince Roman would sit. 

 All of the young men stood and gave the royalty a bow before sitting down. After waiting a moment to see how everyone else was eating (how did these different forks work?) Virgil decided to start eating. 

 A few minutes later, Prince Roman entered, seeming tense but smiling nervous. Sitting in his spot, he whispered something to his father, who gave him a firm pat on the back. He cringed at that. 

 "Where's the other guys?" Virgil asked to anyone at the table. It was quite for a minute, and then Bill Cunningham spoke.

 "Don't you get it?" Bill asked rhetorically, his voice full of venom. "They're gone. They were eliminated." 

 Virgil refused to believe it at first. Why would the prince—someone who seemed relatively nice—eliminate several people so quickly? Though as he looked around, none of the guys came back, and Roman seemed to nearly be sweating with nerves. 

Virgil looked around, mentally counting. Seven. He'd eliminated seven potential soulmates within the first five minutes of meeting them. 

 They were now down to eighteen.

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@marshmallow-the-panda

[1dreality]

Zayn Malik was never the celebrity you thought he was. If it wasn’t already obvious from his detached, often melancholic interviews in the wake of his 2015 departure from One Direction, it will be from the title of his second solo album. The very elongated 27-track Icarus Falls is comprised of more of the sparse R&B that Malik has perfected since his first release Mind of Mine in 2016, but like its titular myth is also indebted to themes of incredible ascent and crushing decline.

A decline not of Malik’s career, it should be said, but rather of his own mental health, the album serving as both an intimate meditation on Malik’s life so far and a dire warning about the trauma of instant fame. It all leads to one obvious question: Is Zayn OK?

In an age of millennial openness and Instagram confessionals, Malik remains something of an outlier: an enormously famous and highly visible celebrity, but one whose ambiguity allows us to project much onto him. In our collective consciousness, he has been the 1D-fleeing villain, smoking cigarettes, being mean to his bandmates on Twitter and looking miserable as well as the “soft boy” pin-up, a vulnerable figure in desperate need of a hug.

Much of that ambiguity is intentional. Along with declining to tour Mind of Mine, Malik is often press-shy, choosing not to take part in TV sit-downs or play the social media game in an era in which somebody like Ariana Grande spends much of the waking day interacting with her fans on Twitter and Instagram.

And while Malik has been open about some of his past struggles, including his battle with an eating disorder at the height of his One Direction fame and consistent difficulties with anxiety, they’re often revelations that feel accidental in nature. We learn of them during an unexpected moment of truth-telling between him and a journalist, the subject quickly changed soon after, or through lyrics that are just descriptive enough to imply deep truths. Even talking about his anxiety in an essay for Time Magazine felt like a necessary course-correction after a string of cancelled gigs led to unflattering rumours about his health in the press.

Whether Malik’s public persona is intended as a protective mask or not, it is still difficult, particularly in the wake of Icarus Falls, not to feel something for him. After all, his jump from a working-class kid to an international superstar worth a reported $50 million, practically overnight, is the sort of trajectory most of us would struggle with at the age of 40, let alone at 17 when Malik auditioned for The X Factor.

Icarus Falls doesn’t cover any new sonic ground for Malik as an artist. It sees him return to the same well of threadbare, silky R&B that helped Mind of Mine easily trounce his fellow One Direction bandmates in the “best first solo record” stakes. But it does whirr with a noticeable sadness, Malik repeatedly mourns the peace of his pre-X Factor past and beats himself up for mistakes he feels that he’s made since. And when he speaks of emotional pain, it often sounds not like something confined to history, but rather something he’s dealing with every day.

“I’d rather be anywhere but here,” he sings on Good Years. “I close my eyes and see a crowd of a thousand tears / I pray to God I didn’t waste all my good years.” On Insomnia: “I’ve been roaming and strolling all in the streets / Burning my eyes red, not slept for weeks.” On Back to Life: “I been flying so long / Can’t remember what it was like to be sober.” On Satisfaction: “Nobody said this would be easy / Nobody gave me a rule book to follow.”

Even typical love songs are fatalistic in nature, talk of Armageddon running through both Flight of the Stars (“I will follow / Hold you close standing on the edge of no tomorrow”) and Tonight (“Love me like tomorrow’s never gonna come”), while much of the album nods to an unnamed great love in Malik’s life that he needs to overcome incredible odds to be with – nothing new for love songs, but given a greater weight when paired with his statements over the years. Because if we know anything about Zayn Malik, it’s that he often can’t stand being Zayn Malik.

Through much of the little press he has done, Malik has expressed unease with most of the trappings of fame, particularly the assumptions that he ought to be personable and friendly with industry figures or musical collaborators. And when it comes to One Direction, he still appears burnt by the experience. While he told Vogue in November that he has recently been able to see his time with the band as “an amazing experience,” despite the “bulls---” of what he refers to as “the machine,” he also told GQ in June that he didn’t make any actual friends during the peak of his fame: “I definitely have issues trusting people.”

In the numerous articles that pop up every winter recalling how good The X Factor used to be, clips are embedded that showcase many of its most memorable contestants, and every year it becomes that bit more shocking how much One Direction looked like children during their time on the show. The scrawny limbs, those Justin Bieber haircuts, the awkward school-talent-show bopping and shuffling. It somehow worked, enough at least to turn them into a tween phenomenon, but in hindsight it’s indefensible that they were pushed as significantly as they were.

There was always something deer-in-the-headlights about the band in its early days, a sense that at least a few of them had been pulled along for the ride as opposed to having a firm grip on the steering wheel. The hunger so visible in pop bands of similar notoriety, whether manufactured or not, wasn’t always visible – and while all of them have transitioned into stable adults who are, for the most part, comfortable in the spotlight, their jarringly different responses to fame remain clear.

It’s important to remember, for context’s sake, that Malik was always a reluctant star. Only attending his original X Factor audition after being guilted by his mother into waking up early and making the journey there, he was, in his own words to The Fader, “a lazy teen”. And even during the audition stages, he expressed reluctance to properly join in, walking off stage during a choreography rehearsal and having to be coaxed to go back. At the time, Malik’s reaction registered as a petulant strop, but now feels oddly prescient.

Of Malik’s One Direction bandmates, Harry Styles was always the most naturally inclined to superstardom – such an affable schmoozer and networker that it was quickly no longer surprising to see images of him palling around with Mick Jagger or Stevie Nicks. Liam Payne always bore the personality of someone very eager to be seen, lack of self-awareness very much included, while the perpetually chipper Niall Horan has always simply appeared very, very happy to be there. But both Malik and Louis Tomlinson have often visibly struggled, uninspired by the more performative and fraudulent elements of celebrity, or the levels of attention handed to them by Simon Cowell and co.

“What I really can’t ever get used to, or really enjoy, are these super geared-up celebrity parties,” Tomlinson told Noisey last year. “No one actually cares. You see people who are beyond self-absorbed, and that’s why it can be a dangerous place.”

Malik has echoed similar sentiments. “I don’t work well in group situations, with loads of people staring at me,” he told GQ. “And when you say ‘star’… everyone wants you to be this kind of character that owns a room or is overly arrogant or confident. I’m not that guy, so I don’t want to be a star.”

What’s odd is that, for all his claims, Malik does bear all the superficial trappings of modern stardom. He’s a fashion darling but is permanently magnetised to the covers of cool indie magazines. Furthermore, his on-again/off-again relationship with supermodel Gigi Hadid has, since 2015, become a Generation Z equivalent of Johnny Depp and Winona Ryder in its aesthetic-heavy, era-defining popularity.

But Malik is also simultaneously detached. The GQ profile, his most extensive recent interview, bears all the hallmarks of a journalist struggling to fulfil a word count because of an uncommunicative subject, writer Carrie Battan even expresses Malik’s tendency to reply to her questions in “friendly but anodyne one-liners.” Like the very best of pop idols, from Britney to Beyoncé, Malik is so compelling principally because he’s so hard to read. But this can also be a poisoned chalice: every expression of doubt or self-pity determined to be a cry for help, every revelation shaping an image that may or may not be real.

It means that listening to Icarus Falls isn’t an entirely joyous experience, Malik’s lyrics painting a picture of a young man still working through the discomfort of his sudden fame and the trauma of a moment in the spotlight marred by illness and fractured relationships, many of its scars still visible today. But it’s also a record that you can’t help but admire as a result, especially if it serves as a form of catharsis for him.

In the decade since Britney Spears was forcibly taken to the hospital surrounded by hundreds of paparazzi photographers, our collective relationship with the idea of fame has greatly altered, particularly for a generation who watched Amy Winehouse essentially die before their eyes. The one beneath them are currently coming to terms with a raft of recent pop star crises, from Demi Lovato’s overdose to the deaths of artists like Mac Miller and Lil Peep.

For all the obvious charms in Malik’s life, from his incredible fortune to a kind of artistic freedom that he never had in One Direction, you’d have to be particularly cold not to feel empathy for the sheer strangeness of his adult existence; a world of rampant, maddening attention that has historically led even the strongest of stars into tragedy.

The Zayn Malik of today is a little bruised, a little listless, his magazine profiles never complete without references to the cloud of marijuana smoke that lingers around him, or his need to lock himself away from the world. It doesn’t sound like the most ideal of outcomes for a man who calls himself a pop idol Icarus and sings with whispery detachment that he has “[flown] too close to the sun.” But we can only hope that it at least serves as a parachute.

[spendingmemorialday-blog]

10 Things to Avoid the Week Before Your Wedding

With only seven days left before your wedding, we're certain that you have a mile-considerable rundown of to-dos that regardless you have to verify before you stroll down the passageway. Be that as it may, enable us to acquaint you with your rundown of don'ts. Tune in up ladies, on the grounds that there are a few things to keep away from the week prior to your wedding to guarantee that you look and feel your absolute best on the huge day. Fortunately, we're here to separate them all.

The week prior to your wedding is an ideal opportunity to deal with each one of those very late subtleties. Haul out your preferred nail clean, since you'll need to get a nail trim a day or two preceding your practice supper. Furthermore, remember to convey the last headcount to your wedding scene. Be that as it may, shouldn't something be said about the things to stay away from the week prior to your wedding?

First off, we realize you've been taking choice consideration of your skin in the months paving the way to your wedding date. Be that as it may, you won't have any desire to roll out any improvements to your reliable skincare routine in the days prior to your pre-marriage ceremony, in the event of a negative composition response. Furthermore, that pixie cut you've been thinking about? Spare the cleave for after the "I dos."

Prepared for your full rundown of pre-wedding don'ts? From unrehearsed skin medications to throughout the night film long distance races, here are 10 things to evade the week prior to your wedding no matter what.

1. New Hair Color

"Regardless of whether your colorist is the most perfectly awesome, abstain from making changes to your hair inside seven days of your wedding," says Paul Labrecque, beautician and proprietor of Paul Labrecque Salon and Spa in New York City. "No one can really tell how the shading could oxidize or how it will look with your skin tone." If you need to invigorate your tint without jeopardizing your look, request that your colorist put a reasonable gleam on your strands. "This will include a great deal of sparkle and sheen," says Labrecque. In any case, in the event that you do get stirred up with some terrible shading before the enormous day, you won't do an excess of harm to your hair by getting it recolored immediately—insofar as there weren't large amounts of dye associated with the procedure, says Labrecque.

2. Exceptional Haircuts

"Wedding preliminaries and meetings start around a quarter of a year preceding the genuine day, and you should keep a similar hairdo all through the procedure," says Labrecque. "Not exclusively will the surface and style of your hair change in the event that you get it hacked, yet remember something radical may not look directly with your dress' neck area, cloak, or wedding day adornments." Stephanie Bork, senior beautician at the Josè Eber Salon, says, "Regardless of how well you prepare there appears to consistently be something left to the latest possible time—hair ought not be one of them. The closer you get to the huge day, the more pushed and passionate you'll be. You need to make these arrangements and choices while you're as yet lucid and quiet."

3. Liquor

For something you taste, liquor conveys a huge amount of additional calories, so you might need to reduce significantly sooner than the week prior to your wedding. With respect to prompt impacts, liquor can make you look and feel puffy due its sulfur-bearing gases and different characteristics that debilitate your stomach related framework. Also, liquor expands your veins, which can prompt wedding picture-bargaining redness, says Debra Jaliman, creator of Skin Rules: Trade Secrets from a Top New York Dermatologist.

4. A New Workout

"Adhere to the standard you've been doing," says Melissa Paris, an affirmed gathering exercise educator and Lululemon represetative. "Presently isn't the ideal opportunity for new moves." Pulled muscles can take a long time to recuperate and you unquestionably would prefer not to be too sore to even think about getting down on the move floor. On the off chance that you will likely shed pounds, try to begin another work out regime a long time before your dress fittings. What's more, in case you're simply searching for a stunning method to calm pre-wedding pressure, snatch a companion for a snappy walk or keep running in the recreation center. "There is something in particular about being outside with a companion that is so useful," says Paris.

5. Splash Tan Booths

"Splash tanning in a stall might be a spending limit amicable choice for a sheltered, sunless sparkle, however there's a decent possibility the shading you get won't coordinate your skin tone just as other phony tanning choices," says Nina Patino, an aesthetician at Paul Labrecque Salon and Spa. As opposed to venturing into a case—which can bring about uneven shading on the off chance that you don't hold your body just so—it's ideal to have a pro expertly apply the tanning arrangement so it's equitably disseminated and supplements your skin shading, says Patino. Furthermore, remember to gently shed previously. "The shading will last more and you'll truly gleam as you stroll down the walkway," says Patino.

6. Switching Up Your Makeup

"Some of the time ladies alarm at last that they have excessively or too little cosmetics on," says Jodie Hazlewood, a London-based cosmetics craftsman who accomplishes in excess of 70 weddings every year and encourages proficient marriage cosmetics craftsman courses at the Jemma Kidd Makeup School in Notting Hill. "That is the reason during the preliminary—when they're in a considerably more normal perspective—I allow ladies to evaluate various looks." At the part of the bargain, trust in your cosmetics craftsman, who takes your skin type, age, haircut, wedding shading palette, and the time, area, and style of your day into thought when structuring your look. "Present day marriage cosmetics is similar to celebrity main street cosmetics," says Hazlewood. "It needs to look great on HD camcorders, proficient cameras, individual camera telephones, in splendid light and candlelight, just as keep going for a considerable length of time."

How would you ensure your skin is the ideal canvas for your big day cosmetics? "Water, water, water! Rest, rest, rest!" says Hazlewood. "Avoid sun beds and significant tanning. Also, don't stress a lot over breakouts! They can be effectively be secured by a decent cosmetics craftsman—as long as you don't contact or pick at the imperfections."

7. Juice Cleanses

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"I like to consider nourishment fuel," says Keri Gans, an enlisted dietitian and creator of The Small Change Diet. "You need calories to keep you caution and help you overcome your insane, occupied end of the week. It's not simply an opportunity to quit sustaining." Juice purges are extremely low in calories, sapping your vitality and making you fractious. What's more, washes down that incorporate for the most part natural product juices are high in sugar. "The prior week you ought to eat well-offset dinners with an attention on foods grown from the ground and drinking a lot of water—and don't skirt any suppers!" says Gans.

8. Strips and Microdermabrasion

A strip or microdermabrasion session guarantees sleek skin later on, however it's an absolute no-go the prior week you wedding. "In the wake of getting a compound strip or microdermabrasion a few people see their skin strip off over and over, which leaves dead skin superficially that can bunch together under cosmetics," says Patino. "Others see their skin get very red and disturbed." And wearing cosmetics, which is the reason you went in for a skin smoothing and purifying treatment in any case, can just anger that aggravation. "Timetable any arrangements for a strip, microdermabrasion, or different medicines like Botox, at any rate two weeks before your wedding on the off chance that there is any redness or wounding," says Jaliman.

9. New-to-You Skincare Products

"Try not to change your skincare routine in the event that you have less than about fourteen days to go before your wedding," says Jaliman. "You should transform it months ahead of time." Swapping in another item could prompt unfavorably susceptible response, dryness, sleekness, or a flock of opposite reactions that set aside some effort to address. "Make sure to see your dermatologist a couple of months early," says Rosemarie Ingleton, a board guaranteed dermatologist in New York City. "Your PCP can give you a customized pre-wedding skincare schedule, which will deliver your particular worries to ensure your skin is brilliant for the huge day. Your dermatologist ought to be up there on your daily agenda with the dress fittings and blooms."

10. Dusk 'til dawn affairs

Up throughout the night hand-emblazoning your function programs? Locate a loyal companion to fill in and get some rest! Lack of sleep can really influence your resistant framework. "You're bound to get a viral disease in the event that you haven't been getting enough rest," says Dr. Blunt Lipman, an integrative and practical medication doctor and originator of Eleven Wellness Center in New York City. Logging enough shut-eye likewise improves your composition, frees your eyes of dark circles, and—let's be honest—makes you a more joyful, more quiet lady of the hour. (Your wedding gathering will much obliged.)

[jshoulson]

Today's Poem

Macha --Monica McClure

All my feelings are different and this one is the most

Of all places here where women once retired from the men for fear of boring them

I am so bloody in my own bath of wild hairs that I couldn't possibly join you tonight for that colonial thing

Heroin or whore Babylon or Bethlehem

No matter what I'm followed by mosquitos

Flitting dicks who want me to teach them about themselves

But everything I know is contained in capsules of macha that break down in my bloodstream

And I wouldn't recommend it for the fairer sex who should buck up and study up on their condition

I used to feel sick for all my sloth but not anymore

In wanting to please I have sinned In leaning in I have sinned

In breaking in two I feel sin So

Vete ya A haircut and a hard cock is all I need

To govern a family My rod

cutting them down supplicant on the ground

For I was the first real white girl ever born in this country of flat skulls

That's why I'm so cocky with my staff

and my rule rock hard and inconsistent with my favor

The mouths of L'Age d'Or sucked well at my pre-war stockings before cocktail hour

Bells rang and trays of mosquitos were served with tarts

We hadn't meant to kill them with La Macha which includes but is not limited to:

a goddess religion unfaultering at the altar of shade an erotics of object-identification and compassion extending beyond the grave

My sister and I drank mournfully but afterwards we still danced all night

wearing quite literally bedazzled bustiers and veils of a dead boy's smoke

que mala after beating their macho dead in ultra-feminine swoops

How do they want us to think of them now our brothers haviing left so little charisma behind

on the internet to aggrandize

Such small mosquitos And though we are mourning we are still so macha

as we chip the thin teeth of traitors and huff the scent of babies and slap each other on the asses and father seven times and punish the bull with its own marbled horns

But though we're cocky we are still martyrs My sister says quita la macha and I'm like why

It's okay to make up slogans in the spirit of revolution and she's like ok but

after you systematically destroy machismo you must put his teeth to gnash at your engorged breasts for any sort of catagenesis to occur

and I'm like that could be hot But it isn't the new love conceived by and for macha

or is it? idk idk either i really dk

So we taught our brothers all these methods of cameo that they may take a small symbol of macha to wear around their necks to the part of culture where the money used to be kept

May they remember the strength of their mother's biceps as they show mercy to their fathers who are teleological

till the end of supremacy which is the beginning of macha

Kiss the black lips that feed you the corn hips that rock you and blight the prayers after you've said them

Santa Mala Madre de Mala ruega por nosotros pecadores ahora y en la ahora de nuestra muerte

Hand me my beads War without end Amén

[sinkingorswimming]

"Sunrise" of the In the Heights OST

*these are just all gonna be the x-men au now, i got eaten by it, i have no control anymore sorry*

“I have no idea what to do with this,” Celestino admits an hour after the commotion at Webster Hall with a vague wave of his left hand.

This being Longshot, who smiles at him, his mouth shaping into a pink heart.

“It’s why we brought him to you,” Phichit says. “You’re the one who knows weird.”

Celestino gives Phichit a sigh and an exasperated look. “Television,” he says as he absently ties up his hair. “A dimension ruled by television.”

Longshot shrugs with a softer smile.

“Well,” Celestino says. “We’ll find a way to get you home, Longshot, since your revolution sounds like it can use all the help it can get.”

Longshot nods with a combination of gratitude and resignation. He folds his hands over his mouth, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

It’s Sunday in the West Village loft Phichit and Yuuri call theirs. They share bunk beds so Yuuri can have a workspace for his studies and his writing and so Phichit has space for his rigs. Phichit’s an NYU student too, he’s in Tisch, and he single-handedly keeps the corner bodega in business because of an addiction to their egg sandwiches.

Celestino gets up, and he makes a face like he just recalled something. “Right,” he says. He picks up a large shopping bag that says Intoxicated by Giacometti on the side. “Chris had prototypes for Fall ‘18 lying around. Longshot looks like he’s a sample size—he said he figured he shouldn’t draw as much attention in these.”

Longshot takes the black bag with metallic blue and purple writing. He holds up a grey and black sweater, pawing at its fabric like he’s a stranger to the concept of wool.

He may be, Yuuri realizes. “We’ll get you showered and prettied up,” Phichit says to Longshot with a wink.

“I’m already pretty, it’s part of my design,” Logshot says with a raised eyebrow.

“You have a mullet,” Phichit counters. “No one in New York City has a mullet. It’s gotta go.”

Longshot gives Phichit a confused stare, and Yuuri clears his throat. “He means you need a haircut. Between the color and the style, you’ll stand out too much. It’s either we dye it or we cut it.”

Longshot touches his hair, the strands sliding through his (four still how the fuck) fingers. “Cut it,” he says after a few minutes contemplation.

Phichit smiles and Yuuri nods. He leads Longshot to the bathroom—it’s surprisingly decent for its size, no bathtub though. Just a decent shower and pair sinks. Yuuri gets a spare towel and wash cloth of him. “Okay my soap is the white and green bar, Phichit’s the blue one—mine smells like cedar, is flowers and—” 

Yuuri stops and swallows like a huge rock is in his throat. Longshot’s already mostly naked, and yes he’s beautiful, like a Greek statue, but his spine—

Instead of a subtle ident curving down his back, his vertebrae protrude like if an invertebrate made him. Yuuri stares, partially because it’s a new sight, but also because it’s…appealing “Do they hurt?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Longshot looks over his shoulder at him. “Not really,” he replies. “You can touch them, if you like.”

Yuuri comes close, reaches to the one at the base of his neck, and runs his hands over it, the holographic teal glitter nail lacquer bright against Longshot’s pale skin. It feels like a really large knuckle, but on his back. His skin is warm, smooth, and soft. 

Longshot smiles over his shoulder. “That feels good.”

Yuuri clears his throat and takes two steps back. He clears his throat. “Well, um—” He turns to the sink, grabbing the MAC wipes and his glasses. He deals with his make up at his desk since the light’s better. “Hot water runs out after fifteen minutes. Try to be quick.”

He hightails it out of the bathroom with his face like a tomato, falling gracelessly into his make up chair and wiping his face down. Once there’s only a touch of blue in his eyelashes, he throws the used towelettes out and groans. 

Phichit hangs upside down from the top bunk by his tail. “Your merch sales are improving,” he says. “We’re out of a few t-shirts and some posters—should I restock or should we make new designs? We have that one photoshoot we did with the blue and gold jacket—”

“The alternate take of the indigo outfit with the crystals,” Yuuri answers as he removes the purple lenses and puts on his blue half-rimmed eyeglasses. He shakes his hair loose out of his stage style and puts on a plain lip balm flavored like melons.

“Oooh yes!” Phichit accesses the file on the cloud and sends it to their printshop. “Perfect.”

Yuuri puts on a pair of skinny denim jeans and a slightly-oversized oatmeal and navy striped sweater. His socks are navy with cream colored dogs on them. The water cuts off and he grabs his clippers and a pair of scissors. Phichit flips upright into his bed. “I’m gonna nap.”

“Kay,” Yuuri answers. He knocks before entering to a Longshot in a burgundy t-shirt with a silver abstract print and dark gray denim. Chris provided him a pair of Chuck Taylors the same color as the shirt, and there’s a soft looking leather jacket on the back of the toilet. “Sit please, back to me.”

Longshot does. Yuuri combs out his wet hair, then gets to work shearing off the length first and then clipping down the sides and back, leaving it long in the front and on top. It’s a respectable yet fashionable hairstyle. Yuuri uses the blow-dryer phichit uses for his body and when he’s finished, he puts a bit of product in it. 

His hair is soft and smells like Yuuri’s shampoo, and Yuuri has to step back a second time.

Longshot stands and looks in the mirror. He nods with approval. “You do good work, beautiful,” he says. 

Yuuri gives him a strange look. 

“You look good with the make up,” Longshot elaborates. “But this is better.” He rakes his eyes up and down Yuuri.

Yuuri stammers with his eyes wide. “Pancakes.”

“What?” Longshot asks.

“Breakfast food,” Yuuri manages. “Uh—eating? We…eat. Yeah.”

He turns away and scoots out of the bathroom, Longshot following. Yuuri texts Phichit that they went out so he’ll see it when he wakes up. He locks the door and they walk down the six flights of stairs to the street. Empire Diner’s not a long walk, and Longshot keeps looking up and around as they head to the restaurant. 

“What’s that?” he asks. It’s a building with a red awning, bins of bright flowers in the front, and smells wafting from it. 

“A bodega,” Yuuri replies. 

Longshot gives him a curious look.

Yuuri blinks. “Right um—it’s a Spanish word for corner store, basically. They sell flowers, groceries, sandwiches, beer—it’s easier than a big grocery sometimes.”

“Gro-cer-ies,” Longshot sounds out. “I don’t know—”

“Food,” Yuuri answers, kind of taken aback. “We have to buy food to cook and live off of. A grocer provides it.”

“Major Gosha fed us,” Longshot says. “When we’d be taken out of stasis to perform for Yakov’s shows. He’d wake us, give us the food, wardrobe, hair, and make up, and then showtime!”

“Well, we make three meals a day or buy them from a restaurant,” Yuuri elaborates. “Restuarants are expensive, but I got paid for the show last night even though—well you were there. Anyways, I’m buying you brunch. My treat as a Welcome to Earth, Longshot! gift.”

“Victor,” he says. “I want you to call me Victor. The others can call me Longshot—but please, beauitful, call me Victor.”

Yuuri feels the heat flood his face. He bites back an awkward reply, opening the Diner’s door instead. They’re shown to a window-side booth, and Victor looks up and around with wonder like a child. 

The waitress comes over. “Hi guys, what’ll it be to drink?”

“Coffee please,” Yuuri answers. “Two of them.”

Long…Victor gives her a bright smile. “Yes this…coffee!”

She flushes and giggles before leaving, and Yuuri’s less flustered the next time his dining compainion smiles at him. He does it to everyone, Yuuri realizes. 

Okay.

“What is…a waffle?” he asks, saying “whuffle” instead of the correct pronunciation.

“Waffles are like a bread thing that’s sweet,” Yuuri explains. 

“Avocado?” he’s asked.

“It’s a vegetable that’s soft and green on the inside,” Yuuri says, feeling like Human Google.

His companion keeps looking. “We just eat this Nutrient drink; it’s peach and flavorless. This is all very complex.”

“Wait you’ve…never had food?” The disappointment vanishes because what the fuck?

“The Spineless Ones get to have the food,” Victor says. “Entertainers get nutrients.The Spineless Ruling Class eats real food.”

Of course Yuuri’s heard of socities like this—pre-Revolution France, third world nations—but it’s different knowing someone from one, seeing them in real life and hearing them discuss it.

Especially since he sounds so calm and matter-of-fact.

“Order whatever you like,” Yuuri says. “However much of it you want.”

Victor looks at him, but he doesn’t seem to understand the bit about the financials. His eyes are confused but grateful, like he understands Yuuri’s gift but doesn’t at the same time. The server brings their coffee and asks for their orders—Yuuri gets the salmon pastrami avo toast, and Victor orders both the pancakes and the waffle.

The way he lights up when he gets his first bites, the happiness and excitement in his expression and voice—risks to himself be damned.

Yuuri’s gonna help him.