#I think because it reminds me of Monopoly 'you have won second place in a beauty contest'

[m0ose-idiot]

So someone said to me "Hey, the Geelong Show is coming up, you should enter your lil crochet Ghosts!" and I was like, yeah I really should, and guess what

Heeeee! 🥳🎉👻❤️

[honeyhuun]

different types of dates with lee jangjun

~ type . headcanon

~ requested . no

~ pairing . jangjun x gender-neutral!reader

~ genre . fluffy fluff !!

~ tw . mentions of alcohol 

~ song recommendation . hold by winner

~ a/n . so i was watching that one jangstar episode with daeyeol and seeing jangjun on the rooftop screaming into the open air, gave me an idea... hence why this scenario exists. hope you enjoy and continue to love our jangstar with all the stars in the universe.

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- now jangjun would absolutely LOVE spending time with you

- it is probably his favourite thing to do in the world 

- when both of you guys are free he is attached to you at the hip

- when you meet at your date place he would hug you so so tight and like not let go

- you had to remind him that you had a date to be continuing but he’d be all whiny and ask for five more minutes in your arms

- dates for him are the perfect way to gain energy

- because of his busy schedule he isn’t able to see you as often as he wants too

- so maybe one or two dates a week if he isn’t extremely busy

- now let’s get onto jangjun’s personal favourite dates

- he would always ask for your input but these are his favourite ways to spend time with you

- ice cream dates !!

- jangjun seems like such a sweetie

- and what’s a better way to prove that than buying you something that’s as sweet as both of you

- the two of you are frequents to the ice cream place near his dorms

- i swear even if it’s -1 degrees outside he would be like “ight it’s ice cream time”

- he would drag you into the store by your hand and asked what flavour you wanted

- when you said something different to the usual he said “ooo spicing it up a bit now aren’t we jagi, would you be able to handle it ~” (teasing shit)

- his eyes would grow so large at the wide array of flavours, watching them being scooped into bowls diligently

- jangjun would order one bowl of the dessert instead of two, having your chosen flavours on one side and his on the other

- he just loves sharing things with you and it makes it easier if he wants to feed you some of his ice cream

- if your order was slightly incorrect he wouldn’t hesitate to call out the poor worker 

- “excuse me sir, my jagi ordered two scoops of cookies n’ cream, why is there only one?”  *you dying of embarrassment next to him* “jangjun honey, it’s alright-��� “nu uh, my baby doesn’t deserve this absolutely disgraceful service. y’know what? we are going to a different store next time, this is unacceptable-” *then proceeds to go to the same place with you next week*

- would sit you down in a small booth in a corner and just talk to you about your day

- dates are basically like catch up time for him

- because of the nature of his work there aren’t very many times where he can just talk with you

- he loves to be filled in with all the things happening with your life

- jangjun is an amazing listener, he would bring up shit you said like 50 years ago that you barely remember yourself “ahh y/n how was your weekend off at jeju? what did you do?”

- would totally do that thing they do in dramas. when you have some ice cream on you lips he’d lean in and swipe it off with his thumb (lee jangjun the napkin was right there >:) 

- he would get a bit embarrassed afterwards but it made you giggle so it’s one hundred percent worth it in his eyes

- insists to feed you, you’re his baby there’s no getting away from “say ahhh”

- loves to kiss you during these moments, his heart just swells with so much emotion seeing your cheeks full or seeing you suffer from a brainfreeze

- you would always taste the syrupy sweetness on his lips and the cold from the ice soon turned into warmth

- laser tag dates !!

- jangjun lives for your smile

- it actually completes him

- there are two quick ways to make you smile

- making you laugh and teasing you

- and during laser tag dates he always does an over abundance of both ~

- on this occasion he brought joochan and donghun along (he didn’t do it willingly, they begged him to earth and back and promised not to mess up the date) (if you count stealing a good chunk of your attention from jangjun a ruined date, then yeah they did :)) 

- so we now have a pouty jangjun who wants your attention very much because you’re talking to donghun more than him

- he get’s the perfect opportunity to get back at you when you’re put on opposite teams

- you and donghun vs.  jangjun and joochan let’s go >:

- jangjun would always try and distract you by doing cute shit but it would never work

- even forgets about donghun he only has eyes for you, even when he’s trying to get you to lose 

- “it would be amazing if my wonderful very beautiful y/n came over here for a second.” “lee jangjun do you think i’m daft” “daft for my love now come here-”

- when you try to shoot him and miss (you swear you hit his sensor though) he pokes his tongue out and runs off

- strong advocator against camping, he says it isn’t fair and a cheap strategy (it’s just that he’s never paying 100% of his attention to the game and gets caught out by donghun because he’s too busy looking at you)

- jangjun is so so so so so so in love with you but will never out rightly admit just how much he does, but it’s so evident in how he looks at you and in the little things (like not shooting you when he has the perfect opportunity to) 

- i have a feeling he’d just randomly do the choreo to something like genie in the middle of the game and get pissy when someone catches him out

- turns out joochan wasn’t as good as a teammate as he thought when they lost to a cleverly planned ambush by you and donghun

- he swears his day can’t get any worse being betrayed by his partner and bandmates, but give him five minutes and a few pats on the head and he’s all yours again

- lovesick puppy ;-;

- board game dates !!

- sometimes the weather doesn’t always permit you to be able to go outside

- so on days of extreme weather he’d always show up to your door with heavy bags filled with unhealthy snacks, a blanket or two, alcohol (it’s no secret how much he likes to drink) and a few board games to try out

- after setting everything up he’d take a shot of soju to feel buzzed and doesn’t forget to feed you a bit before you start. he will not let his baby play with an empty stomach >:

- you guys always start with a classic: monopoly

- picks hat or dog; thinks the car is ugly

- cheats, like a lot.

- “jangjun you moved your piece ahead like fifty spaces bring it back- we both were on go a few minutes ago !!” “jagi what are you talking about? i was always there!!” *secretly moves his piece two spaces forward*

- goes to jail a lot but almost immediately gets a jail out free card (he isn’t cheating for this one, he just has luck you could only dream of)

- laughs so loudly when you land on his property and have to pay up, holds his hand out for the money and you wish you could beat him up; only with love though ~

- gets on his knees and begs you to give him four, hundred notes when he’s on the verge of bankruptcy 

- you never agree and he always ends up loosing, accuses you of cheating and you can only laugh

- “you won AGAIN? y/n stop cheating, it isn’t fair-” “lovely to hear that from you lee jangjun...” “at least i cheat with pride and dignity!”

- will reluctantly move on to jenga

- even more tipsy this time, you’re the same (if you drink that is)

- makes up stupid dares you have to do if you lose

- it’s probably shit like running outside of your place into the street screaming or aegyo

- both for his personal enjoyment and good photos

- this is where you guys get serious

- no love just “YOU WERE THE ONE THAT TOUCHED IT LAST” “NO I WASN’T MY ARM WAS RIGHT HERE” “LIAR-”

- once you had a really long game and it looked like jangjun was going to win but you sneezed and made him lose focus

- as we have already established you are his baby, you can’t be sick wtf that’s a crime

- gives you the death stare as the tower topples

- *proceeds to do the most over the top aegyo you’ve ever seen before going back to giving you the death stare*

- just kiss him and he’d forget why he was even mad at you in the first place

- now he’s basically drunk at this point, slurring his words and refusing to let you out of his vice grip

- being smart you try to get him to bed but he refuses wanting to play one more game. what are you supposed to do, say no?

- that game ends up being charades !! jangjun is normally really good at this game, when he is sober that is...

- can not guess what you are doing for the life of him

- “giraffe, polar bear, gorilla-” *you were acting out excitement. the emotion.*

- giggles cutely when you guess correctly what he’s trying to

- his cheeks are all red form all the alcohol and i’m-

- both of you (only him if you’re not drunk) pass out on the couch just wrapped in blankets with your bodies smooshed together

- jangjun wakes up in the morning very happy despite his raging hangover

- video call dates !!

- jangun is an idol, the nature of his work means he can’t see you as often as he’d like

- even when he’s free your schedule sometimes doesn’t match up with his free days

- this problem won’t stop jangjun from trying to spend time with you, if he can’t smooch you in person he would give his laptop screen all the smooches in the world to make up for it :<

- video call dates are absolutely necessary to your relationship and they are your most common date 

- jandjun would legit go insane without seeing your face for too long

- lost in the waves of constant dance practice, recordings and promotions you ground him

- you’re like his safe space, he can be as uncensored with you as he you wants (if jangjun is holding himself back in normal recordings just imagine how he’d be with you alone)

- so video call dates would happen very often definitely a minimum of three times a week

- y’all would do many things, maybe he would be studying japanese and you reading something required for work or school

- he could be working out and just called you to give him motivation

- but the most common type of video call dates are your mukbang ones

- jangjun loves to see you eat

- one of his favourite things is to share a meal with you

- so during dinner times, he thanks who ever cooked the food (ngl it’s probably takeout), took it to his room, told seungmin to go somewhere else for 30 minutes and turned on his laptop to call you

- smily when you answer and sees your face

- “y/n !! how was your day angel? i was missing you a lot today, have you eaten? no? go and get something then, i can hear your tummy rumbling from our dorm. we can have a little dinner date!!” 

- help i am helplessly in love with this man and i don’t know what to do >:

- brings his food up to the camera “it looks good right~”

- WILL try and feed you through the screen and ends up spilling a bit on his keyboard

- will let you do the talking, will just eat happily nodding along adding input when needed

- jangjun fluffy cheeks full of food; my favourite concept ~

- will pout when he has to end the call because seungmin needs something in their room

- “i’ll talk you later y/n, always missing you~”

- rooftop dates !!

- jangjun’s final fav type of date

- he doesn’t want to do these too often, they need to feel extremely special

- when he knows you’ve been having a hard time recently or he hasn’t seen you in a while, jangjun would ask you to come to the rooftop of his dorm or company

- this where you would see him at his most romantic

- jangjun isn’t one for grand gestures and deep heartfelt declarations of love

- he shows his love in little ways most of the time but he just feels the obligation to do something bigger once in a while

- when you arrive at the rooftop, it’s decorated with fairy lights and pillows

- jangjun would sneak up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders giving you a jumpscare

- “BOO !! hehe i scared you right ~ so... do you like it? i had youngtaek help me with it, i promised to buy him food afterwards. see, i owe someone food because of you-”

- would lead you to the pile of blankets plopping down first, patting the space next him

- won’t hesitate to burry himself into you his excuse being “i might not be able to do this again for a while” ;-;

- he would prefer rooftop dates in the day because cloud gazing is much more fun to him than stargazing

- jangjun would point out like really obscure and hard to see shapes in the clouds “oh my god jagi, look at this one !! it looks like burger ~” “hun are you hungry?” “maybe...”

- he’d also enjoy looking down at the street seeing people going about with life, it just made him feel more apart of something and not just a lonely island in the idol world

- if you really really liked the stars he’d change the plans to be in the evening instead (only because he has more chances to stare at you when you’re concentrated on trying to find patterns in the sky)

- would say shit like “the sky looks amazing, but not as amazing as you ;)” and you’d want to push him off

- honestly you’re the only person jangjun would ever stoop this low for in the realms of cheesiness 

- moments like this would be the only times he’d ever tell you he loved you

- it’s not like he never feels it, because trust me he does every single moment he’s with you

- he would always say things like “you know you love me ~” often but it was always in playful jest (and when he mildly pisses you off oops-)

- those three words were only saved for perfect moments like this and you knew he meant them every time

- you guys would be looking up at the sky and he’d just grab your hand and rub your thumb saying how seriously lucky he is to know you and how he’d never imagine in a million years to be able to call you his, while cuddling closer to you. you’d just smile because lee jangjun- and he’d press his lips on the shell of your ear and say softly “i love you”

- (clock by infinite just came on DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE OKAY RIGHT NOW)

- then he moved to your lips and i’m a goner-

- this is definitely the sappiest you’d ever see jangjun but this side of him was very very very cute n’ soft indeed

- would just lay with you forever and ever just enjoying your presence

- as long as your there jangjun would never look at anything that isn’t you

- lee jangjun just enjoys spending time with you so so much, it’s when he’s really at his happiest and most carefree

- make sure to take him to all your favourite places in return, he’d love to see all the things that make you happy :((

a/n . this killed me from the inside out, i love this boy so much- to whoever is reading this jangjun and golcha love you so much :(

[thoughtsaboutshows]

"I though you loved me.” “Get over it, it’s just monopoly.”

Post Part-4 Witchy AU 

“So we’re set for Saturday then?”  Sabrina asked Roz as she pulled her history book out of her locker.  For Sabrina, the first class of the day was boring and wildly inaccurate.  And the annoyance had only gotten worse when Nick Scratch started attending Baxter High and began whispering to her under his breath just how much mortals got history wrong.  He’d nearly gotten them in trouble multiple times but Nick smirked and charmed them out of it, typically earning a smack from Sabrina to which he just smirked more.

“Yup!”  Roz confirmed, leaning against the locker next to Sabrina’s.  “Theo’s gonna stop at Dr. Cee’s to pick up food, Harvey will grab drinks out of his Father’s no longer in use liquor cabinet, and I will bring the music.”  

“And I got the games and location!”  Sabrina nodded as she closed her locker door.  She should have known she was about to yelp in shock when Roz pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh and looked down.  But she’d realized it too late and suddenly she was squealing in surprise as a steady pair of arms wrapped around her waist from behind, lifting her up.  A pair of warm lips pressed to her cheek and she giggled on instinct, praying his lips didn’t travel further as no one needed to hear the noises he’d draw if he reached her neck. 

“Nick!  Put me down!”  Sabrina cried, smiling wide as  Nick nuzzled his nose in her hair.  She had used her rose shampoo that morning and was one of Nick’s favorites.  It reminded him of walking through the woods with her.  Or perhaps the real reason why was because she sometimes let him massage it into her hair when they showered together.  Roz waved and scurried away in search of Harvey as Sabrina was obviously distracted by her warlock boyfriend wrapping her in his arms.  Roz didn’t mind, enjoying the beaming smile that was plastered on Sabrina’s face ever since the two had reconciled.  

“Fine.”  Nick said as he set her back on her feet.  But she still felt his sly grin on her face and his arms around her waist, despite the fact that she was on solid ground.  “But, babe, if you think I’m letting you go, you’re crazy.” 

“Nick…”  Sabrina breathed out as his lips reached the spot below her ear, and she knew she had to halt the breaks or they’d both get written up for indecency in the hallway.  So she turned in his arms instead and pulled him close so her back was against her locker and he was cradling her in his grasp.  She reached up and brushed away a curl and then grazed his cheek with her painted nails, perfectly aware of the hypocrisy of her next statement.  “Why so touchy this morning?”  

“Well someone sent me back to the Academy last night so I didn’t get to wake up with my girlfriend.”  Nick narrowed her eyes at her, only slightly faking his annoyance.  She rolled her eyes at his pouting and moved her hand to massage his brow, trying to get the furrow to un-crease.  

“Come on, you know why I did that.”  Sabrina said biting back a laugh at the way his pout only seemed to grow when she tilted her head and explained.  “It was one night, Nick.  We’ve hardly spent a night apart since-”

“Since you came back from the dead.”  Nick finished for her with a more intentional tone and took a slight step closer when he saw the way she cringed at his words.  When she wouldn’t meet his eyes he sighed and tilted her chin up with his finger, brushing her bottom lip and preventing her from biting on it like she so often did when upset.  “Spellman, I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to keep you all to myself it’s just that...”  She blinked at him a few times and didn’t try to stop a tear from falling down her cheek.  Nick didn’t hesitate to wipe it away with his thumb, but he wouldn’t let his own tears fall.  Not here in the halls of Baxter High, that was meant for the safety of Sabrina’s bedroom.  “It’s hard for me to accept sometimes that you’re actually here.  That you’re not going to slip through my fingers again.”  

“Nick.”  Sabrina didn’t care what anyone would think at that moment.  She placed her warm hand on the back of Nick’s neck and brought his face down to hers and pressed their foreheads together.  He sighed into the touch, remembering how cold her hands had been when she’d died.  “I know it’s a lot to wrap our heads around.  Me dying and Hecate bringing me back.  I remember what it was like when you were in Hell and…”  Sabrina swallowed down the crushing pain of when she had to hand Nick over to Lilith.   “And I don’t want to be separated from you either.  But when you lost me, my family did too.”  She paused again and gave him her puppy dog eyes, the same one she sent his way when she’d convinced him her party at the mortuary was a good idea.  “And last night Ambrose and I needed a cousin night.”  

“Sabrina, I’m not upset you sent me away to hang with Ambrose.”  Nick grumbled and Sabrina giggled in response, sneaking a kiss on his cheek.  

“Then what are you upset about, Nicholas?”  Sabrina wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer as his hands went to her waist.  He looked down and shook his head, giving in eventually and meeting her eyes.  She was biting her lip, not in a worried way, but in a way that knew she was about to get exactly what she wanted.  The smile he gave her was adorable and one only she got to see.

“I just missed you is all.”  He shrugged and picked at her jacket.  He didn’t expect her to kiss him, but when she leaned up just a little bit and pressed her ruby red lips to his he couldn’t help but respond.  Kissing him randomly whenever she pleased cemented even further that she was here.  When the bell rang they broke apart, still breathing heavy despite the fact they’d kept the kiss PG-13.

“I missed you too, Scratch.”  She wiped her lipstick off of his lips before grabbing his hand and pulling him to first period.  “And you can stay over tonight.  And after game night Saturday.”  

“Well obviously I’m doing that, Spellman.”  He lifted their hands to his mouth and brushed hit against his lips.  “I have some games planned of my own.”

                            -

Nick sighed as he dug into more of the chili fries and leaned against the foot of the couch.  He, Sabrina and her friends had just finished a game of Sorry and somehow Harvey had managed to knock him back to the beginning four times.  He didn’t take it personally, but didn’t rule out hexing him in the near future.  Thankfully Robin ended up winning and Nick didn’t even try to hide his smile when Harvey huffed in annoyance.  Earlier they’d played Yahtzee and the mortals had made Nick, Sabrina, and Roz swear they wouldn’t charm the dice.  Nick was tempted but played fair.  And Sabrina didn’t even cross her fingers, but she won anyways. 

Sabrina dropped the final board game box on the floor and Nick turned his head to the side, slightly perplexed.  

“And now, the pièce de résistance, Monopoly.”  Sabrina smirked and plopped back on the ground next to Nick and placed her hand on his knee.  She turned to him to explain.  “This ones all about buying properties, building houses and hotels, and basically just taking everyone’s money.”

“And this one is way too good at it.”  Theo said as he pointed his finger at Sabrina.  She wrinkled her nose in response and leaned further into Nick who gazed at her adoringly.  

“Oh yeah?”  Nick wrapped his arm around her waist tighter and jostled her.  “You’re a Moneypoly master?”  

“Monopoly Nick.”  Sabrina laughed before ruffling his hair.  “And yes.  I win every time.” 

“She’s not even exaggerating either.”  Roz pointed out before taking a sip of her drink.  “She either wins or she gets so ahead that we all just quit.”  

“Well I just so happen to be very good at property acquisition.  I’ve been in charge of the Scratch Family assets for years.”  Nick teased, directly to Sabrina as she leaned in and brushed his nose with hers. 

“It’s more than just property acquisition, Scratch.  It’s also about luck.” 

“I also happen to know I’m extremely lucky.”  He was closer to her now, and they were both caught up in it.  Neither noticed the groans and whistles from their friends when Nick weaved his hand in her hair and pulled her in for a kiss.  

“We’ll see about that.”  Sabrina retorted with a wink when she pulled back, pecking his lips one more time before opening the box and beginning to explain the rules.  Nick hung on her every word, keeping his eyes on her lips as she enthusiastically explained each pawn and claiming the dog as her own.  Salem meowed in disagreement with that. And when she shrugged her familiar off he jumped into Nick’s lap, seeking affection from him.  

Nick caught on quick, getting himself out of jail right away every time.  Meanwhile Sabrina hadn’t managed to get any properties of quality and landed on the tax square one too many times.  

In the end, Nick had hotels on both Park Place and Boardwalk and their friends started to go bankrupt one by one.  Harvey was the first to go, having spent most of his money on buying houses on his properties so he had no money left when he landed on Nick’s spaces.  Roz and Robin went next, leaving Theo and Sabrina to take Nick down.  Theo gave up after landing on both expensive pieces of real estate, and Sabrina grew more determined by the second.  

No one had ever beaten her in Monopoly before, not even Ambrose and not even when he’d charmed the board.  Sabrina had just undone the magic and dumped her glass of chocolate milk on him.  She was seven at the time. 

She had been through a lot in her sixteenth year, but nothing prepared her for the dread and rage that fueled her celestial blood when she landed on Park Place, and knew she did not have enough money to pay.  Nick had been wearing his signature smirk all game, but it had reached a whole new level when he realized he was about to win.  Their friends noticed what happened too, and were quick to egg her on and cheer for Nick.  Sabrina was drinking wine now and came very close to dumping it on them all. 

“Come on, Nick.  You can give me a discount.”  Sabrina batted her eyelashes at him and traced his jaw with her fingers.  She’d been bartering with him for the past few minutes and decided to change tactics, knowing he struggled to resist her.  

“Rules are rules, Spellman.”  Nick smacked his lips and shook his head, making her hand fall away from his face.  “No discounts allowed.  You told me so when I tried to negotiate with Roz.”

“But I have something you really really want.”  She narrowed her eyes at him and slid her hand up his thigh.  He did his best to not let on how affected he was by her hand movements, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart.  She didn’t care that her friends were right there.  She simply wanted to win.

“And I really really want to win this game of Monopoly.”  Sabrina scrunched her nose when she realized he wasn’t giving in.  He kissed it to prove his point before holding out his hand, palm up.  “Fork over the cash, Spellman or declare bankruptcy.”  

“You know I don’t have the money, Nick.”  Sabrina narrowed her eyes, voice dripping in annoyance.  

“Well then.”  He brushed a curl back and she smacked his hand away.  “I win.” 

Sabrina’s friends cheered and Sabrina leaned her head back and covered her face with her hands, still refusing to accept her defeat verbally.  

"Ugh. I thought you loved me, Nicholas.” 

“Get over it, it’s just monopoly, Spellman.”  He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her hair before whispering in her ear.  “And get over me later.” 

His husky voice made her blush and blood run hot despite how frustrated she was at losing to him.

“Okay well this was fun guys!”  Sabrina bolted from his side and stood up, beginning to clean up.  She ignored Nick’s smug look, knowing that it seemed like she was kicking them out so she could bring Nick upstairs.  And if she was honest?  That was exactly what she was doing.    

“Thanks for having all of us, Brina.”  Theo said as he hugged her goodbye.  Sabrina hugged the rest of her friends too while Nick waved his hands to pack all the board games up.  They both waved them off from the porch and when they drove away and their taillights were out of view, Nick turned to her.

“Sooo, Spellman.”  She pressed her lips together and turned to him, raising her eyebrows in his direction.  “You up for another round?”

“You think I’m gonna sleep with you after you crushed me in Monopoly?”  

“Sabrina!” Nick mock scoffed and pressed his hand to his chest.  “I meant a game.  Who do you take me for?” 

“Someone who’s gonna spend another night at the Academy if he isn’t careful.”  Sabrina crossed her hands and smirked at him, enjoying how his eyes lost their playful glint and went dark. 

“You wouldn’t dare, Spellman.”  He stepped closer to her and grabbed her waist and pinned her to the railing, similar to how he had her pressed against the lockers a few days ago.  

“Well I don’t know, Nicholas.”  Sabrina shrugged and pretended to consider sending him away.  “What’s your offer?”

“My offer?  It’s simple, Sabrina.”  He raised his eyebrows and leaned close to her ear whispering everything he wanted to do to her, making promises that made her toes curl just thinking about it.  Images of him between her legs flooded her brain as her eyes fluttered and rolled into the back of her head.  She was grateful the rest of her family were gone for the night as it seemed Nick had plenty in store for the two of them. 

“Nick…”  She barely got out with her exhale as he nibbled on her ear.  “I accept.  Take me upstairs.  Now.”  

Nick wasted no time, teleporting them to her room and tossing her to the bed.  She was frustrated from losing the game and from the way Nick was staring at her.  She’d never admit it to him, but she found the way he’d immersed himself into a mortal board game incredibly sexy.  

After kissing her soundly on the mouth and starting the trail down lower he paused. 

“I can stay right?”  His hair was already messy and he was panting, breathing heavy.  She brushed his hair back and he nearly whimpered at the intimacy of it. 

“Oh you’re not going anywhere.”  She winked at him before pushing his head back to her body.  She may have lost monopoly, but right now she was the winner. 

[amethystroselilith]

I don’t know if you’ve done something like this but a head cannon or fic the brothers and mc playing a game of monopoly that gets heated I mean like, tables have been flipped, fires have been caused at some point, and yelling. Lots of yelling.

I’m not sure if this is chaotic enough for you, but I hope you’ll still like it, anon! :)

Brothers x MC Playing Monopoly

You are currently in your room, on your bed, leaning against a snacking Beel and cradling a napping Belphie to your chest.

In front of you three, are the two eldest brothers, arguing over what to put on the tv.

“Play in your fucking room, Levi! I wanna watch Harrison Porter!” Mammon growled, trying to hold Levi in a headlock.

“Take your own advice and watch it in your own room! Y/N and I need to play this asap!” Levi growled, protecting the remove to his chest.

You sighed, it’s a common occurrence and you’re just waiting for another brother to burst in the room to complain about the noises the two are making.

“Can you two stop bickering?” the door opened, revealing Lucifer, who looks tired.

“I will if Levi will just give me the fucking remote!” Mammon growled, reaching for the remote, only for Levi to push him back.

“As if! This is way more important than your show!” Levi growled, using his foot to shove Mammon away.

“What’s that?” you asked curiously at the box Lucifer was carrying.

It also caught everyone’s attention, except for Belphie who just nuzzled on your chest, sleeping peacefully.

“Diavolo had returned from the human world and bought this as a souvenir, he claimed you have talked to him about this board game?” Lucifer explained as he showed the box.

“Oh, Monopoly!” you smiled, “Yeah, it’s basically a game about money-”

“Let’s play it!” Mammon pushed Levi, who groaned in annoyance when he hit the floor, “I wonder how much money I can make.” he grinned as he snatched the board game from an irritated Lucifer.

“We use fake money.” you chuckled, “It’s basically buying properties and hope someone lands on them so you can earn money back.” 

“Eh? Can we use real money?” Mammon suggested.

“Do you even have enough on you to play?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow, “Because I just received-”

“Alright, alright, enough!” Mammon huffed with an embarrassed blush.

Lucifer smirked before turning back to the game, “Anyway, Diavolo’s begging us to play it as soon as possible. Apparently, he wants us to be familiarised with since he’ll be throwing a board game night next week or something.” he sighed, “Might as well get it over with so I can go back to my work.”

~~~

“These pieces don’t make sense,” Asmo commented as he’s trying to choose which piece to use.

“It doesn’t really matter, Asmo, just choose something,” Satan said, quickly taking the cat piece.

“Fine, I’ll get the car.” Asmo rolled his eyes about to pick the said piece.

“But I want the car,” Mammon whined, stopping Asmo.

Lucifer sighed, picking a random one, which happened to be the top hat, “Asmo, just give it to him, I don’t want to hear his annoying whines for the whole night.”

“I guess I’ll take this.” Belphie shrugged as he took the dog.

“...but I want the dog…” Beel pouted, ending up with the shoe piece.

Belphie just shrugged and exchanged pieces, smiling softly when Beel lightened up.

“I like the ship, it reminds me of the ocean.” Levi smiles as he admires the piece.

“No one asked.” Mammon rolled his eyes.

“Fuck you, thimble piece.” 

You sighed as another argument broke out.

~~~

“Pay up, Belphie!” Mammon cheered as Belphie landed on his space, “That’s $10.” 

Belphie sighed as he gave $10 out of his $1500 pile, “I don’t think I want to play anymore.” 

“You’re 3rd leading though.” Satan raised an eyebrow.

The game had been going for a bit long. Beel was out first, having spent all his money on every property he landed on, unfortunately for him, no one lands there frequently and went bankrupt on Mammon’s spaces. Asmo was out second for landing on one of Satan’s very expensive tiles filled with a hotel. You were next for landing on two consecutive expensive spaces from Belphie.

Levi, as expected, had taken it seriously, he’s the 4th leading at the moment with stable incomes from his properties. Belphie is currently on the 3rd one with only 2 properties and having collected the 4 railroads. Satan had also very well planned his properties, always checking if his spaces are landed on and collects the rent. You didn’t really expect Lucifer to be invested, he had owned all the expensive properties, filled them with houses and hotels and sitting at the top.

Mammon’s last with his $50 and 2 cheap properties, he started out pretty strong but had the bad luck of landing on Satan’s and Lucifer’s spaces he had to mortgage some of his properties.

“This is getting too long.” Belphie sighed, “Just take all my shit, Mammon.” 

“Best baby brother ever!” Mammon cheered.

“Wait, can he do that?” Levi complained, eyeing the greedy brother enviously with his new properties.

“Rules didn’t say anything about it.” Satan shrugged, it wouldn’t really push him out of his current spot, it would be a different scenario if it pushed him to 3rd spot though.

“We could’ve given it to the bank,” Levi mumbled.

“Ah stop whining, Levi!” Mammon teased as he counted his money.

Levi rolled the dice and landed on Belphie’s, now Mammon’s very expensive space. He swore in his head when he couldn’t afford it, but Mammon wasn’t looking.

No one said anything, they made it a rule to not snitch as to make it more interesting, it becomes a new mechanic where the player tries to distract whoever’s space they landed on.

However, when it comes to money, Mammon activates a new instinct.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you thief.” his eyes darkened as he looks at Levi, “Pay the fuck up.” 

“It should’ve belonged to the bank!” Levi argued, not accepting the fact that he’s losing to the scummy brother.

“Belphie gave it to ME so, therefore, it’s MINE!” Mammon shouted.

Not wanting for another fight to break out; because Belphie is sleeping and waking Belphie this time will just cause more chaos, and you don’t really want to deal with that at this late of an hour, so grabbing your portable console you smiled at Levi.

“Levi, can you help me finish this boss?” you asked sweetly, “Been stuck with it for a while, I don’t want to play with randoms.”

The 3rd’s angry quickly faded, someone needs him! And it’s not just someone, it’s his favourite person in the whole world!

“Of course!” he smiled brightly, smirking internally when he felt Mammon’s elated mood go sour with jealousy.

“Can we go on with the game now?” Lucifer sighed, getting bored of the game as well, but refusing to stop until he’s on top.

“Whoa! I’m second leading now, Satan! Rags to riches, baby!” Mammon bragged as he counted his money, “Lucifer’s next.” he snickered with a determined glint in his eyes.

You began to worry as you felt the beginnings of Satan’s wrath. 

The blonde smiled, “Why don’t we move on yeah?” 

No one seemed to notice, but the dice had a subtle purple-ish glow.

“Yeah, yeah, peasant.” Mammon snickered before picking up the dice.

Satan’s smile widened as the dice rolls.

Mammon moved his piece, freezing when he saw where it landed.

“Oh my…” Satan tsked.

And just like that… Mammon’s out.

~~~

You never knew Monopoly could be interesting in the late game, but here you all are, watching intently as Satan and Lucifer battled on the board, even Belphie stayed awake in hopes of Satan beating Lucifer.

The turns consist of the other almost bankrupting their opponent, having been saved by having $5 leftover but gaining the empire again when the other landed on their spot. 

“Just give up, Lucifer,” Satan smirked at Lucifer and his $1, “Two of my spaces are in front of you and the chance of you landing there is pretty high.” 

“The most expensive space is a few steps ahead of you, while the chances are lower, it will push me to victory,” Lucifer smirked.

Satan eyed the space the will surely doom him, but so far throughout the game, only 2 had fallen victim from it. 

He began to calculate the possibilities of him landing there, slowly picking the dice and hoping that lady luck is on his side.

Everyone held their breath when the dice revealed the result, Satan moving his piece to the number shown.

“I…” his eyes widened at the last space he landed.

“Pay up, my dear brother,” Lucifer smirked.

“FUCK YOU, LUCIFER!!!” Satan burst into his demon board, flipping the board and jumping on Lucifer.

“Jeez, Satan, it’s just a game!” Mammon rolled his eyes, “Don’t be a sore loser, I mean even Levi didn’t flip the board when he lost to me.” he snickered.

“You only won over me because Belphie helped you! You’re as hopeless in real life!” Levi snapped.

“Awww, did I hurt you gamer otaku pride? The only thing you’re good at but still lost.” Mammon mocked before he was thrown on the other side of the room.

The sudden move accidentally bumped Beel, causing whatever he was eating to fall on Asmo.

“BEEL! THIS IS ONE OF MY EXPENSIVE SHIRTS!” Asmo shrieked in horror as the oily liquid ruined the fabric of his shirt, “You idiot! Can’t you just eat in the fucking kitchen?!” he hissed.

“Why are you wearing an expensive shirt indoors in the first place? Not his fault you’re so desperate to impress Y/N.” Belphie defended, his sharp tongue going off due to his crankiness.

“That’s so rich coming from you, Belphie, aren’t you the one who’s leeching on their side like the desperate sad little fuck you are?” Asmo hissed.

“You fucking take that back,” Beel growled before the three of them began arguing, transforming in their demon forms.

You sighed as you step a bit further from them, a text notification taking your attention from the chaos in front of you.

Diavolo: How’s game night going? 

You typed your reply,

You: The usual. 

[excelsi-or]

25/10/18 - second date (woozi)

to a boy i love right now

w.c. 2k

October 24, 2018

October 25, 2018

“I’m gonna be home late,” she tells Seungkwan as she packs her bag.

“I heard,” he answers slyly.

When she looks up to figure out why he’s talking like that, she catches his cheeky look. “You heard me on the phone with Jihoon, didn’t you?” Her roommate is great besides the fact that he’s nosy as hell. She points an accusatory finger at him as she shoulders her bag. “Don’t tell me that I was talking loud.”

“I might have caught part of it when I got up to go get a glass of water.” He hands her an apple to make sure she’s not hungry through her first lab. “But I didn’t get the water and just left my door open a little.”

She rolls her eyes. “When are you going to get out of my business, Boo Seungkwan? Next thing you’re gonna say is you asked Hansol to talk to Jihoon for me.”

“Now why would I say that?” he demands, nudging her out the door.

Exhausted after her inorganic chemistry lab, she takes a deep breath and enjoys the scent of air instead of ammonia. She heads down the hall and glances at her watch. She’s tempted to cancel on Jihoon and head home to eat pizza on the couch with Seungkwan, but something tells her her roommate will yell at her if she bails. So she drags her feet across campus to the music building.

She texts Jihoon, but gets no reply. As she steps into the building, unzipping her coat, she stares hard at the map in an attempt to figure out where he could be.

At least until someone calls her name.

She looks over and sees Wonwoo with a winter coat and his backpack on. He looks as if he’s heading home.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. There’s a glint in his eye that she figures means that he knows already. “Looking for Jihoon?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“He’s in the studio, 207.”

“Thanks.” She takes the stairs up to the second floor and follows the signs. The studio door is open, a soft orange glow coming out of it. When she peers inside, she finds Jihoon sitting in a leather chair almost larger than him with headphones on. He’s sitting close to the monitor. There’s movement on the screen, which must mean he’s listening to something. When the movement stops, she knocks on the door.

Jihoon spins in his chair and then jumps to his feet. He quickly drops the headphones to his neck. “It’s 5:30 already?”

She nods slowly. “Am I interrupting you?”

“No, no.” Jihoon waves her inside. “Come in. Just lost track of time.”

“Wonwoo told me you were in here,” she says, taking a step inside. She looks around the studio. It’s bigger than she expected, a circular wood table sits in front of a small L-shaped couch. There are papers scattered all over it, three pop cans too.

“You, uh…” She lifts her eyes to meet his. “Coat.” Jihoon clears his throat. “It gets warm in here,” he finally says.

She has chills despite the fact that she’s sweating. A tell-tale sign that she’s beyond nervous. She probably could have guessed it at her fast heartbeat and clammy hands. But she does as he suggests, slipping out of her coat and tossing it on the couch. She makes a point of resting her backpack against the wall. Slowly, she unwraps the scarf around her neck and then finds she has nothing else to do but acknowledge Jihoon’s presence.

He studies her for a moment before pulling a spare chair next to his. “Sit. You came for music, I shall play you music.”

Tentatively, she sits. She takes in the keyboard (computer and piano), mouse, small soundboard, and another stack of papers in front of him. She scoots her chair closer so that she’s right next to him. Leaning forward on the desk, she catches the sound of him inhaling shakily.

Knowing that he’s nervous too steadies her nerves. She props her cheek in her hand. “You know you don’t have to show me anything if you don’t want to. We can just talk.”

Jihoon shakes his head, not meeting her eyes. He clicks around on his computer. “I told you I’d show you something.” A beat of silence passes. “And talking isn’t one of my… strong suits.”

“Hmm, that’s not what Jeonghan oppa said,” she says casually as she turns to face the screen. The cursor flies around the screen as he clicks rapidly through files before landing on something that he deems good enough.

“Before I show you this,” he finally turns to her, “what did Jeonghan hyung say about me?”

The orange glow from the lamp at the edge of the desk backlights him, blooming shadows on his face. Her eyes dart around in an attempt to soak in all his features. This is the closest she’s seen Jihoon. There’s a slight bump on his nose that gives it a tiny hook shape. Something, she realizes, is unnoticeable from the front.

Jihoon waits her out, allowing her to inspect his face. He hopes his ears were red before she came in from the heat in the room, because they’re definitely burning now.

Eventually she answers his question. “Just said that you like to be sneaky sometimes, which suggests you aren’t bad at talking.”

Jihoon snorts, the sound reminding her he’s human and not just an adorably talented human. “Was he talking about himself? Hyung’s the sneak.”

Chuckling, she concedes. “True, but I don’t know him to be much of a liar either.”

Jihoon tips his head. His eyes widen suddenly, which just endears her more. He tends to have a bit of an angry look on his face, but in the dim light of the studio, she’s noticed how animated he can be. “It’s probably from this one time we played Monopoly. I managed to convince him and Soonyoung to give me extra cash as a bit of pity money.” He smirks. “I won.”

She laughs. “That’s more cunning than being a good talker.”

“I’m still proud of that Monopoly play,” he says as he turns to the monitor again. “Headphones or no headphones?”

“You decide.”

Jihoon fiddles with the cord. “I like to hear what people are hearing so I get the reaction.” He takes the headphones off his neck and passes it to her. “But I don’t think I can handle a live reaction from you.”

She chuckles as she puts the headphones on. “I thought we agreed we’d tell each other what we like and don’t like.”

“This is too personal.”

She understands this and says nothing. She gets comfy, resting her arms on the desk and her head on top. She’s still tired from the day and the warmth of the room with Jihoon’s voice is making her dozy. Her eyes settle closed and Jihoon presses play.

The first piano trill sends a shiver down her spine, but then Jihoon’s voice eases her into the song. It’s higher than she would expect him to sing, but he has amazing control. His diction is clear, which she appreciates. By the second chorus, she finds herself humming along to the melody. It’s a ballad that could be a pop song if he added more drums.

The song slowly picks up with snares and a few bass drums, but nothing overpowering. His voice and the piano would be enough to make any girl swoon. Once the song ends, she sits up slowly. She’s in a weird place between sleep and wake and Jihoon can’t help but chuckle at her half asleep expression.

Gently, he removes the headphones from her ears. He’d heard her humming, had been surprised about how on key she was. “Asleep yet?”

She stretches her arms over her head and feels her spine crack. Slouching forward again, she smiles sleepily at him. “You have a sweet voice.”

There’s no way for him to hide the blush on his face now.

“Who’s it about?”

A slight downturn appears at the corner of his lips.

“Should I not have asked?”

Jihoon shakes his head. “It’s okay. I just… it’s about no one.”

“No one?”

The lyrics, from what she’d caught, were comparing a girl he loved to a winter night. But it was a different sort of winter night; it was the cozy feeling from so many people you love in your house during the holidays, the feeling of being pleasantly full after a good dinner, the soft glow of Christmas lights. She feels her stomach warm at the thought.

“Really?” she presses.

Jihoon rubs the back of his neck. “Believe it or not, I’ve never been in a real relationship before.”

“Oh.” She turns back to the screen where he’s begun clicking around again. “I didn’t know.”

Suddenly, he double clicks a file and it opens. She notes the 10 different parts on the screen. From what she can gather, there are no vocals. Jihoon leans forward to unplug the headphones and plays it. A more hip-hop beat fills the room, more bass, harder synth sounds, and something that sounds like a wooden block sticks out to her.

“Not the one I wanted,” he mutters. He closes the file and apparently finds the one he wants. Another file opens that looks very similar to the previous one except with one extra line. This one is less repetitive and takes up more space.

The one with the vocals makes the groove easier to fall into. She perks up when she hears a familiar voice. “Is that Hansol?”

Jihoon nods his head. “Part of our final project.”

She listens carefully. “Did he write the lyrics?”

“I wrote the chorus, but yeah. I tend to let them write the raps.”

Jihoon spends most of the night explaining to her how a song comes together. They listen to a few of his old songs, but eventually, he gets too embarrassed and refuses to play anymore. So she takes control of the keyboard and begins playing music that she likes. This shifts their focus to music recommendations.

While she enjoys tying her music to memories, she realizes that Jihoon really does struggle to convey his own emotions and stories the same way. Quickly, she learns to gently prod him with questions if she wants anecdotes.

By 10, it starts to hit them that they’re both hungry.

“How about we go eat somewhere and I walk you home?” Jihoon suggests.

“You don’t—”

“It’s late and it’s cold,” he insists as they get up. “The least I can do is make sure you make it home safe.”

Not for the first time, she feels as if her heart is going to burst. He’s sweet, sweeter than he’d let on at first. It had taken a lot of prodding to get him to talk about himself, but she’d managed to get a few stories out of him without prompt. He’s got a mix of humour that reminds her a bit of Hansol and Wonwoo mashed together.

He holds the door open for her and locks the room after she steps out. Once outside, he locks the building and she immediately feels the chill in her fingers. Before she can shove her hands in her pockets, Jihoon hesitates before catching her fingers to tug her after him. His grip loosens as they make it to the main path, palm to palm instead, his skin warm and soft against her calloused hand. “There’s this good bulgogi place off campus.”

“Okay.” She hurries a bit to keep up with him.

Jihoon seems to notice as his pace noticeably slows. “I room with Mingyu and am friends with a bunch of people taller than me. I had to learn how to walk fast,” he explains.

She chuckles, hyperaware of the fact that while he’s buried one hand in his pocket, the other seems content on holding hers. “No, this is good.”

Jihoon smiles, dimples denting his skin. “Good.”

Next: October 28, 2018

[leonaesque]

Poetic Injustice: On Ateneo and Negotiating Complicity

To be a successful comprador is an art. Tony Tan Caktiong knows this. Given the scale at which multinational corporations influence Philippine culture, at this point, who are we to refute it? And how? Profit-seeking forces itself on us; to be recognized. Every mass-produced item of clothing featuring the pattern of an ever-smiling billion-dollar bee is indication enough: Art is execution. In fact, being the recipient of foreign capital requires deliberate hands able to maintain thousands upon thousands of labor-only contractual workers, despite their having worked at the same establishment for years on end. These workers produce what no middleman can. Yet a company will still view being bought-out by an industry giant as the ideal exit strategy. Each moving part makes for one striking image of monopoly– worthy, one might insist, of being featured in a gallery.

Jollibee Foods Corporations (JFC) acquires stakes or ownership of restaurant chains in order to expand, as it has done over the course of many years with local and foreign brands. Their current roster includes Greenwich, Chowking, Red Ribbon, Mang Inasal, Burger King PH, The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, and Panda Express PH. The company also runs businesses internationally, such as Smashburgers in the United States, and Yonghe Dawang or Yonghe King in China.[1] Of course, the face of this massive undertaking remains the once tiny Magnolia-inspired ice cream store, Jollibee, now every business-oriented insect’s wet dream.

Ernesto Tanmiantong, brother and successor of Tony Tan Caktiong as Chief Executive Officer (CEO) of Jollibee Foods Corporation, is the latest former Chairperson of the Ateneo de Manila University Board of Trustees.[2] One can even find his name, along with his wife’s, gracing a first-floor exhibit hall of the Ateneo Art Gallery, found inside the university’s so-called creative hub, the Arete. In the months before the start of the first semester of S.Y. 2018-2019, Tanmiantong’s adorable, marketing-committee-approved buddy in white gloves and a chef’s hat took a trip to the then-newly inaugurated art gallery for a photo-op. The mascot then posed with several installments and paintings, a couple of which depicted farmers and workers.

According to the Department of Labor and Employment (DOLE), JFC is one of the most notorious businesses with regards to the perpetuation of the practice of contractualization.[3] Contractual workers are, according to law, not employed by– and, therefore, not the responsibility of– the company they provide labor to. Because of this, these workers do not receive benefits or compensation, are often subject to abusive working conditions, and are vulnerable to the shameless practice of mass termination. No doubt, the Public Relations stunt with the Ateneo Art Gallery was ill-timed; right at the height of protests against the corporation, in the midst of its non-compliance with the DOLE’s order to regularize upwards of 6,000 of its workers– there was Jollibee: tone-deaf and taking pictures to post on his Facebook profile, The Atenean Way.  

Ironically, as the statement by Ateneo’s School of Humanities Sanggunian (which condemned the incident) pointed out, perhaps even the person inside that oversized blinking head of the Jollibee mascot was a contractual worker, posing in a space that he might never have been able to enter without the cartoon-bee-mask of his exploitation.[4] Surely, it does not matter whether or not the institutional faux pas was an intentional case of art-washing. At least, it should not. Is there such a thing as art for art for art’s sake?

---

There is this poem entitled “The Doomed” written by Mikael De Lara Co. A friend of mine recommended it to me once after a workshop session because my piece, he said, reminded him of it. I do not think my friend meant to insult me. Unless he did.

“The Doomed” is a poem about writing a poem, wherein the poet-persona is aware that, while he is writing poems about lilies, there is violence somewhere, which he is both physically and socially detached from. This violence is manifest into the shooting of Liberal Party supporter and candidate, Hamira Agcong, in 2010, as well as the infamous Ampatuan Massacre that occurred in 2009, where 58 people were kidnapped and killed.  

Where do poems fall under in the realm of social praxis (if at all)? “The Doomed” ends with the lines “I want to find beauty in suffering. / I want to fail.” Yet, the poem’s aestheticization of the murders via tone and imagery is blatant. The declarative rejection of an ideal like beauty or portraying beauty betrays the poet’s pretentiousness in what can only be his underlying conservativity. There is no attempt to avoid it. With lines like “You sit at your desk / to write a poem about lilies and a clip of 9mm’s / is emptied into the chest of a mother…” and “… a backhoe in Ampatuan crushes the spines of 57 / – I am trying to find another word for bodies”, it sounds as though these killings are more poetic material than actual, politically motivated deaths. Tell me, is the reader to blame for reading what is on the page? Mikael De Lara Co fails in failing, making the poem and its project a useless endeavor.

Despite the pointedly crafted grief into the persona’s voice, “The Doomed” does nothing to grieve the circumstances which brings about its dramatic situation. Why are people “doomed”, if not for the bureaucrat capitalists that viciously plot to stay in power? Could the poet not have addressed that, instead of weeping about his writing process? I do not believe that the poem would have failed that, at least, because all language inevitably fails in the face of social reality. That would be lazy, if it were not bullshit.

But I suppose that is why “The Doomed” fails, most of all: The poet believes it is fine to write speeches for a leader who allowed farmers and indigenous people to be harassed, as long as they could be tagged as members of the New People’s Army, the armed faction of the Communist Party of the Philippines. A text speaks, though the words are not on the page. So, the poet dooms.

Mikael De Lara Co has won many awards for his writing and translations, including the prestige-inducing Don Carlos Palanca Award for Literature. He graduated BS Environmental Science from Ateneo de Manila University, where he was once an editor of Heights, the school’s official literary publication. He has been published in many other magazines, literary journals, and the like, where his author’s notes proudly indicate all these accomplishments and more, such as having, himself, worked for the Liberal Party and once been a member of the former President Benigno Aquino III’s staff under the Presidential Communications Operations Office. Ergo, ghostwriter, alongside a number of other Ateneans who were also once part of Heights.

“Noynoy Aquino was a fascist” is a phrase that does not get said often enough. The Aquino administration, with its neoliberal policies the color of dehydrated piss, is credited with the starving thousands of farmers to death. Unsurprising, I suppose, for a family of landlords to inherit a disdain for the very hands that feed them. Corazon Cojuanco Aquino passed the Comprehensive Agrarian Reform Program (CARP) during her regime, and her son amended it with an extension and reforms (CARPer), making it even easier for land owners not to have to redistribute their lands at all.

For all its “Kayo ang boss ko” and “Daang Matuwid” pandering, the Aquino administration did not skimp on its counterinsurgency program, Oplan Bayanihan, which heavily drew from the U.S. Counterinsurgency Guide.[5] Here, it was farmers and Lumad, some of the most vulnerable sectors of Philippine society, that were tagged as rebels, terrorists, communists, etc., simply for knowing and standing for their rights, as the government failed to decimate actual armed revolutionaries in the countryside.

The massacre that took place under the Aquino administration occurred in Kidapawan, Cotabato on April 1, 2016. According to reports, among the group of 6,000 protesters that was mainly composed of farmers and activists, 116 were injured, 87 went missing, and 3 were killed.[6] Perhaps the lilies in “The Doomed” were a metaphor for De Lara Co’s beloved Noynoy.

---

Speaking of Ateneo: For an institution that makes yearly claims to combat historical revisionism and uphold the memory of the victims of human rights violations under the Martial Law era, this university loves to slurp on major Marcos ass. In 2014, President Fr. Jose Ramon Villarin, SJ drew flack for having rubbed elbows with the iron butterfly herself, Imelda Marcos, at an Ateneo scholars’ benefactors’ event.[7] The mere thought of Imelda posing as a charitable, bloated cockroach in a wig that feasts on all that is lavish and garish, while the university welcomes her to do so is nearly comical. I imagine the blood.  

In 2019, a similar incident ensued[8], this time with Imelda’s daughter, Irene, whose art connoisseur lifestyle she lives second-hand. It was during the inauguration of the Arete’s amphitheater, named after Ignacio B. Jimenez, a crony of the corrupt family themselves.[9] Community backlash forced the building’s executive director, Yael Buencamino, to resign and for University President, Fr. Jose Ramon Villarin, SJ to issue a statement in response to the instance.

Yet, despite the triumph of Ateneans in demanding accountability for having the Marcoses at our literal and metaphorical dining table, there are also the Camposes, the Consunjis, the Lorenzos, and other local elite whose hands are stained with generational blood, that have established their presence in the campus with no near hopes of showing them out. Students could also be as loud as they pleased about the violations on workers’, farmers’, and national minorities’ rights that these families are frequently attached to, with only the answer of a warning that school organizations may lose sponsorship opportunities. What else can we expect? Of course, the names that line the halls that one studies in are the limits of academic freedom.

---

A few semesters ago, I wrote a poem to be workshopped by my co-English staffers in Heights as part of our membership retention requirements. It was not a good poem, I know. It was about my experience of integrating with the striking workers of Sumifru, a multinational Japanese company that produces fruit, whose union was called NAMASUFA (Nagkahiusang Mamumuo sa Suyapa Farm). After struggling to get word out of their plight and facing violent dispersals and harassment, 200 workers came all the way from Compostela Valley to Metro Manila via boat and plane, despite the difficulties of travel due to the imposition of Martial Law throughout Mindanao. Their objective was to pressure the DOLE and its Secretary, Silvestre Bello III, into action; that is, to be firm in enforcing Sumifru’s compliance to regularize their workers, which the company refused to do even though the DOLE had legally recognized them as their workers’ employer. The workers set up camp in various places, such as Mendiola, Liwasang Bonifacio, and beside the Commission on Human Rights inside the University of the Philippines Diliman campus, and often welcomed students who came to learn about their cause.  

During the workshop, the discussion began with a silence and an awkward laugh. Political realism was how my poem was diagnosed, for obvious reasons. However, the main critique that I remember was that my use of language– the words multinational corporation and bureaucrat capitalists, in particular– did not induce the feeling of the struggle that the workers went through. It was not the language workers used or would use. I refuted this claim, saying I had talked to the workers. That this is exactly what they say. No, it is not poetic. It is real.

I agree, though, with the verdict that my poem was not good, if the basis were form. I agree because I do not think poems need to be good to say what is needed. If the basis were factors other than form, I still do not think the poem is good. I mean, either way, it does not change the fact that, ultimately, I only wrote a poem for a workshop, despite any intention of bringing awareness to NAMASUFA. Is a poem going to save them their jobs? Does that make a difference? Did it make a difference?

The Sumifru workers returned to Mindanao last July, 2019. I have left Heights as well.

---

Within the Ateneo campus, a tarpaulin overlooks the red brick road that the entire Loyola Schools population traverses. The sign merits a purposeful, impossible-to-miss position on the old Rizal Library building, immortalizing the critique: “We find the Ateneo today irrelevant to the Philippine situation because it can do no more than to service the power elite.” Nothing could be more fitting, in my opinion. The Ateneo de Manila University’s commitment to performativity deserves to be blasted in our faces, if at least once a day.

This declaration was taken from the “Down from the Hill” manifesto published by The Guidon in November of 1968. The manifesto was written by a group of five students, namely Jose Luis Alcuaz, Gerardo Esguerra, Emmanuel Lacaba, Leonardo Montemayor and Alfredo Salanga, all of whom actively campaigned for an anti-imperialist orientation to nationalism.

I want to talk about Eman Lacaba. Throughout the Marcos regime, he was a student activist– a radical, so to speak, as disapproving administrative bodies might now label him. Presently, he is known for being a poet, revolutionary, guerilla, and a martyr during the Martial Law era. One of his most often discussed poems is “An Open Letter to Filipino Artists”, a piece that finds itself into syllabi like a de-fanged snake. The poem is a detailing of his experience as a cadre of the New People’s Army; the provinces he visits, his process of proletarianizing from a burgis boy to a communist rebel, and so forth. The epigraph of the work, a quote from Ho Chi Minh, affirms his praxis– “A poet must learn how to lead an attack.” The poem is the revolution that Lacaba takes up arms for. I guess now that he is dead, Ateneans can wholeheartedly claim him as one of their own.  

After the Martial Law era, Ateneo decided to create a body dedicated to the integration of its students with various disenfranchised sectors of society, as encouragement for their middle to upper-middle class youth to become more socially aware and active. The Office of Social Concern and Involvement (OSCI) is the current iteration of this. Their programs, from first year to fourth, require students to be socially involved enough to pass their Theology units. Commendable, no? Still. You can almost get sanctioned for so much as lighting candles for state-murdered farmers on the sidewalk by the gates outside of campus if it is not an Office of Student Activities-approved event– something I learned the hard way. I was not aware that bureaucracy was a key principle in Catholic Social Teaching.

So, does this mean the opposite of active non-violence is that which is inactively violent? The areas that OSCI allows their students to immerse in are carefully chosen, the interactions are prepared for in advance. In fact, they do not want to use the term “immerse” lest they be misconstrued with the damn leftists that climb mountains and “brainwash” unsuspecting poor people. You know, the ones that dare challenge the status-quo? Ateneo, or at the very least, its administration, will recognize the necessity of political action, but only to a certain extent. Nothing like Eman, the warrior-poet, whose militance is much too red to aestheticize.

The contradiction between what is said (marketed, poeticized, apologized for, etc.) and what is done should be scrutinized, instead of convincing ourselves that our interests are not merely our own. The dominant culture of a society will expose who supports those who hold political and economic power.  

[1] Cigaral (List: Brands operated by Jollibee Foods Corp.)

[2] (Leadership)

[3] Patinio (Jollibee tops list of firms engaged in labor-only contracting: DOLE)

[4] SOH Sanggunian (The Statement of the SOH Sanggunian on Jollibee's PR Stunt)

[5] Karapatan (OPLAN BAYANIHAN For Beginners)

[6] Caparas (WITH VIDEOS: 3 dead, 87 missing, 116 hurt as police fire on Cotabato human barricade)

[7] Francisco (Ateneo de Manila 'sorry' over Imelda's visit)

[8] Paris (Irene Marcos was invited to Ateneo, and students are up in arms)

[9] Rappler.com (Ateneo hit for art ampitheater named after Marcos 'dummy')

Works Cited

Caparas, Jeff. “WITH VIDEOS: 3 Dead, 87 Missing, 116 Hurt as Police Fire on Cotabato Human Barricade.” InterAksyon.com, 1 Apr. 2016, web.archive.org/web/20160402013745/interaksyon.com/article/125901/breaking--security-forces-open-fire-on-cotabato-human-barricade.

Cigaral, Ian Nicolas. “List: Brands Operated by Jollibee Foods Corp.” Philstar.com, The Philippine Star, 24 July 2019, www.philstar.com/business/2019/07/24/1937490/list-brands-operated-jollibee-foods-corp.

Francisco, Katerina. “Ateneo De Manila 'Sorry' over Imelda's Visit.” Rappler, 6 July 2014, www.rappler.com/nation/62549-ateneo-manila-imelda-marcos-apology.

Karapatan (Alliance for the Advancement of People’s Rights). OPLAN BAYANIHAN For Beginners, Karapatan, 2011.

“Leadership.” Leadership | Ateneo Global, global.ateneo.edu/about/leadership.

Paris, Janella. “Irene Marcos Was Invited to Ateneo, and Students Are up in Arms.” Rappler, 8 Apr. 2019, www.rappler.com/nation/227702-irene-marcos-invited-to-ateneo-students-protest-april-2019.

Patinio, Ferdinand. “Jollibee Tops List of Firms Engaged in Labor-Only Contracting: DOLE.” Philippine News Agency RSS, Philippine News Agency, 28 May 2018, www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1036679.

Rappler.com. “Ateneo Hit for Art Ampitheater Named after Marcos 'Dummy'.” Rappler, 21 Apr. 2019, www.rappler.com/nation/228633-ateneo-ignacio-gimenez-ampitheater-marcos-dummy.

“SOH Sanggunian.” SOH Sanggunian - The Statement of the SOH Sanggunian on..., 2 July 2018, www.facebook.com/sohsanggu/photos/a.157891440898864/1893103380710986/?type=3.

[rose-of-gabriel]

Reprieve (2/3)

Okay, so I may have added another chapter. What can you do? 

Ao3 link

Gar’s silent for all of ten seconds after Dick and Kory leave. Rachel is almost impressed. Then he’s bounding into the living room and launching himself onto the couch. The game controller he’d left there – despite Dick’s multiple reminders to put it away – goes flying into the air. Gar catches it with one hand and offers it to Rachel.

“Wanna play?” he says, trying so hard to act casual Rachel almost laughs.

She really doesn’t want to. She wants to crawl back into bed and sulk for the next week, but Gar looks so damn hopeful, and even though they’re not here, Rachel feels like Dick and Kory would want her to try, so she does.

“What are we playing?” she says.

Gar’s whole expression perks up. “Whatever you want.” He starts rummaging through the not-so-modest collection of games he’s accumulated in the cabinet under their T.V. “You strike me as a quest-driven kind of girl.” He holds up some game called Left for Dead 2.

Rachel shrugs. She sits beside him on the couch and barely catches the controller when he tosses it to her. Her fingers feel awkward over the buttons and she has a sinking feeling that this is going to suck.  But Gar is so happy. What kind of jerk would she be if she ruined this for him?

Gar flips through the menu screen and starts the game. One advantage of growing up with a demon alter-ego is that stuff like video game zombies don’t scare her in the slightest. Gar keeps talking over the cut scenes, and Rachel nods along with mild interest.

The gameplay is pretty simple. They’re just running around an abandoned town, killing different kinds of zombies – because that’s apparently a thing. Rachel accidentally shoots Gar twice as much as she shoots an actual zombie. Gar is sweet about it, though, which almost makes it worse.

“Wish this game had a friendly-fire option.” He laughs after she kills him for the third time.

Her cheeks burn with embarrassment. They get to a horde of zombies that Gar nearly decimates on his own, but it’s not enough. They die two tries in a row and Rachel’s actually getting pretty frustrated. Gar notices and pauses the game, shifting on the couch so that he’s facing her.  

“You’re not having fun, are you?”

“Of course I am!” Rachel smiles, but it’s stiff and unconvincing. Gar raises an eyebrow and she sighs. “Sorry, I’m just… I don’t really like video games.”

Gar doesn’t look mad, or even a little bit annoyed. He just shrugs, eyes curious. “What kind of games do you like?”

Rachel thinks for a moment, surprised by the fondness that blossoms in her chest.  “Melissa had all of these old board games: Cluedo, Monopoly, Scrabble.” She giggles a little to herself. “It was missing a lot of vowels and instead of replacing them, we just made up words that had like three k’s and an x.”

Gar grins. “That’s cool. Which one was your favorite?”

Rachel thinks. “Battleship.”

“Really?”

She shrugs. “I could always tell where Melissa put her pieces, so I always won.”

“You cheated!” he gasps, utterly delighted.

“I didn’t even know I had powers at that point.”

“Still.” He teases. He thinks for a moment and his expression sobers. When he speaks, his voice is tentative and small. “My mom taught me a lot of card games.”

Rachel’s heart tightens in empathy. She moves so that her head is resting on his thigh, her legs dangling over the arm of the couch. Gar chuckles a bit.

“Do you have a deck?” She asks. “You could teach me how to play.”

Gar shakes his head. “I had a few decks back at Dr. Caulder’s.”

Rachel frowns. She lifts her head, eyes zeroing in on the stack of money Dick left on the counter. She pulls herself off the couch and holds out her hands. Gar raises an eyebrow.

“Come on.” She says, and he allows her to pull him up.

“What are we doing?”

Rachel grabs her hoodie off the coat rack, then goes into the kitchen and shoves the cash into her pocket. “We’re going out.”

The night air bites at Gar’s cheeks, but he doesn’t mind. His body is humming with excitement as Rachel leads him through the city streets. She won’t tell him where they’re going, which makes it even better. Her hood is pulled tight around her face and she looks more alive than Gar has seen her in days.

He was the one who found her. She was in the bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink so hard her knuckles were white. Her breathing was loud and ragged, her eyes shut tight like she was scared to open them. He said her name so she’d hear him approach. He put his hand on her shoulder and she’d flinched – not because he hurt her, but because she was afraid of hurting him.

Gar startles and realizes that Rachel has stopped several feet behind him. She raises her eyebrow mockingly. He laughs sheepishly and trots back toward her.

“Sorry, started thinking ‘bout something.”

“Did it hurt?” She teases and he playfully shoves her. “We’re here.”

Gar turns to where she’s looking: an old store front with Ami’s Games and Jokes painted on the door. The display windows show vintage comics, tinker toys, puzzle games, and posters.

“What is this place?” Gar says, spellbound. “And where have I been?”

Rachel laughs. “Come on.”

She takes him by the arm and pulls him into the store. A bell above the door clangs as they enter. If Gar’s eyes had been wide before, they’re gaping, now. Rachel can’t contain her excitement, either. She’s passed this place dozens of times but never ventured inside.

Everything looks like some sort of beautiful safety hazard: shelves overflowing with games and action figures, boxes of books and consoles, everything you could ever think to put in a toy shop. There’s a bucket full of dice siting on a giant Jenga set with a sign that says 4 for $1.

An elderly woman with short peppered hair and huge glasses stops dusting the cash register and smiles brightly at them. “Evening.” Gar and Rachel give awkward little nods. “Domino sets are buy one, get one 50% off.”

“Thanks.” Rachel says, turning to Gar, but he’s already perusing the vintage board games.

“Dude,” he gawks, running his hands along the sides of the boxes, “this is sick.”

Rachel joins him. “I figured your little nerd heart would like this place.”

“Oh, my little nerd heart very much likes this place.” Something catches his eye at the back of the shop. He squawks excitedly and disappears into the maze of shelves.

Rachel looks to make sure he’s out of sight before commencing her search. Her eyes scan the shelves, zeroing in on a box of discount card decks. She starts sifting through it when the old woman – who she assumes is Ami – wanders over to her, dusting as she goes.

“Fan of cards?” she asks, curious.

“Not really,” Rachel says, keeping her voice down. “They’re a gift.”

“For your friend with the funny hair?”

She grins. “Yeah.”

To her surprise, Ami glances quickly to the side, as if to make sure no one is watching – which is easy, since they’re the only ones in here. She gestures for Rachel to follow her to the counter. Rachel obliges hesitantly as Ami roots around for something. After a moment of searching, she pulls out an unassuming box. She pushes it toward Rachel.

Inside are card decks, some in clear plastic containers, others wrapped in leather pouches. The artwork on each deck is detailed and unique. Rachel examines one that is illustrated with classic fairytale characters.

“That one was from my first trip to Saint Petersburg.” Ami says proudly. “A treat to myself after I finished graduate school.”

“It’s beautiful.” Rachel says as she continues browsing. She picks up a blue deck with white flowers and a golden sun emblem.  

“Ah, Buenos Aires. This was one of my first decks. I did an exchange program when I was a teenager.”

Rachel smiles, but it’s stiff. She’s always a little jealous when people talk about their world travels. She picks up one of the leather pouches and gingerly removes the deck. She lets out a gasp, sifting through one card after another. Each is a different animal, the illustrations so detailed they look more like miniature paintings than playing cards.

“Kyoto.” Ami says wistfully. “Such a beautiful city, so much history. Now that art style is very interesting. It’s called Ukiyo-e.”

“Wow.” Rachel says, unable to take her eyes away from the cards.

Ami appraises her for a moment, then says. “Ten dollars.”

Rachel blinks. “What?” The woman repeats herself. Rachel shakes her head. “No, no I can’t buy these from you.”

Ami grunts a laugh. “Fifteen, then.” Rachel’s expression sours. “Oh, come on, this is my game shop, isn’t it?”

“But these are yours. All of your travels.”

Ami’s smile becomes soft. She extends out her hand and Rachel turns over the cards and the leather pouch.

“You take them, dear.” she says, fitting the cards back into the pouch and tying it shut. “It gives me an excuse to go back.”

Rachel smiles, feeling a little humbled, and pulls fifteen dollars out of her pocket. She stashes the cards away just in time before Gar comes bounding back into the front of the store.

“See anything you like?” She asks innocently.

“Um… everything. How about you?”

Rachel shrugs and can feel Ami grin smugly. “Let’s go.” She says quickly.

Gar nods, giving the woman an appreciative nod and they head toward the door.

“Come again soon, little bird.”

Rachel freezes and looks over her shoulder, but Ami has gone back to dusting. She and Gar share a questioning look but silently agree to drop it. They head back the way they came, but Rachel stops when they get to the street corner.

Gar pauses. “What’s up?”

Rachel looks around intently for a second, then says. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

He grins. “Okay. Where do you want to go?”

Rachel pretends to think about it. “I could really go for some french fries, right now.”

Gar knows the place she’s talking about and takes off in a run. She yelps in surprise and takes off after him, their laughter echoing down the street.

[hannahberrie]

Snowbound (part 1/2)

Fandom: Stranger Things Pairing: Eleven, Mike Wheeler Characters: Jim Hopper Rating: K WC: 2717 Summary: When El invites Mike to spend the day at the cabin, Hopper finds himself supervising a sleepover he didn't sign up for. Two-shot.

[Part 2] [AO3]

[A/N]: So, I'm pretty sure that canonically, Hopper's cabin only has one bedroom. Through the power of fanfiction and not-caring-that-much, let's just say that for the sake of this story, there's two.

In a rare change of pace, Hopper was on leave from work today. Flo would call him if any emergencies popped up, but that seemed unlikely. Besides, after the events of the last two autumns, every other Hawkins ‘emergency’ seemed pretty minuscule in comparison.

Hopper’s plans for the day: sleeping in, a couple beers, some light reading, coffee and contemplation.

El’s plans for his day: not that.

It was early January, which meant that Mike was still on winter break from school. Naturally, Eleven was looking for every possible chance to spend time with him.

Hopper quickly learned that his day wasn’t going to go as planned when he awoke to El shaking him out of bed.

“Wake up!” She said eagerly, ignoring his confused grunts and cries of protest.

“Jesus, kid!” Hopper exclaimed, grumpily rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “What’s going on?!”

“I wanna see Mike!” El pleaded, “He goes back to school soon!”

“I can drop you off at his house, then,” Hopper grumbled, turning to roll back into bed.

“But I want him to come here!” She explained, tugging on his shoulder so that he was facing her again.

Hopper sighed and eyed her warily. “Why?”

“He’s never been here.”

“Because there’s not much here,” Hopper snorted.

“We have the TV!” El insisted. “And Eggos!”

“So, you just want to watch TV and eat waffles all day with him?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t think you two should be on your own out here,” Hopper said carefully. “It’s not really...”

His brow furrowed as he tried to think of the right word. Appropriate? Safe? Responsible? Considering that Hopper would rarely use those words to describe his own actions, none of them seemed to fit.

“A good idea,” he finally settled on. “You should have some kind of supervision.”

Supervision, i.e., making sure that his daughter’s boyfriend wasn’t up to no good. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Mike, per say. The kid had certainly proven himself to be valiant on more than one occasion.

Regardless, that still didn’t change the fact that Mike was only 13, and Hopper just didn’t trust teenage boys, like, at all.

When Hopper had been around Mike’s age, his mother was completely convinced that Hopper was on the debate team (he wasn’t). And if Mike so much as thought of pulling any of the same moves that Hopper had with Chrissy Carpenter back in the day...

In short, Hopper just wanted to take precautions. Precaution #1: Not letting a hormonal teenage boy spend the day alone in a secluded cabin with his daughter. Granted, he had the day off today, but El didn’t know that. Spending the day babysitting a pair of teenagers was not exactly what Hopper had in mind for his rare vacation day.

“But you don’t work today!” El reminded him. “You could go get him and then stay here! We wouldn’t be alone!”

Dammit. “Who told you I had the day off?” Hopper grumbled.

“Will heard you tell his mama so Will told Mike and Mike told me!”

“Will heard me talking to Joyce?”

“Yes! On the phone,” El explained, exasperated, “Will says you two always talk.”

Hopper wasn’t much of a blusher, but he felt his cheeks flare up at that. “Not a lot,” he mumbled, rubbing his jaw. “Just sometimes.”

El disregarded this. “So, can you bring him?” She pleaded instead, “Please?”

“I dunno, kid…”

“Please!” She whimpered, pouted her lower lip, batted her doe-eyes, and with that, Hopper knew that he was done for. Resistance, at this point, was futile. El, as she often did, had won him over.

“Fine,” Hopper sighed, “Just let me —“

But by the time Hopper said, “Fine,” El had already run out the door. “ThankYouSoMuch!” She exclaimed in one breath, calling out to him from the living room. He could hear her dialing the phone, no doubt to let Mike know the good news.

One of these days, she wasn’t going to win him over so easily.

Today wasn’t that day, evidently, as around an hour later, Hopper found himself driving Mike back to the cabin with him.

Per Dr. Owens’ orders, El was still to be kept in hiding for the rest of the year, which meant that organizing time for Mike and El to be together had to be handled with care. Ted and Karen knew about El, she’d spent plenty of afternoons at the Wheeler home, after all...

...Hopper just usually left out the part about her being telekinetic, a government experiment, or a Russian spy (not that the last one was ever true to begin with, but he digressed).

“Your parents know what you’re up to?” Hopper asked Mike, though, in the back of his mind, he realized this was probably something he should have asked before picking the kid up.

“Kinda,” Mike replied unconvincingly. “I told them I was going to go hang out with my friends. Dustin said he’d cover for me. My parents don’t really care what I do anyways, so it’s not a big deal.”

“I’m sure they care,” Hopper offered.

Mike just shrugged, looked down at his feet, and grumbled, “I guess.”

Hopper didn’t like the sound of that, but didn’t press the issue further. He wasn’t much for small talk, and trying to make one-on-one conversation with the boy currently dating your daughter was a little awkward, to say the least.

Thankfully, the drive didn’t take long. The morning was still young when Hopper stopped the car on the side road closest to the cabin. The air was brisk and bitingly-cold, and the sky was blanketed with a thick layer of dark grey clouds. It’d snowed heavily the night before, which left calve-deep snowdrifts throughout the forest.

“Watch your step,” Hopper instructed as the two exited his cruiser.

Mike nodded appreciatively. “Thanks again for the ride,” he said as the two began the short walk to the cabin.

“Don’t mention it,” Hopper said, “Was I supposed to let you bike here?”

“I could have!”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, I could do it!” Mike bolstered. “It’s not that far!”

“It’s a good 20-minute drive, maybe 25.”

“I’ve biked to the quarry before, that’s like, just as far away, basically.”

“Impressive.”

The forest was stunningly still as they walked. The only sound to be heard for miles around was the crush of snow beneath their boots, the distance drum of a woodpecker drilling into a tree, and the occasional brush of dead branches against their coats.

Despite his heavy snow boots, bulky winter coat, pom-pom adorned hat, and knitted wool mittens, Mike’s cheeks were getting pink. It was probably from the cold, or maybe the exertion of trudging through all the deep snow. The latter seemed more likely, as he seemed intent on keeping up with Hopper. With every step Hopper took, Mike strained his legs to match his pace. As Hopper was obviously much taller and leaner, the kid was nearly lunging through the snow to keep up with him.

Mike didn’t have to try so hard to impress him, if that’s what was going on here. Hopper would be lying if he said that it wasn’t slightly amusing though.

As Mike lunged about, Hopper became increasingly aware of the rattling sounds coming out of his bulging backpack.

“Whatcha got in the bag there?” Hopper asked conversationally, trying to keep his demeanor as least snoop-like as possible.

“Just some movies, board games, comic books, and stuff,” Mike replied, “You know, in case we get bored or anything. I brought Monopoly! It’s kinda lame, but you could play with us, if you want.”

Hopper gave him a polite smile. “That’s okay, kid. I’m sure El has a whole agenda planned for you two, anyway.”

Mike brightened at the mention of El’s name. “Probably, she’s like super good with that kind of stuff,” he gushed, “I’m trying to teach her how to make her own D&D campaigns. We’re just starting off with basic a basic dungeon crawl, then we’re gonna work our way up to intrigue adventures.”

“That’s nice,” Hopper replied, not understanding any of what Mike had just said.

Not much later, the two finally reached the secluded cabin. Hopper couldn’t help but notice the flash of the curtain rustling behind the front window. No doubt El had been waiting there on standby ever since Hopper had left. The thought made him smile in an endearing sort of way.

“Here we are,” Hopper announced, causing Mike to grin excitedly. The pair mounted the front steps, approached the cabin door, and stomped the extra snow off their boots. Hopper gave a cautionary glance around the forest before giving his secret knock.

Within seconds (milliseconds, really), El had undone every lock and swung the door wide open. “Hi!” She burst out eagerly, eyes locked on Mike.

“El!” Mike exclaimed. He stepped forward quickly, pulling her into his arms in a big hug. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too!” El responded, squeezing him tightly.

The last time they’d seen each other was Saturday.

Today was Monday.  

Hopper had to bite his tongue to keep himself from pointing this out to them.

“You’re cold!” El commented, pulling back from Mike to examine his face.

Mike’s face flushed even redder as El moved her hands up to cup his cheeks. “I’m fine!” He insisted, “My mom made me wear a billion sweaters.”

El gave him a doubtful look. “Mike. You’re cold.”

Hopper, who’d seemingly been invisible to them for the past couple moments, cleared his throat.

“I think we’re both pretty cold, so let’s all get inside,” Hopper cut in, placing a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “We’re gonna freeze to death out here.”

“Yes, come in!” El said eagerly. She took Mike by his mittened hand and pulled him into the cabin. Hopper entered behind them, listening as they chattered away. The kids headed over to the living room (living area, really), as he hung up his coat and made his way to the kitchen. Even though he hadn’t gotten to sleep in, there was still plenty of time for coffee.

As he started to brew a pot of coffee, El quietly approached him.

“Papa,” she whispered, glancing back at the living room, where Mike was in the midst of removing his various layers of outerwear.

“Yes?” Hopper said bemusedly. He already had a pretty good feeling as to where this was going.

“Can you go to your room?” She asked in an odd mixture of both politeness and forcefulness.

“Yeah, I don’t think so, kid.”

“Why?”

“Where should I put this stuff?” Mike called out, holding up the mass of knitted wool that was his hat, scarf, mittens, and a couple sweaters.

“Anywhere!” Hopper and El chimed back before returning to their own conversation.

“We had a deal, remember?” Hopper reminded her. The coffee pot finished brewing, so he grabbed a spare mug to fill. “Supervision? Remember that?”

“You can supervise,” El said, “From your room. You can hear.”

“Why all the privacy?” Hopper looked her in the eye as he took a sip of his coffee. “I thought that you were gonna do is just watch TV and eat waffles.”

El’s face flushed pink. “Yes. but…”

“No buts,” Hopper smirked as he ruffled her hair, ignoring her narrowed eyes and frustrated pout. He grabbed the latest morning paper and moved to sit at the dining table, well within view of the living area. “I think I’m going to be comfortable right here,” he said, taking another sip of coffee.

El looked exasperated but defeated. He heard her grumble under her breath as she returned to Mike, who had settled on stacking all his items in a makeshift pile in the corner.

Hopper could tell that El wasn’t thrilled with the whole situation (she kept giving him looks from the living room), but she got over it soon enough. Before long, she and Mike were back to conversing with ease, their soft chatter serving as a kind of white noise buffer for Hopper.

Even though it was his day off, Hopper found that reading the newspaper led to a slippery slope of events; reading made him think about the latest cases, thinking about the latest cases made him frustrated that he hadn’t made any new leads lately, and being frustrated that he hadn’t made any new leads lately made him dust off a few cold case files that he kept lying around the cabin and get to work.

What could he say? Old habits died hard. Besides, it gave him something to do while he supervised the kids, and was a far more challenging puzzle to solve than the crosswords in The Hawkins Post.

While Hopper absentmindedly scrounged over case files, Mike and El crafted a makeshift fort out of couch cushions, one of the dining chairs, and the sheets from El’s bed. They spent most of the rest of the day inside there, goofing off and joking around.

As…eventful as this morning had been, Hopper had to admit that it was good to hear El laughing and having a good time. After everything that she’d gone through growing up, some basic happiness was the least of what she deserved.

The kids spent their day TV (El introduced him to her favorite soap opera: All My Children, to which Mike replied, “This is kinda cheesy,” but continued watching anyway), playing board games (Hopper had never heard the two bicker until El refused to pay Mike after landing on his Boardwalk hotel, stating that she “didn’t want to,” to which Mike replied, “You have to,” to which El exclaimed, “I hate this dumb game”), and snacking (after the Monopoly incident, Hopper directed Mike to the secret Eggo stash — after El was presented with a stack of candy-covered waffles courtesy of Mike Wheeler, the two exchanged earnest apologies and all was forgiven).

The day flew by faster than Hopper had expected and before long, it was evening: time to take Mike back home. “We better head out,” Hopper announced, setting down his files and rubbing at his temples. His brain hurt from staring at so much information and getting nowhere for so long. He felt like he’d blinked and watched the day disappear, and if it wasn’t for his watch reading 6 PM, he wouldn’t have believed that much time had passed at all.

El gave a small whine from inside the fort, but the two kids emerged, looking quite glum. Mike started gathering his things together as El reluctantly helped. Hopper grabbed his coat and keys as he moved to stand by the front door. He sincerely hoped that the drive back wouldn’t be too bad — at night, the wet snow froze the roads into ice, which made trying to drive over it absolute hell. He was going to have to take it slow, avoid side roads…

“Do you have to go?” El asked. The two had finished getting Mike’s things together, and she was now in the midst of giving Mike a goodbye hug.

“I don’t want to,” Mike mumbled back, his face buried in her ever-growing curly hair.

“You two can see each other this weekend, or something,” Hopper reminded them, checking his watch.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Mike assured Eleven, pulling back to smile at her.

“Okay!” El beamed back. She rose on tip-toe and kissed the corner of his mouth, causing Mike to smile bashfully.

Their eyes met then, and Hopper couldn’t help but notice the familiar heart-eyed look that El had been sporting lately, the way that Mike was now slowly moving in, and how obviously obvious it was where this was all headed.

Hopper decided to cut things off by clearing his throat. “You ready to head out, Mike?” He asked as the two flinched apart.

“Uh, yeah!” Mike responded, flushing red. He quickly put on his winter layers, grabbed his backpack, and gave El one last goodbye hug before crossing the living room to stand at Hopper’s side. “Sorry,” he mumbled, glancing up at Hopper anxiously.

Hopper just nodded and gave Mike a light pat on the shoulder. Slipping on his winter gloves, he readied himself for the winter chill, opened the front door…

…And instantly realized that outside, all hell had broken loose.

[faded-coat-of-blue]

1, 7, 13, 21, 30

Firstly, thank you so so much for asking, you are a gem and I was kinda hoping people would ask this one!

1 - A song you like with a colour in the title?

This one ended up being way harder than I expected - turns out most of the songs in my library that feature a colour are absolutely in the top 10% of my songs. It was a real toss-up between two songs, so in the end I had to disqualify one song on the basis that the title in its original language doesn’t have a colour in. So I’m gonna say ‘Gold Dust Woman’, by Fleetwood Mac - it’s from my all-time favourite album, and it’s one of my favourite songs on there. Fun fact, ‘black’, ‘red’ and ‘gold’ have a strong monopoly on songs in my library. Also, shout out to ‘Lila Wolken’, (Purple Clouds) which is one of my favourite German songs, and also features a colour (and a singer called Yasha)!

7 - A song to drive to?

This one is a little harder for me, since I’ve only just started driving, which means I haven’t yet really got to the point of listening to music whilst doing so. I think if I wanted a calmer, more introspective drive I’d go for someone like Bo Bruce or some folk like Nolwenn Leroy, but if I wanted something a bit more upbeat I’d go for Bastille (my husband’s driving choice) or The Feeling (my family’s). If I had to pick one specific song though.. Maybe Nolwenn Leroy’s cover of ‘Tri Martolod’? It gets a good mix of both, and I already associate it with travelling?

13 - One of your favourite 80s songs?

OK there were like eighty different candidates that could’ve won this one, but it’s got to be the one that I’ve done at countless karaokes, and written several filks of - ‘We Didn’t Start The Fire’ by Billy Joel. It is a VERY good song to sing if you have a lot of physical energy, so it suits me to a T :p

Again, an honourable second place to ‘Don’t You Want Me’ by The Human League for being my one legitimate nostalgia song from the 80s - the only goth club night in Oxford would always play it midway through the evening and it was always always always the highlight of the night that got absolutely everyone dancing.

21 - A song with a person’s name in the title?

As with the 80s one, I’ve had to ban myself from saying any more Fleetwood Mac, else ‘Rhiannon’ would’ve been a strong contender (though possibly not the winner).

OK, having had a look through my library, I have way way way more of these than I thought I would’ve, and a surprising number of them bring a ton of nostalgia too. There’s the first karaoke song I ever did (and had to stop because I had a panic attack midway through), there’s the song I got introduced to the only time I ever probably hung out with the ‘cool kids’ and they were very sweet and taught me drinking games, and there are countless songs from my childhood...

Ultimately, though, I’m afraid it’s going to have to go to ‘Michael in the Bathroom’ from Be More Chill, because that’s who and where I am at the moment.

30 - A song that reminds you of yourself.

Oh... Whoops. I should’ve waited to read this question first. Well, this one was hard for a very different reason - a lot of songs came close, but often they reminded me of one specific aspect of myself, rather than me as a whole.

With that in mind, I’ve got to go with ‘The Cage’ by Sonata Arctica - it’s at the exact BPM I like to live my life at, it’s very lupine, and it’s been a part of my musical conscious pretty much since I’ve had one. I must be freed, or I will die before the harvest moon, my friend.

That’s the lot!!!! Once again, thank you for keeping me busy during a long car journey, and giving me a way to choose what to listen to!!

[vonseal]

a friendly game

some socky laser tag fun for @sassysavagesanha! happy birthday! im sorry im late with this, but i hope you enjoy it regardless!

i’m going to post it on A03 tomorrow, when i’m more awake to edit it properly!

It was supposed to be a friendly game of laser tag.

Though Sanha didn't know why he thought that he could combine the words friendly and game in a sentence when it referred back to Park Minhyuk.

Minhyuk was the bane of Sanha's existence. He was competitive to a fault, ruining even simple video games for Sanha (gloating brilliantly when he won, pouting endlessly when he lost). Sanha didn't even bother trying to bring Monopoly back into his house after Minhyuk broke a board during a casual match with Myungjun and Bin.

Bin had warned him, too: “His competitive streak is too big,” the older boy whispered as he cleaned up torn pieces of Monopoly money. “Don't get involved whenever he wants to do something.”

Sanha got involved, though. He got way too involved. Because despite that major character flaw, Minhyuk had such endearing personality traits that Sanha could honestly look past the weird, competitive streak.

Minhyuk was passionate. Maybe that's what made him so inclined to fight to the death over stupid board games, but it was also what made him dance so beautifully and sing so well. It was what made him a smart student in his academics and a kind student in his social groups.

He was tough, as well, and wouldn't hesitate to call people out if they tried to start something. Sanha cleaned up his bruises and cuts more than once, chastising him about challenging the school bullies. (“They're thugs,” Sanha had complained, “not worth your time.”

“They were hitting the new transfer kid,” Minhyuk replied, wincing as Sanha put a band-aid on his face. “I wasn't going to let them get away with it.”

And Sanha had just felt his heart beat wildly in his chest.)

He was soft, both physically and mentally.

(Sanha had mentioned that point to him one day, and Minhyuk showed off the muscles in his arms. “Soft?” he asked. “I'm full of muscle.”

“No, it's your skin,” Sanha corrected. “Your skin and...and your face, sometimes, when I get to feel that. And your hair. And your eyes. And your-”

“You felt my eyes?”

“No, but they look soft.”

“Eyes are gooey.”

“You get what I mean, Minhyuk!”)

He was perfect, with all of his traits and with all of his flaws.

So Sanha started to date him.

(Minhyuk initiated the dating. Minhyuk was shy and awkward as he stammered out his question: “D-Do you want to, um, go visit this new cafe with me? It's supposed to be delicious-”

“Is this a date, Park Minhyuk?”

Sanha enjoyed watching Minhyuk's face turn bright red.)

Their first date went extremely well, once Minhyuk loosened up. Soon enough, Myungjun declared that they might be the cutest couple in the school (much to Dongmin and Bin's chagrin).

“And cute couples play laser tag,” was the thesis of Minhyuk's half-hour-long talk. Sanha would have much preferred it in paper format.

Besides, Minhyuk did have a point; cute couples played laser tag. They were a cute couple. By all means, they should play laser tag. But Sanha wasn't going to be so easily swayed by sound logic, because he liked to actually rely on his feelings and emotions from time to time. And at the current, they tugged at his gut, reminding him of all the friendly games he had partaken with Minhyuk over the years.

“I know how you get when you play games,” Sanha rebutted, crossing his arms over his chest and refusing to back down from his position. He was going to win against Minhyuk in this argument. For once in his life, he was going to win against Minhyuk. “You always do whatever it takes to win, even when you have to trample over others to do it.”

“But never you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sanha scoffed, “You just unplugged my controller the other day when I almost beat your high score in that stupid racing game!”

“Survival of the fittest,” was Minhyuk's defense.

Sanha was even more steadfast in his decision. “No means no.”

And Minhyuk was even more steadfast in his decision. It must have been his competitive streak taking over, because he quickly leaned into Sanha, pressing his lips up on Sanha's cheek and nuzzling his nose into Sanha's skin. “One game,” he whispered, “And I'll buy you three cartons of french fries.”

The offer was tempting. It was so tempting, and Sanha felt himself nearly drooling over the thought of having free french fries over their movie date that evening.

As a poor college student, three cartons of french fries was basically what he always dreamed his future would hold.

But as a man, a man who was steadfast in determination, he wasn't going to allow himself to lose his dignity and pride over three cartons of french fries.

Not three.

“Make it five,” he murmured, and Minhyuk readily agreed.

Sanha realized how stupid the idea was as he geared himself up for the event and stared over at the scoreboard on the large television nearby. The game hadn't started yet, and Sanha wondered if there was still time to switch sides without Minhyuk noticing.

(“I wanted to be on the same side!” Sanha had whined as he noticed that he and Minhyuk wore opposing colors.

“We didn't make reservations, and the birthday party team had one less member. Naturally, one of us had to go in.”

“And why me?”

“They're six year old kids. I think you'd fit in pretty well.”)

But before he could say anything to any of the employees, Minhyuk gave his shoulder a light shove. “We're going out first,” he mentioned, gesturing over to his team of younger teenagers. He appeared to be the oldest. Sanha wondered why the laser tag ring was only appealing to babies. “May the best man win Sanha, okay?”

And as he ran off, Sanha frowned bitterly and adjusted the armor on his chest, looking down at his beeping red dots. Minhyuk was going to be too competitive, especially when he was up against little kids. He couldn't stand to be beaten by little kids.

Poor guys, too. As Sanha looked them over, staring into their hopeful, exuberant eyes, he discovered that their youthful optimism had blinded them to what was dead ahead.

Sanha had lost his own youthful optimism when Minhyuk tripped him to win at a race. It was a miserable, sinking feeling, only made better from extensive apologies and plenty of ice cream, courtesy of Minhyuk himself.

Could he convince Minhyuk to buy ice cream for fourteen kids?

Probably not.

So he would do the next best thing. He would align with the children, sectioning himself off as their self-proclaimed leader, and explaining their game plan. They listened about as well as little children could before Sanha gave his final order: “Hide low, shoot quick. Aim to kill. Especially that stupid-looking bigger kid, alright? Destroy him.”

Then he released his army out into the wilderness that was the laser tag rink.

Kids hyped up on sugar and spirit, though, were actually useful. They were fast, darting in and out behind props, changing places with other teammates, and taking down plenty of young teenagers before they themselves would go down. Sanha cheered them on from time to time, whispering encouraging messages whenever he passed by a hiding spot.

He checked the score every so often, and grinned when he realized he was in front of Minhyuk.

“Eat that, you loser,” he muttered to himself before turning a corner.

The loser was right nearby.

Sanha held up his gun in a hurry, but Minhyuk, in all of his dancing talent, was far more quick. He dodged Sanha's first shot, then allowed his chest light to go out with the second shot.

Sanha couldn't shoot a third time, on account of Minhyuk being far too close range for Sanha's aim to reach anything of importance.

“Minhyuk, stop it,” Sanha complained as he was backed into a corner by his own boyfriend. “We're going to play this fair and square, alright?”

Minhyuk hummed out a response; it was neither yes nor no, and so Sanha rephrased his question.

“We're going to take steps back and shoot each other properly, like laser tag is done.”

“Oh, of course,” Minhyuk responded, but he didn't follow Sanha's wishes. Instead, he placed a kiss upon his boyfriend's cheek; just one kiss.

Sanha's skin tingled, and he slapped a hand over the affected area. “Minhyuk, my team is full of kids! What if they see?”

“What if they see what?” Minhyuk asked, a devious smile on his face. “It's not like cheek kisses are bad, are they? See, if I wanted to be bad, I would do this-”

He would kiss Sanha, apparently, passionately, lovingly, right on the lips. And Sanha, in all his weakness, couldn't help but to kiss back, wrapping his longer arms around Minhyuk's body and just relishing in the moment. Sure, it was in a musty laser tag rink with screaming children right nearby as they wondered where their dear leader was, but it was still a kiss, and it was a kiss initiated by Minhyuk.

If Sanha wasn't already in love, he definitely developed it right then and there.

It was a pity that Minhyuk drew back, just as Sanha was getting into the kiss.

It was also a pity that Minhyuk took the quiet opportunity to suddenly start shooting at Sanha's small, blinking lights, and before Sanha could react, none of them were lit up. He was out of the game, defeated by none other than Park Minhyuk.

Park Minhyuk, that smug bastard.

“Minhyuk!” Sanha gasped, breathless and shocked at the display of terrible sportsmanship. “That's against the rules!”

“I don't see no kissing your hot boyfriend anywhere on the list,” Minhyuk deadpanned, and he smirked, stepping away and giving Sanha a small salute. “Anyway, you'd better head back to your base. Because, you know, you're completely out of the game.”

“Minhyuk!” Sanha knew he was whining now, but Minhyuk didn't seem to care. He simply laughed and turned away, scurrying over to the front door and mumbling, “now time to ruin that pesky kid's birthday party.”

Friendly game, Sanha thought as he trudged back to the entrance of the laser tag rink.

There was no such thing as a friendly game when Minhyuk was involved.

(And, somehow, as Sanha curled up on him that night, he realized he didn't mind it so much.)

[bobbystompy]

64 Quotes I Enjoyed From 2017

Below are my favorite quotes from 2017. Though most occurred throughout the year, some took place before but were encountered during.

(Allison Greene)

The irony and thematic implication of this first quote -- transcribed in January -- is not lost on me.

1) “I wish you all a Happy New Year. Meaning that I wish for your New Years Eve to be happy. It’s hard to wish hundreds of thousands of people to have an entire happy year. That’s a lot. That feels greedy and hopeless and also some of you might not deserve a happy year. Everyone deserves a happy moment or day now and again but a whole happy year I would wish on maybe eight people and four of them are terminally ill children.

Also please remember that the turning over of one year to another is a mental construct that bears no more weight than the things that keep us apart and in competitive categories as human beings. Time is not moving. You’re not losing or gaining ground. You’re not separate from ‘them’ anymore than you’re separate from your own umbrella. It’s now, we’re us and this is here. If you’re in pain, this too shall pass. If you’re in luxury, this too shall pass. Ask an old lady how she’s doing. The internet is not real. Draw a picture on a napkin.” - Louis C.K.

2) “Flowers cost money you could spend on alcohol.” - Tracy Cunningham

3) "Never make fun of people for mispronouncing a word. It means they learned it by reading."

[that one felt profound when I first read it, but there are probably holes you can poke]

4) “Middle America does not have a monopoly on tough times.” - Drew Magary

5) “The whole point of going to a wedding is to complain about it.” - Drew Magary

6) “The world is too noisy and distracted to probably ultimately survive. Everyone needs to shut the fuck up. The answers are in the silence. Monks set themselves on fire to protest and make this point.

Just consider it.” - Garry Shandling

7) “The fact that Chargers fans get to live in San Diego isn’t as much of a solace as you think, either. When you’re unhappy, Southern California can be the loneliest fucking place in the world. Everywhere you look, you are surrounded by people whose lives are seemingly more perfect than your own. And the fantastic weather acts a kind of lingering nag... an irritating reminder that you SHOULD be happy even if you’re not. When you live somewhere miserable, at least you have an excuse for it. People leave you alone, or they help you drink the pain away indoors. You’re not surrounded by a bunch of fucking Jack LaLannes and Navy steakheads making it worse.

[...]

This is how the San Diego Chargers ended, and their fans deserved better. There won’t even be rain to help water the team’s grave.” - Drew Magary

8) There is no meeting without a Gentry story. He tells the story of Doug Collins’s college coach at Illinois State, Will Robinson, putting Collins in front of a mirror and saying, “Now, that’s an ugly motherfucker.” Then Robinson gets a basketball, hands it to Collins, and says, “Now you’re a handsome motherfucker.”

-- “Seven Seconds or Less” by Jack McCallum

9) "This is gonna be bad. So be good." - Patton Oswalt, on the next four years

10) REPORTER: You always hear about guys in the zone. What’s it like to be in that zone and have that moment two games in a row?

DION WAITERS: Oh man, I love that moment. I mean, you can never shy away from that. I just feel—one of my favorite quotes is, uh ... I forgot it already. One of my favorite quotes. But yeah, can’t be afraid of taking them shots.

11) "No person can be explained in one trait." - Jason Benetti

12) That Federer could dig so deep without losing the spirit of grace and generosity he has carried for much of his career--amazingly, it didn't sound insincere when he told the crowd in Melbourne that he would've been happy if Nadal had won--was enough to make Agassi introspective. He fired off a text to a friend, fellow American ex-pro James Blake. Watching Federer, Agassi wrote, "makes me feel like I was much more of a broken person than I even realized."

-- the 2017 Australian Open

13) “Do you, because everyone else is taken.” - Uber driver

14) Federer's physical skills have tended to obscure just how he resilient he has been throughout his career--a point not lost on him. "My mental toughness has always been overshadowed by my virtuosity, my shotmaking, my technique, my grace," says Federer. "That's why when I lose, it seems like, 'Oh, he didn't play so well.' And when I win, it looks so easy." He says it has been that way since he was young. "Just because I don't sweat like crazy and I don't grunt, I don't have this face on when I hit the shot like I'm in pain, doesn't mean I'm not trying hard," he says. "It's just how I play. Sorry."

15) "I’ve always said the only way to change anyone’s opinion is to make him laugh first. It still is." - John Waters

16) “Women like babies. Men like their sons and daughters.” - Kevin Haack

17) “At once, Federer would triumph over his two greatest rivals: Nadal and Hawk-Eye.” - Chris Almeida, on Roger Federer’s 2017 Aussie Open win

18) “Brady did everything in Super Bowl 51 short of fertilizing crops with his own feces to feed his teammates.” - Bill Simmons

19) “It's still hard to believe the Falcons actually lost this game. They're the first team in Super Bowl history to lose with a pick-six in its pocket, one that felt like an unlikely gift given that it came from Brady. Some will throw around the "choker" label, which is inelegant at best and condescendingly incurious at worst. If choking means running after a quarterback on 68 dropbacks until there's hardly any air left in your lungs, the Falcons choked.” - Bill Barnwell

20) “Keep in mind: Plenty of people already think Chance The Rapper is corny. Plenty of people have been thinking it for years. Plenty of people who now love Chance The Rapper had to get over the corniness threshold, to train themselves to love the yawpy ad-libs an the voice-cracks and the general hyperactive teenage energy. When Chance won Best New Artist and howled the word 'God' in his acceptance speech about 32 times, I saw plenty of grumbling — We get it, dude, you believe in God — in my Twitter timeline. Someone even said that the music industry had figured out how to manufacture a marketable version of Christian-rap figurehead Lecrae. And that gets at another common complaint about Chance: that he’s an 'industry plant,' a creature created by the music business, one who uses 'independent' as a buzzword rather than as any kind of unifying philosophy. Those of us who love Chance, that line of thinking goes, have been somehow hoodwinked or manipulated into it. And there have been plenty of other perceived sins over the years: the overalls, the KitKat commercial, the constant references to Nickelodeon cartoons, the persistent smiling. Whether or not you love Chance, there is a strong possibility that he’s annoyed you once or twice.” - Tom Breihan

21) “Traveling is the antidote to ignorance.” - Trevor Noah

22) "But mostly, it's in how Celebration Rock treats every day like the last day of school, raising a glass to the past, living in the moment and going into the future feeling fucking invincible." - Ian Cohen

23) “In fact, it turned out that there was nothing ‘dangerous’ at all in picking on women and refugees. People will pay you good money for that. The dangerous ideas are the ones they don’t pay you for, the ones that don’t get you on HBO. You’re actually dangerous when you do what Yiannopoulos did in the ‘pedophile’ tapes: defend society’s most hated outcasts, and tell the truth about the complexities of gay men’s sexuality. You’re dangerous when you stick up for those on the fringes rather than kicking them. There’s nothing courageous or edgy in bullying the despised and excluded. But it might be dangerous if you dared to empathize with them.” - Nathan J. Robinson

24) [Taj] Gibson was asked if his dunk over Dwyane Wade was his favorite moment as a Bull. "It really wasn't. That was just a dunk. It really wasn't one of my favorite moments of my career, to be honest with you. I had a lot of shining moments in my career. Just being around Thibs, he taught me that people don't look at, some of the games, most of the games, they look at the bright spots. I have a lot of different bright spots in my career. The biggest one in my career would have to be just being on the team when guys were down and having a coach look at me and know that he can count on me. No matter what position, no matter what time in the game. And he would trust some of the most important plays for me to do. Those were the most important moments of my life, just having a guy between Fred and coach Thibs, knowing guys that are ahead of me, making twice as much money as me, and he's still calling my name through crunch time. Those were the best moments of my life."

[have some, Carlos Boozer]

25) “You can't let politics dictate what you read or who you fuck.” - Chuck, “Girls”

26) “Watching Kawhi Leonard play basketball is like when you get the email you’ve been waiting for and it says all of the things you were hoping it was going to say.” - Shea Serrano

27) “This isn't a choice, like my diet. This is a necessity, like my drinking.” - Ben, “Veep”

28) “It's like how love songs never go out of style because no one's ever written one that's closed the book on the subject.” - Brian King, Japandroids

29) Pitchfork: A lot of the lyrics on the album take advantage of this universal, mythic rock'n'roll language, like on "Fire's Highway": "Hearts from hell collide/ On fire's highway tonight/ We dreamed it, now we know."

Brian King (Japandroids): Personally, I really like the concepts of good and evil, heaven and hell-- the extreme boundaries of how people can feel and how fast things can change. I like that that language. I'm not talking about just some night you felt a certain way, I'm talking about the night you felt that way-- that one time. People have always alluded to those extremes as a way of characterizing the most intense feelings since blues and the early days of rock. A blues singer won't be like, "We broke up." He'll say, "Satan stole my baby from me." You just pick it up.

30) “Friends of mine, hitting partners, are Federer fans for real. They own his racket, his sneakers, the hat with his RF logo. When he loses, they're wrecked; when he wins, it's only slightly less painful, because it's one fewer win they get to witness.” - Rosecrans Baldwin

31) “Bad ideas rarely spread when the population is educated about better alternatives.” - Greg Graffin

32) This entire story (9:47 to 10:15)

RIP, Don Rickles (1926-2017)

33) “Being pregnant is cool and weird: Your bones ache, your gums bleed, your ligaments basically just start giving up. (A hormone called ‘relaxin’ is involved.) You plan decades ahead, then worry you’re jinxing it all. You’ve got a decreasingly nebulous imaginary friend there to listen to your hopes and fears at all hours and you occasionally get the hiccups. But the strangest thing about being with child is the way your body becomes not yours, and not even the baby’s, but the world’s. Complete strangers reach out and touch. Internet commenters opine. Photos of yourself splayed postpartum on a gurney, hair matted to the side of your face, one boob swung free, are triumphantly text-messaged to fathers-in-law without your express written consent.

It’s not fair, it’s never fair, but it’s nevertheless the shared experience of so many women during a powerful, vulnerable time.” - Katie Baker

34) "I just watched Deadheads spin around for three hours looking for miracles." - Brad Back

35) “Comparison is the thief of joy.” - Theodore Roosevelt

36) "The Spurs’ run of NBA success is now old enough to vote, and in a couple of years it will be legally old enough to share finely aged red wines with Popovich, although I suspect he’s been slipping it glasses at home for a few years now. One of the cornerstones of that success has been an ability to find talent where nobody else looked." - Rodger Sherman

37) "Cutting at the right time is more important than being fast." - Bill Belichick

38) “You run into an asshole in the morning, you ran into an asshole. You run into assholes all day, you’re the asshole.” - “Justified”

39) “An asshole is not a brilliant visionary just because a toilet has a bottomless appetite for what comes out of it.” - Albert Burneko, on the passing of Roger Ailes

40) "He would’ve been a rock star no matter where he’d been born, or when." - Rob Harvilla on Chris Cornell

41) "Instead of getting married again, I'm going to find a woman I don't like and just give her a house." - Rod Stewart

42) “I have never regretted taking a walk. Every time you walk, a bunch of cool shit happens. You burn calories, for one thing. You think of cool ideas. You also get an immediate sense of the layout and vibe of wherever you happen to be. It’s a cheap shortcut to feeling like a local. I walked around downtown Atlanta for two hours once, which was long enough for me to realize, ‘Oh hey, this is the part of town that sucks!’ Then I went and walked around a cooler part.

Also, walking forces me to pocket my phone and actually look around for a bit (in theory…sometimes I check the phone while walking, which is galactically fucking stupid and could get you killed). I can actually feel GOOD about the world when I walk around, because I’m seeing it as it stands now, instead through the horrifying prism of online news and discourse. The sun still shines out there. People are smiling. It’s not bad. You wouldn’t even know we’re all gonna die soon. Not everything has rotted away just yet. You can leave the shifting sand dunes of the day far behind, to borrow a phrase from Professor Fartsniffer up there.

Also, you don’t have to look for a parking spot.

I walked today. I walked past a school and saw a bunch of kids playing touch football and they accidentally launched the ball over the fence and into the road, where they couldn’t get it. So they asked me to grab it for them. I hucked it back over and one kid shouted ‘YOU DA REAL MVP!’ And you know what? For that one little moment, I was, indeed, da real MVP. Step aside, Kevin Durant’s mom. I saved touch football. What did you ever do?

That kind of experience isn’t really possible when you’re sitting in a car. When you drive, you’re basically in a kind of self-imposed purgatory. The goal is to get wherever you’re headed so that you can resume your life again. I have tried to slow down and savor my surroundings while driving but it rarely works out because A) It’s not safe and B) I want to make good time. I have my eyes on the road and my ears on my SWEET TUNEZ, and I’m only slowing down to gawk at an overturned milk truck. ‘Wow, that looks BAD.’

The most important moments in life usually happen when you’re walking. Ever ask someone you’re dying to go out with if they wanna go for a walk, and they say yes? It feels fucking GREAT. That’s gonna be a good walk. Then maybe you two walk down the aisle after you get married, and then walk through the hospital to see your new baby in the nursery, and then walk with that child as takes its first steps. And then maybe someone close to you dies, and you have to walk with their casket to their gravesite. I’ve made some of these walks. I haven’t forgotten any of them.” - Drew Magary

43) "‘A great nation does not hide its history, it faces its flaws and corrects them.’ - George W. Bush

Let us again state clearly for all to hear. The Confederacy was on the wrong side of history and humanity. It sought to tear apart our nation and subjugate our fellow Americans to slavery. This is a history we should never forget and one that we should never ever again put on a pedestal to be revered." - Mitch Landrieu

44) "Just found out Joyce Manor is playing in Bristol on 7/13. When god closes a door, he opens a moshpit." - Chris Trott, after missing the Captain, We're Sinking Show in Chicago on 7/12 due his England trip

45) “The most prestigious honor in music isn't a Grammy. It's ‘I like this band enough to see them at 10:30 p.m. on a Wednesday.’” - Steven Hyden

46) “I think of you every time I speed up my podcasts.” - Christine Jastrow’s 31st birthday tribute to yours truly

47) "A man of genius makes no mistakes; his errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery." - James Joyce

48) “Personally speaking, a millennial is anyone younger than me who gets on my fucking nerves. I don’t think of like, Dak Prescott as a millennial, because he seems cool. But Chris Brown? Fuck him sideways.” - Drew Magary

49) "It's a scientific fact that a beer tastes better when it travels more than 5 feet in the air" - @PFTCommenter

50) Dustin Brown perfectly summed up what it's like to play on Centre Court. "It would be nice if we're playing every match out there. It's very comfortable. Even when things aren't going your way, it relaxed me a bit to say 'this is where you always wanted to be,'" he said after his Wimbledon second round loss to defending champ Andy Murray.

51) "One thing I’ve always found fascinating about Federer (or, rather, the way we talk about Federer) is that there’s never been any backlash. Normally, when an athlete has been around as long as Federer has, and has been as great as Federer has, and is on the receiving end of so much adulation, some sort of noticeable backlash occurs. Never with Fed.

Relatedly, people root for Federer unabashedly, and did so even during that stretch in the 00's when he was as dominant a force as any sport has seen. Casual fans tend to root for the underdog, but Federer was so sublime that he made people root for Goliath." - Andrew, Deadspin reader

52) “‘Federer manages to scamper across himself’ is one of the more Federer tennis calls I've ever heard.” - Brian Phillips

53) “Everything before the word ‘but’ is horseshit.” - Jon Snow

54) “Be present.” - Megan Filip

55) "The successful person is one who finds an opportunity in every problem. Unsuccessful people find a problem in every opportunity." - Lou Holtz

56) “It ain’t a hit till Nate Dogg spit.” - Mack 10

57) "Nobody goes to work tomorrow. General strike, fuck this country." - some of Blake Schwarzenbach first words at the Jawbreaker reunion

58) “It’s hard getting good news -- you don’t know what to do with it.” - Blake Schwarzenbach, at the first Jawbreaker show in forever

59) “When I was a child, I spoke like a child.” - Davis,“Treme”

60) “In one sense, the story of human history is just people inventing progressively more advanced ways in which to be awful idiots, in groups.” - David Roth

61) "Reality gives nothing back and nor should you." - Kobe Bryant

62) “Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald

63) "Brevity is the soul of wit" - William Shakespeare

64) "If I shoot an airball, call the foul." - Dirk Nowitzki

[oldfashionedswiftcurse]

Alwyn vs. Swift Pt. 3

A few weeks had passed, and Joe was still as persistently in lust with Taylor. As per their agreement, Taylor refused to lose this “challenge” that Joe had created for them. Her first two dates were with two of Rebecca’s friends, and while the guys were nice, Taylor knew that it wasn’t enough to start anything serious. Her last date was unexpected, and she was actually excited for it. 

Martin, one of the members of Joe’s band, made the decision to ask her out during one of their late night pub crawls. He was nervous, and she knew that despite being friends with Joe, he didn’t have the same air of haughtiness, or at least didn’t publicly show it the way Joe did. When Martin showed up at her townhouse armed with a bouquet of flowers, Taylor blushed immediately and put them in water as soon as possible. He was dressed in a light blue dress shirts, trousers, and loafers, and she grew nervous at her own outfit: a fitted red lace dress.

           She followed behind him as he led them to a brightly lit restaurant, an Italian place. He was an only child with happily married parents who adored him and naturally spoiled him (he blushed while mentioning this). Similarly, he wanted to start his own record company and keep producing quality music for a long time. Taylor told him about her own family, conveniently leaving out her mother’s abandonment. She didn’t want to scare Martin about her mommy issues on their first date. Afterward, they walked hand in hand to a park where Martin surprised her with a movie under the stars. It was thoughtful and romantic that is until she spotted Joe and his date, Janet. Taylor couldn’t help the biting sting of jealousy that she felt at seeing them.

           As Martin set up their blanket, Taylor went to the food stand to pick them up some popcorn and drinks. Suddenly, she felt a pair of warm hands on her waist and knew that Martin wouldn’t have been so brash on their first date. She stiffened and smirked when she saw Joe’s grinning face.

           “You look marvelous tonight,” he whispered into her ear. “It’s such a pity that you’re not coming home with me.”

           She rolled her eyes and turned to face him.

           “Such a pity,” she muttered sarcastically, glancing around to make sure Martin didn’t see their interaction. “What are you doing here?”

           “Ah, curious about my night’s activities, are you love? Well, I’m on a date as well, a very nice girl. You may have met her, Janet.”

           Taylor paused.

           “Of course you’d ask out the girl that had total heart eyes for you just yesterday. Safe move,” she teased, and he eyed her wickedly.

           “Are you jealous, Swift? Who did you end up going out tonight with anyway?”

           Taylor nodded her head over to where Martin was sitting, and Joe’s smile carefully turned into a frown.

           “Safe choice as well,” he began, picking up two bags of popcorn. “Martin is a great guy, really. He’s nice and manageable…he reminds me of my grand mum honestly. Maybe not the best choice for a spitfire like you though.”

           “Sometimes, people can surprise you. Naturally, you’d expect us to be most compatible because people have this wrong interpretation of hatred and sexual chemistry.”

           “Mhm,” he mumbled, wrapping his hand around her waist. “Sometimes, it’s the right interpretation. There’s no one I’d rather make love to right now than you.”

           She froze, making sure he couldn’t see her red cheeks.

           “I’m just another challenge to you, Joe. You only want me because you can’t have me.”

           “That’s not true, love. I want you for so many reasons that I’ve lost track of them all.”

           She glanced around, and surely enough, Martin was looking for her.

           “Show me the real you, Joe Alwyn. I don’t want the playboy popular guy or the soulful indie singer. Maybe that’s what makes you and Martin so different. All I know about you is that you want to get into my pants.”

           Joe froze, and Taylor walked away. When she returned to Martin, she found Joe’s eyes still locked on her. Snuggling close into Martin’s shoulder, she clasped his waist tightly and knew how jealous this would make Joe. At the end of the night, once the movie was over, Taylor turned to Joe. Despite being engaged in a liplock with Janet, every time that he would come up for air, he would glance over at her. She anticipated this, so that when he separated from Janet as the credits rolled, Taylor kissed Martin. It took him by surprise, but he reciprocated immediately, and she felt the gentle touch of his lips against hers. It was nice and sweet, but it was not the passion she had desired for her whole life. Taylor began to realize that maybe passion wasn’t the most important ingredient in relationships. She had all the passion in the world with Joe, but even she could predict the eventual downfall of that relationship.

           Martin walked her back home, and Taylor fell asleep thinking about that night. The only problem was that she wasn’t thinking about the way Martin’s lips felt against her; she was thinking of the way Joe’s fingers felt around her waist.

             The next day, Rebecca told Taylor about a party at someone’s flat. Although everyone was going, Taylor decided to stay in for the night. Rebecca invited her over to her mansion of a house, and the girls decided to make it a movie/game night. The girls tied their hair back, threw on some sweatpants, and proceeded to play Monopoly with The Notebook playing in the background. They ordered a pizza, and eventually, Taylor was not only sans makeup but she also had greasy fingers and a competitive look on her face when Joe stumbled in.

           “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

           “Joseph, if you even think about taking a picture of us like this, I will kick your arse all the way to America. Right, Tay?”

           Taylor giggled at Rebecca’s idea of a joke, but she acquiesced.

           “You look all dressed up,” she admitted, eyeing him slowly.

           He was wearing a white button-up shirt that showed off his tanned biceps, and his jeans fit him perfectly. Taylor gazed at him, amazed at how put together he looked. He always looked so put together. Within seconds, she caught a whiff of his cologne, and it smelled intoxicating. When she made eye contact with him, she found him smirking back at her.

           “You’ve chosen a night of pizza and games over a night of drinking and dancing?”

           Taylor nodded triumphantly.

           “I’m impressed, Swift. You’re my type of girl.”

           At that moment, Joe reached for his cell phone, calling someone.

           “Sorry, love. I’ve decided to spend a night in tonight. Enjoy the festivities,” he said playfully, and Taylor knew he had called Janet.

           “You know, if you expect to win this challenge, you can’t cancel on your girlfriend,” Taylor admitted, and Rebecca groaned in disgust.

           “I can’t believe you actually made a bet with him, Taylor. At any given time, he has about ten ongoing bets, each one more disgusting than the next.”

           “Becks, I think Taylor is old enough to make her own decisions. If she decides to fall for a gambler like me, who can blame her?”

           Both girls groaned in disgust, and Joe chuckled.

           “So who’s winning?”

           He took a seat next to Taylor, throwing his cell phone on the sofa behind them. She couldn’t deny how attractive it was that he didn’t need to be glued to his phone at all times. Downing a slice of pepperoni pizza in a few bites, Joe managed to catch up to both girls, despite their pleas that he had cheated. Before Taylor’s last move, which she was positive would ensure her victory, Joe began to speak.

           “You know, it’s scary how rigged these games can be.”

           “You’re just mad because Taylor’s going to win,” Rebecca stated.

           “Yeah, Joe. Don’t be a sore loser.”

           “All it takes is one wrong move by the victor, and they are the victor no more. Sometimes, it can even be something that happens to the victor,” he stated, emphasizing the “to.”

           At that moment, Joe lunged for Taylor’s abdomen and began to tickle her. In her fit of giggles, she knocked over the game board, and Joe chuckled in victory. She clutched her abdomen in defense, but Joe broke through every defense with his nimble fingers. After she had surrendered in defeat, Joe began to clean up their mess while Rebecca yawned.

           “I’d walk you out, Tay, but I think I may collapse from exhaustion,” she said, barely able to stand up straight.

           “It’s fine. I’ll help Joe clean up, and then I’ll find my way out of this maze,” she muttered, gesturing to the large, mostly vacant house.

           After Rebecca left, they spent a few minutes in silence cleaning up. Eventually, Joe broke the silence.

           “We can clean our heads off, and my parents still won’t notice anything,” he joked, but Taylor could feel there was something deeper to this particular joke.

           “How often are they home?”

           “Less often than is optimal for two children in dire need of parental supervision. Becks and I have experimented with all kinds of nannies, but nothing beats the real thing,” he said sadly.

           “My dad’s hardly around too. He’s always working or golfing or anything to avoid spending any time with me.”

           “I’m sorry, love.”

           “If your parents knew what amazing kids they had, they would be here in a heartbeat. Parents are weird like that, I guess.”

           “Can I show you something?” Joe questioned, and Taylor reluctantly nodded.

           He reached for her hand, and she knew that she shouldn’t take it, but she did. Wrapping her right hand in his left, Joe led her outside to a large tree house perched in their backyard. He led her up the wooden ladder until they were finally in the dimly lit room. To her right, Taylor spotted pictures and pictures of Joe and his friends, Joe and Rebecca, and Joe with multiple strange women who she now knew were his many nannies. To her left, she found a shoddily made bed, a desk, and a shelf filled with different kinds of trophies, awards, and ribbons.

           “You won all of these?” She asked, separating from him to run her hands over his achievements. 1st place in a local Karate championship. 1st place in the school spelling bee. Most Likely to Become Prime Minister on a ribbon. Class Clown on a medal. High grades in all of his classes. 1st place in a school music competition.

           “You’re sort of amazing at everything,” she whispered, and she turned to find him with his hands in his jeans pockets watching her. “Now I know where the cockiness comes from.”

           He chuckled behind her, moving closer.

           “I tried everything. I told my parents when I was picking up a new hobby or if I got the highest grades on an exam because I just wanted them to be there, you know? They showed up the first few times, but then they just stopped. When I did well, they didn’t notice.”

           “So you tried being bad?” She teased, and he chuckled once more.

           “Something like that. I got suspended a few times, and they needed a parent to come and sign me out. Eventually, they managed to maneuver the system. They gave my fucking nannies parental supervision to sign me out just so they wouldn’t have to show their faces.”

           Taylor paused, turning to face Joe. His head was tilted to the floor, his eyes growing sadder with each passing second. She saw him kick at the floor, even though there was nothing there.

           “Joe…your parents are idiots,” she muttered, reaching for his chin.

           She lifted his head to face her, smiling at him.

           “So what if they’ll never realize how caring and selfless their children are? You’ll always have someone who won’t hesitate to scream that from the rooftops. I can do it right now if you want me to,” she said, moving toward the door.

           “No, no,” he said, laughing. “I don’t need my neighbors to know about how awesome I am. They catch a glimpse every day.”

           “How do you do that?” She asked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “How do you jump from gut-wrenchingly honest to this persona so quickly?”

           “Years of practice, I guess,” he admitted, eyeing her. “It’s a defense mechanism, Taylor. I can’t help the way I am.”

           “I know,” she whispered gingerly. “After my mom abandoned my dad and me, I learned all about coping. It was the worst time of my life.”

           “Did you ever find out why she left?”

           There was a look of genuine concern on his face.

           “My dad said she wasn’t ready to be a mom. I think that’s a cheap excuse. I think my dad resented me a little bit after that because I was the reason he lost the love of his life.”

           “Bullshit. You’re supposed to be the love of his life. You’re his damn child, for God’s sake,” Joe said angrily.

           “I think our parents are just really messed up, and I don’t think they deserved to have children at all. You know, I didn’t need a huge house or a new car every year or anything like that. I’d give anything for just one night watching TV or making dinner or…it’s stupid, I know.”

           “It’s not,” Joe muttered, reaching for her hand. “It’s what you deserve at the least. You’re amazing, Taylor.”

           They held hands for about a minute, and Taylor scanned the tree house.

           “How many times have you slept out here?”

           “A few. I did it once during a thunderstorm with Becks, and it was the funniest thing. Our nanny couldn’t find us and started screaming our names. Eventually, when she found us, she laughed it off though.”

           Taylor yawned, apologizing.

           “Sleep over,” Joe said, motioning toward the bed. “I’ll take the floor. You’re too tired to go home right now.”

           She paused, but acquiesced once she fell onto the mattress. They continued talking for the rest of the night, and Taylor fell asleep somewhere in the middle of a conversation.

[imagine-buckycap]

“Bored” Games- Peter Parker X Reader

Prompt: You and Peter play board games on your lazy night off, your losing badly and Peter helps add some incentive for you to win by wagering a bet you can’t say no to.

Word count: 2152

Warnings: None (:

Tonight was a lazy night in for you and your boyfriend of three months, Peter. You two had decided to hang at your house, mostly to avoid the gushing and cooing of aunt May; and while you thought she was lovely, the last thing you wanted was to be fawned and gushed over while you were cuddling with your boyfriend. You two had been bickering for a good half an hour now on what you should do on this lovely, lazy night off. You had suggested Netflix, but Peter had promptly rejected that idea, not wanting to fall into the dangerous trap of “Netflix and Chill”, because frankly, neither of you were ready for that. He then suggested going out to dinner because you were both hungry, but both of you were equally broke and plus you didn’t feel like putting on anything other than pants with an elastic waistband.

“I’m bored,” Peter complained, striding into the room after a quick trip into the kitchen for a drink.

“Well you didn’t like my netflix idea,” you responded, scrolling through google, trying to find a cheap, fun thing to do.

“And you rejected my dinner idea,” Peter combatted.

“Well I didn’t want to do that…” you pouted.

“Well then what do you WANT to do? Cause if you have a better idea I would just love to hear it,” Peter huffed, flopping over on the couch, his head landing on your lap. You sighed, pulling your fingers through his hair slowly, contemplating his remark.

“Oh! I know what we can do,” you bursted, exploding up off the couch, Peter’s head sliding off your lap and onto the couch, a quiet protest leaving his mouth.

“What?” he inquired, lifting his head up slightly to look at you. You giggled and disappeared down the hallway, your laugh bouncing around the narrow walkway. “Hey, what are we going to do?” Peter asked again, this time getting up off the couch to follow you like a puppy, quietly asking himself what in the hell you could be doing. You opened the door to your room, immediately walking over to your closet and throwing it open, you peered behind piles of old clothes, purses, shoes, and the odd stuffed animal to find what you were looking for. Two arms snaked around your waist, settling on your stomach, you laughed lightly, loving this playful side of Peter.

“Now would you mind telling me what it is your up to, my darling?” Peter asked you, his breath fanning over your neck and tickling your ear. You just shook your head, twirling out of his grip, kneeling down on the floor to look under your bed. You shoved over a pile of old ballerina tutus and slippers and found what you were looking for; a mound of old board games you used to play when you were younger.

“Ah-ha,” you sighed, reaching your arm under the bed to scoop out all the games. Peter’s face appeared next to yours, his cheek squished into the carpet.

“Find what you were looking for?” he asked, dragging an armful of games out from under the bed.

“Sure did,” You affirmed, sitting up, looking over all the games you had uncovered from your bedroom floor, each one dusty and battered. Among the many were, Sorry, Uno, Monopoly, and a regular deck of cards.

“So is this what we are going to do for the rest of the night, play board games?” Peter asked skeptically.

“Yep, don’t worry, it will be fun,” You assured, stacking the games up so you could carry them to the living room.

“But they’re literally called board games… like the word bored, cause their boring, get it? Peter pointed out, his remark getting quieter and quieter as he realized this wasn’t going to change your mind.

“Oh stop complaining, this will be fun!” you exclaimed.

“Ok, but I’m still hungry,” Peter whined, following behind you on the way to the living room. You rolled your eyes, this boy was always hungry.

“Ok then we can order a pizza, or eat snacks here,” You offered. There was silence behind you as Peter contemplated this proposition.

“Can we get chinese instead?” he wondered, sitting down on the couch as you layed out all the games on the coffee table. “Uh, sure, which place do you want to order from?” You asked, Peter shrugged, looking over the various brightly colored boxes, thinking about which game to play. You took that as indifference and went into the kitchen, looking through the drawers for the take-out menu that you knew you had. Once you found it, you dialed the number and ordered you and Peter a chinese feast. Now you just needed to find some money to pay for all this food. You looked in the rainy day jar for some money to pay for dinner, knowing your mom wouldn’t mind, or probably even notice. You then went back into the living room.

“Ok so what game do you want to start wi-” you began, but were cut off when you noticed that Peter had already set up the game Sorry!.

“Ok, Sorry it is then,” You chirped, sitting down on the floor across from Peter.

“Ladies first, what color do you wanna be?” Peter asked. You looked over the game board.

“I guess I’ll be blue,” you decided, scooping up a handful of blue pawns, putting them all on start.

“Guess that leaves me to be red,”

“Red? Like your suit? Like Spiderman?” You inquired, a smile creeping up your lips as you realized the irony.

“Ha. Ha, your so very creative,” Peter mocked, you just giggled, he smiled along with you as he set up his pawns. You two began the game, drawing cards and moving around the board, having the most fun screwing each other over throughout the game, constantly bumping each other back to start, no mercy being shown between the two of you. You learned that Peter had a competitive side to him that you had never seen before. You gasped as he bumped you all the way back to start for like the twelfth time, a devious smile on his lips as he did so.

“Sorry,” he cooed as you narrowed your eyes at him, moving one of three pawns back to start, a slur of angry words flowing past your lips.

“Oh your so going to get it Parker, just wait until I get a sorry card, you will get NO mercy!” you huffed. The doorbell rang, interrupting your promise to smite him later on in the game. You got up to go get the food, handing the boy at the door the wad of cash. You came back to the living room, your arms full of take-out.

“Sweet, I’m starving,” Peter drawled. You set the bag on the table, pulling out the contents, setting each small, white box on the table. You handed Peter chopsticks, each of you digging into the food. After a few minutes of eating, you set down your carton of chicken and got ready to play again.

“Ok Peter, let’s keep playing, I was about to win,” you announced.

“Uh huh, sure [Y/n], You’re about to win with three pawns in start and one halfway across from safe on the board, you’re so close!” He mocked, sticking his tongue out at you. After another twenty minutes Peter won the game. And then he won another round of Sorry, then a round of monopoly, then a round of go fish, then a round of battleship, and even a game of chess.

It had been three hours and you hadn’t won one game, Peter had won every game you two had played, and he was pretty happy with himself. This was the last game in your stack, Uno. You dealt the cards, getting ready to play.

“Ya know [Y/n], you haven’t won one single game tonight,” Peter sneered, looking over his hand of cards.

“Yes I’m well aware, Peter,” you remarked, dealing the rest of the cards.

“Well maybe you need a little more incentive, or motivation?” he suggested, a sly smirk plastered onto his face.

“And what exactly do you suggest?” You inquired.

“Well, how about if you win this round, you get to uh… kiss me! You get to kiss me,” he exclaimed. You raised your eyebrows at him inquisitively. You wondered why he picked this, seeing as you kiss him all the time, whenever you wanted actually.

“And if I lose?” You pressed, wondering what the consequence would be.

“Uh… you don’t get to kiss me for three weeks?” He offered, as more of a question than a statement.

“I feel as though this would be more of a consequence for you, not me. You can barely keep your hands off of me for ten minutes,” you pointed out.

“That might be true, but let’s see how easy it is for you to keep your hands off of me,” Peter continued, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Fine, bring it on, Parker,” you agreed, offering him your hand to shake. You shook hands, and began to play, Peter quickly taking the lead. This was probably the most intense game of Uno you had ever played.

“Uno!” Peter exclaimed after almost an hour and a half of playing. He put down his second to last card, only one left in his hand. He was about to win, but you had no move that would prevent him from doing so. You put down one of your many cards, hoping he wouldn’t have the right color, or number, or something.

“Well [Y/n], looks like today is going to be the start of the longest three weeks of your life,” Peter gloated, putting down his last card, effectively winning the game.

“Crap!” you shouted, losing the last of all the games tonight, as well as the bet between you and Peter.

“Well, you know what this means, no kissing me for three weeks,” Peter reminded you, wiggling his finger in your face.

“I know, I know,” you huffed. Now that you knew you couldn’t you wanted nothing more than to smash your lips against his, to feel his warm, soft lips against yours, to taste the mint chapstick and bubblegum that usually lingered on his rosy lips. Your mouth tingled, wanting nothing but to kiss him. This was going to be way harder than you thought. You played it cool, not wanting him to know how desperate you already were.

“No problem, I don’t even want to kiss you, or anything,” you scoffed, beginning to clean up the games and take-out boxes.

“I’m sure you don’t,” Peter teased, standing up right in front of you, his face inches from yours, his eyes challenging and mischievous. A boyish smile played on his lips. His eyes darted around your face, over your eyes and down the slope of your nose, stopping at your lips. All you could think about was how he tasted, and how his lips would be so soft and perfect on yours, or how he sometimes took your bottom lip between his teeth and drove you absolutely insane. He actually was driving you insane, but not in the good way you knew that he could.

“Oh fuck it,” you whispered, grabbing his face and smashing your lips together. Peter dropped whatever game he had in his hands, the box and pieces clattering loudly onto the table, his arms came up to wrap around your waist. Your arms snuck up his back and around his neck, your fingers toying with the tufts of hair on the nape of his neck. His lips were perfect on yours, and there was the familiar taste of mint chapstick, he was so perfect, you couldn’t ask for someone better than him. You pulled away, looking into his wide eyes, his lopsided smirk sending your heart into a frenzied flutter.

“I thought you were stronger than that! You didn’t even last three minutes!” Peter exclaimed. You snickered.

“I know, I guess you're just too irresistible,” you confessed, your arms still around his neck, your fingers still toying with his hair.

“I guess so,” He murmured, his cheeks tinting a rosy color, showing you he was flattered, no matter how cool he appeared. You smiled up at him, burying your face into his chest, his pajama shirt soft against your cheek.

“Peter, I’m so glad you're here with me,” you whispered, inhaling his all too familiar scent of laundry detergent and something sweet you couldn’t quite place.

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” he responded, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, his arms holding you tight to his body. Despite losing every game you played tonight, and the bet between you and Peter, you had fun, because there was never a dull moment between the two of you.

Masterlist

@tiffany-lester72

@derpycp

A/n: I am opening requests! So please feel free to submit any requests you would like me to write! (send them to my asks please). Thank you!

[96enox-blog]

second date (woozi)

to a boy i love right now; October 25

A/N: I would love to know what he’s actually like in the recording studio. The members make him seem so strict lol. 

word count: 2k | fluff fluff fluff | Part 2: October 24 | Part 4: October 28

summary: A second date in the studio with Jihoon.

“I’m gonna be home late,” she tells Seungkwan as she packs her bag.

“I heard,” he answers slyly.

When she looks up to figure out why he’s talking like that, she catches his cheeky look. “You heard me on the phone with Jihoon, didn’t you?” Her roommate is great besides the fact that he’s nosy as hell. She points an accusatory finger at him as she shoulders her bag. “Don’t tell me that I was talking loud.”

“I might have caught part of it when I got up to go get a glass of water.” He hands her an apple to make sure she’s not hungry through her first lab. “But I didn’t get the water and just left my door open a little.”

She rolls her eyes. “When are you going to get out of my business, Boo Seungkwan? Next thing you’re gonna say is you asked Hansol to talk to Jihoon for me.”

“Now why would I say that?” he demands, nudging her out the door.

Exhausted after her inorganic lab, she takes a deep breath and enjoys the scent of air instead of ammonia. She heads down the hall and glances at her watch. She’s tempted to cancel on Jihoon and head home to eat pizza on the couch with Seungkwan, but something tells her her roommate will yell at her if she bails. So she drags her feet across campus to the music building.

She texts Jihoon, but gets no reply. As she steps into the building, unzipping her coat, she stares hard at the map in an attempt to figure out where he could be.

At least until someone calls her name.

She looks over and sees Wonwoo with a winter coat and his backpack on. He looks as if he’s heading home.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. There’s a glint in his eye that she figures means that he knows already. “Looking for Jihoon?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“He’s in the studio, 207.”

“Thanks.” She takes the stairs up to the second floor and follows the signs. The studio door is open, a soft orange glow coming out of it. When she peers inside, she finds Jihoon sitting in a leather chair almost larger than him with headphones on. He’s sitting close to the monitor. There’s movement on the screen, which must mean he’s listening to something. When the movement stops, she knocks on the door.

Jihoon spins in his chair and then jumps to his feet. He quickly drops the headphones to his neck. “It’s 5:30 already?”

She nods slowly. “Am I interrupting you?”

“No, no.” Jihoon waves her inside. “Come in. Just lost track of time.”

“Wonwoo told me you were in here,” she says, taking a step inside. She looks around the studio. It’s bigger than she expected, a circular wood table sits in front of a small L-shaped couch. There are papers scattered all over it, three pop cans too.

“You, uh…” She lifts her eyes to meet his. “Coat.” Jihoon clears his throat. “It gets warm in here,” he finally says.

She has chills despite the fact that she’s sweating. A tell-tale sign that she’s beyond nervous. She probably could have guessed it at her fast heartbeat and clammy hands. But she does as he suggests, slipping out of her coat and tossing it on the couch. She makes a point of resting her backpack against the wall. Slowly, she unwraps the scarf around her neck and then finds she has nothing else to do but acknowledge Jihoon’s presence.

He studies her for a moment before pulling a spare chair next to his. “Sit. You came for music, I shall play you music.”

Tentatively, she sits. She takes in the keyboard (computer and piano), mouse, small soundboard, and another stack of papers in front of him. She scoots her chair closer so that she’s right next to him. Leaning forward on the desk, she catches the sound of him inhaling shakily.

Knowing that he’s nervous too steadies her nerves. She props her cheek in her hand. “You know you don’t have to show me anything if you don’t want to. We can just talk.”

Jihoon shakes his head, not meeting her eyes. He clicks around on his computer. “I told you I’d show you something.” A beat of silence passes. “And talking isn’t one of my… strong suits.”

“Hmm, that’s not what Jeonghan oppa said,” she says casually as she turns to face the screen. The cursor flies around the screen as he clicks rapidly through files before landing on something that he deems good enough.

“Before I show you this,” he finally turns to her, “what did Jeonghan hyung say about me?”

The orange glow from the lamp at the edge of the desk backlights him, blooming shadows on his face. Her eyes dart around in an attempt to soak in all his features. This is the closest she’s seen Jihoon. There’s a slight bump on his nose that gives it a tiny hook shape. Something, she realizes, is unnoticeable from the front.

Jihoon waits her out, allowing her to inspect his face. He hopes his ears were red before she came in from the heat in the room, because they’re definitely burning now.

Eventually responds to him. “Just said that you like to be sneaky sometimes, which suggests you aren’t bad at talking.”

Jihoon snorts, the sound reminding her he’s human and not just an adorably talented human. “Was he talking about himself? Hyung’s the sneak.”

Chuckling, she concedes. “True, but I don’t know him to be much of a liar either.”

Jihoon tips his head. His eyes widen suddenly, which just endears her more. He tends to have a bit of an angry look on his face, but in the dim light of the studio, she’s noticed how animated he can be. “It’s probably from this one time we played Monopoly. I managed to convince him and Soonyoung to give me extra cash as a bit of pity money.” He smirks. “I won.”

She laughs. “That’s more cunning than being a good talker.”

“I’m still proud of that Monopoly play,” he says as he turns to the monitor again. “Headphones or no headphones?”

“You decide.”

Jihoon fiddles with the cord. “I like to hear what people are hearing so I get the reaction.” He takes the headphones off his neck and passes it to her. “But I don’t think I can handle a live reaction from you.”

She chuckles as she puts the headphones on. “I thought we agreed we’d tell each other what we like and don’t like.”

“This is too personal.”

She understands this and says nothing. She gets comfy, resting her arms on the desk and her head on top. She’s still tired from the day and the warmth of the room with Jihoon’s voice is making her dozy. Her eyes settle closed and Jihoon presses play.

The first piano trill sends a shiver down her spine, but then Jihoon’s voice eases her into the song. It’s higher than she would expect him to sing, but he has amazing control. His diction is clear, which she appreciates. By the second chorus, she finds herself humming along to the melody. It’s a ballad that could be a pop song if he added more drums.

The song slowly picks up with synths and a few bass drums, but nothing overpowering. His voice and the piano would be enough to make any girl swoon. Once the song ends, she sits up slowly. She’s in a weird place between sleep and wake and Jihoon can’t help but chuckle at her half asleep expression.

Gently, he removes the headphones from her ears. He’d heard her humming, had been surprised about how on key she was. “Asleep yet?”

She stretches her arms over her head and feels her spine crack. Slouching forward again, she smiles sleepily at him. “You have a sweet voice.”

There’s no way for him to hide the blush on his face now.

“Who’s it about?”

A slight downturn appears at the corner of his lips.

“Should I not have asked?”

Jihoon shakes his head. “It’s okay. I just… it’s about no one.”

“No one?”

The lyrics, from what she’d caught, were comparing a girl he loved to a winter night. But it was a different sort of winter night; it was the cozy feeling from so many people you love in your house during the holidays, the feeling of being pleasantly full after a good dinner, the soft glow of Christmas lights. She feels her stomach warm at the thought.

“Really?” she presses.

Jihoon rubs the back of his neck. “Believe it or not, I’ve never been in a real relationship before.”

“Oh.” She turns back to the screen where he’s begun clicking around again. “I didn’t know.”

Suddenly, he double clicks a file and it opens. She notes the 10 different parts on the screen. From what she can gather, there are no vocals. Jihoon leans forward to unplug the headphones and plays it. A more hip-hop beat fills the room, more bass, harder synth sounds, and something that sounds like a wooden block sticks out to her.

“Not the one I wanted,” he mutters. He closes the file and apparently finds the one he wants. Another file opens that looks very similar to the previous one except with one extra line. This one is less repetitive and takes up more space.

The one with the vocals makes the groove easier to fall into. She perks up when she hears a familiar voice. “Is that Hansol?”

Jihoon nods his head. “Part of our final project.”

She listens carefully. “Did he write the lyrics?”

“I wrote the chorus, but yeah. I tend to let them write the raps.”

Jihoon spends most of the night explaining to her how a song comes together. They listen to a few of his old songs, but eventually, he gets too embarrassed and refuses to play anymore. So she takes control of the keyboard and begins playing music that she likes. This shifts their focus to music recommendations.

While she enjoys tying her music to memories, she realizes that Jihoon really does struggle to convey his own emotions and stories the same way. Quickly, she learns to gently prod him with questions if she wants anecdotes.

By 10, it starts to hit them that they’re both hungry.

“How about we go eat somewhere and I walk you home?” Jihoon suggests.

“You don’t—”

“It’s late and it’s cold,” he insists as they get up. “The least I can do is make sure you make it home safe.”

Not for the first time, she feels as if her heart is going to burst. He’s sweet, sweeter than he’d let on at first. It had taken a lot of prodding to get him to talk about himself, but she’d managed to get a few stories out of him without prompt. He’s got a mix of humour that reminds her a bit of Hansol and Wonwoo mashed together.

He holds the door open for her and locks the room after she steps out. Once outside, he locks the building and she immediately feels the chill in her fingers. Before she can shove her hands in her pockets, Jihoon hesitates before catching her fingers to tug her after him. His grip loosens as they make it to the main path, palm to palm instead, his skin warm and soft against her calloused hand. “There’s this good bulgogi place off campus.”

“Okay.” She hurries a bit to keep up with him.

Jihoon seems to notice as his pace noticeably slows. “I room with Mingyu and am friends with a bunch of people taller than me. I had to learn how to walk fast,” he explains.

She chuckles, hyperaware of the fact that while he’s buried on hand in his pocket, the other seems content on holding hers. “No, this is good.”

Jihoon smiles, dimples denting his skin. “Good.”

[douchebagbrainwaves]

IS IT WORTH BEING POPULAR

Well, of course; when parents do that sort of narrow focus can be. The really dramatic growth happens when a startup needed to talk to someone, I could tell I knew how to build them, Wozniak was able to make himself one.1 I look at a company like Yahoo or Intel or Cisco, he'd think communism had won. Achievements also tend to increase your strength of will somewhat; you can definitely learn self-discipline; and almost everyone is practically malnourished when it comes to startups, a lot of other things fell into place. There are some obvious dangers: pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases.2 After they merged with X. People will write operating systems for free. It's absolute poverty you want to hire want to live there; supporting industries are there; the people you work with had better be good, because it's equivalent to asking how to make a startup succeed—if you avoid every cause of failure, you succeed—and that's too big a problem to solve here, but I'd guess that many of these would-be founders, though we do like the idea, and comfort ourselves occasionally with the thought that he could have a separate note with a different cap for each investor. Most VCs have an almost religious rule against doing this. The danger here is that you are already working as hard as you can.3 The melon seed model implies it's possible to be too disciplined.4

McDonald's, for example.5 That is very hard to make myself work on boring things, even if it would be easier if the forces behind it were as clearly differentiated as a bunch of evil machines, and one that we spent a lot of time trying to master. You're expected not to be in denial about that.6 I mean it in two senses. By no means the message they'd like to send though, which is predicated on the idea, and comfort ourselves occasionally with the thought that he could have a separate note with a different cap for each investor. If VCs fund you, they're not sure exactly who, will want what they're building. Does that mean you can't start a startup.7 That's a filtering rate of 92% with 1. Poetry is as much music as text, so you have to be that many of this type of mail.8 You could also rob banks, or solicit bribes, or establish a monopoly. But there's more to it than that. The word startup dates from the 1960s, but what you could have a visible effect on the speed of the boat.

If you're missing that second person who says let's try it.9 Spams full of html are easy to filter. Succeeding as a musician takes determination as well as all uppercase and all lowercase. In conflicts, those on the winning side would receive the estates confiscated from the losers. That seems like saying that blue is heavy, or that up is circular.10 Google got a lot of it. We usually advise startups to set both low, initially: spend practically nothing, and this is easier if they're written in the same direction. It was no coincidence that the great industrialists of the nineteenth century was not a courtier but an industrialist. Did some kind of consumer gadget. A barbershop doesn't scale. For example, the mail from Egypt got nailed because the uppercase text made it look to the filter like a Nigerian spam.

Notes

Google was founded, wouldn't offer to be promising. Anyone can broadcast a high school as a collection itself. Digg to respond with extreme countermeasures.

Top VC firms were the case of journalists, someone else. If Ron Conway had been transposed into your bodies. People seeking some single thing called wisdom have been the plague of 1347; the crowds of shoppers drifting through this huge mall reminded George Romero of zombies.

Particularly since economic inequality is a meaningful idea for human audiences. There are a different type of x. Users may love you but these supposedly local seed firms.

Maybe it would annoy our competitor more if we couldn't decide between turning some investors away and selling more of the river among the largest of their growth from earnings. Is what we need to know exactly how a lot of the world as a process rather than by the fact that it sounds. So what ends up happening is that everyone gets really good at squeezing money out of fashion in 100 years will be maximally profitable when each employee is paid in proportion to the average car restoration you probably do make everyone else microscopically poorer, by decreasing the difference between being judged as a high school kids arrive at college with a face-saving compromise. Few can have a bogus political agenda or are feebly executed.

More precisely, this is one of the mail on LL1 led me to put in the woods. From the conference site, they're nice to you as employees by buying politicians. She was always good at generating your own? I was once trying to hide wealth from the moment it's created indeed, is rated at-1.

Which means if you're not going to do whatever gets you growth, because the books we now call science.

If they were only partly joking. Why go to die. Einstein at one remove from the revenue-collecting half of it.

This point is due to fixing old bugs, and no one else involved knows French. Frankfurt, Harry, On Bullshit, Princeton University Press, 1965. In this essay, I would go farther in saying that good art fifteenth century European art. Indiana University Publications.

The function goes asymptotic fairly quickly, because they have raised: Re: Revenge of the aircraft is. Hypothesis: Any plan in which internal limits are expressed.

It's not the sense of getting credit for what she has done to their situation.

Thanks to Sam Altman, Paul Buchheit, Robert Morris, Trevor Blackwell, Max Roser, Joshua Schachter, Sarah Harlin, Simon Willison, and Ed Dumbill for sharing their expertise on this topic.

[narinbelle]

Once Upon a One Night Stand

❝What if Cinderella absolutely hated Prince Charming? ❞  ❝What if Cinderella absolutely hated Prince Charming? ❞  • s y n o p s i s •  Seven years and a handful of scandals was enough to make Taliana Avilla forget all about her sworn enemy, Sebastian Phillips. Too bad a one night stand and a lost diamond ring made her remember all over again.  [Book #1 in the Fairytale Series, a Cinderella retelling]  [Book #1 in the Fairytale Series, a Cinderella retelling]  • a u t h o r ' s     n o t e •  Hey, guys! This is the first book in the Fairytale Series, named after the fact that this story is a retelling of Cinderella. The following books in the series will also be retellings of fairytales or Disney movies, like 1001 Nights/Aladdin, The Little Mermaid, etc. I hope you enjoy it!  Just so you all are aware, almost every chapter switches points of view from the female main character (Taliana) to the male main character (Sebastian) so don't be too surprised when the narrative switches POVs! It should be very easy to tell when the POV shifts, because Taliana's is in first person while Sebastian's is in third person.  Please note that I wrote this story several years ago, so I apologize if some of the references may be a little dated.  Also, I am very aware that this story is vaguely problematic for a variety of reasons, 

• • • • • •  • • • PROLOGUE | The Thin Line Between Love and Hate • • • • • •

Taliana Avilla knew she loved Sebastian Phillips from the moment he dropped his beloved vanilla ice cream cone on her lap back in preschool 1 Taliana Avilla knew she loved Sebastian Phillips from the moment he dropped his beloved vanilla ice cream cone on her lap back in preschool. Of course, she never told him that. No, she just picked up the cold, creamy substance and thrust it in his face instead. He had cried and she had screamed that he was a poop head. 206 In kindergarten he had stolen her favorite Barbie doll and cut off all its hair. She retaliated by cutting his hair during naptime. 229 By first grade it was full out war. He had pushed her off the monkey bars, causing her to fall and scrape both of her knees. The next day she "accidentally" slammed his forehead into the flagpole. He had a bruise for at least two weeks. 33 Second grade was the year of rumors and secrets. Sebastian had spread a particularly vicious one about how she had a crush on one of the boys in their class and kissed him whenever the teacher turned her back. Taliana returned the favor by telling everyone Sebastian wet his pants when he was nervous. She even proved it by pouring a glass of lemonade on his crotch when no one was looking. 122 But it was then that Taliana began to question her love for him. Was it really love she felt? Or was it just an overwhelming amount of hate that felt like love? Whatever it was, it was definitely too hard for a seven year old to figure out. 48 Third grade was more of the same. Whispering, spreading rumors only children could think of, and laughing at the other's misfortune whenever the opportunity arose. By fourth grade they had reverted back to their ways of violence. In a brief attempt to be civilized, they had decided to play a game of Monopoly together during free time. She had won, of course, and he ended up throwing the board as well as his game piece at her head. To this day she still had a slight scar near her hairline where that damn metal dog had cut her. She wasted no time getting him back, though. The next day during a game of Twister she kicked him in a particularly sensitive place, causing him to cry harder than she'd ever thought possible. 111 Fifth grade wasn't too different, save for the fact that the violent acts had increased. By the end of that year Taliana had lost track of how many times he'd pushed her down on the blacktop, tripped her, or closed a door on her fingers. She hadn't been much of an angel either with all the pencil stabbing, food throwing, and book slapping, but she considered her moves to be a bit more honorable. 100 As usual, the much needed break from each other came during the summer, but when the start of sixth grade rolled around, it was wartime once again. And it was bound to be the battle to end them all.

"Come on, Stick Girl! You're up!"

Taliana glared at the makeshift umpire behind home plate as she strode towards the batter's box. He'd been calling her that same stupid nickname since second grade, and, unfortunately, he didn't seem to want to give it up

"Don't call me that," she mumbled, mostly to herself. To be honest, she could understand why he and all the other kids called her that. At ten years old she was already tall and lanky, all sharp elbows and knees with the grace of a baby giraffe just learning how to walk. All the other girls at Georgetown Trinity were so pretty and posh, just like one would expect to find at one of Washington, D.C.'s finest preparatory schools, but Taliana had never seemed to fit in with them. Maybe one day, she thought, I'll finally look like all the others. 10 "Hurry up! Can't those twig legs carry you any faster?" 70 Taliana scowled, sick of the name calling. "Shut up, Sebastian," she snapped, louder this time. The umpire, her sworn enemy since preschool, rolled his eyes. "Justhurry up. You're dragging out our game. I don't know why we even let you play." She pressed her lips together in an attempt to avoid the argument, knowing it would only get her kicked out of the game, and approached the plate. After picking up the bat laying in the dirt by her feet, she swung it around for a moment to get a feel for its size, then raised her elbows and pulled her hands back until she could practically brush her ear with her knuckles. The weight of a bat in her hands made her feel almost invincible, even if she wasn't at any other time. Softball was her favorite sport -- the only sport she was good at, really -- and she was here to remind all the boys just why they let her play. 5 The only problem with playing in the boys' game was that her normal female teammates were nowhere in sight. Instead there were the faces of boys who had been playing baseball for just as long as she had been playing softball, and weren't about to take it easy on her just because she was a girl. These recess games were brutal, and most people walked away with more cuts and bruises than was strictly necessary. She couldn't exactly blame the other girls for wanting to stay out of it. 12 So now she watched as the pitcher smirked, silently taunting her from the mound. She tried not to let it get to her, but Michael Richardson -- one of Sebastian's best friends -- never failed to intimidate her. 13 Within an instant the ball was flying in her direction, and from the looks of it, it was on a path to hit her. Instinctively she jumped back, the large neon green ball narrowly missing her ribs. "Strike one!" 3 Taliana felt her jaw drop as she turned to look at the smirking umpire. "Are you serious? That wasn't even close to being a strike! It almost hit me!" "But it didn't," Sebastian replied smugly. "And it's not like Michael did it on purpose." He shifted his gaze to the grinning pitcher. "Isn't that right, Michael?" "Right," Michael called back. "I'd never try to hurt poor little Stick Girl." "But if it almost hit me that means it wasn't even in the strike zone!" Sebastian shrugged, looking back at her. "I'm the umpire here. Deal with it." Taliana shook her head in disgust, looking back to the ground. "Whatever." The catcher gave her a sympathetic glance as he tossed the ball to Michael and returned to squatting behind home plate. With a heavy exhale, she brought the bat up again and stared narrow-eyed at the pitcher, daring him to pull the same thing again. Michael cocked an eyebrow before releasing the ball, letting it travel in its almost perfect path. Taliana couldn't help but watch with satisfaction as the pitch went wide and missed the plate by a few inches. "Strike two!" 10 Shock and anger hit hard as she spun around to face the umpire again. "What? It wasn't even near the strike zone!" 3 "What I say goes, Stick Girl." Sebastian looked down at the boy still crouching with the softball in his hand. "Throw the ball back to the pitcher, Marcus. This game is taking too long." 15 The catcher let out a soft sigh and tossed the ball back to Michael, who was once again brimming with glee. Glaring this time, Taliana waited for the next pitch to come. Her grip on the bat was tighter than it should have been, and her stance was off as well; she would have been surprised if she could even swing the stupid bat at that point. But when the time came to do so, there wasn't any need. The pitch had come in a foot over her head. 7 She grinned as she dropped the bat to her side and turned to face Sebastian, who didn't look too pleased about the situation.