#Jell tells wisdom

[jellazticious]

“You can’t rush art”

I think everybody can recall the quote from Toy Story 2. From the most satisfying part of the movie where we see a montage of Woody getting restored by a toy maker. It’s one of my favourites too, I absolutely loved looking at the different procedures used to fix a single toy. The toymaker’s precision and care were found mesmerizing by everyone. As a multi-hatted artist, one that can draw, sculpt, animate, and write, I can say that it’s spot on that there’s so much to do for a single piece of work. HOOO boy, you should see how me and Beefy are organizing Cursed to Charm, there’s so much.

For the upcoming webcomic, we design characters, give each and every one of them their stand-alone story, design different clothes, create the map, draw renders and posters, polish scripts for the episodes, plan to program the comic’s own website, make the backgrounds eventually, etc. To people who aren’t artists or take art for granted, to them, art is stroking a paper using a pen and BAM instant masterpiece. No no, it’s more than that.

Another thing I’d like to say about the comic is that the progress is very slow yet very fruitful because of the time taken. Me and my co-author came up with the idea at late November, which makes the comic four months old now. However, with all that time passed, we have already finalized the list of nine episodes of season one. We have also written seven out of nine summaries from that season before actually writing the dialogue in detail. We have a rough four seasons worth of story progression in the span of four months. Nyeh, excuse the little ramble about CtC, I’m just giving insight of how much should be done for the production of anything which leads us to the next point.

Art production in general.

Movies, animation, shows, video games, books, comics etc etc

All of these are part of art, some people would deny because it isn’t sophisticated like they’re lead to believe art is supposed to be. Art is literally just creation man, can’t get any simpler than that 😩 if you made something, then you made something woohoo! Congratulations you made art, cooking included. It came free with your fucking humanity.

Anyway, just like the webcomic, every single one of these listed also have a set of different procedures that will piece together the final output.

Let’s take Disney movies as a specific example, I want to talk about something real quick.

So one time, I was watching Tarzan with my parents and we stuck around for the end credits. My mom pointed out the animators are divided into sections and there’s so much names on them. There are different teams of animators for each character and these teams are divided in two for the storyboarders and the clean up artists. When the credits rolled a bit more, it showed that the background artists and colorists also have their own sections too. There’s so much people working on different body parts of a movie. I got the habit of reading end credits of every movie I watch, animated or live action, then I would compare the credits of old and new movies. Boy, let me tell you that the work space on old movies are FILLED compared to newer movies. One thing I noticed about Disney movies although, is that the old movies have more sections compared to new ones. The major difference of old Disney and new Disney are the length of the credits and the time gap of the movies. I’m really not trusting the way new movies have way shorter end credits while the publish time of new movies are getting narrower and narrower. Before the 2000s, movies usually come out twice a year and sometimes there’s a two-year hiatus before the next batch of movies are published. Now there’s at least two or three movies that publish yearly while also releasing a bunch of shows in the middle of it. I really don’t understand business talk with the way it sacrifices quality over quantity. Like I get having money is great and all but what’s the use of hoarding it? Especially when there’s so much news of people about to be in poverty and mass layoffs. Why should companies earn money if they’re not going to redistribute it back to the economy at all? This is a little off topic but I want to point it out that people in the 80s used to buy whole houses by being a janitor but nowadays people could barely afford a one room apartment even with three jobs. The Simpsons is an example of this because it was set in the 90s and the family is constantly reminded of how “poor” they are. They even created an episode that talks about the same job that supported people’s fathers will no longer support you nowadays (Poorhouse Rock ep22 s33). It’s fishy and I’m salty about it especially because I hear so much people complaining about how they’re not being given a chance to work. Anywho! Let’s go back to art.

I’m just spitballing my thoughts here but somehow they’re connecting either way. All I’m trying to say is that for the people who care so much about the quality of art, it’s noticeable that they get downgraded, not just by the look but by the way they’re written.

Example.

Clone High.

Jesus Christ, the new show is a nightmare and an insult to the original Clone High. The difference is clear with this one. The original Clone High was heavy satire of every single high school trope used in shows and movies. Every single character was meant to have one personality and that personality is the butt of the joke. The original did not care about making the characters appealing because the appeal is found in the way they interact, they clash so much and a lot of them are idiots. The writing is funny because the dialogue flows so easily unlike the renewal. The renewed Clone High takes itself too seriously and it tries too hard to be relevant. It’s funny to me that fans can draw the original’s art style more accurately than the animators hired. What’s even more frustrating is that concept art was released from the art head and the concept art looked way better than what they decided on the final designs. Other than the art style that tries to be marketable, the writing is insufferable with the way they try to be “relatable” without understanding why the original jokes were funny to begin with.

Now we’re all familiar with this cheap tactic of using the title of successful franchises to grab clicks and views. It’s every live action Disney film, it happened to Scooby Doo, Marvel shows, FNAF, some Cartoon Network shows, Megamind, and now even Kung Fu Panda. Basically MILKING. It would have been better if the productions TRIED to understand the original’s intentions which they forgot about. They ended up being disappointing at best and soulless at worst. I won’t be explaining much cuz I’ve already reached the minimum word count lmao. I’m just rambling here, I better not see anyone interrogate me in asks or replies. ANYWAY, I’m gonna get to the point real quick.

Back to the quote at the start of the post, people tend to forget that. Art is a skill, not a button people press and it gives you pretty pictures or videos. Art is a job and an effort. While art is subjective and it differs from person to person, one thing for certain is that art that is made ingenuinely will never be better than art that is made because the artist loves art. This is why the Tom & Jerry reboots with the lineless art style even if they had a storyboard artist who understood the cartoon wackiness (which were discarded for a “cleaner” and faster style). This is why it’s so frustrating to see concept art of movies which have more appeal than the final 3d models. This is why FNAF Security Breach was nearly unplayable.

Because they all rushed art.

They rushed in favour of what is marketable, no matter how unappealing it is. Everything could have been better, some final products are good, but all of them could have been better. As good as what were released pre 2010s when production had a passion. You can’t spell heart without art.

I’m just really passionate about art in any form since it’s everything that created me too. I will not be here at this point in time if it weren’t for me learning that there’s so much beauty in the world if you could just squint and appreciate why that’s so. I’m defined by my works and it only hurts and infuriates me that people who have the ability and accessibility to create better art than I do waste it for their personal gain or selfish intentions. Everyone could be a better person because of art just as it did to me. Again, it came to us the moment we’re born, art isn’t just a pretty picture, it’s everything we create out of love, passion, time, and effort.

But really, to the wise words of Chef Saltbaker, “like any good bake, heart and soul is the secret ingredient”

You can’t rush art.

[mjolnir-viking-jewelry]

Odin with ravens and wolves pendant (replica)

This is a rare piece because it demonstrates a mix between two typical viking styles - Borre Style and Jelling Style. (9-10th. Norway) In Norse mythology Odin is a god of war and death, as well as a sky god and the god of wisdom and poetry. He is also heavily associated with magic. Odin rides on an eight-legged horse called Sleipnir, and his famous spear is called Gungnir. He also has a precious arm ring called Draupnir, and two ravens called Hugin and Munin who tell him all the things happening around the world. Odin only has one eye, because he sacrificed one to drink from the fountain of wisdom.

[obey-me-headquarters]

ok first, you are so invalid for hating cereal

and second, you got something written for that medical/examination kink? I would like to know more pls 👀

Personally feels like Barbatos would be really into it. He tortures examines demons all the time so to have someone else examine him? He likes the pleasurable aspects of course but he also just finds it really fascinating seeing you (or feeling you if he's lying on his stomach) poke and prod him.

Firstly: food should not be wet!! Listen to my wisdom, food should be dry and hot, drink should be wet and cool. No hot drinks, no wet food.

Secondly: unfortunately I do not have anything in my drafts for the examination kink :( I'm still trying to see what aspects about it I practical like, so I'll get inspired and sit down and write it lol. I'm not sure if I really vibe with the whole pussy spreading bit that is popular in most examination kinks. But I do like the idea of strapping someone do and being like "Ok now we're going to see how long a human person can be edged until they go crazy. Let's go." Or "know we're seeing how long it takes for someone to pass out from overstimulation."

Wait, fuck. That last idea kinda already jells really well with my "can demons pass out from overstimulation" drabble. So I guess perpare to see something like that soon lol.

Or! Or I like the idea of someone getting new parts and tied down to experiment how that feels. Or, the sub has never worked themselves up to an orgasm before so the dom is going to strap em down and ring a few out of them. This idea was kinda present in my "Luci gets a pussy" fic, so I do have *some* examination stuff written already.

I really love your Barbatos suggestion!! I agree I think he'll be into it! Ok but Hot Take time, I think Barbatos is lowkey a brat. Like, he just gives off the "Oh? You think you can dom me?" Vibes of a brat. Definitely plays along with your demands. But really he just wants to forced to knees and made to submit. He wants to be absolutely wrecked.

He'll definitely scoff at the toys you laid out, but he's still being perfectly obedient and laying down so you can strap him in. Lays down like he's getting ready for a nap as you poke and prod down there.

That is, until you get the warming gel and apply it directly to his clit. You go back to looking through your papers as Barbatos is suddenly made aware of how much his clits throbs and burns and it feels like he doesn't touch it he'll die. So he starts squirming against the restraints, but you don't pay him any attention until he clears his throat and says that he would really appreciate if you were rub his clit real quick, it just feels a title itchy. But you don't even glance at him when you tell him that you're not allowed to interfere with the testing.

I'm gonna stop it there before I get into ANOTHER one of my kinks (This one is spefically about itching powder.... if anyone else also heard of this smut or reads about it, feel free to bust into my inbox I hear barely anyone talking about this kind of thing lol)

But anyways. Slowly breaking Barbatos twitj your long drawn tests, only to do a 180 and press a wand against his clit and don't take it off of him until he cums three times in a row.

[vaspider]

I'm getting married Saturday! Any words of wisdom to impart for someone starting that new chapter (if you're comfortable with it)? Thanks for being a parent figure to so many of us on here. Goodness knows lots of us need someone like that.

In any case, Shana Tovah, and many blessings to you and yours!

💙

First of all, mazel tov! So much joy and happiness to you both. 💓

I had to think about this for a bit. @dadhoc and I have been together for 17 years and married for 12, and we've been with @apocalycious for 2.5 years, so I think we're doing something right. In no particular order:

Know when you need to be Right and when you'd rather be Happy. If your spouse wants to build a house with a Jell-O foundation, keep arguing/discussing/etc. bc you need to be right - it could hurt you both if you don't! If you're arguing over which one of you said what when you clearly had an unfortunate misunderstanding and accidentally hurt each other's feelings... wouldn't you rather be happy than right? Take a deep breath, apologize for your part in the misunderstanding, and figure out how to not have it happen again.

Don't let the sun go down on your anger. Don't go to bed angry with each other or actively arguing. That kind of stuff calcifies.

Figure out how the other person expresses love and says they're sorry, and honor that. Communicate how you need to be loved and apologized to. @dadhoc doesn't always say "I love you" out loud, but they make the leftover challah into French toast on the weekend, and they work really hard on NerdyKeppie stuff. I write poems and make art for people and get silly little presents, like an enamel pin with a red panda or a penguin on it for my boos. If you mention something you might like to do someday offhandedly, or a question you wonder about, Evie will remember that and research it for you! Steve also often doesn't say "I'm sorry" out loud - they will go wash the bedding and clean the bedroom so we can all spend time watching TV and snuggling together when the argument is resolved... but I need to hear "I'm sorry" out loud. So I acknowledge and appreciate the things they did, and they say the words out loud.

Respond to what your partners say, not to your baggage or to what you expect them to say. This becomes more of a Thing the longer you're together: you have so many conversations and talks and arguments that you fall into a comfortable groove with each other. That's great! But. Make sure when they're talking that you're not responding to something your dad said that hurt you 20 years ago, or to your ex who was hypercritical of you, or to who your partner USED to be, 6 years and a bunch of discussions ago.

Celebrate each other's successes, even the little ones. Get ice cream together when you finish a project at work. Take each other out for self-care time. You're together because you're each other's biggest fans, after all, but also...

You don't have to be each other's everything. I'm fact, you shouldn't. Make time for yourself. Spend time with your friends. Cultivate your friends, not just our friends. (Evie is friends with people I can't stand, and I'm happy they get along!) Have your Own Things that you do and are.

Spoil each other just a little. If you won't do it, who will?

Laugh with each other but never at each other. Human beings are ridiculous!

Go to therapy. It's preventative maintenance for your brain.

Find something you enjoy doing together that has a finished product at the end. Build a model, bake a cake. Evie and I really like cooking together. Even cleaning is nice if I'm doing it with my partners.

Don't stop going on dates, even if a date means eating dinner outside instead of in your kitchen.

Speaking of which: try to make Family Dinner a thing. Sit at an actual table presuming you have one, trade off making food, put your phone somewhere else while you're eating, and talk to each other without distraction for at least that long every day. I know I sound like a mom in a Pixar movie, but I'm serious, this works! When I was sick, we stopped having a dining room table really bc of how our house got rearranged, and we didn't eat together at a table for years. Now our Family Dinnertime is sacrosanct. Even if we're all eating leftovers, we eat at the table right around the same time every day. It makes a difference in our ability to connect with each other. Eating together is an important human bonding activity.

You're going to change. So is your spouse. That's not just okay - that's great! Life means growth. I'm not who I was in 2004, thank G-d, and neither is Steve. I'm not who I was in 2019, for that matter. That change and growth is who you're becoming together, so honor and celebrate that. You can't grow old together if you don't grow old, after all.

If you're so inclined generally speaking, never stop looking at your sexy-ass spouse with the same wide-eyed delight you do now. Just... enjoy it when they're getting changed in the room with you. If I ever stop saying "... butt... " dreamily when one of my partners is changing, or informing one that they're missing out on seeing the other's butt, just bury me, I'm dead. Appreciate them out loud. They're cute!

Smooch daily.

Take care of yourself. You can't be a good spouse if you're not eating food food, getting enough sleep, etc.

Even in the shitty parts, which will happen, remind yourself that you've got backup. From now on, you've always got backup, and it's much easier to go through crises with your biggest fan by your side. It'll be a great story on the other side, right? I'll forever tell the one about how when Steve was in the hospital for afib, and the docs had to knock Steve out to shock their heart into behaving, they woke up and started immediately asking "where's my [husbutch]?" They got so insistent about it - still loopy on the anesthesia - that the nurse came to get me. I called from the doorway and Steve calmed down... for 5 seconds, and then their short-term memory cycled, and they started asking for me again. This happened half a dozen times until I asked "do you want me to just ... squeeze in?" bc Steve's insistence was slowing the doctors down, the docs said yes, so I worked my way up to the head of their hospital bed and said "here I am, please calm down so the doctors can work." Steve said, "oh! My [husbutch]. Hello, [husbutch]!" and took my hand and calmed down. It was a TERRIBLE day but I LOVE that story in retrospect.

Smooch lots.

Mazel tov! Love each other. Building a marriage is work, but anything worth building takes effort. It sounds cheesy but it's so true. 💗

[behindyourbarrette]

every work posted under the tag #rorywrites is mine and is not to be reposted anywhere!

exclusively Spencer Reid x Reader unless marked otherwise

everything is SFW and suited for teen and up audiences

ONESHOTS

—Night Shift (4k, RN! reader, enemies-to-lovers, meet ugly)

You and Spencer tell the team (and the kids) how you met. It's not...the best love story, but it's yours.

—The Curse of the Love Sweater (established relationship, fluff, autumn vibes)

You've been with Spencer forever. But he's never kept a secret...until now. It doesn't take too long for you to figure out what he's stitching up behind your back...

—Stay Stay Stay (angst with a happy ending, BAU reader)

You're leaving the Bureau after a long, messy decade. But somebody'd like you to stay.

—Birthday Candles; Kiss Me Slow (angst, Spencer's birthday, established relationship_

Birthdays kind of suck. But at least you're together.

—Star Light, Star Bright (4k, camping, pure fluff)

The team goes camping on a long weekend. Turns out, it's pretty damn easy to tell someone how you feel under a starry night sky.

—Lucky Strike (2k, bowling date night w the team, fluff)

Spencer surprises his girlfriend. Established relationship fluff ensues.

SERIES

—Like You A Latte (12k, fem!reader, coffee shop AU)

You're a barista. He's a caffeine addicted profiler. Five drinks you serve your favorite regular, and one drink you both share.

—Temporarily, Indefinitely, Forever (20 fucking K), fem!reader, fake dating, fluff and angst)

Tired of being chronically single and teased about it, the Reader and Spencer Reid make a deal. They'll fall in love; just for the holiday season. Their arrangement is temporary, right?

BLURBS

—Fireflies (600 words, fluff, wedding antics)

A few words of wisdom, a warm summer night, and dancing.

—Unbreakable (1k words, emotional angst, s9 injury)

For the first time, the Reader confronts the reality that she might lose Spencer. Hospital Jell-O fluff ensues.

—Popcorn's Ready (like 400 words, fluff, jealousy)

It's movie night, and the actor's hot. Spencer's having none of it.

[noonaduck]

SeXd (sex ed) pt.7

Pairing: BTS OT7 x reader genre: Fluff,smut, non idol Au Warnings: cursing, fingering, oral (female receiving), sexsexsex Words: 5518 A/N: Helloo, its finally here. I rewrote the whole 2nd half of the part so it took twice as long as it would without me doing it. I had to change the whole plot points because I felt so unhappy. I hope you enjoy the results. PS. short reminder for new readers that English aint my 1st language and plus to that I have mild dyslexia so errors may and will occur despite my editing. Summaray: Y/N is a woman who is inexperienced in anything when it comes to relationships and sex. Luckily her friend Jimin along with his six other friends decide to show her what she has been missing.

Msg me or send ask if you want to be tagged. I won’t tag you if you ask in comments. 6. < 7. > 8. 2nd Bonus

[gifs belongs to their rightful owners ] You were sure that Jimin was avoiding you. At first you had dismissed your thought as Jimin being busy now when his musical was on full speed.  That being the reason why he was always leaving the room when you entered or how he only replied shortly to your messages. When you saw him to do full 180 degree turn when he saw you on theater hallway you knew that he did it on purpose. You were furious, you haven't give any reason for him to act on that way. You have talked to him like you normally do and greeted him every time you walked past him on the hallways. You decide to follow Jimin despite the fact he was going to whole different direction where you were originally heading.

''Park Jimin stop right there!'' You jell while stomping after him. Jimin's movements halts and he freezes like a little kid who has been caught from a cookie jar. Jimin spins around and smiles awkwardly. ''Oh, hi Y/N, I didn't notice you.'' ''You are such a liar Jimin.'' You huff when you stop in front of him. You have crossed your arms and if look could kill Jimin would be dead by now. ''I don't know what you are imp-'' ''Don't you fucking dare to say that you don't know what I'm talking about.'' You tell angrily. Couple of your co-workers walks past of you and glances you curiously. Jimin glares them and they turn their heads towards the direction where they are headed hurrying their steps. ''Fine, but not here, follow me.'' Jimin begans walking without waiting for you to follow. Even when you are angry you can't deny the fact that seeing Jimin's butt in his tight skinny jeans doesn't affect you. Focus Y/N, you are mad. You shake your thoughts and hurry after him before he completely disappears from your sight. Jimin stops dramatically in front of random door and waves you to step in with mocking bow. You roll your eyes to his gesture and look around in the spacious room. There is racks full of clothes and more clothes. You are in the storage room where costumes that aren't in use are kept. Jimin closes the door after him and you are left alone into the dusty room, you can even see how the dust particles dance on the dim light. ''Now, can you tell me why you have been avoiding me?'' You ask impatiently. Jimin sighs and rubs his temple. ''It's complicated.'' ''Complicated how? Nothing has changed as far I can recall.'' You are confused and Jimin's distressed face doesn't make things easier to understand. Jimin's face falls suddenly blank and he looks to your eyes without blinking. ''I never thought that you would be such a slut Y/N.'' You feel like all the air is left your lungs and you gawk Jimin with wide eyes. ''A sl-slut?'' ''Yes, I never thought that you would willingly have sex with my every fucking friend.'' Jimin's voice gets louder and you feel like you are turning smaller under his heated gaze. ''Bu-but it was your idea that I should take lessons from your friends.'' You say with shaky voice and bite your lip from keeping you from crying. ''I know and I regret it. I never thought that you would actually follow the plan.'' Jimin chuckles darkly and takes one step closer to you. ''I have started to think that you are only my friend so you can hoe around with my friends.'' Hid voice is low again when he lowers himself to your level. ''I m, I was your friend because you were first person to show kindness towards me when I first moved here. Besides I didn't even know your friends before you introduced them for me.'' With that being said you storm out of the room while tears kept falling freely from your eyes.You run out of your workplace leaving all your belongings behind. You don't know how long you have been wandering and crying when you feel wave of exhaustion to hit you with full force. You fall on your knees on sidewalk while small hiccups leaves your lips. People walk past you whispering to each other and giving few stares, but no one stops to help at first. ''Y/N, is that you?'' Familiar voice asks and someone kneels in front of you. ''Mummy, why she is crying? Is she hurt?'' A small voice of child asks beside of the person. You look up and see worried looking Jisoo with a little girl, who you assume to be her daughter. The small girl has dark hair on two piggy tails, her face is chubby and his big brown eyes are widened in worry. ''I don't know sweetie, I'm trying to figure it out. Y/N? Can you stand? Are you okay?''Jisoo asks and smiles gently. Only few sobs leave your lips when you take her offered hand. You get up and try to smile to Jisoo but your smile is quick to turn into frown. ''Jisoo!'' You sob and hang yourself on her neck. ''Shh, it's okay. Can you tell me whats wrong?''Jisoo asks while petting your hair. You shake your head on her embrace. Suddenly you feel other pair of smaller hands tied around you. ''Pretty lady don't cry. Mummy says that big girls are strong and brave.'' Jisoo's daughters childlike wisdom is something that you need at the moment. You finally pull away from them. ''Thank you both.'' You tell whit raspy voice from crying. ''How about we go to cafe and drink something  to calm down.'' Jisoo suggest and you nod. ''I wan't ice cream.'' The little girl cheers. ''Haru, you already ate some yesterday.'' Jisoo tells while you begun walk slowly towards nearest coffee shop. ''That was yesterday, now is now.'' Haru pouts. ''Fine, let me think about it.'' Jisoo sighs given up. ''Yay! Ice cream!'' ~ You sit on booth with Haru while Jisoo orders for you. You feel quite awkward under the four-year-old's stare. You are glad when Jisoo arrives quickly carrying platter full of treats. She has small dose of ice cream on glass cup, two slices of wet chocolate cake, juice box for Haru and coffee for her and soda for you. You smile gratefully when she puts the piece of cake in front of you. Haru cheers and goes straight for her ice cream. You are jealous, children are so easy to please. ''Can you now tell me what is bothering you?'' Jisoo asks and takes careful sip from her hot drink. ''I had big fight with my friend.'' You admit and play with your little spoon. ''Who was the jerk who dared to hurt my Y/N?'' Jin slides dramtically next to you on the booth and takes you on tight embrace. ''I texted Jin.'' Jisoo tells apologetically for your confused face. ''Jin oppa!'' Haru cheers loudly and forgets her ice cream for a second. Jin finally lets you breathe and takes his hands away around you.'' Hi pumpkin, I missed you too.'' Jin smiles for the little girl. Jin is still wearing his work uniform, even his lab coat is on his shoulders. ''Do you want some of my ice cream?'' Haru asks and offers her spoon towards Jin. ''No thanks, I just ate.'' Jin assures and Haru shrugs her shoulders and returns happily to her dessert. ''So who was the bastard who made you cry?'' Jin lowers his voice around the little girl. You take big gulp and put the spoon on the table. ''Jimin.'' You admit bluntly. ''Jimin?'' Jin asks with high note and Haru glances towards your together pushed heads curiously. Jin remembers where he is and lowers his voice again. ''What did he do?'' ''I don't really want to talk about it, at least not here.'' You tell awkwardly. Jin looks you with impatient eyes but finally sighs. ''Fine, when we are alone, we will talk.'' You agree instantly feeling relived that you can avoid telling the truth little while longer. You spent for a while with Jisoo, Haru and Jin at the coffee shop. Finally Jisoo told that she and Haru had to leave. Haru was unhappy about parting with Jin but Jin's promise to visit her soon left smile on the little girl's lips. You are alone at cafe with Jin, who is sipping his second cup of coffee while you drink water. You aren't sure why Jin doesn't want to leave yet but the reason is soon revealed when Jungkook enter the cafe carrying your purse and jacket on his hands. ''Hi Hyung, hi Y/N.'' Jungkook greets you smiling softly and sit opposite of you on the booth. Jungkook is wearing thin grey jacket over his bleached jeans and his earphones are hanging loosely around his neck. ''Hey Jungkook, how did you end up with my belongings?'' You ask surprised but grateful. ''Well Jin texted me and asked if I could pick your stuff from the theater. I also met Jimin briefly but he was on super grumpy mood.'' Jungkook tells and frowns. ''I see.'' You mumble quietly. ''Did Jimin tell you that he made Y/N upset?'' Jin asks impatiently and Jungkook shakes his head surprised. ''Well he did and I was about to ask Y/N here tell us the whole story.'' Jin tells with emotionless tone. ''Is Jimin the reason why I had to made excuse for the elderly woman at the theater reception about Y/N's absence?'' Jungkook asks worry clear in his voice. ''You did? Yes and I'm grateful for that.'' You tell relived. ''No problem, just remember that your aunt fainted and is now at the hospital.'' Jungkook grins. ''I will.'' You smile back at Jungkook. ''Now can we finally go to the topic about what Jimin did?'' Jin asks clearly being in limits of his patience. You take a deep breath and begin to tell about your argument with Jimin, while you keep staring your glass so you aren't able to see the men's faces. ''Son of a bitch!'' Jin fums and hits his fist one the table. Jin's outbreak gains stares of other customers and soon you are asked to leave for causing too much disorder. ''Fine we go, I didn't like the place that much anyway.'' Jin tells the unlucky waitress who had to deliver the message. You exit the cafe with Jin and Jungkook and you follow Jin to his car. You sit on the passenger's seat and Jungkook sits on the back. Jin starts the car still clearly upset. You aren't sure is he upset for you or Jimin. When the silence gets to heave to bare you finally speak. ''Jin?'' You ask carefully holding tightly on your purse to ease your nerves. ''Yes Y/N?'' Jin asks with tense voice while his grip on the steering wheel tightens. Jungkook seems to sense the heavy atmosphere and keeps wisely his mouth shut. ''Are you mad at me?'' Jin chuckles lowly. ''Why would I be? I'm staying silent because I don't have anything nice to say about Jimin right now.'' ''Okay, then where are  we going?'' You had no idea where Jin was driving. ''It's a surprise.'' Jin answers mysteriously and you glance Jungkook trough rear view mirror but he just smiles slyly back at you. ~ ''An amusement park?'' you are exited. Jin and Jungkook has taken you into biggest indoor amusement park in the city called 'Summer fields'. You are waiting on the line to purchase your tickets and Jin is feeling amused because of your excitement. Jin is completely ignoring curious looks caused by his working clothes, but after all it's amusement park and his outfit isn't the most odd one which has been seen here. ''We thought that you could use some cheering up and besides this is great excuse to skip work.'' Jungkook tells excitedly. ''Won't you get in trouble because of skipping?'' You ask feeling guilty. ''Don't worry. My boss is out of town and everyone is taking things more relaxed at work now. Besides I'm at home suffering from food poisoning.'' Jungkook winks and Jin sighs loudly. ''So that's why you were available, no wonder. One day you will get caught with your lies.'' Jin scolds his younger who just smirks wider. ''Maybe, but not today.'' Jungkook has smug smile on his face which leaves quickly when he sees Jin's disappointed face. Now it's your turn to buy your tickets and despite of your protest Jin insist paying yours but refuses to buy Jungkook's and say that he is teaching him a lesson. You wonder if Jin's means are effective after all the boy is still going to have fun with you guys. When you have survived from entrance area you see excited people all around you. Some of them are wearing silly headbands with cat ears or unicorn's horn and some is stuffing their mouth full of cotton candy carrying big stuffed animals. You hear exited screams when people are enjoying the rides and some get scared on the roller coaster. You see the fantasy themed castle sparkling in the distance and you are admiring the small lights which sparkles on the castle walls. ''So, what you wanna do first?'' Jin asks and brings you back to the moment. ''I don't have a preference really. I has been in amusement park last time when I was a teen.'' You tell honestly and Jin loo's you with wide eyes. ''Are you serious? How could you have been so long without joy of eating too much candy and puking after the wildest rides.'' Jin asks with fake scandalous voice. ''I don't know. Sometimes I wonder how I'm alive.'' You answer as dramatic voice as Jin's. ''Guy's stop joking, lets go already. I want to drive the bump cars.''Jungkook says his eyes glistering like little child's. You must admit that your friends excitement is contagious and before you even notice you are having so much fun running from ride to another, playing some arcade games and even buying silly cat ears, which you put on top of Jin's head, and when Jungkook laughs for him and you pull from your bag a pair of another headband with mouse ears. Jungkook tries to run away but after seeing your sulking face he puts the fluffy ears on top of his head which makes you smile widely. Jin glances his watch time to time like he is waiting for something but Jungkook is always fast pulling your attention to somewhere else. Jungkook spend a quite amount of money to win you big fluffy stuffed bunny even when you insisted that he did not have spend his money on games just to win you a prize. Jungkook just waved your complaints away and kept feeding his money to game vendor who accepted them happily. You are walking with the big bunny on your arms when Jin glances his watch again. ''Y/N, what you think about riding a Ferris wheel?'' Jin suddenly asks andyou are quick to agree even tough it feels little lame after the previous ride which you visited. Jungkook is also quick to agree as well and soon you head to the end of the line to wait your turn to ride. ''Hyung I really need to pee.'' Jungkook says suddenly and you look him surprised. ''Aish, Now? Why did you drink so much.'' Jin answers, which is odd because Jungkook had barely drank anything. ''I'm sorry. Will you come with me to the bathroom?'' Jungkook looks guilty. ''Y/N can you manage alone,we will be shortly back. I'm sure that we will be here before our turn.'' Jin pleas. ''Umm, okay.'' You hesitate a little, the line isn't that long... ''Great, we will be back soon.'' Jungkook grins and starts walking towards the bathroom with hurried steps followed by Jin. Maybe he did had to really pee badly after all. When Jin and Jungkook isn't constantly by your side cheering you up, your mind starts to slip easily back to Jimin harsh words. perhaps you shouldn't have spent so much time with so many different men and  should have refused the whole idea of going out with them but on the other than how could you have known that their dates have some ulterior motives even tough they were good ones. You squeeze your bunny tighter in your arms and force smile to your face. You did not want to disappoint the men after all they had done to you. When someone puts their hand on your shoulder you turn around fake smile on your face ready to face your friends. Except it wasn't them. ''Namjoon? What are you doing here?'' You are greatly surprised to see the man in the question. He is wearing a casual red hoodie with plain jeans and white cap on top of his head. You have never seen him wearing anything else but formal clothes so he seems little odd in your eyes, odd in the good way. ''I'm here for our date.'' Namjoon says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. ''Our date?'' You ask surprised. Someone coughs on your back in the line and you realize that it's your turn to get in the ride. You climb in the small cabin with blushing face followed by Namjoon who sits next you on the small space. The ride starts to move slowly and Namjoon returns to the topic. ''Jin and Jungkook kept you company until I was able to leave the work and get home to change.  The told me that you needed cheering up.'' ''Great, does everyone know about my fight with Jimin?'' You whine and bury your face into your stuffed animal. ''Y/N, look at me.'' Namjoon says with gentle voice. You refuse to look at him feeling embarrassed and bury your face deeper into the bunny's fur. Namjoon tugs gently the stuffed animal and you give up and let go of it. You look Namjoon's face scared waiting what he has to say. Namjoon leans closer and puts his hand on your thigh. ''Don't you realize how important you are to us, to me? You are such a great person who always has been kind and polite to us. From the fist moment when Jimin introduced us I knew that you were something special.'' Your face turns into deeper shade of tomato and Namjoon smiles fondly to you. ''Forget Jimin and forget his stupid words. If he doesn't see you like I do he needs to wake up.''Namjoon adds and presses  kiss on your cheek. It's official, you are a tomato or at least relative to them. Suddenly the ride jerks and stops. The Ferris wheel was moving at slow space around so it was notable change. ''What's going on?'' You ask panicked and glance around. You notice that people in the other carts are also looking confused. ''I don't know.'' Namjoon answers and frowns.''Attention, I'm sorry to announce that our Ferris wheel is stuck. Please stay calm and seated, the maintenance team is on it's way.'' The man who controls the ride proclaims from his booth with monotone voice.     ''Well fuck.'' Namjoon sighs but you keep quiet. You are sort of little bit afraid of heights. It's nothing serious and you can enjoy your rides fine, as long as they are moving. When you are stuck in high place you easily feel sick. You remember one time when your class had a field trip at elementary school and you visited high sight seeing tower. At first you were super excited for the trip, after all you didn't leave your small town often at the time. You can vividly remember the long class stairs which you had to take to reach the top. At first everything was going smoothly and you were walking in line with your classmates along the stairs. It started you feeling little bit funny and shaky but you kept going. When you were little above the middle of the stairs you looked down and saw how high up you were. Ii did not help that you were able to see trough the cabs between the stairs the distant ground. You stopped on your heels and a boy who was behind of you complained loudly and tried to push you to keep going but you couldn't. in the end the whole glass had to go back down because the teacher couldn't leave the rest of the class alone.  You had to go the stairs down on your butt slowly dropping one stair at the time while the teacher held your hand. You felt so ashamed of yourself when you were left alone in the lobby with the reception worker so other children could at least enjoy their trip. ''Y/n', are you okay?'' Worried sounding Namjoon pulls you from your memory. ''I'm fine.'' You lie with shaky voice. You feel so stupid the ride wasn't nearly as high as the tower had been. ''You clearly aren't okay, please don't lie to me.'' Namjoon says with stern voice and takes hold of your shoulders. ''Talk to me.'' You gulp and look back to Namjoon's serious eyes. ''I'm scared of heights.'' You admit shyly. Namjoon just stares you without speaking for a second when he suddenly lets big puff of air out of his lungs. ''I can't believe those idiots took you to the amusement park without figuring that out.''  You are surprised from his outburst. ''it's not Jin's and Jugkook's fault. I'm usually fine on the rides. I just get shaken a bit when I can actually feel how high I'm.'' You hurry to defend your friends. Namjoon slides his hands along your shoulders and stops at your hands. Slowly he lifts one of your hands to his lips and kisses each of your finger gently. ''Wha-what are you doing?'' You ask flustered. The return of the tomato is near. ''I'm distracting you.'' He answers casually and repeat his actions with your other hand. Well you can't lie, his actions are working. Instead of fear you are feeling completely different feeling, lust. You keep staring Namjoon's lips when they brush gently tips of your fingers. You have sudden urge to kiss him, so you do it.  At the same second when Namjoon drops your hand and smiles you lean closer and press your lips against his. He freezes from surprise. its unlike to you to be so forward with your actions. Namjoon recovers quickly and his hands finds your neck quickly wrapping around it. Sure you had kissed Namjoon once before during your heated make out session at Jin's car but never like this. This time you were fully able to appreciate his velvet lips. Jolt of the cart pulls you apart and you look each other with widened pupils, the Ferris wheel was moving again. You had forgotten to be afraid of heights when you were next to Namjoon. ~ You are quick to leave the amusement park after you are freed from the Ferris wheel. Your lips are locked when you enter in to Namjoon's house. You don't have time to admire his beautifully decorated home, all you could see was Namjoon. When you part Namjoon takes you to his hands and carries you towards his bedroom on his arms. He doesn't even waver when he climbs up the stairs with you, against your protests.  Namjoon tosses you to his well made bed and follows quickly after pulling his hoodie and shirt away along the way. You admire his body and run your eyes along his chest. Namjoon smirks when he sees your admiration and peeks your lips quickly. ''Can I take this of?'' Namjoon gestures towards your shirt and you are quick to agree. You raise your hands above your head so Namjoon is able to undress your shirt. His eyes finds your lace covered breasts and short low moan leaves his lips. ''You look so good already, I can't wait to see what is under rest of your clothes.'' ''Come on and undress me then.'' You tease and amused smirk covers his face. ''I shall do what the lady demands but don't forget that I'm in control here.'' His low voice and dominant statement gets shivers run to your spine. Namjoon yanks quickly your pants away and tosses the carelessly on the ground. He licks his lips and follow curves of your body with his eyes. ''So fucking good. Do you trust me?'' Namjoon asks suddenly and you get flashbacks from your encounter in Jin's car. ''I think I do.'' You answer like you did back them and knowing look flashes on Namjoon's eyes.   ''Yes or no baby girl?'' Namjoon asks and reaches to swipe few locks of escaping hair away from you face. ''I do.'' You answer and Namjoon seems extremely happy. ''Good.'' Instead of returning to your body he gets up from his bed and heads for drawer close the door. You look curiously how he pulls one of the drawers open and takes out something that looks like a blindfold and pair of handcuffs. Namjoon returns to the bed with the items on his hand. He shows them to you and ask ''Are you still with me?'' You nod. Although you have never thought about being tied up or blindfolded the idea of doing so excites you. ''Good  girl. Can you take your bra of?'' he asks satisfied and brushes your right breast quickly with his knuckles. You nod shyly and reach to your back to open your bra and slide it of your shoulder.  Namjoon's eyes darkens when he sees your bare and those beautiful mounds of flesh with perky nipples. ''Lie down and put your hands up.'' Namjoon tells you and you obey quickly.  Namjoon cuffs your hands to the bed post threading the cuffs on the crossbars of his black iron bedpost.  When he is happy with securing you he takes the blindfold to his hands and slides it gently to cover your eyes. You are left in the darkness completely in his mercy and the idea of it makes the heat pooling in to your belly and small vet spot begins to form into your panties. ''You look so good like this baby girl, all tied up and just waiting that someone taker you. I could just admire you all day.'' You hear Namjoon's voice and soon feel the bed dip next to you for a sign that Namjoon is sitting next to you. Namjoon puts his hand on your right breast and squeezes. ''Dam,  you have good tits.'' You whine softly for his words and hear him chuckle but otherwise keeping quiet. Namjoon rolls your nipple gently between his fingers and his lips finds your other breast. He bits it hard. You yelp in surprise. ''Joon!'' You complain and Namjoon stops for second. ''I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. You just look so divine.'' He admits and you feel yourself getting more heated.  If you were honest his teeth did not hurt that much, you were just surprised from his actions. After all you had no idea what he would do because you ability of seeing has been robbed from you. ''I-it's okay.'' You answers and it's Namjoon's cue to continue. He returns to your breasts and this time he nibbles them more gently. You sigh in pleasure when Namjoon's hand starts to roam lower to you body dipping over your breasts. He stops above your underwear and sighs. ''You are already turning wet for me, you are such a needy thing.'' He hymns and pulls your panties away leaving your body completely bare under his eyes. Even though you feel little shy your hands are tied on the bedpost and you can't do much to cover yourself. Without a warning Namjoon's hand dips between your wet folds and a wanton moan leaves your lips. ''So fucking wet.'' Namjoon pulls his fingers away from your heated core and you hear muted moan. ''Tastes as good as looks.'' Namjoon gets up from his seat just to go between your legs.  He spears your legs open and breath hitches to your throat from anticipation.  When Namjono is happy with his new position he spears your pussy lips open and dips his tongue to your folds. The pure pleasure from his small actions makes you impatient. ''Joon I need more!'' You demand. ''Wait patiently, you will get more. Impatient girls get nothing.'' Namjoon answers huskily and returns to your lower regions despite his accusing tone. His tongue returns to its work and he circles slowly your clit with the wet muscle. You have come to realize with your resent sexual awakening that you were really impatient when you wanted something but you were on Namjoon's mercy and complains wouldn't help you. Instead you bite your lower lip while Namjoon rills you up slowly. After time which felt like a eternity he dips his index finger into mix and begins to pump it slowly into your wet hole. Knot is forming slowly but surely from Namjoon's skilled actions but you are  still missing something. Like sensing this Namjoon finally gives you a mercy and picks up his speed and his plump lips find your needy bud. With his sucking and finger moving inside your walls you feel how the knot is ready to snap when suddenly Namjoon halts his movements and pulls away. Loud frustrated moan leaves from your lips, your orgasm has never been denied before. ''Don't worry you will come but only with me.'' Namjoon tells satisfied seeing you squirming. ''Hurry then.'' You demand, you can't help yourself. ''Usually I would punish you from a such bratty attitude but today I let it slide.'' Namjoon chuckles darkly and you hear how his belt is opened and pants are pulled down. You really want to see him. Soon you hear folio ripping and you assume him rolling condom at it's place. Your whole body stills. You have never actually gone trough with penetration. ''Hey Joon.'' You say with shaky voice and Namjoon stops his actions caused by your shaky tone. ''Is everything okay baby girl?'' he asks and squeezes your side gently. ''I, I haven't actually been fucked before.'' You hurry to force the words out of your mouth so quickly that Namjoon had to think before he realizes what you just said. ''Well fuck, I promise to go slow.'' Namjoon says with gentle voice which is completely opposite of his actions this far in the bedroom. ''Okay. Hey Joon?'' ''Yes baby?'' ''Can I at least see you?'' ''Sure, no problem.'' Namjoon agrees quickly worried for your comfort and pulls the blindfold from your eyes. You blink rapidly when the light hits your eyes.  When you are again used to the light your eyes find Namjoon and again you almost forget how to breathe. He is so fucking beautiful and handsome at the same time. His dick is hard and wrapped in condom, begging for it release.  Namjoon's body is like a eye candy, just created to be admired and worshiped. Did whole group of seven men save the country in their past life or something? It's so utterly unfair how all of them is so gorgeous. ''Can I kiss you?'' You ask and instead of answering Namjoon leans to your lips and bites your lower lip gently. ''Are you sure that you are okay with this?'' Namjoon asks when his lips leaves yours. ''Yes, I want to do it.'' You agree little bit nervous but eager to continue.           So you know how romance books always describes your first time as a fantasy came true? Well it it really was, Namjoon was gentle when he entered you going slowly. Namjoon was far from small and his member invading your insides was painful at first without lying.  You whined when you felt the burn and few tears escaped your eyes which Namjoon kissed away. When you finally gave the signal to move he made sure that your comfort came first and soon the stretch turned from unpleasant into pleasure.  Namjoon's dick brushed one particular spot in your insides and you were seeing stars. You begged for more and Soon Namjoon speed was multiplying and he pumped his hard member in and out to your wet hole.  You hands were still tied on the bedpost so you were unable to touch Namjoon which was in your eyes a minus but the thought slipped quickly from your mind when he pinched your clit and you came hard spamming around his thick member. Your pulsing walls were quick to push Namjoon over the edge and he came in to the condom. Panting and sweaty Namjoon pulled out and tossed the condom into nearby trash bin. You are still fucked out and coming back to earth when Namjoon releases you from the cuffs. After all the lust is literally fucked out of you, you are getting tired. Even the dull pain and soreness you feel won't stop your eyelids wanting to close shut. ''I go get the towel.'' Namjoon says quietly while you are already drifting to sleep in his bed. Last thing you can remember is Namjoon cleaning you up and pulling blanket over your body.  Namjoon turns the lights off in the room and slides next to you in to the bed drifting into dreamland with you.

'Tae I fucked up.'' ''So I have heard.'' ''What I can do to fix this?'' ''What you think you should do?'' ''Fuck, I don't know. All I know is that I can't lose her.'' ''Then Jimin you should tell that to her.'' 

Tags:  @lylanie12 @hopeivx @vannilacake @mina-messed-up  @lonely-hufflepuff @soularbangtan @all289854 @hobitoons @vanessalovesonedirection @bbjel @doki-do-ki @yoongleskitten @chaitaewithkookies @hellosweety94 @exochanyeoltao @brokencrownqueen @hitit-thesecond-audition @kookiemonstersugatea @treetops68 @mylittlestrangeandsweetworld @lanu-la @d-noona @serendipity-secrets @recs-by-raamish @jojolovesbangtan @fanficreblogaaaa @creepysweet  @elpanvibe @kassandravictoria @kpoppower @golddaengguk @barbikatherine 

[7-wonders]

I got all four of my wisdom teeth removed today and I was wondering if you could do a little something for Michael taking care of the reader after surgery? I love everything you write!

(I hope you’re feeling better, I’ve still been too much of a wimp to get mine out!)

//

Michael was aware of the surgery that is basically a rite of passage for most humans as they enter young adulthood. During the short time he was at Hawthorne, he had heard so-called horror stories that his classmates would tell ailing boys whose last molars were coming in. The gore that came along with waking up with a bloody mouth full of gauze, the feeling of coming off of the anesthesia, only being able to eat Jell-o for a week: their stories were endless, and vivid enough to have many of the students with weaker stomachs blanching and running for the bathroom. 

Michael really couldn’t care less about the war stories swapped between those who had gotten their wisdom teeth removed. His father had, of course, crafted him to be fully ready for the apocalypse when he reached the age of maturity. This meant that minor distractions that a normal human would face, such as routine surgery and accidental injuries, did not exist when it came to Michael. Listening to the dreaded ‘wisdom teeth’ fables didn’t bother him, because it was something that would never affect him.

At least, he thought it was something that would never affect him. That was before he fell madly in love with you, someone who is all-too human. While that’s one of the (many, many) reasons why he loves you, your humanity, it’s also made him a part of many life events he thought that he would never experience. This included the removal of your wisdom teeth, a date that you firmly considered would also become the last day of your life. Michael knew that you would be fine, and you did as well, but it was still a terrifying date to look forward to. 

Michael is not someone who feels lost in a situation. He’s always calm and collected, knowing exactly what to do and when to do it. Even if he’s not sure in the moment, a smile and a couple of sweet words has everyone bending to his every whim. This, however, is something that his father could have never prepared him for. Homicidal witches are a piece of cake compared to--

“Stop trying to remove the gauze from your mouth!” Michael reminds you for the fourth time in as many minutes, grabbing your wrist with one hand to prevent you from going against the dentist’s orders while his other hand remains firmly on the wheel. 

When Michael had insisted that he was more than capable of taking you home after your surgery, he hadn’t expected you to still be under the effects of the anesthesia used to knock you out before your teeth were removed. If he had known that little fact, he might have enlisted the help of someone else (the robotic Ms. Mead? One of your friends? A nanny?) to assist him in this task.

“You’re not my dad!” you yell, huffing and leaning back against the seat before mumbling something along the lines of “ugly-ass noodle head.”

“What?” You collapse into giggles, holding your stomach as your shoulders shake with laughter. 

“‘s from a Vine,” you gasp out, Michael looking entirely unamused next to you.

“Of course it is.”

“Wait!” you nearly shout. “This means I get lots of ice cream, right? Can we get milkshakes? I want strawberry!”

“No milkshakes, remember? You can’t use straws for a week.”

You stare at him indignantly. “Then how the hell else am I supposed to have ice cream?”

“...with a spoon?” Michael says slowly, half-worried that it’s a trick question. Nodding apprehensively, your attention changes gears from ice cream to poking at your numb bottom lip.

It’s a near-miracle that Michael’s able to get you home and settled into the large bed that you share with him, on account of your desperate attempts to ‘prank’ him and grab the wheel. He sends one of the lackeys out for your prescribed medication and plenty of ice cream. (”W-what kind, s-sir?” the nervous young man had stuttered, Michael rolling his eyes. 

“Well, I suppose you had better come back with a variety. I would hate for you to suffer the consequences if my queen is not satisfied.” 

“Y-yes sir!” he squeaks out, nearly running around the corner to escape Michael.)

Blissfully, you fall asleep almost immediately after Michael puts you in bed. He could, with his powers, leave your side and be perfectly assured that you’re safe, but he would rather sit next to you and keep a firm hand on your back. When you do wake up, he’s at your side immediately with a large glass of water and the pills you’re supposed to take. You gratefully take it, nearly chugging the entire glass in one gulp before you remember to take the medicine he’s given you.

“Did you sleep well?” Michael asks softly, running a finger gently across your cheek and smiling fondly at how swollen they are, making you resemble a chipmunk (an observation that he’ll never tell you about).

“Mhm,” you blink up at him owlishly, already feeling the call of sleep once again. “Sorry for acting like a crackhead on the way home.”

Michael hides a snort with a cough, looking away so you don’t see him laughing. “Shh, you don’t need to apologize. You were...definitely still feeling whatever drugs they had you on.”

“Listen, I know you’re an Antichrist and all, but if you ever need surgery, take the anesthesia they give you,” you say nostalgically, as if recalling an event from years ago.

“Don’t worry about me, (Y/N). Focus on resting, okay?” You nod, leaning against his shoulder and burrowing under the blankets.

“Michael?” you call quietly.

“Yes?”

“When I wake up, can I have ice cream?”

“Whatever kind you desire.”

“...You threatened one of your followers, didn’t you?”

“No, I simply suggested that he be extremely careful in following my instructions.” You don’t answer, instead giggling and letting yourself relax as you know that Michael’s got you.

[wheresmynaya]

Meeting in the Middle Ch.6 | Brittana

Link to FF (x)

Thank you all for being so patient while my mom was in town! This marks the 'end' of this story since I previously said that this was going to be a short one. However, you’ll find that the ending leaves some room to play so I may continue but we'll see where my creativity takes me. Thanks for sticking around!

           When Brittany wakes again it’s to be checked over by the nurse and to be informed that it’s not much longer now until her surgery. Brittany’s a little groggy, but she nods in understanding. On the little table next to her is a red Jell-o cup and a plastic spoon; she looks around wondering where it came from but she’s alone. She picks it up and turns it in her fingers, looking it over before she decides it’s now hers.

           She’s two scoops in when she sees Quinn walk pass the window. She watches as she stops and starts talking to someone sitting down, Brittany thinks maybe Beth, but then Quinn glances at the window and finds Brittany staring back. She blinks and says one last thing to whoever she’s talking to before entering the room.

           “Well, look who’s finally awake.” Quinn says through a smile that doesn’t quite reach her cheeks. She settles in next to Brittany on the stool at her bedside and nods to the Jell-o cup, “That was supposed to be after your surgery.”

           Brittany stops mid bite and looks down at the nearly empty cup, “I got hungry.”

           Quinn nods and leans on the bed on her elbows, “You really fucking scared me, Britt.”

           “Yeah..” Brittany sighs as she sets down the empty cup on the side table. She looks to her leg wrapped in bandages then back to Quinn, “I really did it this time.”

           “You’ll be okay.” Quinn assures her, “You’re tough.”

           “I guess.” Brittany mumbles. She doesn’t think she’s so tough. She tripped over her own two feet and almost broke her knee, what’s tough about that? Brittany swallows the lump in her throat and lies back against her pillows, “I think I’m tired again.”

           “Okay.” Quinn says and stands up, fluffing Brittany’s pillows before taking the trash from the table, “You nap. I’m just outside if you need me.”

           “Okay.” Brittany replies and turns her head away from the window as Quinn closes the door behind her.

Brittany finds herself thinking about Santana. She wonders where she is and if she’s worried or if this is a perfect time to run off and never see her again. It really would be the perfect time, it’s not like Brittany can chase after her. She wouldn’t really blame her if Santana did take off though, who wouldn’t?

She falls asleep again to the thoughts of Santana and what could’ve been.

/

           She doesn’t think she’s been asleep for long, maybe she still is, but she stirs to the touch of cold fingers brushing hair from her face. She thinks it could be Quinn since she just spoke to her what felt like a few minutes ago, but for some reason she has a feeling it isn’t Quinn. It must be the medication she’s on because she blinks, trying to wake herself up, but she’s so tired, it doesn’t really do much.

           When she hears melodic humming, she knows it’s definitely not Quinn. She tries hard to make out the words, but it’s a song she’s never heard before. She wishes the drugs weren’t so strong just so she could get a clear view.

           Then again, she must be dreaming, because even with her eyes closed she can tell that voice from anyone else’s and there’s no way she could actually be there. It’s comforting and she finds herself relaxing further in her pillows. If she is dreaming, she hopes she never wakes up. So she lays still and lets the cold fingers graze her hairline and move to her cheeks. She drifts back to sleep as the humming lulls her deeper and deeper into her slumber.

/

           An hour or so later, she’s being transported to the operation room. She’s being guided through the hall and the bright florescent lights make her squint.

Her parents are walking along next to her bed and they ask her if she’s okay and they remind her everything is going to be okay. In all honesty, Brittany’s scared and the nerves make her feel a little nauseous.  She keeps on her brave face for them though, even if a single tear escapes.  Several others flank her bed along with her parents, but none look familiar. Quinn is nowhere in sight and neither is Santana, but Brittany thinks the latter might’ve never come.

It doesn’t really surprise her if Santana hasn’t because why would she? She doesn’t owe her anything; she doesn’t need to wait by her hospital bed. It’s not like they’re dating, it’s not like Santana cares.

At a certain point closer to the operating rooms, Whitney and Pierce are no longer able to be with Brittany. Brittany can see the worry in their eyes as they kiss her and tell her she’ll be fine. They have to be quick as the nurses tell them that they don’t have much time so they rush in a few more words of wisdom before turning away.

In their fleeting goodbyes, Brittany tilts her head up to watch them leave but as the nurses begin to wheel her away, she swears she can see a familiar Latina waiting in the wings.

Then again, it could just be hallucinations. Whatever medication they have her on is potent.

She thought she was nervous before but when it’s just her alone with the nurses and they begin to prep her for surgery she becomes acutely aware of how scared she really is. She’s never undergone a major surgery like this where she has to be put to sleep and she’s so freaked out about the possibility of going under and never waking up. She takes deep breaths in hopes of steadying her nerves and surprisingly it helps a little.

It’s not long before she begins to feel drowsy after they’ve administered the anesthetic and she thinks she won’t ever need to sleep again after this because she’s been napping so much since she’s been there.

/

           A couple hours must pass when Brittany awakes, because she’s back in her original room. She’s still groggy as she blinks a little and looks around the room. It feels almost like Déjà vu and when Brittany’s parents spot her coming to through the window, they quickly burst in.

           “Hey sweetie, how you feeling?” Whitney asks softly, brushing hair from Brittany’s eyes, as she sits down on the bed and Pierce takes the spot opposite her.

Brittany looks down and sees a neon green cast wrapped around her leg, starting from just above her ankle to mid thigh. Her leg is lifted by some pulley system and it sways as she tries to wiggle. Suddenly the memory of what happened comes flooding back and Brittany begins fighting to sit up but Pierce has his hands on her shoulders keeping her back.

           “Britt, please, don’t fight.” Whitney begs as Brittany begins to push back. Whitney begins to tear up at the sight and pleads, “Honey, just relax.”  

           Brittany tires herself out quickly and softens under her dad’s strength. She stares at her leg and her heart breaks in two, “How long am I in this thing?”

           “Eight weeks.” Whitney answers and Brittany squeezes her eyes tight to keep the tears back, “You’ll have to take more PT sessions after.”

She was supposed to be close to recovery by then, back to dancing, back to her old life, but no. After all her progress, she’s back at square one. She feels so helpless.

           “You’re going to be just fine, Brittany.” Pierce tells her sternly, “You’ll come back from this so much stronger.”

           Brittany can’t find it in her to believe him though and she lays back further in the pillows, and let’s the exhaustion take her.

/

           The next time she awakes the room is empty. It’s much darker than before and the only light that streams in is from the window. Brittany looks around, her vision still a little blurry, but she blinks and settles on the window. She sees Quinn first and it looks like she’s talking to someone who is sitting down. Another feeling of Déjà vu, Brittany notes. She thinks maybe it’s Beth Quinn is talking to, but then Quinn looks in through the window and finds Brittany staring back.

Her lips move but Brittany obviously can’t hear what she’s saying. Brittany tilts her head as Quinn looks down again, wondering who she’s talking to.

Brittany soon gets her answer as Santana stands up.

Santana’s eyes finds Brittany’s easily, like second nature, drawn to one another.

           Brittany’s breath quickens at the sight, and she remembers she’s meant to be mad at her but there’s a tiny part of her that’s happy to see Santana is still around. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to feel, but when she sees that there’s a small smile on Santana’s lips as she stares at Brittany through the window, Brittany finds herself smiling back.

           Brittany can tell Santana feels guilty just by looking at her but when Quinn turns to the Latina, her face falls again. Quinn says something and Santana nods, eyes never leaving Brittany’s, before she looks to Quinn and nods again.  Brittany watches as Santana turns to leave and Brittany feels the urge to go after her, but remembers her leg is strung up and she’s so medicated she probably wouldn’t make it that far. Her eyes follow Santana until she’s out of sight.

           “Hey Britt, how you doing?” Quinn greets as she enters the room, closing the door behind her.

           “I’m okay.” Brittany answers then nods to the window, “What was going on out there?”

           “Just some girl talk.” Quinn shrugs as she comes up to Brittany’s beside.

           Brittany eyes her curiously, “About what?”

           “You’re not in any pain, right? Mama Pierce wants me to make sure,” Quinn asks, ignoring Brittany’s question, “Your parents went to pick Beth up for her ballet practice. She’s super excited.”

           “Did you make her leave?” Brittany asks, growing impatient.

           Quinn eyes her cautiously and crosses her arms over her chest, “You think I’d do that?”

           “I don’t know. You guys looked like you were talking about serious stuff..”

           Quinn shakes her head and stands, “You shouldn’t worry.”

           Brittany stares at her, trying to read her, but nothing.

           Quinn takes a seat on the stool next to Brittany’s bed and sighs, “We were just talking. Really, you don’t have to worry.”

           Brittany just nods, “Okay.”

           “You know she’s been here all day..” Quinn mentions and Brittany instantly looks to her to explain.

           “All day?” Brittany’s eyes widen, “How long have I been here?”

           “Awhile.” Quinn answers, “I had to leave to close up shop and make sure the girls were okay and your parents picked Bella up from school, but Santana’s been here the whole time.”

           Brittany’s heart races at the fact and it makes it so much harder to still be angry with Santana when she hears that she’s wasted her day in a hospital. She has a hard time convincing herself Santana doesn’t care about her because if she didn’t, why did she hang around?  But if she waited around for so long, why did she leave? Why didn’t she come in and see her?

           But then there’s a knock on the door and Santana’s poking her head through as she slowly pushes the door open, “Can I come in?”

           “Yeah.” Quinn says and Brittany watches quietly as she slides in.

           Santana enters carrying a drink holder with three cups and a muffin balancing on top as another sits in the empty space in the holder. She’s still dressed in the same outfit as before when they were at Lucy Q’s, but she looks exhausted.

           “Finally.” Quinn groans as Santana hands her a cup.

           “Long line.” Is all Santana says, handing her a muffin too.

           Quinn nods, meeting Brittany’s eyes for a moment before looking back to Santana, “Thanks.”

           Santana keeps her distance, lingering in the shadows near the back counter. Quinn has a certain mischievous glint in her eyes and when she nods to Santana still shuffling around behind her, Brittany finally gets it, something is going on.

           “What did you do?” Brittany mouths but Quinn just winks back.

           “Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Quinn says aloud as she balances her muffin on the lid of her coffee cup. She comes around to kiss the top of Brittany’s head, “See you in a bit.”

           Brittany’s confused and wants to say she needs to tell her what’s going on but Quinn’s too quick. She watches as Quinn gives Santana a stern look before leaving.

Santana sighs and pulls a cup from the tray and picks up the other muffin with a couple paper towels.

           “I got these for you,” Santana says as she sets them down on the little bedside table next to Brittany, “Hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin.”

           Brittany feels her stomach grumble and she’s glad for the offering because she hadn’t even realized she was hungry. She can’t remember the last time she ate other than the jell-o cup but who knows how long ago that was. Then she thinks of how sweet Santana is for thinking to bring her something too.

           “Thanks.” Brittany mumbles and starts to pick at the muffin while Santana sits the furthest away in the chair at the corner of the room. There’s so much to be said, but they sit in silence as Brittany nibbles at her muffin and Santana sips on her coffee, neither knowing where to begin. Brittany remembers how angry she was earlier, but she doesn’t feel like doing that all over again. She’s tired in more ways than one.

           “So bright green, huh?” Santana points out, nodding to Brittany’s cast.

           “Apparently I picked the color.” Brittany tells her after taking a bite of her muffin, “You’d think my parents would know better than to let me make decisions while I’m high as a kite. At least it’s not glow in the dark.”

           Santana chuckles, “That could’ve been fun.”

           Brittany laughs too but then they lull into another silence. Neither make eye contact and the tension is so thick it can be cut in half.

           “So you feeling okay?” Santana asks tentatively, “I’m sure you’re tired of everyone asking, but I haven’t been able to ask you yet.”

           Brittany nods, “Yeah, I’m okay. Maybe just a little tired. Not sure how, I feel like I’ve been doing nothing but sleeping here.”

           “Oh, I can go if you’d like?” Santana asks and sits up like she’s ready to make a run for if Brittany wanted her to.

           But Brittany just shakes her head, “You don’t have to. I don’t mind the company.”

           “Okay,” Santana smiles and rests back in the chair, “I’ll stay then.”

/

           There’s a comfortable silence that settles in the room as a nurse brings Brittany a dinner tray. None of the food looks appetizing but Brittany compliments it anyway as the nurse checks her vitals. As soon as she leaves, Santana’s the first to offer to get something better from the café downstairs. Brittany denies the offer though, not wanting to burden Santana any further, and begins picking at the food. Surprisingly, it doesn’t taste too bad.

           They watch talk shows together on the little tv in Brittany’s room, laughing at each other’s jokes, but the unspoken still looms over them like storm clouds. Brittany can feel it and she guesses Santana can too, but it’s been a long day already and she needs a break from thinking.

           But that doesn’t last long as Brittany has to be helped to the bathroom by her nurse. She feels embarrassed asking Santana so she pressed her call button instead. She winces as she swings her leg off the side of her bed and is urged to a standing position. She catches a glimpse of Santana’s expression as the nurse leads her to the en suite and it’s like the cracks of thunder rumble above their heads, the storm clouds threatening to downpour at any moment.

           When the nurse helps Brittany back in her bed, Santana’s eyes stayed glued to her twiddling fingers. It’s not until the nurse leaves that she finally looks up.

           “I’m so sorry, Brittany.” Santana exhales and the quiver in her voice makes Brittany look up. She looks so small, so fragile, but she repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

           Brittany stares because she’s not sure why she’s sorry, it’s not like she was the one that tripped her.

           “I’m sorry for being distant this week and I know it’s not the best explanation, but I just had a lot going on and I couldn’t handle that while also processing what’s going on here.” Santana motions between her and Brittany, “Whatever this is. I’ve worked my ass off and I couldn’t handle the distraction.”

           Brittany burns at the word, “Distraction?” It hurts and she takes a breath because she feels like she’s been kicked in the gut, “I wasn’t trying to distract you from anything.”

           “I know,” Santana urges and she straightens up, “That’s not what I meant. I don’t know what I meant. It’s just..” Santana pauses and runs her fingers through her hair, “I came back to Lima to focus on myself and really perfect my music and figure out who I wanted to be, to figure out the person I wanted the world to see. I didn’t come back to..” She pauses as she looks at Brittany, “To be apart of whatever is going on here.”

Another kick, Brittany’s lips part and her brows furrow, “What is going on here, Santana, because I have no idea. You’re hot, you’re cold, you’re here, you’re not.” Brittany can’t believe Santana had the audacity to make such an accusation and once again, she feels anger rise, “I came back to Lima to rest, not to be lead on.”

“It wasn’t my intention to lead you on.” Santana replies, “There is a lot more going on here than you realize.”

“Then tell me!” Brittany implores, “I can’t read your mind, Santana, and I’m so over trying to figure you out on my own. I’m tired of filling in the blanks and I’m tired of giving you the benefit of the doubt. What’s the big secret? Why is it so hard for you to just say how you feel because the guessing game is getting so old and I have my own feelings to worry about.”

Santana pauses and her shoulder slump in defeat as she looks at Brittany. The blonde can tell she struck a nerve, but she doesn’t care. If that’s what it takes to get her point across then she’ll keep at it.

“Okay.” Santana nods, licking her lips before taking a deep breath, “I didn’t leave my father’s label for creative differences. I was kicked off because he found out I had been seeing one of our artists. I can admit that it wasn’t right of me, but we knew each other way before I came to work for him and…it doesn’t matter. He was too caught up in the fact that the artist was a woman.” Santana drifted off, wiping a tear from her cheek, “When he found out his pride and joy was a lesbian, he wanted nothing to do with me.”  

Brittany was speechless. Her heart broke for Santana; she couldn’t imagine anyone’s parents being so harsh. She was lucky with her folks, but she honestly couldn’t believe someone would treat Santana like that let alone her own father.

“The thing was, he already knew. There were so many signs, and so many times I had dropped the hint but it wasn’t until he saw it with his own eyes that he really believed me. He was furious; he fired her instantly and pushed me to create music that just wasn’t me. He tried turning me into someone else, to hide who I am and I couldn’t do it. When I confronted him, giving him the ultimatum that it’s either me as is or nothing, he chose the latter.  He cut me off from everything; I had to sell my things and my apartment. If I hadn’t come back to Lima, I don’t know where I’d be now.”

           Brittany stares at Santana as her voice cracks even more, but Santana wipes her eyes again and takes a calming breath. She looks like she could burst into tears again at any moment, but she continues, “You want to know where I’ve been this past week? I was in New York. My father had sent for me and made me believe he just wanted to spend time with me, to make amends, but it was all a joke. I believed him too, I thought he was being genuine. Well, the fucking joke’s on me! He didn’t want me there because he missed his daughter. He wanted me there because he missed the money I brought in; he missed my talent and what it did for the label. He bribed me with all the money and cars and swanky apartments just for me to come back. Isn’t that funny? My own flesh and blood.”

“Santana..” Brittany whimpers but Santana just shakes her head, tears begin to fall again.

“I just wanted to make music and feel accepted, but it’s so hard.” Santana continued, her voice cracking as she clenched her teeth, “What’s so wrong about me being me? Who gives a fuck who I love and what the fuck does it matter when it comes to my music? It’s stupid and I hate that even now I still want his approval. I’ve been working so hard since I’ve left and I find myself thinking Oh this is going to impress him, he’s going to be so proud. Why should I care? He’s a fucking asshole of a father!”

Brittany found herself tearing up as well as Santana began to rant. She could see how hard she was on herself, and she wished she knew what to say to make her stop, but Brittany could be hard on herself sometimes too and there’s not much you can say.

“I came to Lima because I wanted to better myself, you know? I didn’t want to be anything like my father. And my mom? I’m sure she’s just as bad! I didn’t want to be anything like them, but instead I’ve followed right in their footsteps. I’m just like them, Brittany, and I hate it. I’m guarded and I close myself off to people that care about me and I push them away until I’m left with no one. On top of that, I can’t communicate for shit and I’m angry. I’m so fucking angry and I don’t know what to do with it all.”

“He’s your family, of course you’d want to make him proud but he doesn’t sound like a good person. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, especially him,” Brittany said and instantly wished she had something wiser to say. Brittany wishes she could get up and give the girl a hug. Her heart breaks even more because if she thought she had problems, they’re nothing compared to Santana’s, “Just be yourself and everything will work out.”

“How do you know?” Santana asks, but Brittany doesn’t have an answer right away.

After a moment, Brittany replies, “I just know that nothing good ever comes from not being true to yourself.”

Santana’s lips part as if to argue but she presses her lips together again frowns. She looks deep in thought before looking back to Brittany, “I’m sorry I’ve been an ass and I’m sorry that I don’t know how to talk about my feelings, but as you can see I have my reasons and it’s not the easiest thing in the world for me.”

“You could’ve just said that, Santana.” Brittany replies simply, “I would’ve understood.”

“Really?” Santana looks surprised, “You would have?”

“Of course, but you didn’t even give me a chance to show you that.” Brittany argues, confused as to why it’s so hard for Santana to believe her, “You have to tell me things, what’s going on with you, because I don’t know. If you wanted space because you had a lot going on then I would’ve understood, but you’d have to tell me first so I’d know. It would’ve made things so much easier but instead you go with ignoring me for a week. ”

“I-I didn’t ignore you,” Santana defends then stops, “I didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just…embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?”

“Yeah.” Santana lets out a sigh as she rolls her head back against the chair. She can’t even make eye contact as she speaks, “I…I like spending time with you. It’s all I wanted while I was in New York.”

“Then why didn’t you just call me?” Brittany asks, “Even a text?”

“I don’t know, okay? I guess I didn’t want to drag you into my mess. It’s all too much and I didn’t want to burden you with it.” Santana answers and Brittany fights the urge to roll her eyes because how can Santana be so stubborn. “You know why I ran off so fast that night we kissed?” Santana asks but Brittany doesn’t think she can handle the answer. She doesn’t have a chance to guess because Santana’s giving it to her anyway, “Because you scare the hell out of me.”

Brittany’s taken aback but she continues to listen, waiting for an explanation.

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before and it scares that shit out of me. I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel..I don’t know, unwanted? It wasn’t my intention. I know that feeling and I don’t ever want to make someone feel that way. I just, I didn’t know what to do. I know, that’s lame to say but it’s true. I’m not good at this and you’re just,” Santana begins to smile, “You’re amazing. You’re so kind and carefree and just a good person and I got scared because there’s no way I could ever be good enough for you.”

“Santana..don’t say that.” Brittany admonishes softly.

Santana doesn’t think twice and continues, “I’m sorry, but it’s true. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, but I have…I have all these feelings,” Santana pauses and takes a shaky inhale before looking back up at Brittany, “Feelings for you, that I’m afraid of dealing with because I’m afraid of dealing with the consequences.”

Brittany is stunned and she blinks, too shocked for words.

“I don’t know how to do these things properly. All the relationships in my life have ended with me pushing the other away or vice versa, I’m just tired of being hurt,” Santana says with a shrug, “But you’re different, I can feel it, and I want to try really hard to make sure that this plays out differently...even though I’m kind of off to a bad start already.” Then Santana looks to her expectantly, almost pleading, “Please say something.”

“Come here.” Brittany tells her and Santana slowly closes the distance and sits on the stool next to her bed. She looks like a child that’s about to be scolded but Brittany just cradles her chin in her hand and guides her ever so slowly until their lips can collide once again.

It’s better than before, because this time it’s with feelings and it’s always better with feelings.

And Brittany feels so much for Santana and Santana has just confirmed that she feels so much for Brittany too. It makes her so overcome with joy and it’s not even because the drugs make her feel so good. She’s genuinely happy because Santana’s here and she likes her just as much as Brittany does and she’s kissing her back and it’s soft and gentle and everything she’s wanted since they kissed the first time. And she’s finally let Brittany in on her life, although it’s not the best information, she’s happy Santana’s finally told her something and she’s barely scratched the surface. There’s so much she doesn’t know, but now Santana’s giving her the chance to find out.

When Santana pulls away, a dazed look in her eyes, Brittany smiles and runs her thumb along Santana’s jaw. She loves the newfound closeness and revels in the softness of her skin.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” Brittany says honestly, “I won’t hurt you.”

She watches Santana gulp which makes her continue, “I’ll show you if you let me.”

“Okay.” Santana says timidly.

“You are an awesome person, Santana, and your dad is a complete idiot if he doesn’t see that.” Brittany watches as Santana frowns at his mention but she instantly kisses it away, “Thank you for telling me everything, it really means a lot. I’m sorry I didn’t know that’s what you were going through, I wouldn’t have snapped on you earlier.”

“Don’t be sorry, Britt, you had no idea.” Santana replied, nuzzling into Brittany’s touch, “I shouldn’t have shown up at Lucy Q’s like that. I don’t know why I did, I knew you were upset with me. It wasn’t fair and then all this happened.” Santana waved to Brittany’s cast and shook her head, “If I hadn’t been there, maybe you wouldn’t have-“

“Stop.” Brittany hushed, “It was an accident. There’s no way you caused this. Okay? Don’t put that on yourself.”

“Okay.�� Santana nodded and let Brittany nudge her into another kiss.

“Okay,” Brittany grinned; loving the fact that Santana was still there, “I’m really happy you’re here.”

“Me too,” Santana pulled away slightly but she was still close enough that their lips brushed as she spoke, “So, what does that mean for us? What happens now?”

Brittany paused for a moment too and thought about the question. What did it mean for them? They have feelings for each other, it was clear now, but Santana was also clear about being afraid. She has a lot going on in her personal life revolving around her father and her career and it all seems so much bigger than them and their feelings. Brittany didn’t have a clear answer; she didn’t want to push Santana if she wasn’t ready especially if labels weren’t her thing.

Instead, Brittany took a calming breath and shrugged, “Anything is possible.”

[96thdayofrage]

Bill Cosby Should Have Been Denounced by Black America Long Ago

The following article was authored by Glen Ford when he was editor of The Black Commentator .

Bill Cosby’s Confused Notions of ‘Responsibility’

The Black Commentator, June 3, 2004

Bill Cosby has some nerve talking about “personal responsibility.” On May 17, with no warning, the 67-year-old multimillionaire comedian ambushed three venerable Black organizations – the NAACP, the NAACP Legal Defense and Education Fund, and Howard University – fatally disrupting a gala celebration of the 50th anniversary of the Brown desegregation decision. Cosby drew from the hip (or the lip) to spray the hall with generalized insults against people who weren’t even there: the Black poor who, he said, “are not holding up their end in this deal.”

Apparently, Cosby thinks he is one of the deal-makers, and that he’s been cheated. The mostly Black, tuxedoed attendees at Washington’s Constitution Hall, forced to bear witness to Cosby’s tirade, were also to blame “in this deal” since they had collectively failed to sufficiently call the “lower economic people” to account for their “personal responsibility” deficits.

Not once did it occur to “Cos” that he owed his immediate and larger audience the benefit of a well-prepared presentation. Dr. Cosby saw no need to buttress his rant with a single reliable fact, nor to provide a coherent structure for his argument, so that reasonable people might arrive at some useful conclusions. Instead, he played the elderly “shock jock,” frothing and flailing away, spewing a sewer of abuse that, if directed against other ethnic groups, would be considered blood libels. (See a compilation of “Cosbyisms” at the end of this essay.)

The super-successful entertainer, famed for his practiced timing and flawless delivery, the evangelist of education – the discipline in which he received his Ph.D. – displayed an utter disrespect for his audience and for the august occasion of the anniversary. His extended outburst, presented without the evident benefit of even the most rudimentary preparation, was a gross violation of professional and personal discipline – an affront Cosby would never commit against a half-drunk nightclub crowd, much less the corporate and university audiences he regularly addresses. Yet he gave free rein to his inner demons in front of a throng of African Americans at Constitution Hall on the anniversary of Brown.

The irresponsible icon

Icons always have apologists; Cosby has a media-full. Black people who should be insulted, instead make excuses for Cosby’s shameful, impulsive, totally uninhibited behavior that, in a non-icon, would invite suspicions of substance abuse.

USA Today’s Black columnist DeWayne Wickham – normally a smart fellow – sugarcoats Cosby’s bile as “talking black” – as if Black discussions of public policy, including subjects as momentous as the Fate of the Race, are by definition devoid of substance, structure, precision or logic. A similar exculpatory current runs through most corporate newspaper columns penned by Black writers in the wake of the Cosby abomination.

Amazingly, the out-of-control, grotesquely self-indulgent comedian was roundly praised for his “courage” in confronting the supposed Black phobia against “airing dirty linen” in public, i.e., within hearing distance of whites. How perverse and ironic! Much of the Black talking classes forgive Cosby’s clear lack of a sense of “personal responsibility” and elementary decorum, precisely because to do otherwise would risk diminishing a Black icon – in front of white people! Better to let Cosby’s insults to African Americans, slide.

And since when was it an act of courage to badmouth poor Black people in America?

By simple standards of civility Cosby is guilty of an extreme lapse in “personal responsibility” by dint of his behavior to his audience and to the millions of people he slandered. More to the point, Cosby doesn’t know the meaning of the term – and neither do most of the Black chatterers who have been bandying it about.

Role Model mogul

What do the various political actors mean by “personal responsibility?” Certainly, we know that in the mouths of Republicans and their Black camp followers “personal responsibility” is a code for what people are told to exercise when the state refuses to see to the general welfare of its non-rich citizens. We know that song. But what does Cosby mean, and why are otherwise progressive Black writers and politicians bending over backwards to find ways to agree with him?

An enormous vacuity surrounds the Black discussion over Cosby’s remarks. People rush to say “yes” to a term, the definition of which is not necessarily shared or understood. Where does “personal responsibility” end and “social responsibility” begin? If a comedian turned demagogue can hector a substantial portion of a race of people to behave as he (vaguely) commands, then surely he is talking politics, not just giving advice to individuals. Cosby’s politics are in fact rooted on the conservative side of the Black spectrum – that is, when he is being coherent at all.

The Chicago Tribune’s Clarence Page recalls:

”Cosby was saying the same thing backstage when I interviewed him during my college days. It was 1968, but he didn't want to talk about black power, Black Panthers or cultural revolutions. He wanted to complain about why so many young blacks of my generation were wasting the great opportunities that hard-won civil rights victories had brought us. In those politically polarized times, I was disappointed by his traditionalist attitude. But I appreciate its wisdom today with new eyes, the eyes of a parent.”

Actually, Page appreciates Cosby with the “new” eyes of a highly paid corporate journalist who finds enough common ground with white conservatives to appear regularly on shows like The McLaughlin Group.

Thirty-two years later, Cosby was still urging young people on campus to be politically passive. At Franklin & Marshall College in Lancaster, Pennsylvania in May, 2000, he warned students:

”Those of you going to grad school, listen to me carefully… I know you have an idea of how you want to make a change in the world. That is not what grad school is for. Do what they tell you to do and then when you graduate, do what you want to do. That is what grad school is for. If you're gonna argue with the professor you're going to not get a good grade, you're not going to graduate in grad school. Okay? So take your young idea, study what they want you to study, kick tail and then when you get your turn to write your dissertation then you tell it the way it ought to be told.

”It is not for you to stand up and argue… You get an A on all the tests and then, make your move.”

By that, Cosby meant, make your personal career move. Don’t dabble in campus politics, or challenge the orthodoxy of those in power at the institution. Shut up.

Because of men and women who shared Cosby’s worldview, many Black college campuses were relatively quiet during the Civil Rights Movement, a silence enforced by Black administrators who did not hesitate to expel students and fire faculty who sought any change whatsoever in the status quo, on or off campus. Later in the Sixties, Blacks on white college campuses tended to be significantly more activist than students at traditionally Black schools, largely because they were not smothered by a “tradition” hostile to mass Black political activity.

Cosby advocates a neutered Black politics of individual striving within the parameters that are allowed by those in power. He projects his own, self-invented persona as a “role model” for African Americans to follow as individuals, while rejecting collective action to alter power relationships. His message: Each of you people should do as I did. Cosby’s method is derived from a long line of accommodationist Negro leaders whose message was the equivalent of, “Eat your Jell-O.”

Ironically, the young Cosby did not follow traditionalist counsel. He dropped out of college to pursue the wildly perilous career of Black standup comedian in a largely segregated America. Had he failed as a comic – as the odds overwhelmingly dictated – without a good education he might not have been able to buy his mother a fine house far from the projects where he grew up. Luckily, Cosby the dropout didn’t listen to people like – Cosby.

Spurned, vengeful benefactor

Cosby bucked the odds, but never the system. His job was to become a Role Model for a Black presence within the existing order. Once that was accomplished, he added a make-believe family to the Model: the Huxtables. Writer Khalil Tian Shahyd “wasn’t surprised at all” at the tone of Cosby’s Constitution Hall remarks:

After all, for more than a decade he presented us every Thursday with what he thought the ideal African-American family should look like. That we should listen to jazz, and have people like BB King come into our home for dinner and invite us to sit front row at his shows. Take weekend trips by limo to the most expensive hotel in the city for dinner and pampering just to treat our partners to a day without the children. Live in a big house with not one neighbor of color, where our children shave their heads to appear in a skin head rock video and are sheltered from the real world of zero sum politics, gentrification, under-funded and abandoned school districts, swelling prison populations, racial profiling, economic marginalization, domestic abuse and all those specifically “poverty based social ills.”

In addition to making Cosby a lot richer, the TV show proved that a Black-cast show could hold white people’s attention in prime time for multiple seasons. This was considered a great victory. The ideal Black Role Model – Cosby himself, or the self he created – was now the entire nation’s Role Model for Black people. Heady stuff.

Role Model Politics is nearly as emotion-laden as cult-of-personality politics – and just as divorced from reality. The Role Model is, by definition, the template of righteousness and progress. Those who fail to follow the Role Model’s path are rejecting the Model’s persona. No wonder Cosby goes ballistic at poor Black people’s behavior – or what he imagines that behavior to be. He takes it personally. It’s as if “those people” are all playing the “dozens” at his expense. How else to explain the explosive vitriol of Cosby’s Constitution Hall performance?

However, Cosby’s inability to perceive that he is obligated as a matter of “personal responsibility” to atone for his blanket verbal assaults, is his personal problem. It is far more worrisome that so many Black opinion molders harbor similar attitudes towards politics and the poor. Cosby showed his ass, but the same ill winds are blowing through the spaces in lots of Black skulls in high places. Deep down, they value other Black people little, and trust them less. They would rather celebrate virtual social mobility (the “Huxtables”) than fight for the material resources that bring the possibility of dignity to millions. They see more virtue in a millionaire parting with a fraction of his money – although never enough to risk falling out of wealth – than in the selfless work of thousands of community organizers and activists who are motivated by a sense of both personal and social responsibility.

Dr. King and Malcolm X and Fred Hampton died in a social struggle to empower Black people. Cosby demonizes these same people, employing the enemy’s language, like some vengeful, spurned benefactor. Yet much of Black media pretend not to see the throbbing ugliness in their icon, thus calling into question their own fitness. In the face of a brazen assault on the human dignity of African Americans, they equivocate – or join in the mass lynching. Mimicking racists, they impose yet another burden on the already super-disadvantaged Black poor. As Paul Street wrote in the April 8 issue of :

”The harsh material and structural-racist reality of American society interacts with timeworn, victim-blaming ruling-class explanations of poverty to play an ugly game on the nation’s most truly disadvantaged. They are expected to magically leap beyond their social-historical circumstances – to exercise an inordinately high degree of sound personal responsibility just to keep their heads above water – while others are structurally empowered to “pass Go and collect $2 million” without such exercise, and indeed to deepen the well of black disadvantage.”

If huge numbers of Black people could be drawn together to figure out precisely how we have failed each other, that would be one helluva “social responsibility” conversation. But the Bill Cosbys of the community cannot be allowed to hog the microphone, just because they may have paid for it. As journalist-educator-lawyer-activist Lizz Brown says, “That doesn’t give him license.”

In truth, we can’t afford Bill Cosby anymore. He costs more than he gives.

Bill Cosbyisms

Cosby on the Black poor:

"Lower economic people are not holding up their end in this deal. These people are not parenting. They are buying things for kids – $500 sneakers for what? And won't spend $200 for 'Hooked on Phonics.' "

Cosby on Black youth culture:

"People putting their clothes on backwards: Isn't that a sign of something gone wrong? ... People with their hats on backwards, pants down around the crack, isn't that a sign of something, or are you waiting for Jesus to pull his pants up? Isn't it a sign of something when she has her dress all the way up to the crack and got all type of needles [piercings] going through her body? What part of Africa did this come from? Those people are not Africans; they don't know a damn thing about Africa."

Cosby on civil rights:

"Brown versus the Board of Education is no longer the white person's problem. We have got to take the neighborhood back. We have to go in there – forget about telling your child to go into the Peace Corps – it is right around the corner. They are standing on the corner and they can't speak English."

Cosby on literacy:

"Basketball players – multimillionaires – can't write a paragraph. Football players – multimillionaires – can't read. Yes, multimillionaires. Well, Brown versus Board of Education: Where are we today? They paved the way, but what did we do with it? That white man, he's laughing. He's got to be laughing: 50 percent drop out, the rest of them are in prison."

Cosby on poor Black women:

"Five, six children – same woman – eight, 10 different husbands or whatever. Pretty soon you are going to have DNA cards to tell who you are making love to. You don't know who this is. It might be your grandmother. I am telling you, they're young enough! Hey, you have a baby when you are 12; your baby turns 13 and has a baby. How old are you? Huh? Grandmother! By the time you are 12 you can have sex with your grandmother, you keep those numbers coming. I'm just predicting."

Cosby on the sons and daughters of poor, Black, unmarried mothers:

"…with names like Shaniqua, Taliqua and Mohammed [!] and all of that crap, and all of them are in jail.

Cosby on Blacks shot by police:

"These are not political criminals. These are people going around stealing Coca-Cola. People getting shot in the back of the head over a piece of pound cake and then we run out and we are outraged, [saying] 'The cops shouldn't have shot him.' What the hell was he doing with the pound cake in his hand?"

The Black Commentator June 3, 2004

[jellazticious]

Sometimes you just gotta rhyme, my guy, it's prime go time and also sometimes you should start splaying out sentences, statements, or strings of words with the same first letters, guy. Maybe even talk like a weird storybook character, be the cunning fox that everyone loves

Speak your truth the same way a long dead poet is quoted. If not the truth, then joy

[unusualsounds]

Brandon Flowers: ‘We Mormons should fast for 24 hours each month. I’m terrible at it’

Dad was a produce man. He manned Smiths’ Food And Drug’s produce section, and so did his dad. If you needed someone to pick out your melons, they were your men. My earliest memory is going to the store and Dad giving me a date and then telling me I couldn’t have another.

I grew up until I was nine in a small house on the very edge of Las Vegas, with just desert out back. I had four older sisters and one older brother. Mom, so that she could be with us, looked after other peoples’ kids as a job, so there were kids everywhere. She’d prepare food for 10 of us while watching through the kitchen window as we made forts in the desert. A lot of hot dogs, and peanut butter and banana sandwiches, like Elvis. I remember helping Mom make Rice Krispie treats. Melt marshmallows and butter together, pour the solution onto the Krispies and that’s heaven right there.

The Killers webchat – your questions answered on Morrissey, Anton Corbijn and pizza

Brandon Flowers and Ronnie Vannucci Jr of the Killers joined us in the Guardian office to offer insights on their Steve Coogan addiction, pole vaulting and working at TacoTime Read more

There are a lot of funny stereotypical things about us Mormons, like that we love eating Jell-O. Such a lot of Jell-O. We also have funeral potatoes, which are served at our funerals and are so good – they’re to die for. We have a thing called The Word of Wisdom, which stipulates no alcohol, no drugs, no coffee, no tea. We’re encouraged to fast – including no water – for 24 hours each month and I’m terrible at it. It’s so hard to make it through, but I do put in the effort.

My parents converted when I was young. At some point drinking Coca Cola became an issue. It’s not doctrine but culturally frowned upon. Personally I can’t resist a can. I associate it with early bonding with my father. Some of my most precious memories are of being driven in his 46 Chevy truck or his giant 49 Buick to have Cokes.

When I was 15 I started working after school and at weekends at Taco Time, in Nephi, Utah. I worked counter, swept floor and cleaned the bathrooms. The most laborious and dangerous part was emptying grease and burrito sediments from the fryer at the end of the night. The fryer never seemed to cool down. I’d pour the grease and a mist would come up, which I couldn’t avoid. It felt like rubbing hot Mexi-Fries into my face. We’d be told horror stories of people falling onto the fryers and being severely burnt.

But there was always something calling me back to Vegas. On the on-ramp to the I15 in Nephi, there was a sign I’d see every day as a teenager: “Las Vegas, 6 Hours, 300 miles.” So, at 16, I went back and moved in with an aunt, a full-time single parent who didn’t have much time to prepare meals for us but would always make a big hamburger for herself, every single day. I loved and still miss her occasional upside-down cake.

I worked as a bus-boy at a fancy restaurant in Caesar’s Palace in Vegas, cleaning tables and pouring water, coffees and iced teas. The only way bus-boys were allowed out for a break was if they said, “I wanna go out for a smoke.” Say, “I wanna go and listen to Hunky Dory for five minutes” and they’d laugh. So I took up cigarettes, just to get smoke breaks.

It feels that food doesn’t really belong in rock’n’roll, somehow. The Cure had a song, Friday I’m in Love. which goes, “It’s such a gorgeous sight, to see you eat in the middle of the night.” And there’s Drops Of Jupiter by the band Train which has the line, “Can you imagine no love, pride or deep-fried chicken?” When I hear those songs I think, “Oh no, dude.”

I now have a big neon sign in my kitchen which says ‘Flowers’ and is modelled around a flamingo font, so it has a very specific swing to it. I’m decent at conjuring up French toast and scrambled eggs. Then I’ll have a Coke.

After the resurrection we think there might be food. I don’t have a definitive Mormon answer, but what we do know is that when Christ visited the apostles as a resurrected being he ate fish, I think. So I can’t imagine not having food after death, because food brings such joy to our lives.

[shesfreeastheflowers]

Haven’t done one of these in a while so here we go! ・ ABOUT ME: RANDOM FACTS VERSION ・ 1. I hate jell-o. Haven’t been able to eat it since I was a kid. It’s a texture thing 😅 ・ 2. I have a legit fear of throwing up (Emetophobia- look it up it’s a thing 😅) and I’m also low key a germaphobe ・ 3. I can’t eat Olive Garden it always makes me sick ・ 4. My anxiety is triggered BAD when I see people using their phone while they’re driving (recording themselves while driving/texting) so I’m a HUGE advocate for hands free/distraction free driving! Using your phone while driving in any way is equivalent to driving at a .08 alcohol level. Just some facts for you 😜 ・ 5. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis when I was 18 months old and had to use crutches to walk for most of junior high and was picked on a ton for it growing up. Even as an adult I get picked on still and have to use a cane to walk some days (a part of me I’m still afraid to show the world aka IG) it’s the kind of arthritis that could put me in a wheelchair one day, which scares the shit out of me but I try to do fun things when I can before (if) that ever happens! ・ 6. I was born in California but raised in Idaho, so Idaho is home for me! We moved here when I was 5. I prefer the ocean over mountains. ・ 7. I’m a true Pisces and Type 2! ・ 8. I have two half sisters and one half brother that live in Michigan and I’ve only ever met them once. Some of you mamas might follow my sister in law @livingwithburnettes on IG! ・ 9. I don’t have wisdom teeth! My x-rays at the dentist still haven’t shown that they’re even there 🙌🏼 ・ 10. I was misdiagnosed with bi-polar disorder and ADHD when I was 19 and was put on a TON of the wrong meds for years causing a bunch of other health issues. Which is probably why I’m so against any prescription meds now haha ・ 11. I graduated from cosmetology school about eight years ago and hated doing hair so I never pursued it. I still keep my cosmo license current though so I can get killer deals at the beauty supply store 😂 and I color my friends’ hair occasionally but getting me to cut it is like pulling teeth. ・ YOUR TURN! Tell me some random facts about you! (at Boise, Idaho) https://www.instagram.com/p/B8SfXZWHkv4/?igshid=lqajawc25s23

[ashleybenlove]

Big Bother

Baby Hana!

Ron has to do the baby flour assignment. You know the one. 10 pound stone ground Minnesota wheat.

This Freshman girl is just putting up with Ron being ridiculous.

Ron falls in love with the flour quick and Kim’s like “aren’t you a little old for that assignment.” Well, yeah, he’s the one that took health as a senior instead of as a freshman. And yeah, at 17-18, he’s basically old enough to have kids of his own. Also this scene amuses me because someday, these two will likely have babies of their own. Kim, Ron, if you’re currently sexually active, I hope you’re using protection. 

Ron’s bedroom is nursery. It’s because Ron’s parents adopted a baby girl named Hana. NO FOREWARNING. Also.... IT’S SO WILD to me that Ron’s parents who have raised a kid for 17-18 years suddenly decide that... hey, let’s spend another 18 years raising another kid. You think Ron would have been ENOUGH. 🤷 Like, he’s a handful. He’s so extra. 

THIS IS OUR WAY OF TELLING YOU. FUCK YOU. YOU’RE TERRIBLE PARENTS. 

Ron instantly before extra about the whole thing. HE CALLS HANA THE INTRUDER. OH STOP IT. Kim agrees. She says he’s always complained about being an only child and he was jealous of the tweebs. 

Rufus is playing with Hana! Peekaboo!

“Face it, Ron. You freak fully over change.” YOU MEAN, HE’S EXTRA. 

The K’cator beeps and Kim grabs it, holds onto it, tells Ron a thing about how once the fraternal instinct kicks in, he’ll love Hana, trust her. Kcator beeps again and she answers.

Yori! 

“Wade, you better fill in some blanks, pronto!"  “To help her! Both of you! Including Kim! Who she asked about! Fondly!”

Ron visits Barkin at home. Because he needs another flour sack. 

Ron is using roman numerals for his flour sack.

“You only had Sackie 2 for like 2 seconds.” “Have you a heart of stone, woman?”

Kim asks how he plans to tell Yori about them being a couple. 

MF stole a prophecy scroll about a weapon. Only Sensei knows about the weapon’s secrets/location but he’s away.

There’s keys involved.

“She can count on you, Ron, but not for everything, right?” Kim what are you doing. Don’t be insecure and also, Yori’s just confused by your behavior. And she tells Ron to tell Yori “the big news” (the couple thing) and he gets it wrong twice. He tells her.

“Totally didn’t mean to break your heart or anything.” “I believe my heart is intact.” 

“Sensei teaches that change is a part of life and leads to growth, wisdom, and happiness.” Nice. 

This one scene references two different KP episode titles. Both from S3, So the Drama and Emotion Sickness.

Monkey Fist mocks the drama.

Anne is making pancakes from scratch. Retro.

Hana threw up in his backpack. He implies he’s still spitting up at 18. 

Anne makes Sacky 3 into pancakes.

Monkey Ninja driving a jeep. They crash it.

Stone guardians at the second location that come to life. BTW, This episode was written by Greg Weisman who was the co-creator of Gargoyles. They get destroyed.

Kim goes to see Hana. Kim expresses concern that Ron isn’t coming around to Ron’s parents. This might be the first time Kim interacts with Ron’s parents on screen? Also, all three of them fawn over Hana.

Ron’s at Sacky 8. Ron literally got a ton of flour sacks just in case. 

Monkey Ninja driving a boat. They crash it. 

Sacky 10. He literally got the same brand of flour right down to the expiry date. Kim’s like “Who knew my BF had such a nefarious streak?” Kim. Bad Boy much?

Ron's mom calls her Kimmy. Oh my gods. Kim’s only called that by like her parents (esp James) and Shego. And now her future mother-in-law, who she’s known since she was 4.

Ron has to babysit Hana! 

And the Kimmunicator rings. Location of final shrine. Ron suggests he goes and Kim babysits. Kim refuses “You and Yori? Um no.” Kim, he’s only got eyes for you, stop jelling. Besides he just wants to shirk his responsibility as a brother.

Ron comes up with a competition for Sacky whatever number and Hana and it’s totally rigged.

Ron softens just a bit because of Hana giggling.

Yori calls it girls night out with it just being her and Kim. 

MF USES A BOLAS ON THEM. I know what those are bc HTTYD.

Lava.

Ron tries to bathe Hana. She sucks her thumb.

Wade calls in via baby monitor. Kim and Yori need help. Ron takes Hana and Sacky with him on a mission. Hana is an actual baby, like less than a year old I assume.

Kim and Yori jump onto rock and most of the rock dissolves into lava: “Hmm this is a mild setback.” “Calm in the face of danger much? “Very much like you, Kim Possible.”

Ron and his team of Naked Mole Rat, baby, and flour are here. MF tells his Monkey Ninjas to throw them all into the volcano. HOLY SHIT. MF literally just told them to commit infanticide!!!!!! THIS AIRED ON THE DISNEY CHANNEL.

Yori believes Ron is Kim’s destiny. I can agree with that. 

“Like change, we must always welcome destiny.” 

“Yori, you sorta kinda rock.” And Yori responds with “Domo” while she has a key in her mouth. “Domo Arigato” is the Japanese word for thanks. 

Ron kicked Monkey Ninja butt. He tells MF never threaten his sister. Ron loves this baby.

Ron gets his head stuck in something. 

Hana crawls out and kicks MF’s butt. Because you know, babies can do that.

THE VOLCANO IS ERUPTING. 💕💕💕💕 Eh, its fine now.

MF is defeated for now.

Ron gets the scroll and the other two keys.

Kim and Yori are still tied up together. Rufus unties them.

Hana’s playing with two of the keys. 

Yori will return the scroll to the school. Ron’s keeping the keys since their shrines have been compromised. 

The twins show up for this scene in Health class. They bust Ron’s chops. Ron says a complicated Roman numeral. It’s likely a large number. MCMXXXIIII. 1934. UM.

Ron gets an F- on this project. Sacky is sugar. WHOOPS. 

A scene with Ron’s parents at the adoption agency. Sensei is the one who placed Hana with them! And we see Ron with Hana and its lovely. 

[colorado-roots]

The Future is Bright, Class of 2017

Bouncing back from a life-threatening detour, one month after finishing college

I remember stacking all my hard classes into the Winter Quarter of my junior year of college, right after I got back from studying abroad. I did not take a light load, because I was adamant on finishing my undergraduate career the following winter. That was the beauty of the quarter system, you could finish early, and get a head start on life.

By the time my final undergraduate quarter came around, I was pursuing a full-time job search. I was putting hours into the process, and was determined to have one lined up soon after I finished my classes. I went into the search with confidence, and things were going smoothly, but slowly. I faced job rejections like most do, and was waiting to hear back from others.

I am usually a very low-stress, go with the flow type of person, but I had put pressure on myself to get ahead from the beginning. I began to notice subtle occurrences in my life that felt unusual, and I did not understand why they were happening. I became discouraged with how drawn out the process felt and decided I needed to do something.

The end of April crept up, and in typical me fashion, I invited myself onto my friends’ planned out trip to Jazz Fest in New Orleans as a graduation celebration. As we were getting on the plane, we joked that we all forgot our health insurance cards, and how ironic it would be if one of us ended up in the hospital. We spent our days at the festival and our nights out on Bourbon; young and alive.

Sunday rolled around, and the festival was postponed due to flooding. I was not feeling well and fell asleep for a few hours. When I woke up, they had just reopened the fairgrounds. I popped up from my makeshift bed on the floor, and stated that I wanted to go see Tom Petty.

That’s when everything became blurry. My heart was racing. I was extremely nauseous. I walked towards the bathroom, past my friends. The next thing I remember, I was lying in the bathtub, my feet hanging over the edge and the shower curtain under me. One of my friends was holding my hand. A strange man was standing above me, asking if I knew where I was, and if I knew my name. I was mad because obviously I knew those answers, but I couldn’t communicate them. I thought I was having a nightmare, but I couldn’t wake up.

I have a very blurred memory of being in the back of the ambulance. My friend gave me my phone and I was constantly refreshing my emails, like I was waiting for something important.

I was shifting in and out of consciousness when we arrived at the hospital. I vaguely remember a doctor coming into the room. All my friends were there with me, and he very seriously asked if he could speak in front of them. I said yes, still oblivious to my surroundings. He explained to me that I had experienced a grand mal seizure that lasted about five minutes and that I had stopped breathing for a period of time. He went on to say that my CT scan showed a spot that looked like a brain tumor or a blood clot, and that I needed a MRI immediately.

I was thrusted back into reality, and glanced over at my friends, who were sitting in a line along the wall. They were staring back at me, their mouths open wide. My parents were on the other end of the conversation back in Denver. I don’t even want to know what their expressions were.

I slowly got up from my seat on the bed, and a sharp pain shot down my spine. I have always been an active and health conscious person. I was in good shape, training for a half marathon, but I had fractured my back from the fall. I was forced into a wheelchair, and was carted off into a world spinning too fast for me to comprehend. My life seemed to be rapidly slipping out of my control.

I remember waking up after the MRI and the doctor telling me I had a malformation that resembled a rasberry of tangled blood vessels. It was very likely still bleeding, and going to cause another threatening seizure. I was probably born with it, and time is what set it off. He told me I should not catch my flight back to Denver the next day because he wanted to get me into brain surgery. I said I would absolutely not be having brain surgery until I got home.

I was checked into the ICU, where my neighbors were recovering from strokes and aneurysms. Yet, here I was, a twenty-two year old, recent college grad, being pumped with anticonvulsants and brain surgery in my future.

I became super insistent that I wasn’t going to stay. Reluctantly, my doctors agreed to let me go home. My mom walked in the door a few hours later, and back to Denver we flew.

Now the perks of this happening to me, is that my dad is a physician. He forced his way onto the schedule of one of Colorado’s highly esteemed neurosurgeons. I had my consultation with him, and we scheduled the thing.

The few days leading up to it were a blur. I felt brain dead from my medication and could only joke about the situation. I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t sad, but hell yeah, I was mad. I don’t think I ever went through the teen angst stage, but I definitely had it that week. I could not understand what I did to deserve this; to put my life on hold and only hope for the best. I remember wondering if I would walk across the stage of my college graduation with a shaved head, however, my surgeon assured me that he would save my hair. I saw and heard from so many of my friends and family, and they were frightened for me. All I could do was reassure them that everything would be okay.

I woke up the the morning of my surgery ready to go. It was game day. I knew that this might be the second worst day of my life, thus far, but it wasn’t going to stop me from trying to make it somewhat normal. I joked with the nurses and doctors. I said that if by some miracle the mass had disappeared, then I wasn’t going to have the surgery. I got another MRI to map out the area and the surgeon said, “Well Corin, it’s still there.”

The anesthesiologist came in and said he was going to put something into my IVs that would make me feel relaxed, and that I should say bye to my parents for now. As they wheeled me out of the room, my parents got emotional. I held back the tears and said, “Can you have dinner ready when I get back?”

They rolled me back to the operating room, where I am certain they were jamming to ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’ by AC/DC, but I could have been mistaken, I was pretty drugged up. They handed me a mask to put over my mouth, and I was out.

I woke up eight hours later in the ICU. My mom was shoveling Jell-O down my throat as the nurses pumped morphine into my body. I felt so sick and so confused. My veins and head were on fire. I remembered why I was there, and reached for my head.

My dad told me that my procedure lasted four hours, and that it was successful. They had to make a bigger incision than they had anticipated because my brain was still bleeding. I was most concerned with the fact that the halo they put on my head during the surgery accidentally pierced the middle of my forehead, and that I’d have a scar front and center as a daily reminder of what I went through.

It has been three weeks since my procedure, and I am doing really well. Recovering from brain surgery is not the easiest process, but I am dealing with it. Being young and healthy has made my experience smoother than most people’s. I have beat all the odds.

I’ve struggled with guilt. Guilt that I got off easy, and that others with this problem were not as fortunate. Nonetheless, I have counted my blessings. I still have a few steps to go, but it shouldn’t hold me back much longer. The truth is, recovery is easy if you are fighting for the life you envisioned for yourself.

People have asked me why I am handling this with so much positivity. I respond every time saying perspective is everything. It could have ended a lot worse, or happened in a different way. I could have been driving. I could have been a mother, or had a steady job. I could have been old. It could have bled more. It could have been cancer. But here I am, living somewhere in the middle of fate. I still have the rest of my life ahead of me, and I will never let this take anymore of my time. I lost a few months, but then again, I gained a lifetime.

The pain has given me wisdom. It has prepared me for whatever lies ahead. It wasn’t the road I had planned on taking, but it made me a helluva lot stronger.

It taught me to take every failure, every rejection, every opportunity and be persistent. Hard times are sometimes inevitable. I am so lucky mine just left a six inch scar on the side of my head.

Your hard times are probably different. It could still be affecting you or you could have already grown from it. There is no scale for comparison. Your feelings are yours to feel, no matter the circumstance. Do not discount them. But be resilient. You have a lot of road left to travel, and many places to stop along the way. Take the hard times presented to you and learn from them. There will be moments you feel discouraged, but persist on. All good things in life take time.

I stumbled upon this quote a week after my surgery. It read, “Sometimes we get caught up chasing the biggest and the best. The newest and the next. Slow down, look up. Notice the miracle in this moment. This might just be the one you didn’t realize you were fighting for.”

[thespian-wallflower]

Will meets Portia (SR! Fanfic)

(Something Rotten! Frat Boy AU fanfic. Will Shakespeare meets young Portia Brooks after an accident during her hockey game. Will is fond of her, but he’s worried about what can’t be controlled.)

If there was one thing Will hated, it was finishing English homework in his otherwise empty dorm room. He didn’t have the attention span for assigned reading, especially with a frat party scheduled for tonight. He had flopped on his bed, and had unsuccessfully tried to read it from all different angles: on his stomach, flat on his back, on his back with his legs propped against the wall, curled up on his side, hanging off the bed upside-down. Nothing was working. He finally sat up, cross-legged, wishing he could be writing or doing anything else. He was about three sentences in when his phone buzzed, breaking the mundane silence.

Will let out a yawn before lifting his vibrating cellphone. Bea was on the other end.

Her tone was calm, but he could tell that she was tense.“Hi, Will. You busy?”

“Not at the moment,” Will said, glancing down at his book. “Why do you ask, darling?”

“One of Nigel’s classmates had a tooth knocked out during her hockey game today.”

He straightened up attentively. “Oh, shit. Is she alright?”

“Well, she’s holding up. She just finished her root canal.”

Will shook his head. “Poor kid. That must be awful.”

“If she’s in pain, she’s not showing it.” Bea paused for a moment before getting back on track. “Can I ask a favor of you?”

“Ask away.”

“Could you please pick up some chew-able takeout for her? Italian or Chinese food or something? We’d really appreciate it.”

Will paused, thinking about it. He hadn’t left his dorm room all weekend, and he was itching for something to do before the party. He’d never met this girl, but he wanted to help. “Aren’t you going to take her home?”

“No, her father is out of town. We need to figure out who she’ll be staying with for the night.”

“Should I pick up enough for everyone?”

“Just enough for her is fine.”

“You sure? It wouldn’t be any trouble.”

Bea smiled at his generosity. “I’m sure. Meet us at the dental office.”

“Will do. Bye, dear.”

Will hung up and checked the clock on his phone screen. It was five-thirty. The party would be starting around ten. Plenty of time. Hastily, he threw on a light blue hoodie and stuffed the cell phone into the pocket of his jeans. Usually he dressed in nicer clothes before going out in public, but he was in a rush. Will grabbed his car keys and quickly strode out the door.

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

Half an hour later, Will pulled into the parking lot of the dental office. He shuddered as he remember his wisdom teeth removal, which had taken place here during his Sophomore Year of college. He remembered very little, but it wasn’t a pleasant experience. He had survived on canned soup and jell-o, and the pain was almost unbearable. He had spent hours on the couch in Nick’s apartment, crying silently as he tried his best to ignore the physical torment.

That had been only last year. He winced at the thought of this young girl going through the same thing. Maybe it would be worse. A root canal. God, he could only imagine…

The aroma of the Italian food in the bags next to him was enticing, even though he didn’t eat takeout much anymore. Even though Bea had suggested otherwise, Will had purchased enough food for all of them. He wanted to do something special for the girl (Portia was her name, apparently), so he had texted Nigel and asked him if she liked garlic bread. Portia did, in fact, like garlic bread. So Will bought an order of it, just for her. Even thought he would have to leave right away, the least he could do was buy dinner for everyone.

There was an empty spot at the far end of the lot. It was a Saturday, so it was relatively full. Will parked the car, grabbed the bag with Portia’s order (which included the bread and baked ziti, per Nigel’s recommendation) and walked across the lot toward the front entrance. The November air was chilly enough that a thin trail of steam gently rose from the takeout bag. Whoever Portia was, he hoped this would cheer her up.

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

“I hope our team won the game.” Portia mumbled, pressing the ice pack to her mouth again. Her front tooth had been successfully replaced, to the relief of the Bottom brothers and the med student.

Nigel held her hand. He hadn’t let go of it since they left the ice arena. Well, he had to during the surgery. But other than that, he was determined to keep her company. He had only known Portia for about a year, but she was his best friend.

“That should be the least of your worries,” Nick said. He did his best to stay lighthearted, but he was petrified. Bea was in the corner of the waiting room, on the phone with Jeremiah again. The surgery had to be approved by him, and he was furious when he found out about his daughter’s accident. The med student took full responsibility for it and was doing her best to keep him calm.

Bea walked over, solemnly. Nick glanced at her, waiting to hear what Jeremiah had to say, now that the procedure was over. Bea took no notice of him, and instead focused on Portia.

“Is Dad mad at me?” Her blue eyes were wide.

“No, sweetie. It’s not your fault. That puck flew in out of nowhere, remember?”

Portia frowned. “Barely. I blacked out.”

“We know. You just kinda collapsed.” Nigel nodded, as if agreeing with himself. “I jumped out of my seat, it was so scary. But now you’re better, and everything’s alright.” He smiled, and Portia smiled back.

While Nigel and Portia talked, Nick pulled Bea to the far end of the waiting room. “What did Jeremiah say?”

“Well, he’s angry. He can’t come home until tomorrow morning. But he says Portia can stay with me for the night.”

“Did you tell him I was at the game?”

Bea raised an eyebrow. “No. Not that a detail like that would matter. What’s he going to think, that somehow you and Nigel caused that puck to hit her?”

“You know that we never go to Portia’s games, because he’s almost always there. The one time we can watch her play- BAM! Her teeth get knocked out. He’ll find some way to blame us.”

“We can’t waste time worrying about it right now. All we can do is be there for her, and hope for the best when Jeremiah comes home.” She smiled when she saw Portia and Nigel laughing and joking about something. “She’s a fighter.”

“She is.” Nick smiled, admiring Portia’s strength from afar. For someone who constantly had to nurture his sickly little brother during their youth, an encounter with a girl who didn’t complain after an accident was surprising.

Without warning, Will strutted into the waiting room, giving Nick a two-fingered salute and his usual vibrant smile. Nick returned the smile and rushed over to meet him. They kissed briefly. They could feel disapproving stares from the other patients in the waiting room, but they didn’t care.

“Will, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not thrilled to see you.”

Cleaning his throat and putting on an act, Will suddenly held up the bag of takeout as if it were a very important package. “I have a delicious delivery for a young lady by the name of Portia. Is she here?” Will pretended to scan the room, looking for her, even though he knew she was sitting with the Bottoms and Bea.

Confused, Portia let go of Nigel’s hand and gently raised her arm. Her other hand supported the ice pack.

“Ah, so this is Portia. It’s a pleasure to meet you, dear. I’m Will, Nick’s boyfriend.” He bowed slightly, giving her free hand a kiss. Nick rolled his eyes, and Portia turned bright red.

“Nice to meet you, too,” she said with a shy smile. “Sorry you have to see me like this. I got hit by a hockey puck during my game today.” She shrugged, a hint of pink still visible on her cheeks.

“I heard all about it. Bea asked me to cheer you up by bringing you some food.” He held the bag out, and Portia took it gratefully.

Her eyes gleamed as she peeked inside the takeout bag. “Is this baked ziti and garlic bread?” Her stomach growled, and she remembered that she hadn’t eaten anything since before the game.

“Nigel told me it’s your favorite.”

“It is!” She smiled at Nigel, and looked back at Will. “Thank you so much for this!”

“Only the best for you, love.” He gave her a charming smile and kissed her hand again.

Portia looked like she might faint. Instead, she turned away, hoping to hide her blush. Satisfied, Will walked over to Bea and whispered, “There’s food for everyone in my car.”

“Will, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Too late. I did. Now you can all have dinner together.” He smiled, waiting for a sign that he had done the right thing.

Bea gave Will a hug in thanks. “Why don’t you join us?”

“Yeah, c’mon!” Portia smiled, exposing her replaced teeth.

Will smiled back, even though he was mildly disgusted by the sight of her teeth. “I’d love to, but there’s a frat party in a few hours that I really don’t want to miss.”

He jumped suddenly as he felt arms wrap around his waist from behind. He turned to face the culprit, only to be greeted by a kiss from Nick.

“Come with us,” Nick said softly, playfully rocking his boyfriend back and forth. “You drove all the way out here. Just stay for an hour or two.”

Will shrugged. “Alright. But it’ll be a brief visit.”

“We’ll have a big, sorta-kinda family dinner,” Bea said with a chuckle. She turned to the kids and said, “Guys, we’re having dinner at the Bottoms’ apartment.”

“Sounds fun!” Portia said happily. She and Nigel stood, and followed Bea to the parking lot. Will followed close behind, until Nick gently pulled him back.

“I need to tell you something about Portia. It’s important.”

Will tried to smile, but Nick’s eyes were serious. “Is it bad?”

“Sort of. I’ll explain later.” Nick paused before rubbing Will’s shoulders flirtatiously. “You should wear this hoodie more often. It matches your eyes exactly.”

Will’s heart fluttered as he took Nick’s hand and followed the rest of the group. “Duly noted. I’ll drive.”

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

Nick motioned for Will to follow him into his bedroom. He closed the door as Will flopped onto his bed. They could hear Bea and the kids clattering around in the kitchen, “preparing” dinner. Not that much preparation was needed.

“Haven’t been in your bed in ages,” Will said, giving Nick a flirtatious smirk. “When was the last time? Last week?”

Nick folded his arms. “Can you be serious for five seconds?”

Yawning, Will stretched out until his body occupied the entire surface of the bed. “That’s pushing it. Maybe two seconds.”

With no warning, Nick decided to drop the news. “Portia’s last name is Brooks.”

“Brooks?” Will anxiously scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Jeremiah Brooks. He’s her father.”

Will’s eyes went cold as he sat up and stared at Nick, looking for some sign that he was joking. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Nick nodded. “I knew Jeremiah had a daughter, but I didn’t think she and Nigel were this close in age. They’ve been classmates since last year.”

“That little girl is the offspring of that religious headcase? You can’t be serious.”

“Hard to believe, right? She and Nigel have been best friends since they met. They’re in the same English class, and they hit it off on day one. It’s crazy.”

“She’s nothing like her father.”

“Nope.”

There was a pause, before Will asked, “Think she’ll ever become him?”

Nick lowered himself onto the mattress and sighed. “Only time will tell. She’s a nice girl, though. It isn’t likely.” There was a faint glimmer of hope in Nick’s voice, but Will could tell that he had been wondering the same thing. “We should treat her well, and hope for the best.”

Will flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Nick smiled down at him reassuringly, and played with a lock of his hair. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Not wanting to talk about what was really on his mind, Will brought up a less important concern. “Should I stay for dinner? I don’t want to miss this party, but…” He paused when he heard Portia and Nigel’s laughter coming from the kitchen. He smiled, and Nick got the picture.

“Well…” Nick flopped beside him, also staring at the blank ceiling. “You only just started your Junior Year. There’ll be other parties, right?”

“I suppose.”

“And the food you bought is really gooooood,” Nick said teasingly, scooting over and bumping Will with his shoulder.

Will playfully shoved him away. “You know I don’t eat that stuff anymore.”

“You could. When was the last time we had a big, sorta-kinda family dinner like this?” he asked, repeating Bea’s words.

“Fine. You’ve convinced me,” Will said with a smile, rolling over to face his boyfriend.

“Good,” Nick replied, pressing his forehead to Will’s. “And even if Portia does change as she grows older, she’ll have fond memories to look back on. It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.”

Will wrinkled his nose and backed away. “Ew, that’s such an overused expression. Even for you.”

Nick chuckled. “Shut up. You know what I mean. We can’t control how she’ll turn out, but we can make her happy now.”

“Good point.” There was another moment of silence before Will flashed a flirtatious smile. “Know what would make me happy?”

“What?” Nick asked, inching closer, knowing exactly where this was going.

Will pulled him in, and they shared a few open mouth kisses before Bea knocked on the door and said “Dinner’s ready, lovebirds.”

“We’re having a meeting!” Nick called, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Will was a great kisser, but a bit sloppy sometimes.

“Is that what it’s called?” Bea asked sarcastically. They could hear Nigel and Portia giggling outside the door.

“Be right out,” Nick replied, as he and Will slowly rose to join them for dinner.

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

“My favorite role, by far, was the Cat in the Hat in Seussical. I’d just turned eighteen, and it was my Senior Year. When I tried on the costume for the first time during tech week, I almost cried.”

“Why?” Portia asked, completely engrossed in his theatre story.

Back on campus, the frat party was in full swing. In the Bottoms’ apartment, Will found himself nearing the end of an intense game of Monopoly. Nick, Bea, and Portia had already gone bankrupt, and were surrounding the final showdown between Will and Nigel.

Nigel leaned over and moved his battleship piece across the board. He landed on the Go square and collected two-hundred Monopoly dollars from Bea, who had agreed to be the banker. Will took a sip from his large glass of orange juice and continued.

“Well, it was a role that I had only imagined myself playing. A dream role. And when I finally put on the costume and officially became that character, it was overwhelming.” Will smiled nostalgically as he rolled the dice.

“That’s the perfect role for you,” Bea stated. “I can totally see it.”

Portia’s eyes sparkled with wonder. “Yeah, it sounds cute! Was it as fun as you hoped it would be?”

“Oh, it was so much fun. They painted cat whiskers and a black nose on my face and everything. Good times.” Will picked up a Community Chest card and smiled. “I’ve won second prize in a beauty contest.” He winked at Nick, and showed the card to Bea. She nodded and passed him ten dollars.

Portia sighed. “I wish I could do theatre. My dad won’t let me.”

“No?” Will asked, pretending to be surprised. He moved his Scottie around the board, and groaned when he landed on the Go to Jail square.

“Nope. He says theatre is unnatural.” She shrugged. “I don’t understand it. He loves the stories in the Bible, and theatre is just another way to tell stories. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Nigel’s eyes lit up. “Hey, you should join the writing club at school! We write the spring play for the drama club every year.” He bounced a little in his seat as he spoke. Everyone else was listening. “That way, you can still be part of the show, even if you aren’t allowed to perform.”

When he realized everyone was watching him, Nigel lowered his eyes. “Never mind, it sounds stupid,” he mumbled, rolling the dice again.

“It’s not stupid, Nigel.” Nick ruffled his brother’s curly hair. “Stop being hard on yourself.”

Portia grinned. “That’s a great idea! Maybe I can ask my dad.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to try.” Will rolled the dice, and his Scottie was still stuck in jail. “Damn, I’m gonna be in here forever. Anyway, yeah. Nigel’s full of great ideas.”

“It’s part of the reason why he’s my best friend.” She rested her head against his shoulder, and Nigel shrugged with the other.

“Aw, Portia. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.” She smiled at everyone around the table. “Only you guys could make a root canal this much fun.” Everyone laughed.

She rested her chin in her hands, and grinned admiringly at Will. “Any more theatre stories?”

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

    Time passed quickly as the game progressed, and Will was happy, for the most part. But he couldn’t help but wonder how Jeremiah had produced a girl like Portia. He found himself worrying about her, and her life at home. What was Jeremiah teaching her behind closed doors? Would she somehow evolve from a caring child into a hateful bigot?

After a few more turns, Will ended up landing on Park Place. “Oh, I’m done.” He started clearing off the few houses and hotels he had left.

Nigel glanced down at the property card. “But the rent is-”

“More than I can afford.” He smiled. “Good game, kid.”

“It was fun to watch,” Portia said before letting out a yawn.

Bea stood and started to pull on her sweatshirt. “Ready to head out, Portia?”

“Head out? Where?”

“You’re spending the night with me. Your father said it’s alright.” She pulled her car keys out of her pocket. Portia didn’t move.

“Already?” Portia’s eyelids fluttered, but she tried her best to stay awake. “C’mon. I’m not even tired.”

Will chuckled, and Bea raised an eyebrow. “You’re a lousy liar.”

“Okay, so maybe I’m a little tired.” She glanced at Nigel to see if he was still awake. His head was resting on the table, and he was starting to drift off.

Bea started to say goodbye to everyone around the table. “Goodnight, Nigel,” she said, placing a kiss on his cheek.

Portia rose from the table and joined Bea. “Bye, Nick. Bye, Nigel.”

Nick smiled and gave a little wave. “Feel better soon.”

She giggled. “I’ll do my best. Thanks for the pasta, Will. It was nice meeting you.”     “You’re welcome, dear.”

And as the door closed, the evening was over. The room was silent, aside from Nigel’s gentle snoring. Nick gave a sigh of relief before he truly took notice of his sleeping brother.

He gently lifted him from the chair until he could feel Nigel’s curls brush his neck. Nigel was thirteen and close to being fully grown, but Nick wanted to carry him for as long as possible. “I’m gonna get this guy to bed,” he whispered.

“Have fun,” Will smirked, clearing the board game and pieces off the table. As he put everything away, it dawned on him that he hadn’t thought once about the frat party. All that had mattered to him was the here, and now. Will hadn’t had a real “family” dinner in a long time, and he was grateful that he wasn’t expected to control any rowdy children this time around. He loved his family, but the pressure they put on him was unbelievable. It was one of the reasons why he decided to attend school away from home.

The whole evening seemed too good to be true. Maybe it was.

Nick came back a few minutes later. “Nigel may be tall, but he’s light as hell. Hopefully I’ll be able to carry him for a while.” He collapsed on the couch, and Will sat beside him.

“The boy doesn’t gain weight. You don’t need to worry.”

“I’m his older brother. It’s my job.”

“Fair enough.” Will scratched at his stubble, which he only did when he was nervous. Nick picked up on it immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

“Portia’s a sweet kid.” His stare was blank, completely void of emotion.

“And that’s a problem because…?”

“I don’t know.” Will shook his head slowly, and his voice cracked. “It seems a little too good to be true.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, look at her father.”

Noticing that Will was getting increasingly upset, Nick attempted to lighten the mood. “I try not to.”     That was enough to set him off. “This is serious, Nick! I don’t want her to turn out like him!” Will’s eyes welled with tears.

Nick eyed his boyfriend, concerned. Will hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol all day, so these sudden emotions were far from ordinary. “Will, what’s gotten into you?”

“I’ve seen what parents do to their children, Nick!” He stomped his foot for emphasis, and Nick jumped. “Whether they try to or not, they shape them. And if Jeremiah keeps using hatred around Portia, and teaching her that it’s alright...then…” He broke down.

Nick wrapped his arms around Will, hugging him from behind, and pulled him down until they were both staring up at the ceiling, worrying about Portia. Will’s gentle sobs were the only sound in the small apartment.

After a few minutes, Will impatiently wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, and spoke in a shaky voice.

“I can’t sit by and let it happen.”

“Oh, Will…” Nick leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “Who said we’re sitting by? Nigel says she’s the best friend he’s ever had.”

“That’s Nigel.” Will sniffled. “What about us?”

“Y’know, Jeremiah doesn’t have to be the only adult figure in Portia’s life. And he isn’t.” Nick ran his fingers through Will’s hair as he listed a few examples. “She has her teachers, her hockey coaches, and us.”

“I just met her today.”

“And she loves you. I know that was an intense Monopoly game you were playing with Nigel, but did you see her expression when you were telling her stories about theatre? She admires you. It’s not like her father can provide stories like that for her.”

Tears continued to run down Will’s face, creating familiar black streaks of eyeliner.

“And I’m glad you decided not to take off and go to your frat party. That alone means a lot to her.” Nick wrapped his arms around Will a bit tighter. “Think of it like this. Jeremiah’s out of town for the weekend, right? He wasn’t there for Portia’s big game.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You had the opportunity to go to a party. Instead, you chose to have dinner with us, and make her feel better.” Nick wiped away one of Will’s tears and smiled. “The little things matter. Who is she more likely to idolize, you or him?”

Will reflected on Nick’s words, and found himself agreeing with him. By staying with her and showing how much he cared, he made her unfortunate accident a little brighter. Fond memories, even small ones, were bound to last longer than any hateful teachings her father would dish out. He sniffled again. “Well, when you put it like that…”     “Exactly. And she’s fourteen. If she’s like any other teenager, she’s starting to develop ideas of her own.”

“Right.” Will pulled out a tissue and wiped his nose with it. “I hate crying in front of you.”

Nick rocked Will back and forth playfully. “You do it often.”

Will rolled his eyes, half at Nick, and half at his own emotional outburst. “That doesn’t make it any less embarrassing when it happens.”

“Don’t worry about it. It shows that you care.” Nick checked the time on his phone’s lock screen. “It’s past Midnight. You heading home?”

“Um… could I stay here for the night?”

Nick raised one of his eyebrows teasingly.  He pretended to think about it. “Hmm, I don’t know…”

“Please, Nicky?” Will batted his eyelashes, and Nick was relieved to see that he was feeling better.

“Oh, alright.” Nick started to push himself up, but Will rested a hand on his thigh, signaling that he should stay put.

“Let’s sleep here. I want to savor this evening. And what you’ve taught me.”

Nick reached up to turn off the nearby lamp. As the apartment was enveloped in darkness, he planted another kiss on his boyfriend’s head. “Goodnight, Will.”

“Goodnight, Nick.” Will sighed before slipping into slumber. This alone was a small moment he was sure to remember.

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