#NOT ME ACCIDENTALLY FOUND AN ARTIST THAT ACTUALLY NAMED DANIEL PAGE WHILE LOOKING FOR THIS GUY PLAYLIST LMFAO

[fr3nibackroom]

𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘥. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦,

𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥.

— 𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗲𝗹 𝗽𝗮𝗴𝗲 - 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗮𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁

is not that i like you ahhh relationship 💔

process in under cut :3c

[girlactionfigure]

Superman: From Cleveland to Krypton

The Man of Steel's Jewish roots

Coming over from the old country, changing his name like that. Clark Kent, only a Jew would pick a name like that for himself. —The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, by Michael Chabon

Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, the two ordinary young men who created an extraordinary hero, lived 12 blocks apart from each other in Cleveland. The pair collaborated on stories for their high school newspaper and shared a passion for science fiction and pulp comics. It was the 1930s, and comic book publishing was in its infancy. Like many young Jews with artistic aspirations, Siegel and Shuster yearned to break into this fledgling industry. Comic book publishers actively hired Jews, who were largely excluded from more “legitimate” illustration work.

The 1930s were also, arguably, the most anti-Semitic period in American history. Nazi sympathizer Fritz Kuhn of the German-American Bund led legions of rabid followers on marches through many cities, including Siegel and Shuster’s hometown. Radio superstar Father Charles E. Coughlin of the pro-fascist Christian Front was one of the nation’s most powerful men. And Ivy League colleges kept the number of Jewish students to a minimum, while country clubs and even entire neighborhoods barred Jews altogether.

So Siegel and Shuster began submitting treatments under the pseudonym Bernard J. Kenton, just to be on the safe side. Throughout the Great Depression, the two boys scraped together every penny they could just to cover postage. Shuster sketched on cheap brown wrapping paper.

From these humble beginnings, Shuster and Siegel carved out a character that embodied their adolescent frustrations, served as a mouthpiece of the oppressed, and became an American icon. Many years later, Jerry Siegel recalled the birth of Superman:

The story would begin with you as a child on far-off planet Krypton. Like the others of that world, you had super-powers. The child’s scientist-father was mocked and denounced by the Science Council. They did not believe his claim that Krypton would soon explode from internal stresses. Convinced that his prediction was valid, the boy’s father had been constructing a model rocket ship. As the planet began to perish, the baby’s parents knew its end was close. There was not space enough for three people in the small model craft. They put the baby into it. The mother chose to remain on the doomed planet with the man she loved, and die with him. Tearfully, hoping that their baby boy would survive, they launched the craft toward the planet Earth. Shortly, Krypton exploded and its millions of inhabitants were destroyed.

The idea of for this new superhero came to them in 1934. It would take another four years before Superman would be transformed from a feverish dream to a full-fledged hero. In 1938, Detective Comics, Inc., was looking for a character to launch its new magazine, Action Comics. They paid young Siegel and Shuster $130 for the first 13 pages of Superman. Action Comics #1 came out in June of that year. The issue sold out, and a star was drawn.

In a brilliant stroke, Shuster and Siegel gave their superhuman hero a secret identity, that of an all-too human reporter, the meekly mannered Clark Kent. Practically speaking, this notion of “double identity” allowed for almost endless storyline twists and thematic depth. On another level, it added considerably to the “mythology” that would eventually accrue around this fictional crime fighter. Clark’s shyness undermines his courtship of his co-worker, the gutsy Lois Lane. Siegel and Shuster later admitted that the shy Clark struggling for a date reflected their own social challenges.

Superman #1 was published in the summer of 1939. Across the Atlantic, in Germany, Adolph Hitler was exploiting his nation’s economic and social ills by scapegoating Jews. Living in a country that had stripped them of their citizenship yet perversely obstructed their exit, German Jews resorted to desperate measures. Just as the baby Superman was sent away from Krypton to avoid the mass destruction of his people, many Jewish children were sent on the Kindertransports to seek safety with families in England.

After the attacks on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, America entered World War II, and so did Superman. In Siegel and Shuster’s comic, Clark Kent tries to enlist in the Armed Forces, but he fails the routine medical examination,. Clark accidentally uses his X-ray vision to read the next room’s eye chart. Distraught, he muses, “I’ve got the most perfect body the world has ever known, and through a sad trick of fate, the army turns me down as hopeless!” This feeling of desperation and despondency was felt across the country. As news of the Nazis’ murderous Holocaust plan emerged, American Jews felt utterly powerless to help their European brethren.

Word of Superman and his ethnic undertones did not escape the enemy’s notice in real life. Josef Goebbels, the Nazi minister of propaganda, denounced Superman as a Jew. In April 1940, Das Schwarze Korps, the weekly newspaper of the Nazi S.S., attacked the comic and its Jewish writers:

Jerry Siegel, an intellectually and physically circumcised chap who has his headquarters in New York. . . The inventive Israelite named this pleasant guy with an overdeveloped body and underdeveloped mind “Superman..

Here were Nazis wringing their hands over a cartoon character cooked up by a couple of boys across the sea. Yet this ideologically driven rant actually touched on something vital–the importance of Shuster and Siegel’s Jewish heritage.

Superman #1 begins with a brief synopsis of the hero’s escape from Krypton, which draws heavily on Jewish sources. Superman’s journey closely reflects the story of Moses. Like the people of Krypton who faced total annihilation, the Israelites of biblical Egypt faced the murder of their male offspring. To ensure her son’s survival, Jochebed places Moses in a reed basket and sets him afloat on the Nile. Her desperate decision is clearly echoed by Superman’s father, Jor-El, who launches the little rocket ship containing his son into outer space.

Moses and Superman are eventually discovered and raised in foreign cultures. Baby Moses is found by Batya, the daughter of Pharaoh, and raised in the royal palace. Superman is found by Jonathan and Martha Kent in a Midwestern cornfield and given the name Clark. From the onset, both Batya and the Kents realize that these foundling boys are extraordinary. Superman leads a double life as the stuttering, spectacle-wearing reporter whose true identity no one suspects. In the same way, for his own safety, Moses kept his Israelite roots hidden for a time.

Superman’s original name on Krypton also reveals biblical underpinnings. Superman is named Kal-El and his father Jor-El. The suffix “El” is one of the ancient names for God, used throughout the Bible. It is also found in the names of great prophets like Samuel and Daniel and angels such as Michael and Gabriel. We may never know whether Siegel and Shuster were aware of these precise Hebrew translations; nevertheless, the name could not be more apt.

While the invincible Superman may have stood the test of time, the lives of his creators were not as triumphant. From the beginning, Siegel and Shuster were so busy they had to hire assistants, but while DC Comics was making millions, Superman’s creators weren’t sharing the wealth. The two men were paid a salary, but their initial payment back in 1938 had included all rights. They had sold their percentage of a goldmine for $130 and were eventually fired from their own creation.

Lawsuits followed. None were successful. Siegel and Shuster tried and failed to create new characters. Their names were familiar only to comic book aficionados. Then, rumors began to circulate in the early 1970s that a big budget Superman movie was in the works. DC Comics received $3 million for the rights to film Superman. Once again, Siegel and Shuster were left out of the equation.

This time, the two men tried a new approach. They bypassed their lawyers and went straight to the media. Newspapers across the world picked up the story of Siegel and Shuster, the poor boys who’d created an American icon, made DC Comics rich — and were now penniless and forgotten. That Shuster was now going blind added to the story’s poignancy.

Legally, DC Comics owed Siegel and Shuster nothing, but bad publicity was costing the company dearly. A financial settlement was reached, and the names “Siegel and Shuster” appeared in Superman comics once more. In 2006, Superman returned to the big screen, and not a moment too soon–in today’s world, we need a hero more than ever.

[vexedtonightmares]

with great power (elu spiderman au)

eliott has been saved by spiderman quite a few times for absolutely no reason. hopeless romantic that he is, eliott accidentally starts falling for spiderman somewhere along the way and doesn’t know what to do about it. obviously, there’s only one solution. he and his good friend lucas should pretend to date to make spiderman jealous. there’s no ulterior motives here, of course, just lucas helping a bro out.

aka eliott’s falling in love with spiderman, lucas is in love with eliott, and lucas is spiderman.

1 2 3

ao3

no.4 “I really wish I knew your name.”

Sometimes the only time Eliott felt free to exist was when he was alone. Solitude suited him, which was ironic given the fact that one of his greatest fears was total isolation. The difference between being alone and being lonely, he supposed, was in the depth of interaction he received. He could feel completely isolated in a room full of people or, alternatively, the least lonely he’d ever felt with just one person by his side, or even with no one there at all.

He was alone at that moment, but it wasn’t the kind of alone he wanted to escape from. That kind of alone made him feel like he was running through a narrow tunnel, trying to get out as the walls closed in around him. This one was more peaceful, like lying in a meadow under the sun, letting the breeze drift across his face. 

The peace filled his body as his hand drifted across the pages of his sketchbook, pen clasped tightly into his hand. He was drawing his millionth variation of a raccoon and a hedgehog, this time on the opposite sides of a crumbling Eiffel Tower. There had been real fear in his heart when he’d heard Lucas’ call the other day, and even though he now knew that the call had just been feedback radiating from his own phone, it still left him a bit shaken. He would have been terrified if any of his friends had been in danger, but particularly Lucas. Their friendship had always been different, even from the beginning. Maybe that’s why their friends didn’t find it weird that they were “dating”. 

A knock on the door to his flat startled him, and he accidentally dropped his pen, moving hastily to pick it up because drawing pens were way too expensive and he couldn’t afford to lose it. He rushed to the door, seeing Lucas’ face fill the peephole, eyes crossed and tongue sticking out. Shit, that was right, they’d rescheduled their “date” for that day.

He fixed his face into a wide grin and opened the door. “Hello my love.”

Lucas’ face went slack in shock for a brief moment before he blinked and returned to his goofy self. Eliott could almost convince himself he’d imagined the expression. “You know you don’t have to say things like that when we’re alone, right?” Lucas asked with a weak laugh, letting himself in. 

“I’m a method actor, L, respect the process won’t you?” he responded teasingly, watching Lucas roll his eyes fondly at the nickname. It was sort of an inside joke of theirs, because they’d realized that even though their names were drastically different they did have one nickname in common. L and El. They were the only ones allowed to call each other that and, even though they’d been doing so for years, the rest of their friends still didn’t totally understand it. 

“I’m so sorry Daniel Day-Lewis. Please, continue.” Lucas grinned, cocking his head to one side. Eliott scrunched his nose up as a reaction to Lucas’ example, not because it was a bad one, but because he’d introduced Lucas to the actor, forcing him to watch movie after movie because he admired his skill so much, particularly his devotion to method acting. Honestly, he was surprised Lucas even remembered, he always complained about watching those movies. It was sweet that he’d actually paid attention. 

“So what’s the plan?” Eliott asked, changing the subject. If Lucas was startled by the abrupt change, he didn’t show it. 

Lucas shrugged. “I thought you said you had a plan?”

Eliott opened his mouth, looking for an answer. That was true, he had told Lucas he’d plan everything. Normally he would have, but he was still reeling a bit from his last encounter and exchange with Spiderman. “I do,” he said slowly. 

“And? What is it?” Lucas prompted, and Eliott knew that he could see right through him. He was grateful, though, that Lucas was humoring him, giving him time to think. An idea clicked in Eliott’s head.

“It’s a surprise,” he said, catching Lucas’ disbelieving stare. 

“You know, if you forgot, all you have to say—”

“I didn’t forget,” Eliott argued. Even though he didn’t look convinced, Lucas let it go, allowing Eliott to grab his phone and keys before they left. Eliott had left his phone in his bedroom, and when he emerged back into the living room he found Lucas looking at the drawing he’d left open on the table.

Lucas shifted uncomfortably when he saw Eliott had come back. “I told you that I wasn’t there.”

“I know,” Eliott agreed, “But the thought that you might have been scared me.” Lucas’ eyes widened and Eliott worried he’d said something wrong. “Sorry, I should have put that away, it’s not done yet anyway.”

“No, no, I love it,” Lucas said hurriedly. Eliott narrowed his eyes, but Lucas continued, “Can I have it when you’re done?”

Usually Eliott didn’t give away his drawings, but he could never say no to Lucas. He’d actually lost quite a few of his hedgehog and raccoon drawings to Lucas, who claimed that he wanted to save them to sell when Eliott became a famous artist. Eliott knew better, he knew they sat in a box in his dresser, weathered enough that it seemed Lucas took them out to look at them often. 

“Of course,” Eliott agreed, and the resulting smile on Lucas’ face more than made up for the fact that he’d be losing another one of his drawings. Now satisfied, Lucas led the way to the door, looking expectantly over his shoulder for Eliott to follow him. 

Once they were outside Eliott grabbed onto Lucas’ hand instinctively and Eliott felt Lucas stiffen in surprise at the gesture. Lucas blinked up at him with those big blue eyes of his. “I get that you’re method acting, but this is really unnecessary.” 

“Maybe I want to hold your hand. People can do that without it being romantic, you know,” Eliott pointed out, and Lucas blushed. 

“I know that,” Lucas mumbled, dropping his gaze to the sidewalk,“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Eliott rolled his eyes and squeezed Lucas’ hand, drawing their eyes back up to meet one another. “May I remind you that you were the one who put all the restrictions on our fake dating scenario? If this makes you uncomfortable, I can stop.”

Eliott started to retract his hand, but Lucas tightened his grip. He smirked and raised his eyebrows in surprise, while Lucas acted like he did nothing of the sort.

“My hands are cold,” Lucas said with a small shrug, and Eliott nodded with faux sympathy, knowing full well Lucas was just looking for an excuse. He didn’t care, he didn’t mind holding hands. It wasn’t like they’d never held hands before, so he didn’t know why this time was any different.

Still hand in hand, Eliott led the way, past the various spaces Lucas might expect to be taken, through the park they’d met for the first time, back when Lucas was thirteen and he was fifteen, both at the age range where idiocy came so easy to them. Eliott had actually been annoyed that day that Idriss had invited his sister and her friends to join them at the park, mostly because they had planned to smoke and there was no way they could do that with a bunch of thirteen year olds. Unfortunately for Idriss, Eliott had left that day with a new best friend, someone he felt like he’d known for his whole life. Of course, he never told Idriss that Lucas was his best friend, but it wasn’t like it wasn’t obvious.

There was a bench in the park that Eliott and Lucas came to when they wanted to have heart to hearts. They’d shared plenty of heart to hearts in bedrooms or drunk in bathrooms at parties or hidden in alcoves at school where no one could bother them, but those were the unofficial heart to hearts. If one of them had something they really needed to talk about, in a more formal sort of way, they came to this bench. It was where Lucas had come out to Eliott, where Eliott had come out to Lucas, where Lucas had explained the situation with his parents and why he had been living in the basement of Manon’s flatshare for months, where Eliott had told Lucas about his diagnosis.

“We’re not going to the bench, are we?” Lucas asked when they got close, a bit of apprehension in his voice. 

“No, don’t worry, no secrets tonight,” Eliott reassured him, not registering the way Lucas’ face fell, ever so slightly. They continued on, until Eliott came across the one place he’d told himself he’d never let anyone come near. He hesitated a moment, deciding whether or not he really wanted to show Lucas, then thought fuck it. There was no one in the world he’d rather introduce this part of himself to. 

Lucas clung closer to him, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. “You didn’t bring me here to murder me, did you?”

“No. This is my favorite place in the city. The petite ceinture,” Eliott explained, taking out his phone and using it as a flashlight to guide them into the tunnel. Lucas still looked a bit wary, but he allowed himself to be led under the bridge.

“Why am I just hearing about it if it’s your favorite place in the city?” Lucas asked, voice echoing in the darkness. 

Eliott shrugged, glancing at the ground. “It’s where I come when I want to be alone. I can think better here, I guess.”

Lucas’ hand slipped from his grip and Eliott looked back up at him, wondering if he’d said something wrong. Lucas had his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to take me somewhere so important to you out of obligation, especially if this is the first I’m even hearing about it and we’ve been friends for three years.” 

“Lucas. Are you serious?”

“I’m just saying!” Lucas threw his arms up. “Did you take Lucille here?”

Eliott wrinkled his nose. “No, of course not. You’re the first.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

Lucas turned away from him, looking at the graffiti that lined the tunnel. “Lucille was your girlfriend for two years, Idriss and Sofiane have been your friends since you were kids, I’ve known you as long as the rest of the gang, what qualifies me to see this part of you that you haven’t shared with anyone else?”

“You’re different, L, you know that,” Eliott said with a sigh. Lucas did kind of have a point, though. He’d never even considered taking anyone else here, even when he’d thought that maybe Lucille would be his forever. 

“How am I different?” Lucas asked earnestly, but Eliott didn’t really have an answer. 

“I don’t know,” he said, “How am I different for you?”

Lucas bit his lip. “Who said you were?”

Eliott shot him an unamused glare. “L.”

“El,” Lucas mocked, plopping himself down against the wall of the tunnel. Eliott took a seat beside him, taking it as a good sign that Lucas didn’t move away. He didn’t know why Lucas was raising such a fuss over the whole thing, he’d just wanted to do something to show Lucas how much their friendship meant to him. 

“L,” Eliott repeated, turning his head to face Lucas. 

Lucas turned to look at him in return, raising his eyebrows in question. Eliott continued, “If you want to leave, we can.”

Lucas shook his head subtly. “No, I’m sorry. I’m glad you brought me here, really, I just don’t know why I was the lucky soul invited into the secret world of Eliott Demaury.”

“Because you’re the most important person in my life,” Eliott said simply. 

Lucas’ head shot back up as he turned to look at Eliott again. “One of,” he said quietly. 

“What?” Eliott asked.

“One of,” Lucas repeated, “That's what you said last week. One of the best things in your life.”

“I mean, yeah. Thing-wise. I do really love my art pens, you know,” Eliott explained, and revelled in the way Lucas’ lashes fanned out on his cheeks as he laughed softly. 

“But you’re the most important person in my life,” he reiterated, waiting for Lucas to open his eyes. He did, and with the action came a sort of steely determination mixed with a softness they never usually possessed.

Lucas’ face suddenly seemed much closer than it had a moment ago, and Eliott found himself leaning in slightly. His eyelids became heavier, and he noticed Lucas’ were closing as well. They were so close now that the tips of their noses were touching, and Eliott felt himself holding his breath, anticipating something he didn’t even realize he was anticipating. Their noses brushed further and Eliott saw Lucas snap open his eyes. 

“More important than Spiderman?” Lucas said with a cough, pulling away and leaning back against the wall. Eliott blinked a few times to clear his head. What had just happened? It almost seemed like they were about to kiss… but no, Lucas must have been teasing him, right?

Eliott settled back against the wall, releasing a breath and forcing a smile, trying to cut any lingering tension. He reached over to ruffle Lucas’ hair. “Of course you’re more important to me than Spiderman. I barely know him, for starters,” he teased. 

Lucas melted into a laugh, even though it sounded a bit strained. “Oh thank goodness,” he said, folding his knees up and laying his head down on them. 

Eliott had the urge to brush a strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes out of his face but refrained, choosing instead to watch Lucas, taking in all the details. He didn’t know why he refrained, he touched Lucas’ hair all the time, especially to move it from his face. Maybe he didn’t want Lucas to know that he noticed every little thing about him, especially when Lucas probably noticed every little thing about the mystery boy he was so in love with, not Eliott. 

“Thank you for taking me here, El,” Lucas said softly, eyes sparkling even in the darkness. They were like stars themselves, tiny universes Eliott could see himself getting swept up in.  

He pushed back his thoughts and smiled in response. “There’s no one I’d rather be on a fake date with.”

“How lucky for me,” Lucas said with a laugh. 

How lucky, indeed. 

🕷🕷🕷🕷

To say Eliott was avoiding Lucas would be a tad extreme. He wasn’t avoiding, per se, but he really couldn’t afford to spend any time with him at all whatsoever. He couldn’t think properly around Lucas, and he was worried that his brain might be starting to forget the “fake” part of fake dating. So, naturally, he just had to distance himself a bit, focusing on his actual crush, Spiderman. Or hopeless infatuation, whatever you wanted to call it. 

During the week it was pretty easy, he claimed homework had been kicking his ass and Lucas looked at him sympathetically, wishing him luck and promising he’d be there if Eliott needed anything at all. Nights were a bit boring without anyone to hang out with, because he hadn’t wanted to call anyone else lest they tell Lucas and Lucas realize he was lying about being busy, but at least he’d had some alone time to work on his art.  

However, he and Lucas were supposed to have their second date that night, one that Lucas planned, and stay over at Lucas’ flat for the night because they had nowhere to be the next morning and Manon had said she was planning on making muffins. 

He fired off a quick text to Lucas once he got back to his flat from running errands, wondering how much time he had before Lucas would expect him over. 

Eliott: what time should i meet u at the colloc?

Lucas: I’ll pick you up! ;)))

Eliott: pick me up… 

Lucas: Just be ready at 19h, ok?

Eliott refrained from asking more questions, only because he knew it would give Lucas an opportunity to confuse him further, but he’d honestly just assumed they’d have a movie “date” at the colloc or something. Lucas was never much of a planner, particularly regarding dates. 

He sighed a bit fondly, unpacking his groceries bit by bit. A piece of paper fluttered out of one of the bags, and Eliott reached down for it with a frown. Once he had it in his hands he read it through about seven times before he even began to process what it was saying. How had he not noticed it being slipped into his groceries?

Eliott, 

Long time no talk, I’m starting to think you’ve forgotten about me :( just kidding no one could ever forget about me muahaha. Sorry, that was weird. Fuck, this whole thing is weird I should just start over. Sorry. One sec. 

Eliott,

It’s been a while, unless you count the time some winged dude tried to kill me and you watched it happen. Not one of my finest moments, but I got him in the end, right? Anyway, I was wondering if you would want to hang out or something tonight. I don’t have much time, but if you’re down, meet me in the alley behind your flat at 19h. God, that sounds creepy as hell, I swear I’m not a serial killer, I’m a superhero, remember? If you aren’t there, I don’t blame you, but if you are, I can’t wait!

-Spiderman 

Eliott had two defined options, but he was still struggling with making a decision. He could go on his date with Lucas and forget he’d ever seen the note, which was kind of what he wanted to do, or he could meet up in secret with Spiderman. He shook his head, trying to think straight. What he should be doing is going to meet Spiderman, he was head over heels for Spiderman, not Lucas. He could hang out with Lucas anytime. Plus, Lucas had already rescheduled one of their dates, so he didn’t need to feel bad about doing the same.

He pulled out his phone before he could overthink further and sent Lucas a message.

Eliott: hey, can we rescedule? something came up :(

Eliott: *reschedule 

Lucas: Is everything ok?

Eliott: yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it, just need a raincheck

Lucas: Ok…

Lucas: Yeah, whatever, no big deal

Eliott: thank u thank u <333 

Lucas: :)

He didn’t take the time to decipher Lucas’ message, knowing that a smiley face from Lucas was usually a sign of him being passive aggressive. Whatever, he had no right to be mad, if he even was. Maybe Lucas could use the extra time to hang out with the boy he was so interested in.

The clock moved way too slowly while Eliott got ready to meet Spiderman, butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. Was this a date? He’d told Spiderman he had a boyfriend, but he wasn’t sure Spiderman would remember.

He changed his outfit approximately nine times, trying to decide if he should be cool casual, trendy casual, trying too hard casual, not at all casual, or not trying enough casual. In the end he just slipped on his black ripped jeans with a black hoodie and his big brown jacket thrown over the ensemble. 

He had been fussing over his outfit so long he didn’t even realize that he had two minutes before he was supposed to meet Spiderman. Only taking time to grab his phone, not even locking the door behind him, Eliott rushed down the stairs and around the building, finding a smaller figure laden in his usual uniform (costume?) waiting for him.

“Thought you’d bail on me,” Spiderman said as he approached, and his voice sounded different again than it had the other times they’d spoken.

Eliott pointed it out. “I understand the secrecy, but why does your voice change every time I see you?”

“I’m working on it,” Spiderman said with a sigh. He gestured to his face. “There’s supposed to be technology in here that warps my voice but I haven’t quite figured it out yet so I always end up sounding different.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t use it with me,” Eliott said. 

Spiderman laughed, pointing a finger at him. “Nice try.”

Eliott hadn’t been trying anything, really, even if it would be nice to know who was behind the mask. If their friendship— or whatever it was they had going on— continued to grow, he expected to find out who Spiderman was at some point, but it didn’t have to be anytime soon if it made Spiderman uncomfortable. “So what are we doing?” he asked, changing the subject. 

“Talking,” Spiderman said simply.

“Talking?”

“Ever heard of it? It’s when your voice box vibrates and you move your mouth and suddenly noise comes out in the form of words.” 

Eliott squinted his eyes. “That was the weirdest way to describe talking that I’ve ever heard. At least now I know you’re not an L student.”

“Maybe I’m bamboozling you into thinking I’m not when I actually am,” Spiderman suggested.

“Well, if you were, you wouldn’t admit it, so I’m guessing S student,” Eliott inferred, laughing as Spiderman huffed and crossed his arms. 

“Fuck you.”

“Spiderman, the children!” Eliott exclaimed with another laugh. Something about the fact Spiderman swore so much was hilarious to him.

“Fuck them kids,” Spiderman said seriously, before a small giggle escaped him. It sort of reminded Eliott of the way Lucas laughed, giggles coming in small spurts before he broke down into heaving laughter. 

“Quite the role model,” Eliott teased, looking over at him through his eyelashes. 

Spiderman scoffed and tipped his head back, leaning against the wall. “I already told you I never signed up to be a role model. Wouldn’t know how to be one even if I tried.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Just trust me on this one, I can barely live my own life without fucking it all up.” His tone was sad and Eliott wanted to comfort him in some way, but wasn’t sure how to. He understood that Spiderman wouldn’t give him any personal life details, but it was hard to know what someone needed if they couldn’t tell you what was wrong. 

Instead, he opted for a small shrug, leaning against the wall beside Spiderman and said, “I don’t believe that for a second, but if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Spiderman’s fingers brushed against Eliott’s ever so slightly before flinching away, almost as if he’d been burned. Eliott didn’t comment on it, but he also didn’t want Spiderman to feel like he couldn’t be a source of comfort, even platonically.

“What about you?” Spiderman asked, “Do you need to talk about anything?”

Only that he was falling for someone he knew absolutely nothing about other than the fact that they were sixteen and had superpowers, wasn’t quite sure where his and Lucas’ relationship stood at the moment, was struggling a bit in school because he’d been so stressed out recently, and, oh yeah, was bipolar. How did he tell Spiderman something like that? He’d probably never want to see him again. 

“Too many things,” Eliott confessed. 

Spiderman nodded as if he understood, and that was enough for Eliott at the moment. “I’ll be here to listen when you’re ready too then,” Spiderman said. 

Eliott made a spur of the moment decision, not thinking it through before he reached out and folded Spiderman’s hand in his. Spiderman’s eyes widened and Eliott was struck but how expressive he could be even in a mask. 

“What are you doing?” Spiderman asked in a low voice. Eliott opened his mouth to answer but he couldn’t find the right words. Spiderman continued, “You have a boyfriend, Eliott.”

He did, but he didn’t. In all fairness, he wasn’t doing anything wrong here. For all he knew, Lucas was with his mystery boy right now too. “It’s complicated,” Eliott said at last, gazing at Spiderman with a burning intensity. One of their rules had been to never reveal the truth of the fake relationship to anyone, but it was a bit frustrating not to at that moment.

“I really wish I knew your name,” Eliott sighed, and felt Spiderman’s fingers wrap around his. 

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you,” Spiderman said in a soft, barely audible tone of voice. “I don’t think you’d like me if you knew.”

“And do you want me to like you?” Eliott asked, inching closer, only a little bit. 

“Close your eyes,” Spiderman whispered, and Eliott obliged, shutting his eyes softly just as a hand ran through his hair. He stood as still as possible, eyes still closed, heart rate picking up slightly as the hand in his hair came to rest on his face, picking up even more when he felt breath on his face. He didn’t dare open his eyes, but if he was feeling breath on his face that meant Spiderman’s mask was off.

A siren blared in the distance and the hand disappeared from Eliott face. He opened his eyes instinctively, catching Spiderman pulling his mask over his chin before he looked away, trying not to make Spiderman think he’d been trying to catch him without a mask on. Unless he was completely mistaken, Spiderman had been close to kissing him. 

“I should go,” Spiderman said, voice hard and empty. He stiffened a bit, almost like he was cold or something. 

“Ok,” Eliott said, not finding the words he wanted to say. Did he want Spiderman to stay? Did he want them to kiss? He thought he did, but there was still a small part of himself that had been holding back. He called out just as Spiderman turned to walk away, “Hey, wait!”

Spiderman turned back around slowly, looking at him. Eliott shrugged off his jacket and tossed it to him. “You were shivering, I thought this might help.”

Spiderman held the jacket gingerly, looking it over, and Eliott worried he might have been a little too forward. Maybe Spiderman’s suit could regulate his body temperature and the gesture was pointless. But then, after a moment, Spiderman shrugged the jacket on, drowning in it a bit given their height difference, and turned away again.  

“See you later, Eliott,” Spiderman said as he walked down the alley, turning back once to look at Eliott as he went. Eliott merely lifted a hand in a small wave, utterly paralyzed by what had almost happened and how he felt about it all. He was also a little bit cold now that he’d given his jacket away.  

He pulled out his phone with slightly shaky hands. 

Eliott: hey can i come over?

Eliott: i need to talk 

He waited for a response, bouncing his phone against his leg and pacing up and down the alley. He didn’t want to go inside yet, but he didn’t know where else to go. His phone buzzed after about ten minutes and he sighed with relief at the message on the screen. 

Lucas: Of course

L🕷U🕷C🕷A🕷S 

He didn’t really know what he’d been thinking. Everything had been a mess since their first fake date, Lucas knew that. He knew Eliott better than anyone, so he knew when Eliott was trying to avoid him. 

He was an idiot, really, for thinking that the fact that Eliott had taken him to his refuge, that they’d almost kissed, meant that Eliott might actually have real feelings for him. He’d almost thought, before they went to the petite ceinture, that Eliott was taking him to their bench to confess that he had feelings for Lucas. If he had, Lucas would have done the same, maybe even telling Eliott that he was Spiderman.

Eliott probably hadn’t even thought that they’d almost kissed, he probably blew off the whole thing. Not because he didn’t care, but because he just didn’t see Lucas like that. Lucas still had to know for sure though, which was why he’d left that note in Eliott’s grocery bag, against his better judgement. Just to see if Eliott would choose him if given the chance. 

Surprise, surprise, he didn’t. 

He’d shown up as Spiderman with the full intention of blowing Eliott’s interest off, coming off as aloof and unattainable, but the moment Eliott had come out of his building that resolve had disappeared and Lucas had played into everything he had told himself he wouldn’t. He even nearly revealed himself, kissed Eliott as someone other than himself. If they hadn’t been interrupted, he probably would have, and he didn’t know what that said about him. 

It was also frustrating to him in some ways that Eliott hadn’t figured it out yet. Sure, he had a masked face and voice, but he spoke in a way with Eliott that was much more intimate than a proper stranger would have. There were times when he would catch Eliott looking at him funny and he’d think that Eliott had figured it out, but he never quite put two and two together. 

If Eliott was Spiderman, Lucas was certain he’d have figured it out by now. 

Lucas had thankfully had time to change out of his suit and into regular clothes and hide the jacket Eliott had given Spiderman in the back of his closet by the time Eliott knocked on the door to the flatshare, hands fluttering at his sides and an indecipherable expression on his face. It was a good thing Mika, Manon, and Lisa were already in their rooms for the night because he barely said hello before making his way into Lucas’ room, flopping face first on the bed as Lucas closed the door behind them.

“Everything ok?” Lucas asked hesitantly.

Eliott’s voice came muffled by the comforter, but Lucas could get the general idea of what he was saying. “I almost kissed Spiderman. Or, he almost kissed me. I don’t really know.”

Lucas’ surprise was genuine, he hadn’t been expecting Eliott to just come right out and say it. Then again, why wouldn’t he? He didn’t know that it would hurt Lucas to hear he’d come close to kissing someone else (even if that someone else was him). 

“Um, ok. That’s new,” Lucas said, sitting down on the bed. Eliott poked his head up and looked at Lucas before laying it back down on one of his arms. 

“I’m so confused,” he mumbled. 

Lucas furrowed his brows. “Why?” 

“What do you mean why?”

“Why are you confused?” Lucas laid down beside him, head propped up on one arm just like Eliott. “If you like Spiderman, shouldn’t you be excited you almost kissed him?”

Eliott blinked once, frowning. “Oh.”

“I’m not saying you can’t be confused, I’m just asking why,” Lucas reiterated. 

Eliott’s face flushed bright red and his eyes zoned out a little bit. He didn’t answer, and Lucas tried not to wonder why. Maybe Eliott was falling for Arthur or something too, he wouldn’t be surprised.

“I’m sorry for cancelling our date,” Eliott said after a while. Lucas blinked up at him in surprise, then shrugged. 

“Don’t be, you almost kissed Spiderman.”

Eliott sighed and laid on his back. “Yeah, but I like hanging out with you too.”

“You can hang out with me anytime, El,” Lucas countered. He wasn’t sure why he was fighting Eliott on this, but he didn’t want Eliott to feel like he had to hang out with him out of obligation. If Eliott was ever going to fall for him, he couldn't force it.

Eliott said nothing more on the matter, choosing instead to settle into the bed further. “Can I stay here tonight?” he asked.

“Of course,” Lucas responded immediately, “Do you need clothes to sleep in?”

“A t shirt, maybe,” Eliott requested, and Lucas went to his closet to grab one of the ones Eliott had left over at his house at some point that he’d reclaimed as his own. 

When Eliott put it on he frowned at the length in confusion. “Why does this fit me?”

“Because it’s yours,” Lucas giggled, seeing Eliott’s face go from shocked to amused.

“You little—”

“Oh, what, like you don’t have any of my clothes at your place?” Lucas accused with a laugh. Eliott didn’t have a comeback for that because he knew it was true. Every time Lucas couldn’t find something in his closet or his drawers he could bet it was sitting somewhere forgotten at Eliott’s flat.

It was a release, to fall back into this easy pattern of teasing one another. Lucas really wasn’t in the mood to comfort or give Eliott advice on how to make someone else fall in love with him. He really didn’t act differently under the guise of Spiderman, though, which was another reason Lucas was appalled Eliott hadn’t figured it out yet. How could Eliott fall for a version of him wearing a mask before the real version?

Eliott slipped out of his jeans and Lucas did the same, both of them falling on their respective sides of the bed. Lucas was pressed nearly to the edge of his side, trying to avoid contact with Eliott at all costs, serial cuddler that he was. 

Eliott clearly noticed, because when he opened his eyes he was met with the sight of Eliott trying to hold back a grin. “What?” Lucas asked defensively. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Eliott said nonchalantly, schooling his face into a neutral expression.

He sighed. “Eliott…”

“You’re so far over you look like you’re about to fall off the bed,” Eliott said with a small laugh. 

“Only because you’ll hog all the covers if I don’t mark my space,” Lucas shot back, a poor excuse, but one that Eliott accepted without complaint. Instead, he moved closer into Lucas’ space. 

“If we’re closer we can share better,” he reasoned, which, admittedly, made more sense. It did nothing for Lucas’ racing heart though. Only because he was panicking a little bit, Lucas reached out and poked Eliott in the stomach, knowing he was ticklish. 

Eliott let out an offended peal of laughter. “Dude! You know I’m ticklish!”

“Duh, that’s why I poked you.”

“Oh, you’re asking for it now…”

Lucas widened his eyes at the mischievous expression on Eliott’s face. “El… no, don’t—”

Sure, Eliott was ticklish, but that didn’t mean Lucas wasn’t equally as ticklish. Within seconds they were engaged in quite the tickling fight. Actually, it was more of a tickling war than a fight, Eliott reaching and poking Lucas as he curled into a ball and tried to find Eliott’s blind spots, poking him back where he could when he could. 

They were both laughing breathlessly, partially at the tickling and partially because Eliott had noted that Lucas had curled up like a hedgehog at the first given opportunity. He may have complained when Eliott had first assigned his spirit animal, but time had only proven how accurate the assessment had been. 

Eliott gained the advantage, positioning himself on top of Lucas and pinning his arms down. Eliott didn’t seem to realize what position they were in, but it was all Lucas could notice. He stopped fighting at the same time his heart stopped beating, Eliott’s face smiling brighter than the sun above him, his hands held down by Eliott’s, fitting together like they were made to hold one another. 

“Ok, you win,” Lucas said quickly, shifting his body so Eliott rolled off him swiftly and abruptly. Lucas faced his body away from Eliott, screwing his eyes shut and refusing to turn around, not wanting to see the look on Eliott’s face. 

It took a moment, but finally there was a shift in the weight distribution on the mattress as Eliott settled himself back down into bed. “Goodnight, El,” Lucas said, trying to keep the quaver in his voice to a minimum as he reached over to turn off his bedside lamp.

“Night, L,” Eliott responded in a voice that was equally as falsely casual. The lamp clicked off, leaving them engulfed in darkness, both on complete opposite sides of the bed. Good, Lucas wasn’t sure he could have survived anything else. 

Before he drifted off, though, it was hard for him to keep himself from imagining a world where he woke up engulfed in Eliott’s arms, bodies pressed together and clicking into place like puzzle pieces finding their homes.

[wellmeaningshutin]

Short Story #30: Media.

Written: 1/25/2017

The actress, known only as Greta, has had her reality dating show renewed for its second season. For those of you who are not familiar with “Perfection”, the show involves 30 contestants, of no specific gender, that have to compete with each other to prove that they are a suitable companion for the perfect woman. Polymaths, Olympic athletes, CEO’s, magicians, all of the worlds greatest people try to prove that they are indeed worth it, often putting themselves through grueling competition to show their worth. Who can forget last seasons tiger hunt, in which Daniel Schmitt wrestled the Siberian tiger to death, with his bear hands, only to be mauled to death during his attempt to drag the corpse out of the arena? Or the Yale professor who shot the professor from Cornell, in order to gain a few extra minutes to solve his equation. Or the performance artist who drank a bottle of bleach and liquefied her insides, moving Greta to tears and applause, almost winning, except for the rule that contestants need to be alive to win.

Its rumored that this season will include mercenaries, world leaders, investment bankers, show dog breeders, self proclaimed psychic detectives, environmental lawyers, cult leaders, five star chefs, opera stars, and a man who can sneeze with his eyes open. It truly

Anne flipped through the magazine, bored with the article, but it turned out that the thing was just full of reality show promotions. Wasn’t this supposed to be about news? Flipping over the cover, she realized she accidentally grabbed “Global Reality”, the magazine that specializes in reality shows all over the world, instead of “Global Real”, which, although having a crappy title, was very informative and covered world news. She looked at the magazine table, sifted around, but couldn’t find the magazine she wanted. Looking around the room she saw that a young girl, somewhere around the age of 16-17, was reading the magazine while sitting with somebody who was probably the mother. Shit. Searching through the pile again, she finally decided to settle on a nature magazine, boasting stories like “The Technicolor Geyser”, “Mysteries of the Egg”, and “Australia: Is it Sentient?”. She was mainly curious about the third article.

For years, Australia has been known to have some of the most dangerous and alien species on the planet. Dog creatures with pouches on their stomach, with massive feet and travel by jumping. Jellyfish the size of your fingernail that have the death size of the Holocaust. Flightless birds. But why do such oddities lurk on the surface of this continent early, and why can’t they be normal creatures, like cows, lizards, and, dare I say, humans? An animal anthropologist, Simon Haulfis, claims he has the answer.

His theory is that Australia is a sentient land mass, but has been asleep for quite some time. If it was awake, it would be clear that it was alive, because we would all probably be enslaved or eaten by it, unable to stop it, but this comes in later in the theory. First, we need to examine the living angle. Why does Simon believe its alive. His first part to tackle this theory, is how come no civilization was apparent on the continent until it was discovered by the Europeans?

Looking at the magazines again, she realized that this was still probably the best thing to read. The clock on the wall showed that she still had twenty minutes until she would be called in, so she had to settle with this nonsense. Anything too keep her mind off of what was going to happen.

You might say, “Well there were indigenous people there, living there for quite some time!” Simon explains against this: If those are to be real people, then how come they didn’t have civilization, like the noble Europeans? How come they were equipped with magical sticks that, when thrown, would magically return to their user? How come their words were nonsensical? They, like the animals on the island, were only figments of Australia’s dream.

She made sure nobody could see the cover of the magazine. It was embarrassing to be reading this racist nonsense, but she wanted to give it at least one more chance to prove itself.

Like the Africans, the aborigines clearly weren’t human-

It went flying back into the magazine pile. With eighteen minutes left, she decided to settle on another magazine, but none seemed appealing. Settling on three different ones, she had to chose which was the least terrible: Cooking with the Homeless, Tech Supremacy, and Marching Band. She settled on the cooking magazine, and found an article titled: How to spice up the soup kitchen.

I decided to check out the soup kitchen to see how the homeless felt about it, to get a perspective of the real people, the real America that was swept away by the fascist, money grubbing, wall street elite. When I walked in the place smelt strongly, and although it was hard to describe the smell, it made my eyes water and I wanted to retch. I had to drink some mineral water to calm myself down, and inside I went to see what real life was all about.

I set myself down at a table with minimal people at it, since there was no way in hell I was going to let one of those people touch my $300 pea coat. I watched the way they slurped up their pathetic soup, it looked like tomato but without, you know, anything that would make it delicious. From the looks of it, it probably came out of a can, but these people seemed happy, their taste buds probably destroyed from all of the heroin they probably injected into their tongues. They seemed happy, but I knew they were faking it. Real Americans like these folk could never feel the emotions we felt, they couldn’t afford it! They imitate us like its a fashion trend, or maybe they learned how to use it when they claw at us with their dirty hands, begging for our hard earned money.

I asked a mother of two if she was enjoying her soup, she replied in a horrid voice, saying “Yes, its nice today.” I shook my head, pitying the poor woman. When asking how it tasted good, she replied “I don’t know, its good soup.” After multiple questions on if she could taste, or if this was better than the sewer water that she usually drank, she threatened to assault me. Poor woman probably only understood violence when she was growing up on the hard streets, I felt bad for her and her kids who she probably had to sell for sex, the boy, who was around the age of 8, was probably the money maker in the group, but that money would probably only go towards drugs and lottery tickets, because these poor, real folk can’t understand much. Its all the corporations fault, you see, that these sub-humans

This magazine also got tossed into the pile. Marching Band was picked next, since there was no way this one could just be demeaning other people, right? She still had twelve minutes left, hopefully this would be good enough to stick with. However, almost all of the pages were just literal music, written down on the pages, note after note, but she finally found a single article on organizing bands, which seemed long enough to last until she was called up for her dreaded appointment.

For instruments like Clarinets, Cellos, Gongs, you’re going to want chinks.

She skipped several paragraphs ahead, hoping to find something redeeming.

For your percussions you’re going to want blacks, but keep them away from jazz or they’ll use it to impregnate your women.

Into the pile it went. She ran her fingers through her hair and stared up at the ceiling, deciding to not even try the magazine with “supremacy” in the name, and instead counted the ceiling tiles. There were only twenty of them, and it was a quick count. Ten minutes left, still a long time, could she make it? She thought about how weird it was that all of the people in the room had so many different stories, but they were all probably here for the same reason, all of them had to fix a mistake they made and live with the consequences. The protesters outside almost made her turn away, but who were they to make her feel awful, this was already a traumatic experience for her. She didn’t even want her to be here in the first place! It was a lesson for her to learn: don’t fall in love with a married man. The more important lesson was probably: make sure a condom is always used. But how was she supposed to know that he took it off in the middle of sex, how was she supposed to know that he was going to berate her into coming here, what did she do wrong, why did she deserve this, why did he put her through this when he had been so nice to her, all those things he said… tears welled up in her eyes, a lump rose in her throat, her mouth quivered, people were starting to look. Taking a couple deep breaths, she decided to pick up another magazine to distract herself, only eight minutes left, she could push through. Grabbing one at random, opening up to a random page, she started to read.

-but its not just the fluoride in the water that they use, oh no, studies have shown that they are starting to embed secret messages in popular music. They make sure that the patterns of the songs make pictures in your head, so that you know what to think, who to hate, who to vote for, every little thing gets controlled through this. For example, the song “It Must be Tuesday” is actually a hidden message that when deciphered, through sound melding thaumotological heuristics, reads:

Worship the government like it is the true lord and savior, Jesus Christ, which you must ignore and instead worship this false idol. Be tolerant of the gays, even though they are some of the worst sinners on the Earth, devil incarnates, and make sure to vote for their rights. Buy lots and lots of soda so that you may ingest it and stay fat and docile, so our politicians can forcibly take religion out of schools, and our police men can rape your women and desecrate our churches.

Power through, five minutes, she had to just skip ahead and power through.

which is total bullshit if you ask me, but I’m just smart enough to trust the words of “Scientists”, who worship the false idol, “Science”, and try to put fake bones in the ground to disprove the story of our creation! I’m not stupid, and neither are you, so don’t believe a word of their lies! Don’t buy their snake oil! If a teacher tries to fill your kids with these blatant lies then take them out of that school and use the home school system to correct any damage that may have been done to their souls, and get them back onto the righteous path.

Now, I want to disprove another lie of science: Global Warming. Now, the blessed oil companies, factories, and car emissions aren’t heating up the Earth, why that’s just a load of hooey! What’s really happening is lots of people are leaving our holy church and are adulterating with filthy religions, like Judaism, Buddhism, or Islam, or even worse: some are going down the dark path of atheism. God is angered by this, for the world is now no different that Sodom and Gomorrah, so hell on Earth is finally arriving and oh lord can we feel the heat!

She decided that spending the last several minutes on her phone was probably a better idea, and decided to look at what was happening on social media. Skimming through, she saw a couple videos of puppies and kittens, but it seemed like she had built up a tolerance to those, and required more and more cuteness to appease her. Her grandma posted a picture that said: If you don’t like this picture then you are a sinner. Like it if you walk with Jesus every day, and comment if you can feel the light of the lord inside of you. Right after there were two more posts by her grandma, who it seemed didn’t do anything other than this. One was an article to the website of the last magazine that she read, “INFORMATIC”, and the other read:

I love my grandkids, today one of them sent me a pair of gloves in the mail, I found them in my mailbox :)

They must know how cold I am, and its a good pair, I have a pair just like them but I lost them, so I can’t compare, but they’re the same I promise :) :) :)

A friend of hers, who worked at the local movie theater, posted:

I can’t believe that Sails to Freedom won the Oscar, you know that the only reason that this movie won was because it was pandering to feminist liberal bullshit! Why didn’t a movie with men win, huh? Now THAT’s sexism! I’m tired of people coming into the theater to see this bullshit, everyone knows that women aren’t oppressed anymore, fucking entitled bitches. Why didn’t Skull Crusher win the Oscar, huh? Bullshit man bullshit.

Comment: Calm down dude, its just a movie, I don’t even understand how its supposed to be “feminist”

Original Poster: BECAUSE THE LEAD CHARACTER IS A WOMAN, DUMBASS! God, try thinking for yourself instead of the liberal media.

Comment: Actually, I thought it was sexist because the cast wasn’t all women, and I’m angry that it won the Oscar!

She put her phone away and decided to sit with her eyes closed, thinking about nothing, listening to the sounds of the waiting room, until she was finally called in. For some reason she thought of her old dog, Tulip, that she had back when she was a kid, and the doghouse that it used to live in. Tulip had the cutest habit of trying to talk like people did, but all that came out were sounds that were somewhere between a bark and a growl. She remembered running through the yard with the dog, or the long walks through the park. The way Tulip hid under her bed whenever the lightning scared her. Being greeted with licks and that cute noise whenever she came home from school. Those were better times.

“Anne?”

She opened her eyes and looked around the room. At the back she could see a nurse with a clip board and a blank face. Grabbing her purse and sweatshirt, she stood up and walked towards the nurse, ready for her appointment, unsure if life was going to be better or worse.