#Not me realizing I have temper tantrums like about half of the students I’ve worked with so far

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

If blind rage ever tells you to hammer your heel on the floor as hard as you can, that is the Devil speaking

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore Guy and the eternal studs

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

word count: 3158

warnings: language

As summer exams were approaching, the pressure on the students of Whitmore grew immensely. And Y/N was the one who felt it clearest of all. Each student, whether depressed, or just stressed, felt only their own weight pulling them down. Y/N had to be the anchor for all of them at once.

In the incredible fuss of early June she didn’t notice that a bunch of young people were very behind in their studies. When she finished filing out all of their graduate papers and closing documents for their rented apartments, she realized at least twenty people from the whole Whitmore did not show up for their preliminary sessions in the end of May. Three of them were missing, and the police already knew about it. A week later, after Damon had finally submitted the heads to the Mystic Falls sheriff, their identities were confirmed, and the college had a big wake for them. Their names were Sheila Bent, Christopher Harris and Taylor Whitaker. Y/N remembered them from her everyday work, and they weren’t unusual; all three, like the rest of the bodies dragged to Damon’s lawn, were Mystic Falls residents. Rebekah left the town for some time, led away by Klaus. Of course, her brother was defensive of her, aggressive, even, however, the pressure of the surviving town, the main core specifically, made it uneasy for him. Y/N was honestly baffled by how him being in love with Caroline changed his attitude. How easy it is to break you, and to manipulate you, when you’re into somebody. And how nasty it is, when this somebody is not entirely on your side.

The rest of the students, who were now in the danger of getting kicked from the college, swarmed her office for the whole first half of June; pleading, begging, crying hysterically, and throwing tantrums. Yesterdays’ mature young people transformed in an almost inexplicable way. There were some athletes among them; there was a brilliant science student Alana May, whom Y/N always liked for her reasonable attitude. All of them changed into these whining kids who did not know what to do now, that they spent half a month somewhere, and couldn’t cope with their deadlines. The situation got thousand times weirder after Y/N found that they all said one and the same thing when asked what the hell they’d been doing.

They said, we were having a party. Fifteen people from different faculties, studying different things, who have never been seen before, of different age and interests, were all having party for at least two weeks, all together.

It was Damon’s birthday, and he could not wish for anything better than investigating the college drama. Although, Y/N did not call it a drama specifically; she said it was more of a sinister mystery. Damon strongly advised her not to contact the failing students again before he gets his head in. When people go missing and then return, having completely changed their behavior, there can only be one explanation, that is – in his world. They’ve been turned.

“Ah-what?!” she yelled.

“When did they come in?” Damon asked knowingly.

“All at a different time – but in the working hours. Which are during the day”.

“Did you look for the lapis lazuli?”

“No, I did not. I’ve been more busy trying to calm down four people at a time. I don’t even have lunch these days, I have so much work”.

“God, the IT guy must miss you”.

Y/N snorted bitterly.

“Joke’s on you, Damon. He brings me coffee every morning”.

“Ew. Anyway, try something if you see any them. I’ll be there by three. Gather them all in one room and I’ll stake them”.

She pressed her fingers between her eyebrows, trying to pull the migraine out. How is she not screaming at him yet.

“You’re not going to come to Whitmore and stake fifteen people who you think are vampires”.

“I’m pretty damn sure gonna. I have a lot of things to do today”.

“Like what? Buy yourself a cake?”

Damon gasped on the other side of the line.

“What? You’re not getting me cake?”

Of course not, she thought. Cakes are traditionally on Caroline.

“Damon, you gotta have at least a picture of a plan before we do it. It’s your faint assumption. Maybe it’s something worse. Or something else. Maybe they joined a cult or something. Maybe they’ve turned into very normal human terrorists”.

“Good thinking, Y/N. Get them all together. By three”.

“Don’t you think it would make more sense to first talk to one of them if you want to check?”

Damon was silent for a moment.

“Yeah, good idea”.

He hung up.

She thought, standing by the window, as she looked out on the parking lot and the football field behind it. Why would Rebekah turn all these people? Was she bitten by the same family craving bug as Klaus once was? In what world all this turning, heads ripping stuff made any sense to her? The summer solstice was getting dangerously close, and Y/N had a bad feeling. There was always a massacre timed to a big cosmic or festive event in this god forsaken town. Every Founder’s Day – someone tries to butcher half of population. And she didn’t even want to remember the Halloween party back in 2009. Or the Perseids night four years ago. Some freak put a bunch of people inside of trees everywhere in the park using magic. They never caught him, of course… those were the weird times, when they failed, once and again, to prevent tragedies. Then it just ended. There were couple of strange cases in Mystic Falls, never solved. The greatest regret of the former sheriff Liz Forbs, before she died, was never solving the case of who killed her father and grandmother.

Thank God she didn’t live to see what happened to Matt.

Y/N decided to find and secure Alana May when Damon comes. She liked her the best, and she had a great hope to save her, if anything as horrible happened to her.

Y/N closed her laptop and left her office, walking to the teacher’s room to see Alaric and involve him a bit. His life has been getting far too boring lately.

She also discovered Mal together with him. The Occult Professor was sitting in his chair, looking into his computer intensely, and Mal clearly did not read the signs of his body – or didn’t want to. Standing right behind his shoulder, he pushed Ric’s back with his stomach, and spoke straight into the poor man’s ear.

“Huh, and then she was like, I don’t really believe that you’re already closing to thirty. I was like, ma’am, just because I’m clean shaven, like any other civilized individual… I mean, you know, not to say anything about your majestic beard, Ric, but I’ve never been able to grow anything like that. There are some people, you know…”

All the while his fingers were working on the keyboard disconnected from his brain completely. Ric’s face expressed misery, and Y/N chuckled, watching them, as she sat down behind someone’s unoccupied desk.

“Hey”, Mal smiled, looking at her briefly.

“Y/N”, Alaric stood up with a swing, almost hitting Mal in the face with his elbow. “I was just thinking about you. I need to talk to you. Can we…”

Mal looked up at them curiously, and a sly smile curled his lips. Half of the time he was pissing Saltzman just for the sake of it.

“Yeah, same”, Y/N gestured, inviting him to leave the room since Mal was working. Together, they stepped out into the corridor, which was sunny, smelled of summer, and stood half empty as it was morning.

“Heavenly God”, the man puffed, looking her in the eyes, “how do you stand that person?”

She was still giggling.

“Serious stuff, Ric. You remember I complained to you about those students who chucked on their studies and were running around on fire?”

A line lay between his eyebrows.

“Uh-huh”.

“Damon thinks they’ve been turned. It’s a bit soon to tell, but when I think about it, it makes sense. They all became like one: impatient, nervous, and very short-tempered. There haven’t been any killings yet… that I know of”.

She looked at him with a question. Saltzman shook his head.

“That’s a morbid picture, if he’s right. You think they’re connected with that massacre at the Salvatore mansion?”

“We don’t know if they are vampires yet. Let’see first. He’s coming over today at three”.

Ric put his palm on Y/N’s shoulder.

“Shall we give him his present then?”

The door opened, and Mal walked into them.

“Aw, my bad. The room’s free, if you want it. Y/N, you wanna grab a beer after work?”

“Not today, Mal”, Y/N watched him tilt his head musingly. “We got uh- a thing to do”.

“Oh, the hybristophiliac police gathering. Got it”.

He looked hurt though. Y/N understood very well what he felt at that moment. There they stood, two very different people, part of her outer world, and part of her inner dimension. Ever since Mal came round, the prose of her life became even more boring. Mal was like leaving your house on a fresh morning. You don’t really wanna do that shit anymore. You want to make lava lamps in his basement, listen to his favorite music, and watch Dr Pepper cans fall out of their slots.

“Not really, it’s…”

Ric was watching them both with mist in his eyes.

“Anyway, let’s do it tomorrow”.

“Whatever. Not like I wanted to tell you something super important. It’ll wait”, he smiled and waved them with his quick ringed hand.

“I’ll go get Alana”, Ric put his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “And you watch out for the rest of them”.

“Uh-huh”, Y/N said, still watching Mal walk away. Cindy/Sandy caught her eye. As he walked past her, the girl followed him with a glance, too, and then turned and looked directly at Y/N. Something was off about that look, more than just a “woah, we’re checking out the same guy”. Y/N brushed it off. Not now. Not fucking now.

“Alright, I’ll get her into your office by three”.

“Call me if something happens”.

All those phrases were rehearsed and vocalized hundreds of times. All that routine was suffocating. Y/N walked back to her place thinking about Cindy/Sandy. Maybe she should check her name after all, to finally memorize it.

Damon was there by two-fifty. At three straight, there was a knock at her door, and Alana, led by Alaric, came into her office. Damon’s eyes were highlighted by the sunlight penetrating through the windows like juice. All pale, with bright turquoise, focused and a bit frustrated already, he moved towards the girl without a word.

Alana didn’t have time to react. The vampire took her by the shoulder, as Alaric snapped the door closed, and looked at her like a doctor with at least a century experience.

Only, Salvatore gaze wasn’t caring or curious. It was examining the depths of Alana’s majestic dark brown eyes with cold concentration, and his hard hand never left the girl’s shoulder. Y/N stood next to her, a kind of a maternal instinct rising in her, to protect her from… whatever.

“What are you now?” Damon asked quietly. Alana was looking at him with confusion on her beautiful face. She eyed the man almost angrily, and then replied,

“I’m Alana. Who are you?”

She looked at Y/N for assistance.

“What’s going on?”

“Look at me”, Damon ordered quietly, but with great significance. Y/N got a glimpse of what attracted her to this individual long time ago; he was a very obvious alpha. He was also extremely irritated all the time, which somehow added to his charm. Maybe she just liked the mean type.

Alana stared at Damon, looking all the more lost, and suddenly he straightened up, his face going a dead mask, jaws clenched.

“She’s been turned”.

“What?” Y/N barked, leaning to the student. Alana was turning her head absently at this point, trying to gain someone’s attention, but afraid to stand up as Damon was towering over her.

“Who turned you?” Y/N asked. Alana looked at her, and her eyes went blank.

“What do you mean? What the fuck is going on here?”

Heating up, the girl tried to get up, but Damon pushed her back down roughly. Y/N took him by the shoulder, and he didn’t fail to catch her hand in his inescapable clutch.

“Look”.

He bared his teeth like a tiger yawning, and bit her wrist in a flash, so fast, Y/N couldn’t feel pain at first. She only felt stinging when the first thick, dark drops of blood started to fill on her skin. She could yell at him later, and roll her eyes, too. She looked down at Alana, whose gaze was now focused on her completely. Suddenly, the girl’s face grimaced in pain, and she pushed herself deeper into the armchair, crying out,

“I can’t! Please”, her mouth opened in horror, long fangs growing out of her gums; a familiar black web of swollen veins evened out under her eyes, but she looked at Y/N.

“Your blood, I can’t take it, I can’t…”

But her thirst was stronger. Shaking and convulsing, Alana jumped out, throwing herself over the armchair, just as Damon wrapped his arms around Y/N. It was all too fast, at the vampire speed which always made everything look like changing pictures. Alana threw herself back, right onto another human: Alaric. He was a bad victim, all with instincts and ready hands that never failed him. Y/N bumped into her desk, moved it with her body, pushed away by Salvatore. Damon wanted to step forward to Alana and pushed away the armchair she’d been sitting in, so hard that it collapsed into the bookcase, breaking the glass and scattering the pieces of it. Alaric was pinned to the door, head tilted down, and Alana was immediately pushed to him. She gave out a groan, all too familiar, for Y/N not to understand.

She balanced herself back to her feet, but it was already too late. Salvatore took the student’s body away from Ric, and, having checked that she was dead, took the stake out.

“Good reflexes”, he nodded, carefully placing Alana on the floor.

“Not her”, Y/N moaned. It was her mistake. She chose her to bring here, to Damon. This death was on her.

Y/N ran her fingers through her hair, thinking. She looked at her bookcase and the glass on the floor. Oh how she could’ve used that beer after work.

“God fucking dammit”, she uttered, taking the armchair and pushing it further, to the window.

“How many are there left?” Damon asked. Y/N thought about them with horror. Right now, there’s a group of young vampires, high on thirst and anxiety, getting their blood devil knew where, scattered around the campus. One of them could be flirting with Mal.

“So, we’re not gonna talk about it?” Alaric walked towards the body and then looked at Y/N. “A newly turned vampire, that’s unable to withstand the call of blood, manages to avoid biting you, because, apparently she’s been compelled. If that’s still Rebekah, then I’m completely confused”.

Damon turned to her and gave her the longest look. Y/N felt like the vampire was staring right into her, down to her every little bone, and a nasty feeling crawled into her brain. There was something to do with her. There was a thought, in the back of her mind, almost on the brink of subconscious, that she pushed away and couldn’t reach anymore. The only sensation left was guilt. Why did she feel guilty, like she was hiding something? Why was Damon staring at her like that? He was the third already, that day.

She was walking across the football field. Thank God they didn’t make her run around the campus and look for the remaining fourteen failing students. She was swinging Alana’s keys between her fingers, looking for her car on the other side of the road. She failed to find it in the parking lot and decided to check in the street. It was a normal thing now, deaths. People died pretty often in Mystic Falls and its suburbia. Weird things, awful things happened there. They knew about it even back in Seattle. So, technically, if you come to study or live here, you claim that you’re ready to take the risks. It just bothered Y/N that deaths didn’t bother her anymore. How much does it take off a person to become jaded? It certainly wasn’t that much for her, and yet, she was calm. She’s just seen one of the best Whitmore students die pointlessly; out of Alaric’s paranoid stake throwing. And all she felt was frustration. The new knot to untie, the whole new bunch of threads to pull on. And what if someone really important gets in the way?

She finally found it, a dark blue Honda. Y/N took it back to the campus, circling the building and stopping it at the back entrance. Damon came out with the body and put it in the trunk.

“Tha-ank you”, he clicked his tongue, taking the keys from her. Ric appeared next to him and looked at Y/N with the same silent question.

“You know, if they all were compelled not to feed on you, you’re going to lure them all by yourself”.

“I won’t be luring anyone”, Y/N protested, “we don’t have to kill them. I’m sick of this… favoritism. Either kill all new vampires, or save them all. Imagine it was Bonnie, who’s been turned yesterday. You wouldn’t have staked her”.

Damon puffed.

“Oh, sweet lord. Don’t tell her that. The idea of being a vampire makes her go suicidal this quick”, he snapped his fingers and got into the car.

“Damon’s going to take care of little Alana” he announced, letting down the window, “and you find the rest of their bunch and assess them”.

Ric’s phone rang. He answered it quickly, lifting his palm as if to say, wait a second. Then he looked at them both:

“Caroline’s asking if we’re still up for tonight, at the Grill”.

“Are we really doing the party?” Y/N inquired, morosely.

Damon hummed like he did when a very bad, murderous idea came to him.

“Make it Craze. And Y/N, let everybody know that there’s a lit party tonight. It’s going to be totally sick or whatever you kids say. Let them all come”, he winked, and started the engine.

“That would be dangerous”, Ric tried to reason with him.

“Young vampires won’t be able to resist an opportunity to party”, Y/N thought out loud. “Loud music, lots of hot blood, and excitement”.

“And piles of dead bodies”, Saltzman noted, watching as Alana’s car sped away from the campus.

[seasonofthegeek]

Here comes a personal post because this week has been a doozy and I want to get some words out. Also please don’t reblog this post. This is just for me to get some thoughts down and there’s no reason to spread it. Thanks. :)

Back in May, I began having passive suicidal thoughts and knew I needed to get some help. I didn’t want to actively hurt myself, but I thought it might be better for everyone in my life if something happened to me and I died. After a visit to the doctor, I started an antidepressant that worked for me and I got back to a mental level I was more comfortable with. A few months later, something happened to someone I love dearly and it showed me that I was just teetering on the edge, even with the meds, so I sought out a therapist to have someone outside of my life to talk to.

It’s been a great experience and my therapist is easy to talk to but also good at keeping me accountable in the tasks I’ve set for myself, while also reminding me that it’s okay to fail. She listens and offers advice when it’s warranted and some sessions I’ve just walked in and word vomited for an hour and that’s been fine. A few sessions ago, she suggested I start seeing a psychiatrist to get to the root of some of my issues. She was wondering if I had bipolar disorder (my brother was diagnosed with it ) and put the ball in my court to contact someone if it was something I wanted to explore further.

I was an anxious mess but called one of the psychiatrists my therapist recommended and set up an appointment. That appointment finally came up this past Tuesday and after battling an angry child not wanting to go to school, no time for breakfast, construction traffic, and school traffic, I finally made it to my appointment twenty minutes late (I called on the way, of course). 

I was a wreck and almost didn’t get out of my car when I pulled into the parking lot, but I forced myself out into the cold and then into an unknown office. After a few minutes, I was taken back to meet my psychiatrist and he was one of those people who can immediately put others at ease. He recognized the My Hero characters on my hoodie and told me his daughter loved the show. He smiled and made small talk.

And then he read aloud the notes my therapist had sent him with my consent.

I’m going to be honest, it was ROUGH hearing everything I’ve been dealing with read by someone I just met in the span of a few minutes. He went through it simply, not commenting, just relaying information. I took a big breath when he finished and told him it was hard to hear it all at once. And he smiled and suggested we just start from the beginning.

And that’s how the rest of the appointment was. He was pleasant and kept things simple and asked questions that led me down different paths of conversation. He told me that I would be diagnosing myself with his help and that I had all the power.

It was refreshing.

My therapist is great and she has helped me with a lot of issues, but she can mainly just offer advice on how to deal with things.

My psychiatrist led me to understand why I deal with the issues I have and where they stem from. It was something I’d never given much thought to honestly. I’ve had bad things happen to me, I think everyone has in different degrees, but I didn’t think any of them really shaped the person I am. I was wrong.

After discussing things, we both decided that I’m not bipolar because it didn’t fit for me. I do have depression and anxiety though and they were manifesting in ways that can mimic some of the symptoms of bipolar disorder. I have a feeling I’m always going to remember how he explained my level of anxiety too.

Dr. S: If I said to you, Kayla, do you think most people deal with this level of anxiety in their day to day lives? Would you say “no” or would you say “duh”?

Me, thinking my high level of anxiety is completely ordinary, laughed: I’d say duh.

Dr. S with his nice smile: Ah, see, that’s not the case.

Me: ...oh. Ohhhhhhh.

It was a bit of a revelation to find out this brain stuff I deal with constantly isn’t the norm for everyone else. I didn’t realize most people don’t think when they tell their family goodbye in the morning that it might be the last time they see them because something horrible is going to happen or that their house is going to catch on fire when they go on vacation. I didn’t know most other people didn’t check for their keys three to four times before locking their cars in the fear of locking themselves out. It didn’t occur to me that a lot of people don’t think their friends hate them just because they haven’t spoken in a few hours/days/weeks. 

It was almost a relief to find out and at the same time there was morbid fascination in realizing how off my thinking is because of the anxiety. 

He helped me trace it all the way back to being a child and what caused it and how the depression came into play because the anxiety was fear and fear made me feel helpless and that made me angry. I used to have angry outbursts and temper tantrums out of the blue up to adulthood. I learned to monitor myself better and get things out before they blew up as I got older, but with Dr. S’s help, I could go back and see where it had started and that I’ve carried it my whole life. 

I’ll probably always carry it, but now I know and now I can start working on it.

So that’s what happened with me and my brain stuff which is more than enough for one week, but my son’s brain stuff came into play on Friday.

My son is, goodness, he’s just amazing. He’s my world. He’s funny and goofy and creative and a butthead and moody and loving and better than I could’ve ever imagined. For the past couple of years, it’s become more and more obvious that he wasn’t quite like other kids his age. He was developing slower and didn’t start really speaking until he started doing speech therapy.  Even after a little over a year, a lot of his speech still comes from mimicking. 

He started school this year and I wasn’t sure how it was going to go. I was called back in on the first day after he’d been there for two hours. He’d had a meltdown in the cafeteria because it was too loud and his speech therapist (who thankfully was the same person he’d been working with the previous year as a private student) picked him up from his class and took him to her room as a safe space for him to calm down. He adores her and was able to soothe himself as soon as he was in that familiar setting. I went to a meeting on the first day of school to find that my son was not going to be able to make it through the whole school day, but the school wanted to work with him so he’d still be able to attend. We cut his days down to two and a half hours and went from there.

A month or so after that, a meeting was set up with the district psychologist who wanted permission to observe him and see what further help might be needed. She suggested letting an occupational therapist and physical therapist observe and test him too and I consented to all it. He was having issues connecting to the other kids in his class and he couldn’t seem to follow the schedule. The teacher worked with him the best she could, giving him a visual task calendar he could follow and use to point to and other similar things, but she also has seventeen other students. I knew more help was needed.

So for the past couple of months, he’s been going to his general education class and his speech therapy while also being observed by a psychologist on some days. He did a couple of sessions of testing with an occupational therapist and a physical therapist (who cleared him with a laugh that he is definitely strong and super fast). It was all coming down to the meeting we had on Friday.

Seven women sat around the table and showed me how each of them wanted to help my son. I’m tearing up just thinking back on it, to be honest. The psychologist broke everything down for me and made sure I could see every step of the process they’d all gone through while watching my son. At the beginning of the year, he’d started with paperwork stating that he was receiving help with speech and language but that was being moved to a secondary position because he was now being categorized as mild to moderate on the autism spectrum.

I’d had a feeling about autism. I’d wondered about it from time to time. He fit some of the indicators. Like with finding out about myself, it was a bit of a relief. There’s something about knowing that is just so helpful because then you can ask, “Okay, what are the next steps we need to take?” 

They suggested moving him into the special education class. It’s half the size of the class he is currently in, he’s already familiar with the teacher, his speech therapist works in that class a lot, and he knows two of the students from his group speech sessions. 

LIfe is kinda funny how it works out sometimes. My mom has worked with special ed kids most of my life. I went into her classroom all through high school and got to know the students in there. We’ve discussed the past year or so that my son might need that kind of help, even if it is only for a little while. So when this group of teachers and therapists and the psychologist recommended moving him, I felt comfortable agreeing. I know from the other side of things that it is not something done lightly or suggested easily. 

The psychologist even said it might be something he only needs for a year or two and if they can get him coming to school for longer periods of time, they want to get him back into the general class he was in for short periods. I know they’re looking out for him. They’ve already done so much to accommodate him and I can see they truly care for his development. I feel really lucky that he is going to the school he’s at.

I’m relieved and I’m worried. He’ll start his new class on Monday and I know it’s going to be a tough transition, but I hope it’s for the best. He’s such a smart kid and he’s got a great imagination and I know he’s got a lot going on in that lil noggin. I just want to do the best I can for him.

So I’m watching out for him and I’m trying to take care of me for me and for him (and for my husband and my best friend and my parents). It’s been a lot to learn in the span of a few days but I feel hopeful for the future. <3

[garbagewhump]

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Tw: Humiliation, dehumanization, manipulation, discussion of self injury to escape bondage, broken bones.

It wasn’t nearly as long as before until he had a visitor again, but it was long enough that his throat was beginning to ache with each swallow again.

This time around, his captor had another bottle of water and a bowl of... oatmeal? At this angle Dale couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was, it had a disturbingly lumpy texture while still sloshing about in the bowl. His empty, cramping stomach didn’t care about what it was, just so long as it was food.

“So, you’re not allergic to nothing right? Gluten sensitive, keto, paleo?”

Dale blinked as he struggled to process the question.

Taking his silence as answer in and of itself, apparently, his jailer smiled at him and sat down like they were having a picnic, languidly sprawling. “So,” he continued, “I bet you’re hungry by now. Brought you a little something something.”

Notably, he didn’t move to release his wrists. Of course not. At this rate Dale was certain when he got free that he would waddle around with his arms out behind him like some stupid chicken for the rest of his life. When he got free. When he escaped. How would he manage it? There was a trick, he knew, to dislocate the thumb to escape handcuffs, but these were thicker, more like proper shackles than handcuffs. Would it work? And even if it did, he had no idea where he was. Middle of nowhere, or the basement of a suburban home on a cul-de-sac.

Fingers snapped in his face. He jerked back to the present situation with a flinch.

“Earth to boomer,” his captor sang. “Now where was that head of yours?”

“Why are you doing this?”

The man didn’t respond at first, openly studying Dale instead with pursed lips. He was baby faced in the way of a college freshman who just realized beer has calories, with faint stubble along his jaw that only exaggerated the soft illusion, and it made him seem all the younger for it. Maybe he was actually not yet twenty.

“Gonna have to have you be more specific, old man,” he said finally. “Cuz, you know, usually when people ask that sorta question it’s when I’ve got the knife to their throat or, you know, something like that. Not when I’m trying to make your stay here a little more palatable.”

His expression darkened as he began crawling closer to Dale on all fours.

“I mean, we could always go back to no water. Lock you up in the dark. I’m a lot of things, but I’m still human, boomer. You can’t just act the victim every time something doesn’t go your way. You can’t tear down an entire people just to feel good about yourself and then get angry when they don’t conform to your ignorant stereotype.”

Dale’s heartbeat pounded in his throat. The man was inches away from him, face in his face. Up this close he could see the individual flecks of gold and green and brown in his irises. Feel his hot breath on his skin. His whole body prickled with the overwhelming need to get away, but he didn’t dare move. As it was, his wrists were still sore and swollen and it’d be too easy to fall on them as it was.

Then the man smiled wide.

It was disgusting. He looked like any young college student with a bright and promising future, grinning like he’d just gotten his acceptance letter to his top choice.

“You’re gonna get learned, boomer,” he whispered. “And I’m gonna fucking teach you.”

His throat felt painfully dry. Despite his best efforts to maintain a steady breathing pattern, his lungs hitched and every breath shuddered.

“Am I clear?”

He so desperately wanted to lick his lips before speaking, just out of habit, but didn’t dare to. “Crystal,” he rasped.

“Good!” The man finally backed off. “Now, let’s start with the basics in my book of manners. When someone offers you a delicious home cooked meal, what do you do?”

That did not look delicious. Maybe home cooked though. “Thank you.”

“‘Thank you’...?” He trailed off meaningfully.

His entire being protested. Gritting his teeth and clenching his fists as tightly as he could, relishing in the distracting pain, he stayed silent.

The man’s smile slipped away. “I said, what are you gonna call me, boomer?”

No. Absolutely not. Sir was a term of respect and he had none for this sadistic freak.

In a flash, he was on him. Their combined weight crushed his bound wrists again— fire burning up his arms and shoulder. He’d broken enough bones, and his arms often enough, as a child, to know the sensation.

The pain caught in his throat, a strangled whine.

Uncaring of that and the way Dale’s legs strained at this angle, the man straddled him.

“What do you call me, boomer?” he demanded. “What do you fucking call me?”

His knees felt like they were about to rip apart. He was too old to be going from kneeling to mostly flat on his back. A whine crawled up his throat, pushing behind his tongue and teeth. “Sir.”

One syllable, and it still felt like an utter betrayal.

But then the man straddling him jerked back in surprise. “Whoa now, don’t go all pillow princess on me,” he protested. “My name is just fine.”

No. God, that wasn’t fair. He’d said it and it was wrong to boot. “I don’t know your name,” he snapped.

“Jesus, and whose fucking fault is that? Don’t get mad at me because you can’t figure out how to ask someone their damn name. Shit, your manners are fucking awful.”

He wouldn’t be in this situation at all if it wasn’t for this creep. Dale didn’t owe him manners. He didn’t have to be polite to people like him.

“Ask me my name, boomer. You can’t just decide some people are worthy of respect and others aren’t. Everyone deserves some. It’s how society works.” The man snorted  and sneered at him. “Though, with how you’ve taken society out back and fucked her senseless, I’m not surprised you can’t be bothered.”

Don’t rise to the bait, he reminded himself. He’s trying to get a rise out of you.

Too late, he realized the other man already had. “What is your name?” Dale growled, fury bubbling under a saccharine veneer.

“Ugh. Weak AF. But fine, baby steps. I know it’s hard for people like you to learn better. It’s how you were raised, blah blah blah.”

Dale breathed through the growing strain of tendons pulled too far for too long, of broken bones untreated and metal cutting into swelling flesh.

“Oh. Right! Jaden, my name is Jaden.”

Dale spat, “Thank you, Jaden.”

Jaden smiled at him, all wide and innocent, and half dragged, half pulled him to a sitting position again. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

He refused to speak.

“Alrighty, time for your gourmet dinner!”

His stomach weakly roused at the thought of putting something inside, even after all this, and despite himself and the unappetizing appearance, he began to salivate.

There was a spoon, but Jaden made no move to release him from his bindings, and it was only when the younger man made airplane noises that he understood.

The whole indignity and shame of his potion burned him from the inside out. Was he really that hungry?

“Here comes the pwane!”

No. No, absolutely not. He’d sooner die.

Huffing impatiently, Jaden pressed the spoon to his closed lips. It was cold and slimy and left a sticky residue on his mouth as the younger man smeared it on his face.

“Yeah, okay,” Jaden said calmly. “Fuck you.” He chucked the spoon across the room and set the bowl down out of reach.

Dale waited for what pain this temper tantrum would bring, then stiffened as Jaden positioned himself behind him. Trying to turn to keep him within his line of sight had the other man laying heavy hands on his shoulders.  

“I’ll compromise,” he said. “Because you won’t meet in the middle, I will be the bigger person.”

Just what did a man like Jaden think a compromise was?

A boot to the back. That was compromise.

Dale blinked away stars and spat out the blood from bitting his tongue. Arms behind his back, belly down on cold concrete. Like a farm animal tied up for slaughter.

“Crawl,” Jaden ordered.

He could. It would be horribly undignified but— considerably less so than being spoon fed by a lunatic. So he did. To the backdrop of Jaden’s puerile mockery — “Why are you running? Why are you running?” — he shimmied himself across the floor like he was crawling under barbed wire.

And like a dog he put his face in the bowl and licked out the congealed lumps of unseasoned porridge.

Remembering what had happened the last time he had his face in a bowl, he kept an ear out for Jaden’s footsteps. This bowl was ceramic, and he didn’t doubt it could crack easier than metal.

But he was able to fill his stomach without any further incident, discounting the humiliation of having food smeared all over his face. If he could just get a better angle he was sure he could wipe it off with his shoulder.

“You know how when all the leaves fall there’s that sweet spot when you can run through them and hear them crunch underfoot?”

He swallowed. Suddenly the food weighed heavier than a stone. Dale cried, “Wait a minute!”

“CRONCH!” Jaden shouted.

It did crunch. His bone - tibia? Fibia? - gave way under superior force. A ragged, agonized scream bounced around the room, echoing, and the rancid scent of bile stung his nose. Gulping down air, he realized he had screamed, he had thrown up.

“Gotta love the crunch,” Jaden sighed happily. “Oh shit! I shoulda video’d that and posted to r/oddlysatisfying. Get me some of that sweet sweet karma.”

Tears pricked his eyes, and he bit down hard on his lips to keep from sobbing.

“Oh well. Next time!”

With that promise, Jaden poured out the water bottle into the bowl and left Dale alone to wallow in his misery.

[loose-cannon-aka-mark-barber]

Oh fuck, here she comes.

Oh fuck, here she comes.

You know the person.

You see them coming off at a distance, and already…you’re tired.

Just the sound of their voice makes a small part of you die a little on the inside.

Yup. It’s the chronic complainer. Nothing’s ever good enough for them. They love to focus on problems and ignore solutions. This person might be a customer, an employee, a student, a co-worker, a child, or a spouse. On some days, it seems like it’s everyone all at once.

How can you effectively deal with these people without resorting to violence, murder or sedatives….???

It’s a trap.

Here, Hold my beer, I got a plan but if I don’t make it back ny dinner time….. Please, Take care Jake for me.

1. Don’t leak your hate.

I get it. This is easier said than done. If the very sight of this person causes you to sneer and roll your eyes, then the future of the entire relationship looks very bleak indeed.

The solution? Quit judging the message before it’s been delivered. Also, when you see that person coming, instead of sneering and “leaking” out your contempt, do an eyebrow flash.

2. Do more than just listen.

Ever notice that people become difficult when their needs are not being met? When kids don’t get what they want, it’s temper tantrum time. Well, guess what? We never fully outgrow that.

We all have a deep need to be heard. We all want our vote to count and our voice to matter. When this is deprived of us, we tend to become difficult.

Consider our poor chronic complainer for a moment. This person is constantly being dismissed. Everyone says to them, “Stop being so negative all the time.” or “You’re such a pessimist” Their only play is to respond with the classic, “I’m not a pessimist, I’m a realist.” In other words, “Hear me! What I’m saying matters!”

The only reason anyone would need to complain about an issue multiple times is if they didn’t feel heard the first time. Is it possible that your actions are causing them to feel unheard? Do you steal glances at your device (or watch) while they’re speaking? Do you offer solutions too quickly? Do you look at them over the top of your glasses? Are you nodding too fast?

All of these factors and more might be causing them to come back a second time to complain (and a third, fourth, etc.)

What’s the solution? Make them feel heard!

3. Remember, the pen is mightier than the sword.

Sometimes people air their grievances like it’s a National Holiday. They go on and on about the problem. For these moments, it’s time to break out the pad and pen.

As soon as they describe their issue, I recommend writing it down and then saying, “Okay, what else?” This question forces them to move on (at least for now) to any other issues that might be lingering in their mind. Asking “what else?” is a great, get-to-the-point whine stopper.

4. Get a pre-commitment.

While you’re following the first law of active listening, (repeating back everything you heard them say) it’s time to get some things clear. While their goal is to find a resolution to their complaints, your goal is to get them to leave you alone. Let’s allow the pre-commitment step to work its magic with one of the following suggested questions:

“When we solve the first problem, won’t that automatically solve problem number four?”

Or:

“Let’s imagine a solution has been reached. How do you feel?”

These have to be framed as questions. Your complainer needs to hear himself say, “Why, I suppose all will be well with the world once this particular nuisance has been vanquished.”

It’s much more effective than if you were to ask, “So, if I fix this, you’ll go away?”

It always surprises me how a simple change in the words we say has a profound impact on the results we get. Oh wait — it doesn’t surprise me in the least.

5. Nurse their positivity back to health.

This is my favorite step. It’s solid proof that light casts out darkness. Oh, and it’s also devilishly sneaky.

Now that you’ve truly heard them and now that they have pre-committed to being satisfied when this is all over, it’s time to segue into some good, healthy solution talk. You’ll get them there, I promise — even if you have to psychologically “drag” them, kicking and screaming. That’s where the sneaky part comes in.

Most people will ask something like, “So, how do you suppose we can solve this problem?”

However, the reality is, you won’t get the world’s greatest responses just yet. You’ll need some strategies to extract better ones. Don’t worry, I got you covered.

They will most likely respond with a shrug and an uninspired, “I don’t know.”

Immediately, your next move is, “What would you say if you did know?”

I know, I know, this shouldn’t work. It might even sound silly to an analytical mind. But it does work more often than you might think. Try it and thank me.

If it ever fails you, ratchet things up a notch with this little beauty: “If I had a magic wand and could create any outcome, what would you want to see happen?”

Once you get a decent answer, ask, “On a scale of 1 to 10, how motivated are you to be the one to make that happen?”

If they say, “10!” then great. Find out what they need from you and have them get started.

If they say anything less than 10, then ask, “Interesting. Why didn’t you say a lower number?” They’ll find themselves telling you all the reasons why they want to take responsibility for the problem and its solution.

Example:

Parent: “On a scale of 1 to 10, how motivated are you to clean your room?”

Teen: “A three.”

Parent: “Interesting. Why didn’t you say a lower number?”

Teen: “Because I don’t like stepping on things at night.”

Boom. The teen just provided her own reason and motivation for cleaning her room. Again, much more powerful than any lecture you could give.

Lastly, if you find the complainer refusing to focus on a solution, then it’s time for desperate measures. Agree with them. Actually, over-agree.

So, a supervisor might say, “You know, you’re right. If we don’t fix this, this whole company is going down.”

The hope is that the employee will switch tack by saying something like, “Well, it’s not that bad.” That’s not exactly positive, but it’s pretty darn close. You’ve just expertly guided a notoriously negative, chronic complainer back to a positive mindset. Now for the fun part.

6. Give them their first task.

They’re ready for an assignment. They’ve taken ownership of the issue and the two of you have brainstormed solutions. All that’s left to do is to break down the solution into an actionable item and let them get started.

If no solution has presented itself, my favorite action item is to have them track the problem for four weeks. They’ll either realize that the problem doesn’t come up nearly as often as they thought (and you’ll never hear from them again…and no more complaining from them!) or, they’ll come back with piles of excellent data to help you discover a possible solution. Either way, you win.

7. Wrap it up.

Time to end the conversation! Sometimes, chronic complainers are hard to get rid of. I’ve got two simple tips for you.

First, check your watch. That’s the international sign for, “I gotta go, and therefore, you gotta go.” Be sure to only check your watch while you’re speaking. Otherwise, you’ll be violating the first tip I gave you way back at the beginning of this article.

Secondly, start using past-tense verbs when discussing your discussion. For example, “Hey, I’m glad you came in to let me know about that. I think that was a very productive conversation.”

Or perhaps, “Is there any question you need to ask me in order to feel completely confident that we accomplished everything we set out to today?”

They’ll say no, affirming the feeling that everything has been accomplished. A pretty good way to end a meeting, wouldn’t you say? Kind

Over the last Thirteen (13) and a half years I have felt consistently happy.  This is the longest stretch of happiness I have encountered since I was a child.

Over the same amount of time, I have cut a multitude of people out of my life that dragged me down in one way or another: energy-zappers, promoters of bad habits, judgmental janes, etc.

Coincidence?  Nope fuck nope.

You’ve done the gauntlet of

Validate, sympathize, deflect, redirect

You’ve literally put their shoes on a wore them all fuck day but still …. For fuck sakes  you have to remind yourself about yourself and how Happiness is as important as H2O and CO2,

Time to thin the herd.  Move along little doggies.

[fugaazi]

when you come out of a relationship you start to realize a lot of things, especially now that you've had the time to yourself to really think alone. I've realized a lot of things about myself, and about my ex, that I was just kind of blinded by in the relationship. Aside from the abuse, he was threatened by my self-confidence and strength, by my desire to do big things with my life. I feel like he did everything he could to make me smaller. He made it very clear that he didn't see me as his equal bc when I asked him he fought and fought and fought me on it without ever listening to a word I had to say, making it very clear that he had no respect for me at all. We both at the time wanted to pursue a career in sound engineering, and so did a few of our friends. I remember he tried to guilt me out of it by saying how he wasn't going to pursue it anymore bc there would be too much competition and that he didn't want to work with me as a partner/mix work with relationship (which is fine) but what really got me was that he would pretend to be sad and say how it was going to ruin our relationship and his friendships and I couldn't help but think that he was just trying to guilt me out of it so he could be the only one doing it... this one time we were sitting in my car outside of some fast food place and we were talking about it and he started getting angry saying how if we both were sound engineers and I made more money than him / had more or better clients that he wouldn't like that at all or couldn't handle it and said he would pretty much resent me for it, for my success. And I was like ??? I only ever support you in everything you do and push you to be the best you can be and you're saying that if i become successful in my line of work that you would resent me for it???? Like??? He applied for the record label at our college and when he didn't get accepted into it (only seniors got in p much bc they were fighting to create the label all four years probably) he threw a huge temper tantrum and almost hit me with his car. Like of course someone is going to be upset if they get rejected from something like that but he started speeding and jerking the car and when I asked him to slow down he only drove faster and then came to an abrupt stop all the while screaming that I didn't care about him and that he should just quit now bc he's never going to make it and that was his only chance and it was somehow my fault but when I tried to calm him down and tried to reason with him he only got angrier and starting driving again and was accusing me/blaming me and so when he was forced to come to a stop I got out of his car and then he sped off and left me in the parking lot. as I was calling my friend to come pick me up he came speeding back down and he almost hit me with the car and I actually had to run from him. Like I was hiding out in the student center of my college while he harassed me over text and when my friend came to get me I just started bawling like it was awful. And I just keep thinking how much worse everything would have been if we stayed together?? I would have been held back and diminished. Honestly he lived to make me feel awful about myself and I don't think he would have been happy until he manipulated me into being nothing but his full time sex slave and cheerleader. He's really messed up honestly and like he's really good at hiding it, many abusers are, and I fell for it, all of his friends are falling for it, and that facade came down six months after we started dating and then I was honestly trapped for another year and a half until we finally split up. The whole break up had me beyond depressed, beyond angry. Angry bc he abused me emotionally, psychologically, and sexually, and got away with it. It's been five or six months now and even though I still have my bad days I can honestly say I'm a lot happier. I mean I have a lot of emotional baggage and trauma that I'm working through with therapy, but I've been a lot happier. I've been eating healthy and working out and taking care of myself and spending time with friends and new people and I know I'm just going to be so much better off without him. Sorry for the rant bc it's long and personal but also not sorry bc it's my blog ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[dennybelrose-blog]

I’m 30 years old and the smell of spring still means one thing: it’s time to start making a hideous picture collage to paste into the lid of my camp trunk. (For those of you who didn’t go to camp, a camp trunk is where you stored all of your belongings for camp).

Photo courtesy of Pinterest

It’s an understatement to say that the summer program my parents found for me in 5th grade—and continued to send me to through high school—was anything less than a religious experience. I loved it there. I loved the friends I made, the awful food we ate, the breathless abandon with which we ran through sloped meadows wearing tutus, Viking helmets and whatever other bedazzled items we could dig out of the shed-sized costume closet. I lived and breathed Camp, yes, with a capital C. I spent the months leading up to summer compulsively checking an online countdown calendar calibrated to the second, and I spent the months following my time at camp in inconsolable tears.

In short, I was a nightmare. My mom would try to get me out of the house to see friends from school and I’d end up on the floor sobbing, “But they don’t understand Camp! The real world isn’t the same!”

Good grief. Mom, if you’re reading this, I’m really sorry about that.

Temper tantrums aside, it would seem my parents found the perfect summer experience for me. All-consuming. Safe. Wacky. An oasis so separate from the stressors and realities of middle and high school that the experience felt singularly affecting. It was also singularly devastating when, after a botched summer working in the kitchen at this particular camp, they didn’t hire me back as a counselor.

Suddenly, in the midst of my first year of college, dealing with anxieties and insecurities so pervasive I essentially stopped eating, I found myself without the only social safety net I’d ever been willing to rely on. More importantly, I found myself without the tools or coping mechanisms I needed in order to build a new net.

This story ultimately has a happy ending—that initial shock kicked off what turned into a full decade of discovery through outdoor education, travel and what I’ve come to think of as a love affair with the very same “real world” that I once felt compelled to dismiss.

Photo by Joel Reid

I still wouldn’t trade the summers I spent at camp even now, but with some distance I also recognize elements I would change if I could offer that experience to my teenage self again. The subject came up among a few of my Outward Bound colleagues the other day, and it turns out they had a lot they wanted to change about summer programs they attended as well, much of which overlapped. Here are a few things we talked about:

Distance

The general consensus here seemed to be further = better. I hesitate to say it’s absolutely a mistake to choose a program close to home, because I recognize the decision often has to do with affordability. The further a program, the more cost prohibitive it can be. However, it’s not just physical distance I’m talking about here. Sure, seeing another part of the country or even the world is valuable, but only insofar as it offers the opportunity to broaden one’s perspective. Two weeks up the road can be just as valuable as two weeks 1,000 miles away as long as the social sphere is something new. My friend and Outward Bound colleague, James, talked about how his summer programs always involved the same people he knew from school—the same relationships, the same cliques, the same disagreements. I felt similarly about mine; sure, the camp drew from different schools across the state, but ultimately we all looked the same: socioeconomically, ethnically and philosophically. There’s a lot to be said for taking the time to seek out a program designed to challenge and broaden a child’s point of view, as opposed to to solidify it.

Entertainment vs. Education

When considering summer programs, I think one of the greatest pitfalls and biggest seductions is to look at programs promising entertainment above all else. I don’t mean to say a summer program should be miserable or that it should sacrifice fun, because fun is important. Fun is powerful. Fun is fun. But it shouldn’t come at the expense of meaningful education.

I’m talking about space camps, science and nature programs, theater and arts retreats, and I’m also talking about programs designed to teach kids the kind of resilience I found myself woefully lacking as soon as I left camp (or, more accurately, as soon as camp left me). Of course we want to give our children a safe place, somewhere they can experience joy and acceptance, which is what my camp gave me, but it came at the expense of my own perspective. I could not apply the joy or confidence I felt at camp to the rest of my life and no one there ever asked me to.

Specialization

The camp I went to had all of the classic activities: horseback riding, archery, a ropes course, crafts, the pool (Colorado’s stand-in for the obligatory camp lake). At the top of the hour—every hour—each cabin of campers would make a pilgrimage from one activity to the next. Chop chop, everyone, set down your lanyards and glitter, pick up a bow and arrow! I never really had the chance, or the obligation, to stick with a particular skill set. Whether I liked a thing or not, it would change over in an hour.

I watch the kind of personal transformations that happen on something like an Outward Bound 22-day backpacking course, and can’t help but think how beneficial it is to get ample time with a certain activity. It allows for a deeper knowledge of skill, yes, but I think it also necessitates a more rigorous accounting for self. There’s not as much room to hide from your peers or yourself when you’re working within specific constraints, especially for an extended period of time.

Photo by Ben Goodman

Gender

I probably would have thrown a prodigious fit if my parents had tried to send me to an all-girls camp. In fact, I did throw a prodigious fit when one well-meaning high school counselor suggested I might do well at a women’s university. Something in me rejected the idea, I think in large part because I was so preoccupied with being able to compete with boys on their own stage. I’ve since thought a lot about that impulse and dedicated many conversations along many miles of trail with friends, colleagues and other outdoor educators to turning over the question of whether single-gender programming is more beneficial than co-ed.

One blurb in one blog will not answer that question, but I can say that for myself, if I could go back, I would not throw any more fits. I would jump at the opportunity to gift my adolescent self the space to explore without the kind of performance or preening that being in front of boys seemed to require of us all. Likewise, I think boys benefit from the same kind of space. I’ve seen incredible outcomes, especially when it comes to outdoor adventure programming like Outward Bound. I’m thinking specifically of a single-gender course that Outward Bound in Colorado ran last summer. I happened to be on airport duty the day the course ended, so I had the chance to spend a few hours with the girls on the drive and in the airport waiting for their flights home. It was incredible. Even in that limited amount of time, I could feel the power of their experience. One student called her mom on the drive and couldn’t keep from gushing, “I did it. I did it. But I never could have finished without all of the other girls.”

This is something that happens on many courses. Students learn how to rely on each other, to raise each other up—but it was particularly noticeable with this course. In the absence of boys, the physicality of the tasks at hand stopped mattering, and every one of those girls left saying how capable they knew themselves to be. I did my best not to start sobbing. Let me tell you, I didn’t do a great job.

Photo by Theo Theobald

Capability, Curiosity, Passion and Strength

Soon the first students of the season will start arriving at the Outward Bound basecamp in Leadville, CO, and I guarantee at least half of them will show up calling Outward Bound “summer camp.” That’s fine, but I hope they realize there’s a reason we call our expeditions courses, and the people on them students. It’s not a vacation; it’s an education. I worked with an Instructor last season who opened his course by telling the story of how Kurt Hahn, Outward Bound’s founder, wanted to train young sailors how to survive in rough seas. This Instructor congratulated his students on choosing to leave their homes—their safe harbors—in order to face the challenge of the open ocean. Then, on the final day of the course, he sat all the students down and told them that in fact Outward Bound was the safe harbor, and they needed to now go forward in their lives, into open water, using the skills they had learned. This is the kind of education I hope every kid receives out of their summer program: the education of capability, curiosity, passion and strength. I hope they discover the knowledge that they possess such qualities no matter the time or place or circumstance.

About the Author

Kate is a logistics coordinator for the Rocky Mountain Program at the Colorado Outward Bound School in Leadville, Colorado. She holds an MFA from the University of Montana and currently splits her time between working in the high country and relaxing in Denver, where she walks her sister’s dog and eats her parents’ food.

The post What to Look for in a Summer Program for Your Child appeared first on Outward Bound.

[sleepyfoodtruck]

it's 9 pm time to post about my GALS HELLA

"So THIS is what hot chocolate tastes like?!"

"Yeah, you can add marshmallows if you--"

"I CAN PUT MORE THINGS ON THIS?!"

Snowhill sighed, usually she hated being interrupted but she'd become used to it in the last few weeks.

After their "proper" first meeting in the infirmary, the goat just assumed they'd part ways as nothing more than acquaitances. Surely the other girl wasn't crazy enough to still hang out with her, right? I mean, she'd almost missed an entire day of class because of a temper tantrum. Coral had to be smart enough to keep away from her, right?

Apparently not. The very second day of class, just as she was settling down on the front row seats, Coral came crashing through the door and sat down next to her. Papers scattered everywhere, her backpack ended up hanging from one of her horns (somehow?) and her morning was very much ruined. She slowly looked up from the up-turned table to her new...classmate? Were they actually in the same class?

"Sorry!! Still getting used to my new legs, they're soooooo long!!!"

The goat huffed, her peaceful morning disturbed. Sitting at the front of the class had two advantages: no one would sit next to her, she could actually see the board and no one would speak to her.

Well, three advantages, but Math had never been her best subject.

"What're you doing here".

"Oh! This is my classroom! The teacher said I could just grab a seat wherever so I though, why not sit with my new bff?"

What.

"What"

"Yeah! I mean..." Coral picked up the table and in one fluid motion "you're still the nicest person I've met so far!"

"Those are pretty low standards, I literally broke your foot" Snowhill stood up from the chair, sluggishly picking up her papers and a few pencils.

"Almost broke my foot, there's a huuuuuge difference. Besides, you fixed it! It's as good as new!" sitting down, she reached into her backpack and grabbed a notepad and pen. A very tiny, chewed up pen.

"Gross" the goat managed to keep a straight face, tugging her backpack to get it untangled from her horn "Look, I don't really care if you wanna sit here, just--just look for someone else to hang around with".

"Awwww, but why? We have so much fun together. Here, lemme get that for--uh, actually, can I touch your horns?"

Snowhill stared, her mouth slightly agape and astonished. She was asking? Like, actually asking? No one had asked before, either because they were too scared or too dumb to do it without her permission. What's wrong with this woman?

"Uh," she closed her mouth and stared at her hoofs, a bit embarrassed "s-sure. Just, uh, don't tug too hard 'cause it hurts".

"I'll be extra careful!"

Slowly, Coral reached out to the backpack, untangling the tiny knot right on the curve of her horn. She sat still, barely even dared to breathe at the realization that she wasn't uncomfortable at all. Those were very sharp claws, really close to her very soft ears and vulnerable neck; for all she huffed and puffed, she was still considered a "weak" species and sometimes behaved like prey.

But...she didn't feel like prey, she actually felt pretty safe. Somehow, she knew Coral wouldn't hurt a hair on her head, despite still being pretty much strangers and having a rocky start. She was also being really careful, Snowhill peeked behind her bangs; amused, she noticed Coral sticking out her tounge in concentration.

"And...done!" she raised the backpack in triumph "See? Told you I'd be careful!"

"...Yeah, thanks for the help" the goat grabbed the bag and hanged it behind her seat, quickly facing the board as the teacher entered the classroom "You can stay if you want, no one actually sits there"

"Oooooh this is gonna be so cool!!! You won't regret it, promise!"

By the time recess came, Snowhill was pleasantly surprised at the fact she had, indeed, not regretted her decision. Coral focused rather intently on her work, asking a few questions here and there if she was stuck. But, overall, she was pretty quiet during class; bouncing her leg and doodling on the corner of her notepad, but quiet nonetheless.

"Y'know, the seat's free for you to take whenever you want...i-if you want it, that is" Snowhill muttered.

"For sure!!! I'll take you up on that then!!!" Coral exclaimed.

__________________________________________________

It had been almost a month since then, Summer was slowly giving way to Autumn and it was cold as hell. Coral could never keep up with the seasons, they made no difference to her since her home was so deep in the ocean; it was cold all the time. But here, on the surface, the change hit her like a brick. She was so cold all the time, her body still not quite used to these new temperatures and struggling to keep up. Most of the time she could handle it, she'd been allowed to stay inside classrooms or the library, it was warmer there and the teachers didn't mind.

Except for today. Of all days, today the heating system had to malfunction. Precisely today, the coldest day of the year so far, she was forced to stay outside and freeze her tail off. She huffed, was there really no way to stay warm? She was so cold, so sleepy and just absolutely done with this day already.

"Hey, uh, you can take my sweater if you want. You look like you're gonna pass out" Coral looked down (hehe) at the pre-offered sweater, Snowhill avoiding her eyes and staring straight ahead.

Since that fateful second day, the undine had made sure to take her up on her offer. They sat together for most classes, sometimes Coral switched seats or walked around the classroom. She just couldn't help it, there were so many monsters here!!! She'd made friends with a pixie, the minotaur she'd came across on her first day, an actual mermaid and even a human!! Everything was so new and exciting, there were so many new things to explore and she just couldn't sit still at the same place all day.

She noticed her new friend wasn't as sociable as her, though. While she switched seats and spoke with the rest of the class, Snowhill just sat at their table and...stayed there. She didn't stand up, she didn't strike conversation unless absolutely necessary, she didn't look at anyone and left as soon as class was dismissed. It worried her, yet she knew it wasn't her place to mention it. Despite her claims about being "bffs already", Snowhill was so closed off she was afraid of messing up their...relationship? Could it even be called that?

"Well?" Coral snapped back to the present, noticing the goat already seemed annoyed "You gonna take it or not?"

"Y-Yeah!! Thanks" she slipped it on and it...fit just right, surprisingly "Oh my god, how did you know my size?! This is SO warm!!!!"

"I wear oversiezed shirts 'cause of, uh, my fur. It's too thick"

"Sure you'll be okay? Won't you get cold?" She wasn't giving it back though.

"I'll be fine" Snowhill took another sweater out of her backpack and slipped it on.

Although the sweater certainly helped, she was still freezing. She rubbed her hands and tried to generate some heat to no avail, her body just wouldn't keep warm no matter what she tried. Coral shivered, walking slowly next to her friend. Snowhill looked at her for a moment before sighing, taking out a small coin purse and pointing at the school's kiosk.

"C'mon, let's get you warmed up or you won't last the rest of the day"

"H-Huh?"

"Just follow me, not like I'm gonna poison you or anything"

They started walking towards the small store, which was blissfully empty. Coral hung back as Snowhill approached the counter, talking to the woman behind in such a familiar manner she wondered if they were related. She looked around, noticing with dismay that all sun-bathing spots were already occupied. There was barely any sun and it wasn't even warm! The least they could do was share.

"Here"

She looked down, the goat handing her a small cup with something...brown and sweet smelling inside. Was this coffee? Nah, she'd had coffee before and it tasted (and smelt!) bitter; this was sweet, stupidly sweet. And very thick too, what in the hell...?

"What is it?" she carefully swirled the liquid inside the cup, walking with her friend to sit at a small bench.

"Hot chocolate. Well, yours is, mine's just tea" Snowhill sipped from her cup, muttering curses as she burned her tounge "fuckin'--it'll, uh, help ya keep warm".

"Huh. Alright then, bottom's up!"

She drank half the cup before the goat took the cup from her, scolding her to slow down 'least she "burns her mouth like a dumbass and can't speak for hours".

"So THIS is what hot chocolate tastes like?! And you guys get to have it the entire year?!" she drank some more, slower this time.

"I don't. It's too sweet. But, uh, you can put marshamllows in--"

"I CAN PUT MORE THINGS IN THIS?!"

Snowhill didn't look too please at being interrupted, if her deadpan expression was anything to go by "...yeah. Some people add cinnammon and stuff".

She looked at her cup, then at the goat and back and forth. The mere concept of people having such delicious drinks on the surface was wild, they were so lucky and they didn't even know it. Snowhill smiled and continued drinking her tea, watching other students run around our talking in small groups.

Coral also noticed she did that a lot, people watch. Like, she also did that, surface people were SO much more interesting than deep-seadwellers. She got a lot of models like that, some of her favorite pieces came from people-watching; she didn't stare all the time though, unlike her friend.

"Say, can I ask you something?" she stared at what little was left of her drink, deep in thought.

"Shoot"

"Why don't you talk with anybody else but me?"

She sensed, a bit too late and judging by how tense the goat seemed, that it was the wrong thing to ask.

"Sorry!!! Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you!!!" she scrambled to apologize, a bit unnerved by how still Snowhill was "I-I just wondered 'cause, uh, you don't really talk to anyone in class and sometimes we gotta do group work, but y-you don't so I--"

"It's...difficult, and annoying" Coral shut her mouth so quickly, her teeth mad a horrible sound "I don't want people to talk to me and people don't wanna talk to me, so it works both ways".

"But I do think that people wanna talk to you. It just seems like you don't give them the chance" she rolled her eyes at the annoyed expression on her friend's face "Don't look at me like that! You know it's true".

"So what? Maybe I should be asking you why you insist on talking to me, I've been nothing but an asshole to you and yet, here you are".

Coral had to stop and actullay think for a moment. Well, she figured, already dug my grave...might as well just dig it deeper.

"Talking to you feels normal. I'm not sure why, but...it's easy? I don't know, but actually rather than normal it feels--"

"Familiar"

She stared. And dropped her cup, spilling her drink all over her borrowed sweater.

"H-How did you know?"

"Dunno. I know for a fact you're a stranger, but you don't feel like a stranger. If you were, I would've already strangled you for spilling chocolate on my sweater".

Snowhill took both her cups, stood up and threw them on the trash, sat back down and refused to look at her. She stared at her clasped hands, bouncing a leg and making a "clack-clack" sound with her hoof.

"That day you hugged me," she continued, still staring straight ahead "I was about to ram my horns in your face. But I couldn't bring myself to do it, 'cause it...t-the hug, I mean, it felt...like you've done it before",

"I felt that too" she whispered. The bell had rung ten minutes ago. She didn't care "I just reached, never in my life have I ever done that. It felt like...like a puzzle piece. And I'd never felt that before, and I haven't felt it with anyone else but you. Ugh! It sounds super corny".

"That's 'cause it is. It's corny and gross," Snowhill turned and looked at her, she was blushing but also frowning, it was a very funny expression "I'm still not sure what happened that day. I looked it up on my books and I couldn't find anything, the elders didn't know and it's driving me nuts".

"Same!!! Oh, it's SO weird, I feel like I've known you for years! BUT!!!"

Coral quickly stood up and extended her hand, Snowhill stared (still blushing, of course).

"We'll find out before the year ends!!!!"

"...Sure, whatever you say".

The goat grabbed her hand, and didn't pull away or flinched immediately. Coral counted that as progress and the beginning of their, now very official, friendship.

[sitiaisyahwrites]

Leaving

“Kakak, pack your bags. We’re leaving.”

My eyes widened at my mom’s commands. The words that I had wanted her to utter for what seemed like forever shocked me to the bone. My mom was actually leaving my dad? I mean, I’ve fantasized about this for so long, but it’s always remained as fantasy in my mind. Now, it was starting to become frighteningly real.

To say that my parents’ marriage rocky was an understatement.

One of my earliest memories was of them arguing about something when I was in pre-school, still an only at that point. I remember my mom crying, saying that I didn’t need to go to pre-school that day and my dad pulling on my arm, sending me to school anyway. It must have been quite traumatic for the younger me because the next thing I remember, I was breaking down and crying at school, telling my preschool teachers what I saw at home. Well, as coherently as I could as a 3-year-old anyway.

Ever since I could remember, things always seemed so volatile at home. My dad was at risk of lying into a rage at any time, so the rest of us tried to be cautious but it was pretty inevitable. Whenever my parents argued, my mom would protest by ignoring him for 3 days, sleeping in the kid’s room, refuse to cook or do any chores, and generally just avoid him in our small 500 square foot house. Then, he’d cave in and apologize to her and the cycle would repeat, over and over again. 

It was in my home that I learned about the realities of neutrality and that of playing both sides. You couldn’t risk picking only one side or you’ll risk alienating the other. I tried my best to keep the peace by pretending on both of my parents’ side, listening to them rant about the other during one of their tirades and agreeing with both of them to their faces. As an 8-year-old, I didn’t know that what they were putting me through was wrong, that a child shouldn’t be subjected to having to choose between their parents or have to learn to lie and listen at such a young age. I just wanted the fighting to stop.

The fights used to be about their personal arguments and issues. We were never really in the line of fire because we were too young to understand, Sarah and me. But then I started to get dragged into the fray of things.

One day, when I was 10 years old, my dad made to decision to personally groom me and taught me everything he knew. He taught me about computers and domain hosting, how to do PowerPoint animation, how to manage a website etc. My dad told me he was teaching me all this because it would be my responsibility to handle all this one day, once he’s old and starts to become forgetful. I was still a kid at that point and now that I’m offered a way to please my dad, I listened to his instructions eagerly and learned as much as I could.

Fast forward 12 years later and I am now 22 years old, a university student pursuing my Bachelor’s degree and my relationship for my dad has hit an all-time low. Things were pretty much the same as it was back then, only this time we were all older and made more mistakes, which gives my dad more ammunition to use against us during his temperamental rages. And this time, I was directly in the line of fire when it came to arguments.

I was pretty much his unpaid tech intern, the person he considered responsibilities for handling all kinds of technology and website-related matters ever since I started learning about them years ago. My knowledge was still pretty unofficial and was rudimentary, especially considering I didn’t major in IT in college, but he expected me to have all the answers and to solve all his problems no matter the situation. I would get yelled at over the phone when I was in university for not solving a problem or finishing his assigned work fast enough, despite my heavy course workload. At home, he’d undermine me constantly saying that my college education was irrelevant, threatened to not pay my school fees even though it was my mother who paid them as well as saying that he would expose my ‘unsavoury’ behaviour to everyone I knew to shame me.

It was later that I found out that I had now become a big topic in their arguments, and how my dad seemed to blame my mom for me ignoring him and not following his every order. How every time I messed up or forgot to do something, my mom would also be inevitably dragged into the argument and he’d then fan the flames of his own anger further by bringing up every single mistake my made has made since before they were married.

It was in my home that I learned that everything you say can always be used against you. Every single accomplishment I’ve told him about, every little thing school-related that I talked about with my family would always be used against me during one of his tirades against the rest of my family. He would belittle any accomplishment that we felt proud of, taking the credit for himself as he claimed that he was the one who taught us and taunts us about how pathetic we were for being satisfied with our small-time victories and achievements. It took me a while to learn my lesson, but eventually, I stopped telling them about the comings and goings of my life. I couldn’t risk telling my mom either in case she told my dad anything during one of his good days so I just… stopped.

Home became a living hell for all of us as it was constantly filled with tension. It felt like there was a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode at any time. ‘What would get mad about next?’ was a game that I constantly played in my head. For some reason, he’s starting to become more and more dissatisfied with everything in life it seemed, and he was taking his anger out on us constantly. He bitterly complained about how he made us his heartsick for not listening to him, dredging up our all old faults once again that dated back from when we were primary school age even and even undermining his wife and her family to his children.

Despite all his faults, he was always a pious man and constantly preached about the word of god. He never missed a prayer and always did a lot of sunat prayers. He reads the Quran constantly, and always encourages us to do prayer together. He’s never cheated on my mom, never did drugs, doesn’t even smoke and he never physically beat us.

People always preached that by maintaining your relationship with God, that by being religious, you would also find it easier to preserve and maintain your relationship with other humans.

So why did it feel like his relationship with us for fraying every single day as time goes by?

The day it all came to ahead initially started great. It was Father’s Day and my mom had made my sister buy a cake earlier that morning because our cousins and auntie and uncle were coming to visit. I remember thinking that it was going a good day because we haven’t seen one another in so long, and it would be a real treat to chat with one another again.

Both families celebrated the occasion together once they reached our house, taking pictures and eating the spread that my mom stayed up all night to make. Sarah’s friends also made an unexpected visit that day, so they joined in the celebration as well. Because they had come all the way from Perlis to Cyberjaya to visit her, she decided to go out to spend the evening with them.

It was after we said our farewells to our cousins that things really started to fall apart.

I was in my room taking care of our baby sister Khadeeja, but I could already hear his angry mutterings and complaints starting, signalling the start of another of his infamous temper tantrums.

He was complaining about how we were always doing things he didn’t tell us to do, and we somehow only always tried to please others. He even called to yell at Sarah about leaving the house, which resulted in her having to come home early instead of going out with her friends even though we’ve all been cooped up in the house for weeks.

Nervous, I went upstairs to ask my mom what was going on when I saw her crying angrily in her office. It was only later that I knew that he had gotten mad at her for posting a picture of their celebration on the family’s Whatsapp group. That he began accusing her of only trying to please others, but that she was showing off.

I could see that my mom’s patience and resolution starting to break. He had forgotten all about Mother’s Day and also barely acknowledged her birthday months prior, and despite all that, she still took the time out of her busy day to prepare a celebration for him. But of course, he could never appreciate his family’s efforts. Nothing we do was ever enough.

And then all hell broke loose.

The next thing I knew, they were arguing heatedly and then mom went downstairs to my room and told my sister and me to pack up all our things. It all happened so fast that it feels like a blur. Sarah and I began to half-heartedly pack up or things into suitcases, not thinking that she was seriously going through with this. But just in case, we tried our best to keep things light and only carried our most prized possessions and other necessary items like clothing and certificates.

“Once the kids and I leave this house, we’re never coming back.” My mom had declared before picking up the rest of her things and walking out the door.

I remember the betrayed expression on his face when we walked out of the house with our suitcases and my baby sister in hand. I remember him holding onto my mother’s arm, indignantly asking her why she had to go.

But I also remember him saying that we didn’t need to leave, that he’d go back to his hometown to visit his sick parents of he was the source of stress in his house in an emotional voice. And then suddenly all my sympathy faded just like that. He had never bothered about his parents or mentioned wanting to go back before this, had always considered them an afterthought but now out of the blue hr brings them up? It was at that moment that I realized that he was manipulating us. I should know. I learnt from the best, after all.

I could see my mom wavering and my usually brash sister hesitating at his words. I was in tears at this point, but I also knew that bridges were already burned and that nothing would ever be the same after that. He’d try to weasel his way back somehow; I was sure of that. I also knew that he wouldn’t leave without a fight and I really didn’t want to hear his constant bitching as he packed up his stuff, if he even packed up at all.

“This proves that you don’t get it. This situation isn’t something that can be fixed just by you leaving for a few days!”

I’m pretty sure those words weren’t verbatim as I was still sobbing when I choked them out. But it was clear enough that it got the point across.

“Then why are you leaving then?” He countered.

What happened next was a mixture of tears, incoherent words as I tried to tell him exactly what I thought of him. I remember being angry at myself for not being to form words coherently, for not being able to think straight and for not being able to tell him exactly how much he’d hurt us all this time.

Eventually, he gave up and we quickly made our way to the car park and got the hell out of the building. Mom didn’t want to go to grandma’s house as she originally said and risk my father finding where we were, so we spent a week in Melaka moving from one Airbnb to another.

It’s been weeks since then, and my mom has been teetering on the edge of whether to go through the divorce or not. My sister, on the other hand, was rejoicing her newfound freedom from our dad’s oppression and was encouraging their separation. We’ve avoided all communication with my dad and haven’t talked to him since.

However, things aren’t so simple on my end. I’ll admit that since then, I’ve started to come to terms with his actions and behaviour, and how wrong he actually was to treat us that way. I’ve come to terms that what he was doing was irrational, that it was born out of a place of deep-seated insecurity that then encouraged this egotistical personality to form which seemed absolved him of consequence in his own home.

Unfortunately, the feelings that I have towards my dad isn’t so easily resolved. I‘ve often heard from my friends and family about how similar the two of us are both in appearance and personality ever since I was a kid. How my attitude and disposition was exactly like his. I also knew that I was secretly hoping that my mom wouldn’t go through with an official divorce and would agree to separation instead, because despite the emotional and verbal abuse, I still loved him and I can’t help but remembering his ‘good’ days and the rare moments where he was actually a good dad to us.

It left me wondering if I could ever truly free myself from his influence, if cutting him out of my life would also be like cutting out a part of my own self.

[julian--wood]

Who are your characters friends and family? Who do they surround themselves with? Who are the people your character is closest to? Who do they wish they were closer to?

LOL so many questions in one ask so everyone has to suffer through1500 words about Julian’s personal life

I’m surprised that there isa question about Julian’s family, especially since between me, Ally, and Kyle,we kind of beat Oliver and Heidi to death already, though I suppose those discussionshaven’t been on the dash. Oliver is still Quidditch obsessed as we’ve seen himin the books, though our interpretation of Oliver is a little darker than whatJKR wrote. It’s fine that he’s demanding early morning practices from hisfriends, but his kids were younger thanten and he’s already building them up to have these really successfulcareers. Oliver is so focused on the game that whatever other needs his kidsmay have needed were never really addressed – that’s always sort of been Heidi’shalf of the parenting.

In contrast, Heidi was more logical of the pair; she’susually described as quicker and cleverer than Oliver (at one point I think I’vewritten that Heidi was the only one who could out-score Oliver). So despite thebad press and the rocky divorce, she’s going to recover quickly – especially becauseshe had been working on her passion projects for a while already, which is fashiondesign. Even though Julian dresses like he hasn’t had a wardrobe update in adecade because his self-sufficiency is more important to him than dressingproperly for a good first impression.

Speaking of the divorce though, I don’t think Oliver andHeidi had a relationship like Marcus and AnaJoy, where they only marriedbecause they ran out of luck. Oliver was damn impressed with her, but Ienvision the two to have rushed into their marriage. I think Heidi might havefigured out that Oliver was in the closet for a while so I doubt that she wouldhave been surprised at the fact thathe was gay. No, I think what caught her off guard was the fact that MarcusFlint basically gave Rita Skeeter an exclusive.

Then you have Ethan. As the second child, he’s probablyJulian’s favorite brother. My absolute favorite headcanon was that Ethanlearned to fly before he learned to walk. Julian was learning how to flyhimself for the first time but baby E just wouldn’t have it and would cry everytime Julie flew too high, so Julian pulled his brother onto the broomstick withhim and let him hover. There’s another one that you can read on Julian’s andEthan’s bio where Ethan broke his leg and Oliver told him to walk it off – and that’swhen Julian begins to question that Oliver’s making decisions that are actuallyfor the best.

Aidan never got to play Quidditch with Julian at school, sinceJulian had quit the team to become Gryffindor Prefect in his fifth year whenAidan tried out for the team during his second. The two aren’t as close, especially since Julian hadthree years at school before Aidan had come, and Aidan was making friends backhome while his brothers are gone (and btw for anyone reading this, Aidan’s beenpractically begging for someone tofill his best friend connection). Plus by the time Aidan had come to school,Julian was already in silent treatment mode as since that was the year he quitQuidditch.

The issue with the Woods is that no one knows how to talk to anyone because Oliver just made everyonedeal with their shit in silence. A lot of the problems Julian had, he broughtupon himself because he didn’t know howto solve them, because he never learned that talking about his feelings isn’t a bad thing? Literally, here’s howit would go, if Julian had just talked to Ethan and Aidan in his fourth year:

Julian is feeling stressed about the attention he’s gettingfrom Gryffindor House during Quidditch matches. He expresses this anxiety tohis younger brothers, and while Ethan wouldn’t totally empathize, he cares about Julian enough to try to find asolution. That solution would probably involve yelling at people to leave himalone, or at the very least, attracting more attention in the common room andin the pitch so that Julian can keep his mind on the game. Aidan would insiston practicing with just the three of them even though he wasn’t allowed to havea broom yet because fuck the rules and we all know that they’d probably use the‘oh you let Harry Potter have a broom in his first year’ excuse because Oliverwould use that excuse to make his kids tryout for Quidditch in the first year. 

Julian wouldn’t have felt the need to quit Quidditch especially since hisbrothers are his hype men and would eventually become Quidditch Captain insteadof Head Boy since he’s pretty good at making strategies and leadership suitshim when he’s doing something he’s actually passionate about. And he probablywould have ended up on Puddlemere, which obviously gets Ethan and Aidan intoPuddlemere, and you now have the Unstoppable Chaser Team™ that Oliver alwayswanted. They would literally be the Quidditch version of the Jonas Brothers andhave a really strong fan following but Julian is Kevin and retires intoobscurity as a strategist for Puddlemere while his brothers pursue much moreoutrageous careers.

Julian surrounds himself with academics because his currentoccupation is basically the one-to-one mapping of a college professor to a Hogwartsteacher. He’s kind of just stuck withthe people he works with, so there’s not really a choice with who he surroundshimself with. I could say that when he first started teaching though, he spenta lot of time with Roxanne because she was also teaching at the time while shetried to figure her shit out too.

Now that we have a lot of the Ministry people at the schoolthough, Julian most often talks to people who are intellectual – after all, a lot of what he wants to do is make learning easier for students (despite the factthat he’s aware that it’s a lot of thankless work that he’ll probably neverquit because no one else would do it right), so it obviously helps if he’strying to learn a lot about how other subjects work, not just his own. Probablythe main reason he eventually got along with Roxanne was because they were bothstarting to become more interested in each other’s subject matter. Finley focuseson charms, but Julian can make suggestions based on what he knows. Julianhelped Talia with her Animagus, even though her primary subject is magicalcreatures.

Unfortunately for Julian though he’s not really close with anyone; he was best friends with Roxannefor a few years after they both finished their formal schooling, but Mr. I Can’t Talk About My Feelings overhere threw a temper tantrum when she decided to leave to pursue her Cursebreakercareer somewhere else. So I think he hasn’t really tried to reach out to anyonein a while, except for Valentina who happened to be around and Pippa who was just as passionate about Potions as he was about Transfiguration, because he doesn’t think he needs anyone and he’s obnoxious arrogant loudmouth bother.  But he does realize that he’s talking too loud, he gets overexcited and shoots off at the mouth, and he’s never had a group of friends before so he’ll promise that he’ll make them proud -- 

He does wish hewere closer to Roxanne though, because they really had a nice friendship goingon and despite all of these awful situations they’re thrown into, theirfriendship is still a salvageable raft in a never-ending storm. Julian thinkshe’s also really getting somewhere with Finley, though he’s fucked that up by totallyembarrassing him in front of Vivienne – but she seems nice, and Finley didn’tseem too incised by Julian’s accusationthat he’s forgetful especially if he offered to have Julian chat with Kingsley.It also helps that Finley is just as eager to keep Julian a friend as well, butJulian’s not aware that they’re on both sides of the same coin. I suppose there’sroom in the future to be close to his brothers again, but none of them are gonnabudge on that silent treatment. Here’s how it would go, if Julian ever gotalong with his brothers again:

Once Julian has a new curriculum in place, Ethan and Aidanwould probably ask him for advice on how to get good press – especially since Julian’s made some front-page news whileshaking Kingsley’s hand. So Julian makes them donate shit tons of galleons tothe school and makes them sit down and watch Gryffindor Quidditch matches. Ritaeats it up, especially when Julian gets his brothers to do some demonstrationsfor the first years. Maybe it wouldhelp them behave knowing that they’ve got eleven year olds looking up to them? Whoknows. 

Julian also gives some tidbits on how to play other teams because Julianreligiously follows the teams to the point where a lot of them are reallypredictable. Eventually Ethan and Aidan become scouts and/or coaches and atthat point I’m sure Julian’s gonna end up being headmaster, so obviously theyget first pick of the lot coming out of Hogwarts every season. Julian nevergets punched in the face ever again and they all live long happy cooperative lives.The end.

that’s it lol thanks for coming to my ted talk