#Student: Hallie

[venus-haze]

Girls on Film (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: As a film studies major at Windsor College, your junior year is proving to be an eventful one as the eponymous Ghostface begins targeting fellow students, some who you consider friends. You try to focus on your classes, mainly the short film project you’re working on with Mickey Altieri, who your professor inexplicably paired you up with despite the two of you having almost polar opposite views on the medium. 

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. You’re also into gross out movies because I wanted a strong contrast to Mickey’s “blame the movies” thing and also irony…as you’ll see. This is an extremely dark fic, so look at the warnings before deciding whether to read this. Also, you know and I know that Mickey didn’t kill Randy, but in the context of the fic, the reader-character doesn’t know that. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: One-sided rivalry (Mickey hates your guts). Discussions of “gross” movies and themes. Descriptions of violence. Major character deaths. Sexually explicit content which involves non/dubcon, knifeplay, bloodplay, sadism (slight masochism). Do not interact if you are under 18.

Film Theory went from okay to off the walls when Mickey Altieri decided to make the argument that movies could be responsible for people’s actions. Using the brutal murders at the early Stab screening in town as an example was in poor taste when it had just happened the night before. It wasn’t even that you disliked Mickey, having met him in your Introduction to Film History course. He was pretty funny, and the two of you had a lot of the same classes together, moved in the same social circles. 

He’d expressed similar views before, but never so egregiously. You couldn’t believe a fellow film student would have such a regressive view of cinema. It was asinine to even entertain the idea, but you couldn’t let the conversation go on without giving your two-cents to your peers. 

“CiCi’s right. That exact thinking is what led to the Hays Code.”

“Bonnie and Clyde was one of the first post-Code movies to make it big. It showed there’s profit in glorifying crime and violence,” Mickey said. “The decade after it came out was the golden age of serial killers.”

“Oh sure, I watched one too many John Waters movies, and now I’m having sex in confession booths,” you said, earning snickers from your classmates. 

“Thank you,” Randy said. “I don’t think anyone was eating dog shit after watching Pink Flamingos.”

“Maybe Ghostface got the idea for the phone calls from Serial Mom,” one of your classmates quipped.

“Kathleen Turner’s character in that was inspired by serial killers. She read true crime books and collected paraphernalia,” Mickey argued.

“I’ll do you one better and raise you John Waters himself,” you said. “The guy has a morbid fascination with the Manson Family to the point where he incorporates references to them in almost all of his movies. He hasn’t committed any mass murders.”

“No, he just makes movies that make people wanna puke,” another classmate said.

Mickey opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Sidney and Hallie rushing to the classroom door, looking for Randy. Unable to keep the class’s attention after that, your professor dismissed everyone. 

CiCi made her way over to you, giving you an exasperated look. “Reagan-era politics have really poisoned some of these people’s critical thinking skills.”

“Tell me about it,” you agreed.

CiCi had been in a lot of the same classes as you your freshman year, and the two of you became fast friends over your similar taste in movies and distaste for closed-minded people. She was a big Lee Grant fan, wanting to make candid documentaries about tough social issues too.

You had some time to kill before your next class, so the two of you made your way to one of the empty picnic tables outside and continued the discussion, which had quickly turned into mutual ranting. Her point about the Slumber Party Massacre movies being directed by women was cut short when you realized you’d have to book it across campus to make it to Film Production II in time.

It was one of the higher level courses for film students who were looking to make feature films rather than focus on screenwriting or making documentaries. Among the prerequisites for Film Production II were Screenwriting I and II. In theory, everyone in the class would have two or three short film scripts ready to be adapted for an advanced Film Studies class. Few films were ever solo projects, so you weren’t surprised when your professor told everyone on the first day of class to prepare to be partnered up for the project, which would count for most of the course’s grade.

When you walked into the classroom, your professor handed you a slip of paper with two names on it. Yours and–of course. You almost had to laugh at the irony. Mickey. His attitude toward you could be unpredictable. Some days would be fine, and others it was like the two of you were about to bite each other’s heads off. 

Speak of the devil. You watched his reaction to the slip of paper when he walked in. Unreadable, even when his attention turned to you.

“Is Sidney okay?” you asked when Mickey sat next to you.

“As okay as anyone can be in this situation. That cop from Woodsboro’s here—Dewey, he’s keeping an eye on her.”

“That’s good.”

“So, let’s get started on this thing I guess. Any ideas?”

“Okay cool. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and my strongest script is ‘The Tongue Remembers’.”

He scoffed. “The one about the cannibal girl who gets lobotomized?”

“Well, we could take the easy route and make a porno,” you snapped. “Not that it’d be very long.”

“Knowing you it’d be snuff.”

“Whatever. We’ll do one of yours, but I get to do casting and set design.”

“Easy enough, ‘Stakeout’ has four characters,” he said, digging through his backpack for a copy of the script.

You flipped through the script, scanning the first few pages to jog your memory. An action-comedy about a group of criminals who knew that they were being staked-out by undercover cops, unaware that one was within their midst. Mickey’s comedy writing was fast-paced and genuinely funny. You’d told him so in your peer review of his script in Screenwriting II. The reviews were anonymous, but the effort was still there.

Most of the reviews for ‘The Tongue Remembers’ were positive, with criticisms of some minor plot points that helped you make the whole script stronger in the long run. The review you appreciated most tore the damn thing apart, but gave detailed explanations for the suggestions given, all of which were so good you almost wanted to seek out who the source was. A handful of people didn’t care for your script at all, objecting to the plot altogether. You quietly suspected Mickey was one of them. 

You tried to shake the tension that had settled over you and Mickey following the exchange just a few moments prior. At least it’d be good experience for dealing with inevitable assholes as you worked your way up in the film industry. It was tough to make it without connections, and even tougher for women.

By the end of class, the two of you agreed to meet in the library the next day and start planning casting and a general production schedule. Mickey had more editing experience than you did, but you wanted to sit in on the process after initial production of the short film was over. He begrudgingly agreed, and you left the classroom for the dining hall in a sour mood. 

When you walked into the crowded dining hall for dinner, you spotted Randy and rushed over to join him. More often than you’d like, he’d have to be the mediator when you and Mickey would really get into it. At least he seemed to find it amusing.

“Hey, is everything alright?” you asked.

He handed you a plate that already had two slices of pizza on it and grabbed one for himself. “Besides the whole ‘Ghostface is back and people are being murdered’ thing? Can’t complain. How about you? Get your partner for Production II yet?”

“Yeah. Mickey.”

Randy laughed. “Nice. I’m sure that won’t be a disaster.”

“I don’t want it to be! I even said we could do one of his scripts.”

“Which one?”

“That action-comedy he wrote, ‘Stakeout’,” you said as the two of you sat at an empty table. “It’s a good script. He’s a great comedy writer. I’m just pissed he wouldn’t even consider ‘The Tongue Remembers’.”

Randy nodded in acknowledgement. “I liked that one. You did a good job of making the cannibals sympathetic. Strong ending too. I’m not so sure it’d go over well at Windsor’s student film fest. Lotta weak stomachs.”

“Last year’s winner was a fucking romcom.”

“So you give the cannibal a love interest. Go a little further than Texas Chainsaw 2.”

“I’m not trying to win awards. I wanna make art.”

“You gotta sell out before you can make art. That’s the industry, kid,” he said, patting your shoulder sympathetically. “Are you gonna be at the Delta Zeta whatever party tonight?”

“Delta Lambda Zeta? I don’t think so,” you said. “I gotta find people to be in this movie.”

It turned out to be one of the best decisions you could have made, because you ended up with a list of people interested in a role in ‘Stakeout’. More pressing, however, was the news that Ghostface had made an appearance at the party, after killing CiCi in the Omega Beta Zeta house. Your stomach dropped at the news. Just a few hours before her death you’d been talking to her. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t connected to anyone from the original Woodsboro killings, the students who were killed at the Stab premiere hadn’t been either.

In a small college like Windsor, news traveled fast, and by the time you finished eating breakfast, you’d heard that Sidney, Randy, Hallie, Derek, and Mickey had all spent the night at the police station following the attack. 

You didn’t want to ask Randy if you were a suspect. Your film taste alone would put you at the top of the list by default. As much as you understood the reasoning considering the last Ghostface duo’s obsession with horror movies, it didn’t mean everyone who watched them would be inclined to commit murder, despite what Mickey thought. Besides, who would your accomplice even be? Derek or Hallie would be too obvious. Gale Weathers was cutthroat, but not in the literal sense. Randy or Dewey would be a devastating twist if the goal was to mess with Sidney that much more. You felt bad. This type of thing was fun in the movies. You couldn’t imagine it being your life. 

Making your way to the library, you weren’t sure whether or not Mickey would actually show up after spending all night in a police station, but it didn’t hurt to go anyway and get other work done.

To your surprise, he sat down across from you a few minutes after you’d agreed to meet. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before, dark circles under his eyes.

“Jesus have you even slept? We can do this another day.”

“Spare me your concern.”

“Look, I don’t want this project to be miserable for either of us,” you said. “Between Film Theory and Production, I was kind of being a bitch yesterday.”

“It was really that porno comment that hit me deep. I’m no two-pump chump,” he said with a smile.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” you laughed. “Oh, I have some people interested in three of the four roles for ‘Stakeout’.”

“Already?”

“I wanted to make it up to you.”

He was silent for a moment, placing a hand on your arm and squeezing gently. “I’m sorry about CiCi. I know she was your friend.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, trying to keep it together. The last thing you wanted was to break down in the middle of the library.

The two of you planned to do a test shoot in one of the theater’s empty practice auditoriums over the weekend. The main stage was being used for the theater department’s annual play, but Mickey pointed out that ‘Stakeout’ mostly took place in one room anyway. You went ahead and booked the auditorium on the library computer for about three hours, just to give enough time to work out any kinks and not worry about being interrupted.

While Mickey was going to spend the following couple of days getting props together and making any last minute changes to the script, you would finalize the cast since he approved of your choices, surprisingly. At least, you were going to, until Randy ended up dead not long after CiCi. 

You spent a day locked in your dorm room, partially out of paranoia and also in the depression of losing two of your close friends within days of each other. It was getting serious. Randy had survived Woodsboro. If he wasn’t off limits to Ghostface, no one was. 

By Saturday, you’d debated bailing on Mickey and not bothering to show up for the test shoot. You decided against it. Moping wouldn’t do you any good.

He looked shocked to see you when you walked into the auditorium. You felt bad your progress on casting stalled. His friend had died too, but he had his shit together enough to bring a box of props and the camera.

“Are you sure you’re good to shoot today?” Mickey asked from behind the camera, set a few feet from the stage.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, your voice cracking a bit. “Really, it’s all good.” 

“We don’t have to–”

You shook your head. “Let’s do this.”

“Alright,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “You mind locking the door?”

“Okay.” You walked back to the door, locking it. “I got two of the leads for ‘Stakeout’ down, Frank and Alex. I know Frank wasn’t our first choice, but Greg backed out.”

“No problem–shit, I forgot something in the props box over there,” he said, adjusting the settings on the camera. “Could you get it while I finish setting this up? You can’t miss it.”

“Sure,” you said, making your way over to the cardboard box Mickey had brought with him. It took a lot to rattle you, but as soon as you looked in the box, your skin crawled. The Ghostface mask stared back at you, eyes empty black holes. The same ones your friends saw before they died. “Mickey? This better be some kind of stupid joke.”

You turned around to find him less than a foot behind you. Camera set to record. Knife in his hand. Dangerous gleam in his eye as he took a step toward you.

“Last minute change—unprofessional, I know—but I decided to go in a different direction for our short film,” he said, a sadistic grin spread across his face. “You’re gonna be the star. Too bad you won’t be able to see it.”

Just as you began to scream, he put his hand over your mouth, holding the knife to your throat. “Don’t be a diva on me now. You just say what I tell you, okay?”

You nodded frantically, vision blurred by the tears that flowed freely from your eyes. In your desperation, you accidentally nicked your own skin against the knife, whimpering at the small cut you’d self-induced. Mickey snickered, his gaze shifting from you to the camera lens.

He moved his hand from your mouth, though his thumb rested on your lower lip. Slowly, he pushed it between your lips. Fuck this. Fuck him. You bit down until you tasted copper, earning a sloppy slash across your chest that made you cry out in pain, releasing his thumb. 

He looked at his hand in disbelief and then at you, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re gonna fight back, huh? You wanna play that game?” he said, an unnerving laugh escaping his lips.

Feeling bold, you spit his own blood in his face. In his moment of distraction you grabbed the knife, managing to pull it from his hand. You stumbled back, holding out the knife with a shaky hand. 

Despite you having the weapon, he still seemed smug, amusement in his eyes as he lunged toward you. You wildly swung the knife, cutting his abdomen as you crashed to the ground. He climbed on you, grabbing at your flailing arms as you tried to keep him away with the threat of being cut again.

“I’ll kill you! Fucking bastard!” you screamed. “You killed my fucking friends!”

“Do it!” he taunted. “C’mon, I wanna see you try.”

In your struggle to stab him, you lost your grip on the knife, and it slid across the stage. The both of you froze. You used this moment to push him off of you, scrambling to retrieve it. He threw a punch to your back. The wind knocked out of you, violent coughs clawing their way out of your lungs. He took the opportunity to stand up as you lay on the ground in pain.

Still, with the adrenaline pumping through your veins, you grabbed for the knife, hissing as your fingers wrapped around the blade and cut deep into your skin. It didn’t matter. You had to do the most with it while you had it in your grasp.

You held the knife up in a weak defense as he kicked your stomach. When he moved to kick you again, you slashed his leg, pulling the blade from his flesh and watching as blood quickly stained his pants. 

The wild look in his eye intensified, and he dropped down, his hips straddling yours. You could feel his hard cock press against your core as he shifted. And he said you got off to fucked up shit. 

With one hand, he applied pressure to your throat as the other held down the arm you were holding the knife with. You released your grip on the knife as black spots clouded your vision. You could vaguely hear it fall to the ground when his hand released your throat, and you sucked in a much-needed breath. He picked up the weapon, a triumphant grin on his face. You were fucked.

He sat up, lazily dragging the knife down from your chest to your hips. “You probably should’ve killed me.”

“You think I wasn’t trying?” you wheezed.

“You put up a good fight. I’ll give you that.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“And you don’t? I saw the thrill in your eyes every time you raised this at me.”

“It’s self-defense!”

“You tell yourself that, babe,” he said, leaning down to kiss you, only for him to stop to whisper, “Try something, and I swear to god I’ll knock your teeth out.”

You were having trouble breathing. He probably crushed part of your trachea. At least you put up a good fight. You lay still as he kissed you, not making an effort to kiss him back until he pressed the blade against your throat. Even then, you let him take the lead, your lips passively responding to his as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He wasn’t a bad kisser. Shame he was a serial killer. It took everything in you not to bite down on it like you had his thumb. You didn’t have the energy to fight back. Knew he wasn’t bluffing about your teeth either.

He pulled away from you, a string of bloody saliva hanging from your lips that he swiped with his injured thumb. Bringing the digit to his mouth, he licked it. You grimaced at the sight.

“C’mon, babe, I thought you were into this kinda thing,” he teased.

“That’s all pretend. It’s not real,” you argued softly.

You gasped as he cut through your top and bra, digging the blade into your abdomen. He traced the tip of the knife around your breasts, watching in amusement as you began to cry. The cool air in the room and metal brushing your nipples made them hard. He used his free hand to pinch and pull at one, eliciting pained whines from you. Your teary gaze was fixed on the knife, though.

“Why don’t you give me a big smile for the camera and tell me how bad you want me to fuck you?”

“Screw you!” you shouted hoarsely.

He scoffed, pulling the knife away from your breasts and holding the blunt side between his teeth as he unzipped your jeans. You squeezed your eyes shut as he pulled the denim down your limp legs, leaving you in only your panties. His index and middle finger pressed against the cotton, rubbing a bit at the wet spot in the fabric.

A pleased noise came from his throat. “So you are into this kinda thing.”

He snapped the elastic waistband against your hips. You moaned. Your eyes shot open, face heating up in embarrassment. 

The knife was back in his hand, though the gleam of the blade lowered, down, down, until you felt it pressed against your inner thigh. He dragged the blade across your sensitive skin until the only thing between it and your pussy was the thin fabric of your panties. You felt like your heart was going to explode from your chest.

“Stop. Mickey, please don’t—oh my god—“ you babbled. “Please—Mickey, I’m sorry—“

“You gonna do what I say?”

“Please fuck me, Mickey. I want you to fuck me so bad.”

“That’s better, baby,” he cooed mockingly.

You heaved a sob of relief as you felt him pull the knife from your panties. Closing your eyes again, you reckoned your impending doom with yourself, trying to ignore the sound of his zipper. The rustling of fabric. The air on your bare pussy.

“Time for the real show.”

Mickey played with your clit while he leaned down to kiss you again, devouring your involuntary moans with a triumphant smugness. 

“The rest of them were messy and painful, just like in the movies,” he said softly, confusing you for a moment before you realized he was talking about his other victims. “I didn’t hate them, though, so I’ll blame this one on violent porn.”

“Mickey, I won’t tell anyone,” you tried. “This can be our secret. I—I like it, really.”

He groaned, pushing his hard cock between your folds. A pained cry escaped your lips as his length filled you. He hardly gave you any time to get used to him inside you as he began thrusting at a brutal pace.

“Keep going,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“You feel so good, Mickey. Your cock is so—fuck—I don’t want anyone else.” You struggled to get words out, your brain overrun by the pain and pleasure that competed to cloud your senses. 

“You’re not getting anyone else.”

Your eyes drifted to the knife in his hand as he pounded into you, nervous about what he was going to do with it next.

“Look at me, baby,” he ordered. 

Your fearful gaze snapped to his, cruel and unforgiving. He kept rubbing circles on your clit, so fast it was almost too painful. That’s what he wanted, though. For you to hurt. Made him feel better, get off quicker if you hurt. It was almost too easy for him, the way your body betrayed you so quickly, wet with slick so he hardly had to do a thing before claiming your cunt. 

Your pussy squeezed his cock, a silent encouragement with each thrust against your will. His breathing was heavy, sweat dripping from his forehead, yet he showed no signs of letting up on you. Bleeding, aching, you weren’t sure how much longer you could take the abuse. 

“I want you to ruin me, Mickey.” You meant it. If this was how you were going to meet your end, it might as well be as brutal as the dark scenarios your mind sometimes wandered to after watching a particularly bloody film. Maybe he was right. Maybe the movies were to blame. “Fucking wreck me.”

He shuddered, his thrusts getting sloppy. “Fuck–Jesus fucking–”

His grip around the knife handle tightened as he came, knuckles white as he stabbed it into the floor, mere inches away from your face. You jolted, fear and adrenaline sending you over the edge. Your orgasm wracked through your body, muscles tensing, the sensation pulsing through your wounds, making them feel like they were on fire.

You nearly blacked out, but you held on long enough to feel him bottom out inside you. His head hung over yours as he caught his breath. Tilting your head up a bit, you kissed him. Softer, more intimate, hopefully enough to throw him off.

You reached for the knife next to you, but he pulled it out of the floor before you could.

“Nice try,” he said, breaking the kiss.

He stood up and walked away. For a moment, you thought he was going to just leave you there. You weren’t so lucky. He returned with Ghostface regalia in hand, looking down at your bloody body beneath him with a grin.

Mickey brought the voice modifier to his mouth. “Now, who wants to die for art?”

[originalfatfiction]

All the World's a Stage

I was your typical drama-geek, though a lot more subdued—hopefully. I prayed I wasn’t as obnoxious as those kids on TV shows about high school students. I wasn’t constantly giving long monologues about the idiocy of mainstream culture or strumming a guitar singing covers of Bruno Mars songs. I just highly valued theater as an art form. Man, that seemed kind of pretentious, but it was true! As lame as it may have sounded, theater was honestly my life. I had been in every production since freshman year—the fall plays, winter dramas, and spring musicals. 

Sure, I was a good student, but that wasn’t fun. And it wasn’t like I was athletic or exceedingly popular. My passion was performing on stage, no doubt about it, and it was a surprise even to myself. I didn’t talk much, and I dreaded holding conversation with people. When I was in the fall play freshman year, it was the first time many of my peers heard my voice. I will say as I’ve matured, I’ve become more willing to speak up for myself, but four years ago you couldn’t pay me to answer a question in class, even if I was a hundred percent sure of the answer. 

I worked hard as a member of the Jackson High Thespian Troupe. I was incredibly dedicated to all of our productions, and I had even gotten the lead role in two separate shows. I was hoping to get the lead in the fall play this year, which would be Of Mice and Men. It was the story of the big, lovable oaf Lennie and his cynical pal George during the Great Depression. 

The Troupe had absolutely no clue who our Lennie Small would be. Nobody in our productions stood any taller than six feet, which was nowhere near as imposing as we needed our Lennie to be. 

I was short, only about 5’6” and slim. Most of the drama crew was pretty small in terms of stature and weight. Everyone was really body conscious in the drama club. Most people didn’t outwardly speak badly of our larger members, but there was always an underlying negativity. 

I was black, mostly. My dad was half-white, but for all intents and purposes, I was black. I thankfully had some natural muscularity, so I wasn’t all skin and bones. As I’ve said, I wasn’t much of an athlete. I couldn’t do anything involving balls, bats, or racquets. Running and swimming I was okay at, but other than that I was hopeless. My dad had been crushed by the fact that I couldn’t even get a hit playing T-Ball. I’d close my eyes every time I swung the bat. I was a regular Hank Aaron (I knew he was good, but I couldn’t for the life of me tell you when he played or what team he was on. My dad loved the guy, claiming he was one of the greats). Thankfully, my younger brothers were already showing signs of being potential MLB all-stars. I’d just have to accept that I would never meet my father’s expectations. 

We were in the second week of September (we had been in school for about three weeks) and the weather was still fairly hot. I loved warm weather and the sun and the beach. I was still rocking my summer skin tone, so I had a golden-brown complexion. I’d get lighter as we went into the colder months, but for now I had a beautiful healthy glow. I hated winter. I was my worst self in layers and layers of clothing. 

We’d had auditions last Thursday and after the roles were cast, the production would move next-level fast. It happened with every production; there was never as much time to prepare as we thought there’d be. I had auditioned for George. I went to the school’s bulletin board right outside of the main office that Monday to see if I had been cast. I was so nervous. The Troupe had become my whole life. 

George—Kyle Donnelly 

Candy—Hallie James 

Curley—Jimmy Ignacio 

Curley’s Wife—Jane Kingston 

Slim—Raul Mota 

Crooks—Richard Smith 

Carlson—John Waterson 

The Boss—Ken Ortega 

Whit—Holden Sanders 

Lennie and Candy’s Dog—TBD 

I couldn’t believe it. I’d been cast as Whit. How in the hell was I cast as Whit? I mean, come on! He had fewer lines than Candy’s dog. I almost cried right there, and then I felt really silly about crying publicly over a high school adaptation of a John Steinbeck novel. I held back my urge to sob and made my way to the bathroom. I locked myself in a stall and let a few tears escape my eyes. Sure, it was silly, but it still meant a lot to me. This would be my last fall play ever. I was eighteen years old and graduating from high school in less than nine months. I had to make the most of every day I had left. I balled my hands into fists and closed my eyes. But wait! The worst part wasn’t even the fact I was cast in a role that could be performed by a mannequin—no, the worst fucking part would have to be that the lead went to Kyle Donnelly, who was a terrible actor and a total ass. His vibes were way harsh. I knew I didn’t like him, and he’d pissed off numerous members of the Troupe, but he was still an integral member (his parents donated a lot of time and money to the drama club).  

I had to calm down. This was no time for a meltdown. There was still the winter drama and spring musical. 

I exited the stall and headed to class feeling worthless. I almost considered dropping out. I swear, if I didn’t get the lead in the musical, I’d blow my brains out. I had Spanish IV first period, followed by AP Calc and AP Bio. English IV was fourth period, with the head faculty director Mr. Murray. 

I didn’t want to see him. He and the student director, Eva Porter, were the ones responsible for casting me as Whit. I’d spent the first three periods of my day hearing about how crazy it was that Kyle would be the lead. It’d been brought up numerous times in shady remarks that Kyle and Eva dating probably played a major part in him getting the role of George. I wanted to believe Eva had integrity, so I ignored the gossip. 

Mr. Murray was one of the oldest teachers in the school. He was pushing seventy, and nobody understood why he hadn’t retired yet. Kids said it was because he never got married or had children and that he wouldn’t know what to do with all that time to himself. Sometimes I thought I might end up like him, and it freaked me out. He was totally a latent homosexual. He mentioned women sometimes, but in a half-hearted way that made it seem like he was covering up something. (“Oh, that Saoirse Ronan is a beauty. If I were her age, I might be willing to settle down.”) 

But at the end of the day, I was gay—and I was sure people knew it. Most of my closest friends in the Troupe knew. I didn’t try to act all manly and stuff to hide who I was; I wasn’t that type of guy. But still, even though I was doing my best to be true to myself, I still worried about what people thought of me. Did I speak too girlishly? Did I move my hands too much when I talked? Did it ruin my chances of playing some of the great roles in theater history? 

I sat at my desk as class started, totally disinterested in what Mr. Murray was talking about until he started a class discussion. This old queen was ruthless during class discussions, going out of his way to pick on the unprepared and the distracted. He wasn’t about to catch me slipping. 

“We’ve just discussed some of the context of the poem, which now gives us an opportunity to analyze it further,” Mr. Murray said, looking from face to face of each of my classmates, deciding who he’d engage with one-on-one. “Why does this poem relate to life even today?” he asked the class as a whole. A couple of kids shrank back into the seats of their desks, some stiffened up and stared straight ahead. Mr. Murray was scanning the room, like some sort of rogue robot from the future trying to determine which life form would be most beneficial to exterminate.  

I looked at Mr. Murray, who had his sights set on Gregory Williams. He was the worst English student ever. Hell, he was probably the worst student ever. Gregory nervously flipped through his notebook, which looked packed with information. Who had written that stuff down for him? It probably wasn’t even notes for this class. He was probably one of those students who used one notebook for all seven periods.

But still, I couldn’t stand to see such a big lug in distress. I had to intercept Mr. Murray’s attack. The poem was fairly simple to understand, and hopefully my analysis would appease his bloodlust. I raised my hand quickly, trying to help, but as Mr. Murray and I made eye contact, he smiled and said, “What do you think, Gregory?” 

Gregory sat up, no longer flipping through his notebook. He looked petrified. This happened every time he got called on. I felt bad for him, but then I remembered how easy he had things. He had straight C’s because he was gigantic. He was on the football, wrestling, and water polo teams. And I meant it when I said that he was huge. At 6’4” and at least 280 pounds, teachers wanted him to be able to play so our school would win. 

I didn’t have a problem with Gregory Williams—he was so my type—but the whole “he’s a jock, pass him” thing sort of pissed me off. I worked hard to do well in school and manage extracurricular activities, why shouldn’t he? 

“I—I didn’t get it,” he said finally. He was embarrassed. “It was stupid.” 

“It was not stupid, Mr. Williams.” Mr. Murray chastised, obviously dismayed at such a lackluster response. “It was an artistic exploration of an important theme in African-American culture, which I would love for you to tell us about. Try again, perhaps discuss some of the figurative language.” 

“I—I couldn’t find any,” Greg said, his face falling. I glanced at his desk; the printout of the poem was annotated extensively. All he had to do was look at his notes! Why was he so afraid?  

“We can wait,” Mr. Murray continued, pressing him further and further. “Take your time.”  

Time began to move in reverse, I swear. Greg looked at the poem, scanning each line with his thick pointer finger, reading it soundlessly, though his mouth was moving. I couldn’t stand this abuse of power. Some of the other students in the room snickered. I didn’t consider this teaching. This was capital punishment. “Hey Greg,” I said, not one to normally speak in class myself. “Do you remember what an extended metaphor is? Mr. Murray went over it in that PowerPoint last week.” 

Yes, Mr. Murray still used PowerPoint.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at Mr. Murray. I could tell he was upset by the exasperated sound he’d made when I spoke without permission. I just focused on Greg, in the row to the right of me, two seats up. I watched his wide back in his plain, black t-shirt. He shifted in his seat, turning to look at me. His eyes were so desperate, and it made me feel terrible. This was probably killing him. 

He held his notebook in his hands, shaking slightly. “It’s ‘wh—when a comparison between two unlike things continues throughout a series of lines in a poem.’” He’d read it with minimal trouble, then looked up at me. 

“Yeah,” I said. “This poem is basically one of those completely. What do you think is being compared?” He turned quickly, grabbing the printout. He turned back, looking at me again. Having his attention like this was strange. He’d hardly paid me any mind before. Him looking at me like that, with his scared brown eyes. I wanted to protect him at all costs. I wanted to make sure this never happened to him again.  

I was getting ahead of myself. 

“Maybe this crystal stair is being compared to life,” he started. “The mom is talking to her son, and she’s saying that life hasn’t been no crystal stair. So life is hard, I think. And Langston Hughes is using a bunch of stair words to talk about how hard life is, especially for black people.” 

“Yeah, what words make you think that life can be hard?” I asked, pretty sure I should have shut up two questions ago. 

“It says there are splinters and boards that are torn up and—and uh, no carpets.” I could sense he was feeling more confident now. He smiled at me gently before turning forward in his seat. He looked at Mr. Murray before speaking again. “And the mom in the poem knows life is hard, and she’s letting her son know, so he never gives up. That’s how it can relate to today. All parents know stuff their kids don’t, and they’re just trying to guide us through the hard times.” 

“Quite the analysis,” Mr. Murray said, turning to the front of the room and walking towards his desk. “I’d love for you to locate another piece of figurative language Mr. Ignacio—with no assists please.” He’d finished with his torment of Greg, and class went on this way for another twenty minutes before the bell rang. Mr. Murray made sure to have droned on and on all class period. He told Greg to wait behind. I grabbed my books and went off to gym class. I was afraid I’d gotten him in trouble. He’d probably be more upset now. And what was worse was that he’d probably be upset with me for opening my mouth when I should have just minded my own business. 

I rummaged through my bag. I couldn’t believe my luck. I had forgotten my gym shorts again. What a way to start the week. I was the last guy in the locker room, and Coach White would be so angry. He told me if I were too much of a pussy to participate in gym class, the least I could do to get a decent grade was change. He’d yell at me in front of all the other guys. It was going to be awful. 

One would think the school board would frown upon a teacher calling a student a pussy, but Coach White had tenure and multiple state championships in football and basketball. He made our school look good, so there was no way he was going anywhere for harassing the feminine kid who opted out of participating in shooting hoops or serving volleyballs. 

I couldn’t help that whenever someone tried to pass me a ball my first instinct was to cover my face. It wasn’t my fault that running and dribbling at the same time was a skill that had overlooked my entire bloodline (yeah, even my dad. That’s why he stuck to baseball). I felt awful that any activity we tried, I failed miserably at it. My track record was not pretty.  

Softball—I sucked.  

Badminton—I sucked.  

Basketball—I sucked.  

Volleyball—I sucked. 

Kickball—I sucked. 

Floor Hockey—I sucked. 

I turned, my back against the cold metal of the lockers, and sank to the floor. I sat there for a few moments as I considered my options. I could hear the Jeopardy! music in my head, getting faster and faster as my time to find a solution dwindled.  

I was screwed, that was all I had.  

I’d just have to take the zero for today’s class period. I hadn’t noticed Greg changing until I stood up. I was so gay sometimes that I felt like they should create a new word for the intense levels of homosexuality I was experiencing. 

He wasn’t some fitness model, but he was incredibly handsome. I liked bigger guys, and he was a big guy. He had a gut, but it was hot. I liked looking at it, and I wanted to touch it. I wanted to make it bigger. Oh God, I was such a freak.  

He peeled that black t-shirt he’d been wearing over his head, standing there in just his baggy blue jeans. His back was to me, and what a back it was. He looked as wide as at least two-and-a-half of me. His dark skin looked smooth, and he had some faded circular scars that ran across his shoulder blades. I noticed he had some stretch marks on his love handles, but they were just as faded as the scars on his back. He undid his belt buckle and leaned forward slightly so he could pull those jeans down. The main attraction had been unveiled. He had a large butt that jutted out far behind him and massive thighs. His jeans must’ve been huge in order to camouflage those assets. He wore a pair of spandex underwear that all the athletes loved. The fabric was only a little darker than his skin, so for a moment it felt as though he was standing there in front of me completely naked. 

He tossed his regular clothes into the locker after removing his gym clothes. He closed the locker and turned around, our eyes meeting. My first instinct was to sprint out of the locker room, out of the school. I could be out of the tri-state area by dinner. I must’ve been examining his body for a good forty seconds. I could’ve looked at him like this for at least another decade. Instead of running I looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t say anything. 

“You’re not changing?” he asked as he pulled on the gym shorts. My shorts looked kind of normal, but they were like something out of the seventies. The uniform had been like that for as long as I could remember. Maybe they’d ordered way too many skimpy shorts fifty years ago and we were stuck wearing outdated athletic gear. Greg looked great in the shorts though, so there were no complaints from me. They came about halfway up his thickset thighs and hugged his ass perfectly. 

“I forgot my shorts,” I said. He opened his locker again and tossed me a pair of his. 

“Wanna borrow a pair?” he asked. As conflicted as I was on Greg’s academic success, that didn’t negate the fact that he wasn’t a jerk. He was actually a really decent person. He didn’t mess with people like some of the other douchebag athletes.  

When we were working on our production of Little Shop of Horrors last spring, they buried a couple of members of our cast in soil. I was lucky to have avoided that punishment. Oh, and who could forget the time when during our production of Dracula a few of the meathead jocks pulled a Carrie and completely ruined the performance by dumping “pigs’ blood” on us during opening night. It was only melted strawberry ice cream with extra red food coloring in it, but the show still had to be cancelled. Some of those guys actually got suspended for that one, surprisingly. This was all on top of the day-to-day book checks (knocking books out of our hands, but lunch trays were a common variation) and being pushed up against lockers.  

“I know they’re gonna be a little big, but you just sit in the bleachers, right?” I fought the urge to bring his shorts up close to my face and give them a big sniff. He was still looking at me, and I was not about to be the weird gay guy going around sniffing other guys’ sweaty shorts. 

“Yeah,” I said. “Thank you.” 

“No problem,” He pulled on a tight white t-shirt that showed off his large, burly arms and broad shoulders. “Thanks for your help in class,” he said, tying the shoelaces of his Nikes. “We should probably get to know each other a little better. Since I’m gonna be Larry or whatever in the play.” 

“You’re going to be Lennie?” I asked. 

“Yeah, that’s what Mr. Murray said,” he replied, sighing. He adjusted the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down slightly. “I need the extra credit he’s offering to pass his class. No football for me this year.” He left the locker room and went into the gym. 

I was too nervous to bury my face in his shorts, not wanting to be caught, so I just got changed quickly and hurried into the gym. I sat in the bleachers and watched as the more athletically inclined ran back and forth playing basketball. Damn Greg was fast for such a big guy. He was aggressive too. It was kind of scary how intense he was—but then it was hot.  

It was like a freaking mythical beast was going up for a rebound. He bumped kids around. He moved so heavily, like he was really solid and sturdy. His thighs looked ridiculously beefy, and the shorts rode up as he ran. They’d ridden up his ass, separating each cheek, highlighting the meatiness of his backside. I was glad his shorts were like a hundred times too big, because they were helping me cover up a pretty gigantic erection. The uniforms were definitely the one thing I liked about gym class.  

All of these interactions with Greg today had me feeling aroused, but on top of that they had me developing a major crush. I hated it. Nothing good could ever come from liking a straight boy, especially one that could break my face with the flick of his finger. 

I changed quickly, shoving the shorts into my bookbag. I’d wash them and return them to Greg tomorrow. At lunch, everyone was talking about Greg being in the play, and it wasn’t all good. Kyle was furious. He said he didn’t want to be in a production with such a “big, fat idiot.” I thought Kyle was a bitch, so it shouldn’t have mattered. 

We went to the school’s auditorium after classes ended to run the lines and sure enough Greg showed up, although about ten minutes late. A little after that Coach White flew into the auditorium in a rage and he and Mr. Murray got into a huge argument. They walked away from us students and continued bickering. 

Coach White was towering over little Mr. Murray, but he backed off when Mr. Murray started telling him off. They both moved animatedly, pointing and gesturing. They were just outside of the far doors, so we couldn’t actually hear what they were saying. We watched as Mr. Murray walked the length of the auditorium to where we all sat in a circle on the stage. 

“Gregory,” he said, his voice feigning calmness. “Coach White and I have worked out a schedule for you, okay?” Greg nodded. “On Mondays and Wednesdays, you can go to football practice, and when you have games on Fridays you don’t need to be here. However, during tech week and all performance days you must be in attendance, understood?” 

“Yes Coach,” he said, nervously tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. Kyle scoffed loudly and rolled his eyes. “I mean, sir—Mr. Murray.” 

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Mr. Murray said, joining us on the stage. Gregory stood, towering over all of us as we continued to sit, and gave a slight wave goodbye before making his way down the stairs. 

“See you tomorrow!” I called, not entirely sure why I had opened my mouth. Everyone looked at me like I was deranged, but Greg turned and smiled at me. 

“Yeah,” he called, his voice deep. “Catch you later, Holden.” 

That night, I thought about Greg saying my name over and over. He said that he’d catch me later. He knew I existed, and maybe I could exist to him as more than the weird guy who was in his English class.

I was ashamed to admit it, but I smelled his shorts. I had to force myself to stop smelling them and to put them in the washing machine. They smelled so good, like sweat and laundry detergent and some sort of cologne. While they were in the washing machine, I walked to the gas station and bought a candy bar—a Twix, to be more specific. The king of chocolate candies if I were to be honest. They were my favorite. 

I made my way back home and grabbed a piece of white copy paper from the printer in the home office. I sat at the desk in my room, thinking. I had to be friendly, but not too friendly. I didn’t want him to think I was weird. I was just polite, raised properly. 

I wrote a simple message. It read: 

Hey Greg, 

Thank you for lending me a pair of your shorts. I washed them, and as a token of my appreciation, enjoy this candy bar.  

I signed it with just my first name, Holden. 

Before I went to bed, I made sure to put my gym uniform, his shorts, the letter, and the candy bar in my bag. I didn’t want to forget anything tomorrow. I felt off that night, kind of nervous. I was starting to feel like it was a bad idea to do something so formal for being lent a pair of shorts for fifty minutes. A normal guy would’ve just tossed them back to him, nodded their head, and kept it moving. He probably didn’t even remember lending them to me. It wasn’t a big deal to him, so it shouldn’t be a big deal to me. 

I still brought everything along with me, but I was conflicted about following through with the plan. I couldn’t do it in the locker room with all the other guys around. It’d be stupid to return them after gym class. Before I knew it, we were in English class, and I was walking to his desk. We had about a minute before the bell, and it was now or never. I stood next to him, and he looked at me. “What’s up, Holden?” he greeted me. 

“Hi, uh, thanks,” I replied, so inarticulately that he’d probably think I was abandoned in the woods as a child and learned to speak from the animals of the forest that raised me. I was Jackson High’s very own Nell. I placed the stack (shorts on bottom, letter in the middle, Twix on top) on his desk and returned to my own. He didn’t touch it but looked back at me as I returned to my seat. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, and he smiled awkwardly, as if to say, What a fucking weirdo. 

He turned back to the stack and opened the letter. He read it, turned back to me, and gave me a thumbs up. I sighed with relief, signaling a thumbs up in return. 

He ate the Twix during class. 

The first rehearsal with Greg that afternoon went okay, but in the long run the scheduling situation proved to be much more difficult for everyone than anticipated. Greg needed more time with the whole cast to better practice his lines, so those two to three days we lost every week were definitely determinantal to our progress.  

It had been two weeks of line practice, and it was a Tuesday. 

“Gregory, it’s your line now,” Mr. Murray said, not looking up from his script. Kyle sighed and mumbled something about Greg being an idiot. Greg frowned and said he didn’t remember it. Mr. Murray tried to get us off script as soon as possible, but Greg was new to this world. It was incredibly hard to remember all our lines, even if we spent hours every night practicing. I bet he had a lot going on outside of this production that he was forced into. I wanted to say he should be able to use his script, but I didn’t want to appear meddlesome. Kyle groaned impolitely and said he needed a break. “Okay everyone, take ten.” 

I remember on the second day, parents started bringing food. It was like this every year. Early on in the productions it was small stuff, like juice boxes and potato chips, but as things got more serious there’d be pizzas and sandwiches. I thought it was adorable how excited Greg was. 

“You guys get food?” he asked me. I told him nobody ate much, so it usually got tossed out or given away to different sports teams. After that he took to eating all practice. It seemed to calm him, so I was glad there was something helping him. 

When I was cheated out of a role, I took on extra responsibilities. Usually that meant that I was in charge of wardrobe. I was to take measurements and get clothes from thrift stores and costume shops using a portion of the money allotted to the drama club. 

So today I was doing my second job and it was Greg’s turn and we went into the gigantic prop closet, and I started measuring him. He was wearing his freaking football sweats and they were grabbing onto his thighs and butt, and I was getting a major erection. 

“You can do everything,” he said, and it didn’t come across as sarcastic in a way that some others would say it. “A poet, an actor, and a tailor.” 

I laughed, flattered that he thought I was capable of tailoring clothing. “I’m no tailor,” I said from behind him. I knelt down to measure the size of his thighs, my eyes level with his ass. I looked longingly at his underwear, the sweats sagging down slightly from the weight of his cellphone and wallet in his pockets. “I only send the measurements to a costume shop or try to find pieces at the thrift store.” He was wearing these blue spandex boxer briefs and it was killing me. He was actually an inch taller than I thought, standing at 6’5”. 

I measured around his stomach next, followed by his waist. I placed a little stool in front of him and stood on it. It made me nearly as tall as he was. I had to measure his neck, and I swung the tape measurer over his head. “It’s nice to see you at eye level,” he said, laughing. “Short Stuff.” 

I tried my hardest to focus on the task at hand, bringing the tape measurer taught around his thick neck. He was so handsome. His skin was darker than mine. If I was the dough of a cookie, he was a chocolate chip. He had large lips and white teeth that were kind of large. I noticed he rarely smiled showing them all, but he’d recently been smiling at me in the hallways or at the end of rehearsals. It gave me butterflies thinking about how seeing me could elicit a smile from him. He had short hair and deep waves. I could see him brushing his hair and putting his durag on before bed every night. His nose was cute, kind of wide, but not so big that it took over his face. 

“I’m Short Stuff?” I asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. I removed the tape measurer, stepping down off of my stool. He crouched down, spreading his legs and bending his knees. “How’s the weather down here?”  

“Very funny, Gregory.” 

“Ooo, using the whole name,” he said, standing up straight. “I’m in trouble. Why not throw in the ‘Deshawn Williams’ for the full effect?” 

“I’ll remember that for the next time.” 

“I wouldn’t want that,” he said. “I never wanna make you mad at me. I like you too much.” He smiled, and then I smiled. It was nice but filled with so much one-sided lust that it was almost sad. Kyle entered the prop closest, attitude set to eleven. 

“How long does it take to measure one person Holden?” He took in Greg and stifled a laugh. “Oh, never mind. I imagine it can take quite a while, actually.” Greg tugged at the hem of his shirt, his face falling.  

“I’ll talk to you later, Short Stuff,” he said. “Thanks for the measurements.” He went back over to the parent-supplied snack table. I saw him grab a Ho Ho and open it embarrassedly, shoving it into his mouth. 

He could have picked Kyle up and snapped him in half, Bane-style. I wouldn’t have said anything, and when authorities asked what happened, I’d say, with tears in my eyes, “He slipped, Officer. What a freak accident, truly.” 

“This is going to be a disaster,” Kyle said. I had the measuring tape around his neck now, trying to get through these measurements as quickly as possible. “I wouldn’t have wanted the lead if I knew I’d be working with such an absolute idiot.” I considered choking him. 

I was moving as fast as I could, but he continued to bad mouth Greg. It was really upsetting me. I didn’t know if it was because Greg wasn’t around to defend himself, or because I had such a major crush on him, but Kyle was pushing me to my limit. He had totally killed any signs of an erection, which I guess was good because I wouldn’t want people knowing I was some pervert getting erections while taking measurements. 

“Eva is devastated. Her first time as student director and this is what she has to deal with.” 

“Kyle, you aren’t as talented as you think you are, so you need to shut the fuck up.” He laughed casually and walked towards the door. I wasn’t even finished taking his measurements. He always had to do the most. 

“Who got the lead?” he asked rhetorically. He left the room, walking towards where Eva and Mr. Murray were helping the stage designers with a backdrop. I felt my face go hot and sat down. This was not how I imagined this year to be. I knew it would never be perfect; I didn’t set unrealistic expectations, not wanting to be let down, but I never thought things could suck this much. I had my eighteenth birthday a week before the school year started and I had spent a portion of my summer in theater camp in New York City. This was supposed to be my year. 

“‘Who got the lead?’” I mimicked in my best Kyle-voice. I pulled the tape measurer as taut as I could, struggling for a moment before giving up the effort. My mom would say not to let someone like Kyle get under my skin, and she’d be entirely correct, but I wasn’t as patient as my mother. I wanted to take action and kick him in the throat. 

We started rehearsing lines again after I finished measuring the last cast member. Obviously, I was sick and tired of Kyle, who continued to harass Greg. I knew this was going to sound totally lame and cliché, but the Troupe was like a family, so when he bad-mouthed Greg, it was like he was harassing his own family. 

“Uh, George—I did—didn’t me—mean nothing by it, honest.” 

“Oh my God!” Kyle howled. “Learn your fucking lines and stop stuttering.” I noticed Greg close his eyes—his head bowed, his fists clenched. Would this be the moment I’d been waiting for my entire life? Would one blow from the mighty Gregory Deshawn Williams finally be what vanquished the foul Kyle ‘Bitch Boy’ Donnelly? To add insult to injury, Kyle kept going. With enough weight I thought I could see the words travel across the circle, Kyle said, “All you’re good at is eating. Do you even know how to read? You fat fuck.” 

This felt more intense than ever. I could feel Greg’s energy from across the circle. He stood up, and everyone’s eyes followed him. He didn’t walk towards Kyle. He left the stage and then exited the auditorium. Kyle was too bad of an actor to be such a goddamn diva. 

Mr. Murray was saying something to Kyle that likely wouldn’t stop his bullying. Everyone else on stage began to murmur amongst themselves. Wasn’t anyone going to see if Greg was okay? Mr. Murray and Eva were in charge of this production, so they should have been doing everything to make sure every actor was being treated fairly. Nobody was moving. Didn’t anyone care if he was okay? I couldn’t take it. I’d check on him and try to get him to come back. I jogged out to the parking lot, looking for Greg. He wasn’t very hard to find.  

I saw him over by his truck and went up to him. It was an old Ford F-150. It was green, and it really suited Greg. “Hey, Greg,” I started, tapping him on the shoulder. 

“Leave me alone,” he barked. 

I hated to see him like this. He never did anything to anybody. He was one of the gentlest, nicest guys I’d ever met. “Greg, it’ll be okay,” I said, grabbing at his arm, trying to get him to open up to me. 

“I said go the fuck away,” he roared, his voice deep and surprisingly angry, vibrating in my chest. He brought the weight of his large arm down into my face. It wasn’t even his elbow, but his upper arm. It was solid, very solid, and I’d hoped to feel it, but not in this way. I fell back onto the gravel. I noticed red droplets on my shirt before I felt the fountain that was my nose overflowing.  

I was bleeding, but thankfully it didn’t hurt that badly. I thought he liked me. I thought we were friends. He turned around and I noticed he was crying. He was crying. “I—I’m so sorry,” he said as he wiped his eyes on his forearm. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. Holden, are you okay? I’m sorry.” I stood up, holding my nose, trying to stop the bleeding. 

“It—it’s fine.” He walked towards me, and I instinctually took a step back. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I knew he didn’t mean to hit me, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t know what else to do, so I smiled, trying to let him know I was okay.  

“Oh God,” he said, reaching for me again. I suddenly realized that had been a terrible idea. The blood spilled over my top lip, covering my teeth. It probably made me look like I was in a worse condition than I actually was.  

“I think I’ll just go back inside.” I ran back towards the building, blood dripping onto my shirt. He started kicking his truck angrily. 

I’d gone straight to the bathroom to clean myself up, and when I arrived back in the auditorium everyone was still waiting for Greg to return. He didn’t come back inside, so after thirty minutes Mr. Murray dismissed us for the day.  

I still couldn’t believe he’d hit me in the face with his freaking Hulk-strength and I was alive to remember it. If he could do this to me without even trying, I could only imagine the damage he could do on purpose. 

I didn’t know if we were avoiding one another or not, but I didn’t talk to Greg again the next day until lunch. The incident hadn’t left me with any swelling or bruising, so that was something to be positive about. I sat at a small table near the trash cans. I was sitting alone because I needed some solitude. Kyle was talking about how stupid Greg was and it pissed me off. I just couldn’t take it anymore, and my retaliations never seemed to faze him. Nobody else ever tried to call him out either, which only added to my aggravation.  

I swirled a spoon around in my cup of yogurt and granola disinterestedly. I hadn’t started on my turkey sandwich or potato chips yet, and I wasn’t feeling very hungry. “I’m sorry again,” Greg said, looking down at me. I hadn’t noticed him come up, which really showed how out of it I was. He was damn near impossible to miss. He looked at me so seriously. It was making me uncomfortable. “I didn’t try to—to hit you in the face like that. I don’t like hitting people. I don’t want you to think I’m that kind of person.” 

“I’m fine,” I said. “Apology accepted. And I definitely don’t think poorly of you.” He smiled uneasily.  

“Can I sit with you?” he asked. I looked at him. He was so freaking handsome. His eyebrows were thick and had a natural arch to them that made him appear somewhat angry. He had that look from shaving, like someone who had to shave on the regular. Not like me, I only had to shave once every two weeks. I’d heard he was a year older than everyone, but I didn’t know for sure. I went to a different middle school, so I didn’t know much about Greg before high school. 

“Yes, of course,” I replied. He smiled again, this time more comfortably, and sat down. He had one of those lunch bags that could be carried around every day. His was bigger than they usually were, and it was green. Maybe green was his favorite color. He had a bunch of food in there—three sandwiches, a couple bags of chips, a water, a juice, cookies, two bananas, and an apple. “You feeling better than you did yesterday?” I asked.  

“I feel lame as fuck,” he said. “You probably think there’s something wrong with me.” 

“A big guy like you crying is definitely out of the ordinary.” 

“You probably think I’m a pussy,” he said, shifting his gaze from me. He looked down at his massive spread, grabbing one of his sandwiches. 

“Absolutely not,” I said. “I cry much more often than I’d like to admit.” 

“Really?” he asked, looking up at me sheepishly. 

“Yes, really.” I started stirring my yogurt again, nervous at the thought of talking about these things with him. I wanted him to like me, not pity me. Hell, he might even think I deserved the things that made me sob. “I’ll share three things.” 

“Okay,” he said, smiling timidly. 

“One, The Princess and the Frog.” 

“The Disney movie?” 

“We got a black princess, and she was so hard working.” I could feel myself tearing up, only at the thought of the film. “She achieved her dreams. I want that.” 

“Aww,” he said, laughing. “We’ve got to watch that together sometime. Just so I can see the waterworks.” 

“Never.” 

He laughed again, harder this time. He took another large bite of his sandwich, speaking with his mouth slightly full, he said, “What else?” 

“Two, just three weeks ago when the cast list was posted for the play. I had to lock myself in a bathroom stall so I could cry. I was so disappointed.” 

“You didn’t get the part you wanted?” he asked, frowning. 

“I auditioned for George,” I said, finally eating a spoonful of my yogurt. “But you know how that turned out.” 

“Sorry Holden.” 

“It’s fine, honestly. I’ve accepted it.” We sat in silence for a little while after that. He powered through his lunch, and I watched him, impressed. Sexuality was such a fucked-up thing. What had occurred in my life that made me this way? He was eating his potato chips and it felt like things were moving in slow motion. He chewed, putting more chips in his mouth at one time than anyone I knew would. The oil from the chips left a glossy sheen on his full lips and I wanted to kiss them, to taste their saltiness. 

“You never told me the third thing,” he said finally. I jumped slightly, like a total dork. I had to stop staring at him.

“Oh, well, uh—last year, in October, we were getting things ready for the fall play. I—I was one of the last people still here, and when I finally left it was just me and one other girl. We waited for her mom to pick her up and after she’d gone, I went to the parking lot. My mom had let me drive her car to school that day, so I was feeling pretty good.” He was looking at me so intensely. I was regretting choosing something so serious for this, but I wanted him to know I wasn’t messing around about crying being okay. “I guess football practice got out later than usual, but a couple of those guys were in the parking lot.” His jaw tensed, and he stopped eating his lunch. All he had left were the bananas. “Long story short,” I said, trying to get through this as quickly as possible. “They pushed me around a bit, calling me names and stuff. I cried on the entire drive home.” 

“Who was it?” he asked angrily. My intention wasn’t to get him riled up. I didn’t think he’d even care this much to be honest. It was a couple of guys who graduated and one or two of the guys still on the team, but I wasn’t going to get Greg involved in something that didn’t matter anymore. Did I still think about them calling me a faggot over and over? Yes, absolutely, but I had been a convenient target. Normally they left me alone because I faded into the background, but that day I’d been the only drama-geek in the line of fire. 

“Yeah, no,” I said. “This isn’t what this conversation is about. We were just being open about our feelings. I’m not looking for retribution.” He angrily peeled open one of his bananas. He didn’t get this upset over Kyle taunting him, so this reaction was entirely unexpected. “So, what about you? Was it what Kyle said that made you feel so upset yesterday?” 

He looked at me and I realized I had been much more direct than I’d intended to be. He finished his first banana, sitting up straight. His belly looked satiated, but I bet he could’ve eaten way more. “I don’t like when people call me stupid,” he said. “I know I’m not smart, but I hate when people call me stupid.” 

“You’re definitely not stupid,” I said. 

“Sometimes I think I am,” he said. “I don’t try to stutter either, but when I’m nervous it just happens. I didn’t even want to do this, but I need the extra credit. I study so hard, but I still barely pass.” He studied? I felt guilt in the pit of my stomach. I had made unfair assumptions about him. I just thought teachers passed him. I had no idea he actually took his education seriously. “You’re really smart Holden. I wish I was smart like you.” 

“You just need help,” I said. “Sometimes I get overwhelmed by my classes too.” He ate his second banana in three bites. I was so hard that it was distracting. I was confused. We’d covered so much ground in one lunch period. I’d experienced such an array of emotions that I was sure we’d be bonded together forever. 

“I’m—I’m a year older than everyone,” he whispered, looking down. “It’s because I’m dumb. Who has to repeat the sixth grade?” 

“No,” I said gently, wanting to come across as sincere. “I don’t think you should feel that way at all. You just have to keep doing your best and trying to improve. School can be really hard and you’re still hanging in there! Besides, I’m glad that means we get to be in the same grade—.” I had started rambling. I was officially embarrassed. I’m glad that means we get to be in the same grade? I’d actually said that to him. 

“I’m glad we’re in the same grade too,” he said, looking at me kindly. He wasn’t smiling at me with his mouth, but with his eyes. Tyra Banks would be proud. Things were silent for a minute or two after that before he spoke again. “Man, I hate Kyle,” he said. 

“Ugh, me too,” I said, sounding too much like Cher Horowitz in Clueless for my liking, but it had already been said. “He is a total bitch.” Greg looked over at me and laughed. 

“Yeah, he’s a total bitch.” I could feel my face get hot. I’d been more honest with him than with a lot of my friends in the Troupe. He wasn’t making fun of me, thankfully, but I tended to say a lot of stuff I didn’t mean to actually say. That was why I preferred not talking. That was why I preferred acting, because I had pre-written lines. I got to play a role, and I didn’t have to be myself, because when I was myself, I felt like a freak. 

Lunch was almost over, and I’d forgotten to give him something from my bag. I leaned over, grabbing my bookbag and setting it on the seat next to me. I opened the front pocket and pulled out a king-sized package of Twix bars. “I meant to give these to you,” I said, sliding the candy towards him. “Chocolate always makes me feel better.” He laughed, and it was low and deep. I felt like I’d made some sort of faux pas. “I guess it was kind of silly.” 

“No,” he said, smiling at me kindly. “I fucking punch you in the nose and you bring me chocolate. You’re not like a regular guy. I’m glad I’ve got a friend like you, Holden.” He opened the package and handed me one. We sat together, me eating one of the Twix bars, he the other three, until the bell rang. 

After that, he started eating lunch with me every day. I was ecstatic about this development in our relationship. It was nice spending more intimate time with him, and less time at the Troupe’s lunch table with Kyle the Unbearable. 

I was enjoying gym class even more too, and Coach White’s attitude didn’t detract from it one bit. Greg seemed to be filling out his shorts even more, and I knew it had to be from the snack table at rehearsals and the fact he practiced two times less a week. 

We had been playing floor hockey recently. Watching our classmates jump out of Greg’s way or bounce off of his solid body was the highlight of my day. He didn’t try to knock people over, but I mean, if they were running full speed into a brick wall, they couldn’t expect to stay standing. 

“It’s getting hard to manage everything,” he confided in me one day during our lunch sessions. “It takes me so long to practice the lines at home, I don’t finish my homework until almost one in the morning.” 

“You do have a lot going on,” I said, wanting to help him in any way that I could. “Do you want to run lines together? And we could study too if you want?” 

“Do you have the time to help me?” he asked, smiling shyly. “I don’t want you to get stressed out because you have to help my dumb ass.” 

“I’ll help you,” I said. “But under one condition.” 

“Yeah?” 

“You aren’t allowed to talk bad about yourself. You aren’t dumb Greg, so I don’t want to hear you say that you are. Didn’t you tell me you hated when people call you stupid, so why is it you can do it to yourself?” 

“I—I don’t know. I guess I just feel like maybe I am. I’m sorry.” 

“So, we’ve got a deal?” I asked. 

“Yes,” he said. “Coach Sanders.” We both laughed at that and continued eating our lunches. 

The next day I waited for him to get out of practice. He said we could study at his place and that he’d give me a ride home after. The thought of being in his bedroom was enough to have my stomach in knots the entire day. He came and found me in the auditorium after he was finished, and we walked out to his truck. 

“How were rehearsals today?” he asked. 

“They were fine. Kyle was just as obnoxious as usual.” 

“I’m glad I didn’t have to deal with that today.” Walking next to him sure was something. I knew I wasn’t the tallest guy, but he made me feel microscopic. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. He had a duffel bag and his regular bookbag. “Thanks again for coming to help me out.” 

“I’m happy to,” I said. “It’s good practice for me too.” 

“But don’t you only have like fifteen lines?” he asked. I knew he was genuinely asking and not trying to be mean. 

“Throwing shade,” I said jokingly. “You’ve been around Kyle too much.” 

“I—I’m sorry,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “I just meant—it must not be—I wasn’t trying to be a dick.” 

“I was just messing around,” I said, in disbelief of how cute he was. “I got my lines down in the first week. And it’s even sadder than just having fifteen lines. I have twelve.” 

“I wish we could trade.” 

“Don’t say that. You’re going to kill it.” We started walking towards his truck again. It was almost six o’clock. I told my parents I probably wouldn’t be back until around ten. “With my help you might even be nominated for a Tony.” 

“What’s a Tony?” 

We had a lot to go over during the car ride to his house. 

The conversation in Greg’s truck didn’t make me feel awkward or nervous and it never felt like he was judging me or what I had to say. I was so at ease around Greg. When we pulled up outside of his place, I was kind of sad. I could’ve ridden around in his truck talking to him all night.  

Greg’s house wasn’t the largest; it was built in the bungalow style. The whole thing was one floor. His room was towards the rear of the house, through the living room and kitchen. Ms. Williams was busy in the kitchen when we arrived, unpacking loads of grocery bags. She was about 5’1” and large. She had the Mary J. Blige cut circa 2009 and wore navy blue scrubs. 

“Greg,” she said, looking at me excitedly. “Is this your friend Holden?” 

“It’s nice to meet you Ms. Williams,” I said. “My name is Holden Sanders. Thanks for having me.”  

“Greg, he’s so polite! And handsome too!” I laughed. I was really flattered. I thanked her for the compliment. “He mentioned you’d be coming over tonight. Are you staying for dinner?” she asked. 

“Only if you wanna stay,” Greg added. He was so fucking cute. If I got to be around him, of course I’d stay for dinner. “It’s nacho night.” 

“Sounds great,” I said, smiling. Ms. Williams then complimented my smile. She was gassing me up. I needed a hype-woman like her in my life. 

We went to Greg’s room after that, and he asked if I’d be okay while he went to take a quick shower. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I said. 

He pulled off his sweatshirt and tossed it in a pile near the opening of his closet. I held my breath in anticipation of how much he’d take off in front of me. I should have looked the other way, but I didn’t want to waste this opportunity. He kicked off his sneakers and pulled off his socks, adding them to the pile before slipping on a pair of Nike slides. 

He grabbed some items from his dresser and walked over towards his door. He turned back towards me, and I took him in again. He filled the door frame with how broad he was. Greg was at home and still seemed too big to be entirely comfortable. I wondered what showering was like for him. I hoped they had a detachable shower head so he wouldn’t have to struggle rinsing himself off. What I wouldn’t give to be in that shower with him.  

“I’ll be back,” he said, walking away.  

No longer entranced by Greg’s gorgeousness, I was able to take in his bedroom. There wasn’t much in terms of interior design, but he had his huge bed, a desk setup, a TV with a gaming system, and lots of different sneakers in their original boxes. He was such a guy. 

A few minutes went by before there was a knock at Greg’s door.  

“Um, come in!” I called. Ms. Williams entered.  

“Do you need anything?” she asked. “Dinner won’t be ready until around seven-thirty.” 

“I’m all good,” I replied. “Thank you for being so nice.” 

“Oh, of course baby!” she said cheerily. “I am just so excited to meet one of Greg’s friends from school. I was worried he didn’t have any. He never brings anyone by to hang out.” 

“I’m sure he has lots of friends on the team,” I offered. 

“Maybe,” she said. “But he’s always been such a sensitive boy. I don’t think those boys really understand that.” She came further into the room. She seemed like she really had something to share with me, like this was confession in church, and I was the priest. “He was born premature, and I was terrified I was going to lose him. His dad was never the best and even when Greg was in the NICU fighting for his life, he rarely visited.” 

“That’s awful,” I said, knowing my emotions were showing on my face. I could feel a huge frown fixed on my mouth. 

“He never understood Greg. He was a terrible man.” She came closer, sitting on the bed next to me. I’d barely said two words to the parents of my other friends in the Troupe and I’d known most of them for over three years. Now here I was with Greg’s mom having a whole therapy session. 

“Greg must not like him very much.” 

“He was very hard on him.” She paused, like there was more to be said, but not like it could be shared at this moment. “I don’t think he could like his dad after how he was treated by him.” 

We sat together in the silence before she chuckled under her breath. She looked over at me, smiling wide. She and Greg had the same megawatt smile. 

“When Greg was a little boy, he loved Clifford the Big Red Dog. The boy was obsessed! He had all the books and the pajamas and the bedspreads. I think because he loved it so much, it’s the reason he grew as big as he is now. He was copying that damn dog!” She laughed loudly, playfully patting me on the shoulder. I laughed too, thinking about Greg not being absolutely gigantic. 

“I don’t think Greg would ever tell me any of this,” I said, still laughing. 

“Oh, he’s going to be a little Mr. Grumpypants when he finds out I’ve been in here talking to you.” She sighed. “I’m just so happy he’s becoming close to someone. His dad really instilled some negative things in him about his self-image. We got divorced when Greg was starting middle school.” 

“He hasn’t really told me about it,” I said. “Maybe one day he will.” 

“I think he might,” she said. “You’re all he ever talks about. ‘Holden is so smart, mom. Holden said I need to watch Dreamgirls. Do you think Holden would want to come play video games? Holden this and Holden that.’ It warms my heart, honestly.” 

“I didn’t know he thought of me as such a good friend.” I smiled at her. “I’m glad though. Greg’s really cool.” 

That’s when Greg came back to his room, stopping in the doorway when he saw his mom on the bed next to me. He groaned loudly. I could tell he was embarrassed. “Mom, please leave him alone. He’s gonna think there’s something wrong with me.” 

“If your friends can’t talk to your mom, they shouldn’t be your friends.” She stood up from the bed and walked towards the door. “I’m going to go finish slaving over your dinner. Bye Holden-sweetheart.” 

After she left it was just Greg and I in his bedroom. He didn’t say much for a while, and I think he was actually really embarrassed by his mom having been talking to me. He was wearing another pair of sweats now; they were black Adidas sweats with the white stripes up the side. They weren’t as baggy either, so I was able to see a better outline of his legs and butt. He also wore a simple gray t-shirt. 

“Your mom is so nice,” I said, trying to alleviate some of the awkward tension. 

“She told you the Clifford story, didn’t she?” he asked, certain his mom had gone into detail about his love of the big red dog. 

“I’m not going to lie to you,” I said, feigning seriousness. “I know about the Clifford story. I would like to confess my obsession with Cyberchase.” 

He laughed. I laughed. We laughed together and things began to feel less uncomfortable. 

We got started running lines after that. We stood in the middle of his bedroom, both holding copies of the script. I didn’t need a copy. I’d committed the entire thing to memory, but it was important I was able to help Greg if he made a mistake. He played his one role, and I played all the other characters. He thought it was funny that I had different voices for everyone. His favorite would have to be when I did Curley’s Wife. He relaxed a lot when I did that one. He also thought it was amazing I had memorized everyone’s lines along with mine. I had a crazy good memory when it came to scripts, but a month after the show I wouldn’t even remember half of these lines. Hell, maybe it should have been a two man show. 

He was fantastic when he was at ease. He had great comedic timing and he knew exactly when to play up the serious scenes. We’d gotten through a majority of the script when his mom called us for dinner. 

We ate and talked. After dinner we worked on homework and did a bit of studying. He took me home before it got too late. That had been one of the best nights I’d had in a long time. 

We kept up our mini rehearsals every other day for about a month and everyone was amazed at how well he was doing when we got together after school. I was proud of him, and it made me feel good to know I was the reason he was improving. It felt good to know that he was my friend, even if I was still incredibly attracted to him. 

The play was a week away, meaning we’d entered tech week, so Greg was officially done with football until after Thanksgiving. At that point they’d be in the playoffs.  

I’d bought everyone costumes and I liked to think that I did a fantastic job. Everyone tried on their stuff last month when I first bought the clothes. Nobody had gotten any bigger or taller, so I was sure everything would fit. 

Well, almost nobody had gotten bigger. 

“Holden,” I heard Greg call. I walked over to the door his head was peering out of. It was the small bathroom behind the stage. He stepped back to allow me to enter and closed the door. “My costume, uh, it—it doesn’t fit anymore,” he said. He was right. It didn’t fit. The hooks of the overalls wouldn’t even meet the front part. His belly was too big. His thighs filled out the overalls completely. They were the biggest thighs I had ever seen and all I could think about was my head in between them with his dick in my mouth. “I ripped out the back too.” He turned around and I saw a very large rip down his meaty backside.  

“Well, I could—.” I was thinking. I had no idea what I could do, not in this very moment at least. “Just wear your regular clothes and tell him you can’t find your costume. Take it off and give it here,” I said. He pulled off the denim fabric and I almost passed out from how quickly my penis stiffened. 

Those big beefy legs—oh God. I couldn’t help but imagine them bucking behind me. He unbuttoned his plaid shirt as well. He was standing in front of me wearing nothing but his underwear. He pulled on his jeans and put on his sweatshirt. 

“Thanks for not laughing,” he said as he walked by me to leave the bathroom. I was so enamored that I hadn’t covered my crotch. I prayed he didn’t feel my erection as he walked by me. If he did, he didn’t say anything. 

I measured him again later and when I went to hunt down some more overalls, I went up a size larger than I thought we’d need. They were huge, but hell, I thought the last pair of overalls were enormous. I saw him the next day and told him that I had bought him a new outfit and he thanked me again. 

It made sense why he needed a new costume. I was pretty sure Greg was a nervous eater. But then again, I noticed he also ate a lot when we rehearsed at his house, and he didn’t seem nervous at all then. Maybe he just ate a lot, and he didn’t need a reason besides liking food. I liked that he liked food. It just made him all the more attractive to me. 

The football team did not like Greg missing two weeks of games. They’d gone into overdrive in regard to fucking with us drama-geeks. I noticed they didn’t really mess with me though. I think it was because I was always around Greg now. I heard a rumor that they planned on convincing everyone not to come and see the play. I hoped that wasn’t true. 

So things kept moving forward. Sets were built, costumes were finalized, mics were assigned, and blocking was underway. The play was in three days, and we stayed and ran through the entire thing twice every day.  

I could tell the fact that things became more fast-paced had started to get to Greg. I knew he liked to eat, and it was really cute how much he enjoyed all the cast food, but every spare moment he was munching on something. He’d even ended up on stage with food in his mouth a few times. The new overalls were holding up okay though. I wanted to ask him how much he weighed. I really wanted to know. 

“Hey, how much do you have to weigh for wrestling?” I asked one day at lunch. I figured he was going to wrestle once the play was over. I saw it once and it looked hard, but he looked amazing in the singlet. It was like the gym uniform, only better. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna wrestle this year,” he said, sounding really self-conscious. “I barely qualified for the highest weight class last year—and that’s 285 pounds.” He placed his large hand on his even larger belly as he munched on some potato chips. “I’ve gained a lot of weight recently.” Oh, and I’d noticed. “I’m probably up 60 pounds from last winter.” 

When he said that, I—of course—got an erection. I was a freaking sex fiend or something. I needed to calm down. 

“Cool,” I said. Cool? What was so cool about it? I didn’t want to say anything stupid, and I ended up saying the absolute dumbest thing in the world. He just laughed and kept eating. 

“I’m way more invested in football,” he said, still eating. “I’ve got college scouts coming to see me play in the playoffs. I just wish I’d been practicing more with the team.” 

“I’m sorry Greg,” I said. Mr. Murray and his determination to get us a Lennie could have fucked with Greg’s collegiate dreams. Football was his future, not acting. It was way more important than Of Mice and Men. 

“I’m not,” he said seriously. We were alone at our table. I’d grown accustomed to us living within our own bubble. Just me and him. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’ll be doing another play, but I’m getting B’s in all my classes and I’m getting to spend time with you. You’ve helped me do stuff I never thought possible. It makes me think that maybe college won’t be so bad. I figured the only way I’d make it through was because I was gonna be playing ball, but maybe—maybe I’m smart enough too.” 

“It sucks to think we just got to know each other this year,” I said. “You’re one incredible person Gregory Deshawn Williams.” 

“I thought it’d be scary having you say my full name, but I like it when you say it.” He looked down at the food he had left, selecting his next delectable morsel. “It’s cute.” 

I just laughed. I didn’t know what else to do. His mom had said he was sensitive, not gay. Greg was probably just a guy that didn’t embrace toxic masculinity. Him saying that I was cute didn’t mean what I wanted it to mean. I didn’t want to harm this friendship. I’d rather have Greg as a friend than not at all. 

Opening night caused the most anxiety ever, for anyone. I put on my jeans, flannel shirt, cowboy hat, and cowboy boots backstage before putting on a light layer of stage makeup. I did Greg’s face too, but his was even lighter. He was sweating so much I didn’t want his face to look runny. 

“Calm down,” I said. “Your energy can throw off the entire show.” His eyes widened and I knew I’d chosen the wrong way to phrase that. Theater people were a little blunter than I think he could handle. “Greg, you’re going to do great. Just imagine it’s me and you up there.” He stopped fidgeting after that, taking a deep breath. 

“I’m so nervous I haven’t eaten since lunchtime,” he said. That was all I needed to hear. If Greg had skipped dinner, he must have been terrified of going up there. 

“We’ll eat a whole bunch after the show,” I promised.  

“My mom’s here,” he said. “She said that she was glad I was doing something more intellectually stimulating.” He sighed. “She probably thinks I’m stupid too.” 

“She doesn’t,” I said, quickly defending Ms. Williams, my number one fan. “You’re not stupid. You’ve never been stupid. And you know your mom would kill you if she heard you talking like this.” I knew he needed more support. This was his very first show ever! I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly. I could feel his warm hand on my back as he hugged me in return. We stopped embracing one another and he smiled at me. He could do this. I knew he could. The opening music started, and Kyle took his place next to Greg, rudely bumping me out of the way in the process. “Break a leg,” I whispered as he walked on stage. 

The show moved along, and I went out four times to deliver lines. I was only in two scenes with Greg, but I made sure to give him a discrete thumbs up. He nodded slightly and smiled. He did really well. I was definitely a Greg stan, but he killed it out there on stage! He remembered all of his lines, he made all of his position marks, and got a ton of laughs. I was so happy. Kyle flubbed twice, and I reveled in his mediocrity. 

Afterwards, Greg and I found Ms. Williams. She told me I did a fantastic job and that I was very handsome on stage. I noticed she nudged Greg in the side slightly when she said that I was handsome. “You are going to be the next Michael B. Jordan,” she said. “When you’re famous don’t forget about me!” 

She turned to Greg, tears in her eyes, and hugged him. She was so proud of him, and it showed. It was making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He’d worked so hard, and it was paying off. “You liked the show?” he asked. 

“I loved the show,” she said. “I loved seeing you up there.” 

My mom and dad and brothers were here too. They made their way over to where I stood with Greg and his mother. My family met Ms. Williams and they chatted for what felt like hours. While our parents talked, the twins joked around with Greg about how big he was. My brothers, Charlie and Sammie, were ten. 

“You could be in WWE,” Charlie said. 

“It’d be so cool,” Sammie added. “You could probably lift both of us at the same time!” 

“Yeah!” Charlie added enthusiastically. “Holden never plays WWE with us.” 

“Well, if I was on a team with Greg I’d play,” I said. “You guys kick my butt when it’s two-on-one.” That started an argument between them. They both wanted to partner up with Greg and they were debating who’d be stuck with me. Greg just laughed and laughed. I was worried he’d be annoyed by my kid brothers, but he was handling them really well. 

Standing in a cluster, Greg towered over all of us. My mom was 5’2” and my dad was the same height as me. The twins were still growing, but I doubted they’d grow much taller than me or my dad. And Ms. Williams was tiny as well. He was truly a giant amongst men. 

Everyone talked a little while longer, but the auditorium began to clear out aside from Mr. Murray and the rest of the cast and crew. We cleaned off all the makeup and changed clothes. We gathered in a circle for post-show notes. It was just observations that Mr. Murray and Eva noted during the performance that could be improved upon in the next show. Greg was the only one who didn’t have something to improve on. It killed Kyle, who’d been reprimanded over his missed lines and incorrect positioning on the stage.  

Unfortunately, the cast party was going to be at Kyle’s house. I wanted to go because opening night deserved to be celebrated, but I was likely just going to head home. I was sure the Troupe would be upset if I didn’t go, but Kyle’s attitude was going to be a lot to deal with. I was the only one who ever called him out and that meant I was the one he was going to take his aggression out on. 

“Are we going to the cast party?” Greg asked once we made our way to the parking lot. He’d told my parents he’d give me a ride home. I wondered if he actually wanted to go or if he was suggesting we go because he thought it was what I wanted. 

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Only if you don’t mind going. We don’t have to stay long.” It was about nine forty-five and really nice for November. I sat in the passenger’s seat, and we drove to Kyle’s house. It was an older house and really big. It looked kind of haunted. 

We saw Jane, who played Curley’s Wife, and we all went inside together. There were thirty people involved with the production and they were all here. Greg and I talked about the performance, sitting at a table alone just like at lunchtime. A bunch of the Troupe were drinking and smoking and making out. Drama-geeks were just as debaucherous as all other high school cliques. 

He said that he was so nervous at first, he thought he was going to throw up. “You can just feel the audience when you’re up there,” he said. “It’s almost like we’re animals in a zoo.” I laughed.  

He was munching on those little sandwiches they have at parties. He must’ve eaten half of one of those huge trays by himself. “Hey, quit eating all the goddamn food,” Kyle said, walking over to where we sat away from everyone. He’d been so loud that nearly all the partygoers looked over at us now. My face was so hot it felt like someone had a spotlight on me. “I mean, I doubt you had to gain any weight for this role, idiot.” Greg stopped eating. 

“And you, I bet you loved when I messed up, didn’t you?” Oh my God. I was so mad. He wanted to start some shit? It was one thing to fuck with me, but to constantly belittle Greg? I had been waiting to go off completely on Kyle for weeks. 

“I did,” I said honestly. “I told you that you couldn’t act.”  

“You’re fucking Whit, Holden. You aren’t Broadway material.” 

“Neither are you!” I could feel my voice becoming shrill, but I had adrenaline pumping through my system and I wasn’t going to stop. “You spent months talking mad shit about Greg and he stole the whole fucking show. You should be thanking him for making you look halfway decent.” 

He glared at me for a moment before slapping a cup full of soda into my lap. What a bitch move. 

“How’s that feel? Figured you could use a drink from how thirsty you are for Lennie.” I was mortified. He didn’t have to say that. I couldn’t even bring myself to look in Greg’s direction. 

“You’re a real bitch, you know that right?” I asked rhetorically, standing. He shoved me hard and I stumbled back into my chair, banging my head against the wall of his basement. 

Greg stood up and grabbed Kyle by the collar of his shirt. I could see he wanted to knock Kyle’s teeth to the back of his throat, but he was able to restrain himself. He shook Kyle violently. “Say you’re sorry,” Greg boomed. 

“No way,” Kyle said, being very bold for someone who could potentially meet Jesus in the next thirty seconds. 

“I wasn’t asking you,” Greg barked, pushing Kyle so hard he fell on his ass. “You either apologize to Holden or I’ll bash your fucking face in.” I was living! I wanted nothing more than for Kyle to reap what he had sewn for weeks. I looked over at Greg and I could tell he was having a hard time; he didn’t want to do this, be the type of guy to hurt someone else. That really put a damper on how Kyle was getting his just desserts. Greg was breathing really heavily, and I knew that if he started in on Kyle nobody would be able to stop him. 

“Fuck him,” I said, standing again. “I don’t need his apology. Let’s just get out of here.” 

Greg looked over at me, still breathing heavily. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was starting to soften again. After a few more seconds, he just walked away. He left the house and I followed. Even his exit was totally badass. 

I caught up to Greg as he left the house. He wasn’t nearly as angry as he’d been a few seconds ago, but I could still feel rage radiating off of him. I appreciated him standing up for me even though he preferred avoiding confrontations.  

I wished my jeans weren’t so tight. They weren’t skinny jeans per se, but they weren’t as loose as some guys liked. The wet spot on my crotch had soaked through into my underwear. I hated how it felt, all damp and sticky. I wanted to go home so I could change, but I didn’t want that to mean we’d be done seeing one another for the evening. We walked to his truck and got in. He was still really upset so he hadn’t said anything. 

“I’ll take you home,” he said finally, sitting back in his seat, a scowl on his face and his hands in fists. It made me feel like he was upset with me. Maybe he didn’t like that I’d put him in that situation. I shouldn’t have antagonized Kyle. I should have followed Greg’s example and ignored trivial bullshit. 

“I’m really sorry about what happened in there,” I said, hating the idea that my pettiness could have completely ruined the vibe we’d built up. “I shouldn’t have said those things to Kyle. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in that drama. I’m not usually a messy person.” 

“You’re always standing up for me and treating me like I have something to offer besides playing football.” His voice was deep and clear. He looked over at me, his eyes watery. “I’m not as strong as I look. Kyle talking to me like that just makes me think of my dad. I’m just—I’m so angry Holden and I don’t like it. I don’t want to be like that.” 

“You could’ve hurt him, but you didn’t. I’d be lying if I said that in that moment I didn’t want you to let him have it, but you have real strength Greg. You are constantly surprising me with how kind you are. I admire you a lot.” 

“Thank you,” he said, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.  

“If you take me home, would you want to hang out for a bit?” I asked. “I—I’m not ready for the night to end yet.” 

“I’m not either,” he said, laughing, looking over at me in my soaked jeans. “You could take off your pants if they’re bothering you. I wouldn’t mind. I can crank the heat.” He wasn’t coming on to me, I had to remind myself. That didn’t stop me from thinking about sex and getting a boner. I was so embarrassed. I needed to learn to control my sexual urges. I wasn’t twelve anymore and these constant erections were so juvenile. 

“My underwear is wet too,” I said. He rummaged through the back seat before handing me a pair of his gigantic sweatpants. “Well, if I get out to change, will you watch to make sure nobody is coming?” Being naked in front of him was bad enough, but I still had a semi-hard penis in my pants. I’d just have to move quickly and keep in mind he wasn’t interested in looking in my direction. 

“Yeah, of course.” He coughed slightly. “I’ll be lookout.” We both got out of his truck, and I walked to the driver’s side, which was facing the street. I held his sweatpants in my hands as I looked up at him. We just stood there looking at one another until he finally said, “Oh, sorry, I’ll turn the other way.” He shifted his body, so he wasn’t looking in my direction. 

I removed my sneakers so I could take off the jeans. Then I peeled off the moist Calvin Klein briefs. I could feel the cool November breeze on my ass and balls. My heart was beating out of my chest. I wanted him to look at me and like what he saw. I wanted him to rip my shirt off so that I was completely nude in front of him. He could push me up against his truck and do whatever he wanted to me. Fuck. I had fallen for him hard. I pushed my fantasies to the back of my mind, finally pulling on the sweats and slipping my shoes back on. I could fit in one of the pant legs comfortably if I wanted to. I had to hold the waistband in a ball so they wouldn’t fall down.  

“All good,” I said. 

Once we were back inside of his truck, he started the engine and drove to my house. It was about a twenty-minute drive. It was nearly eleven at this point, and my parents would likely have an issue with Greg and I hanging out in the house so late when everyone else was sleeping. 

“Where are we going?” he asked, whispering, following me into the backyard. 

“My secret fort,” I replied. 

We walked quietly for a few moments before coming to stand before a quaint wooden structure in our backyard. It had been here for nearly ten years now. My dad had built it for me, and now the twins played in it from time to time. It was a fairly simple design. It had one large entrance and two small windows. It sat on top of a large wooden base. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna fit in there,” he said, laughing. 

“You can fit,” I said, not entirely sure if that was true. I entered first, filling the space away from the door. There was plenty of room left, I thought. I watched him through the window. He crouched down, his body filling the entire doorway. Shit, maybe he wouldn’t fit. 

He turned slightly, sucking in his stomach. He sat next to me, both of his legs hanging out of the door. “I guess we can count this as me fitting.” 

“Is this how Emily Elizabeth feels dealing with Clifford?” I asked. 

“Shut up,” he said, laughing. I laughed too and it just felt so right. Everything about being with him felt so effortless. I was falling in love with him. I was suddenly very sad. I couldn’t sit here and fantasize about Greg. He wasn’t interested in me, and I was deluding myself hoping for anything more than being friends. I had to stop hoping for a relationship more romantic and physical in nature. I had to be appreciative that I’d gotten to know such a kind and gentle person. 

He lifted his arm and placed it around me. “Sorry, it’s a bit of a tight fit in here.” 

“Oh, it’s fine.” He just needed to get more comfortable. He wasn’t making a move on me. I looked up to see if I could tell what he was thinking. I could barely see his face in the darkness, but it didn’t seem like he was feeling what I was. We sat in the dark like that for a while, just existing with one another. 

“Holden?” he called, his arm still around me. 

“Yeah?” I answered. 

“Are you gay?” I couldn’t look at him again, and even if I could, it wouldn’t have made it any easier to understand what he was thinking. I could feel my chest tighten, my heart beating a mile a minute. I wanted to hop out of the playhouse and run as far away from here as possible, but I couldn’t just leave him out here. I also wouldn’t be able to get out of here with him blocking the door. Maybe I could squeeze through one of the tiny windows. “I mean, I don’t care if you are. Because I—I—I like you Holden. I really like you.” 

“I am gay,” I said shakily. “I really like you too.” He looked down at me. I looked up at him. It was so strange how much better I could see him now. 

He pulled me closer. I could feel his body heat. I could smell him. He smelled like aftershave and stage makeup and faintly of party sandwiches. His massive arm pulled me closer still. His large hand held the back of my head. 

He kissed me and I kissed him back. This was nothing like kissing boys at parties this past summer at theater camp. “I gotta be honest,” he said, pulling away. “I was checking you out earlier tonight. You got a phat ass, Holden.” 

He’d been looking at me? And he liked what he saw? I couldn’t believe it. I kissed his face softly, enjoying how smooth his skin was. 

“Well, I’ve got to be honest with you,” I whispered. “I’ve been checking you out all year.” He smiled, his teeth bright in the night. He pulled me even closer. I could smell him even better; feel his warmth on my body. I placed my hand on his stomach, enjoying the heft of it. Greg was a fucking ten. 

The patio light came on and we both jumped. “Holden?” my father called. He could probably see Greg’s legs sticking out of the playhouse.  

“Yeah dad! It’s me!” I responded. “And Greg!” 

“Well say goodnight and come inside. It’s getting late.” He wasn’t coming outside. He probably assumed something way raunchier was going on inside of the secret fort. “You get home safe Greg!” 

“Yes sir, I will,” Greg replied. We heard the sliding sound of the patio doors. Greg shimmied his way out of the playhouse, thankfully not getting stuck. I followed and then walked him to his truck. 

“Text me when you get home,” I said. 

“I will.” He smiled at me. “Thanks for everything tonight. It was definitely memorable.” 

He wasn’t wrong about that, and I was happy. I was so incredibly happy. 

After all of that we still had seven shows to do. Kyle skipped like an entire section in the second show and Greg totally saved him by inventing new lines to get us back on track. When Kyle came off stage his face was so red! He couldn’t tell Greg he was stupid then. 

I hadn’t looked directly at Greg since that night in my secret fort. I was too nervous. It had been two days and I assumed we were still, like, together, but we didn’t say anything about it. It was kind of weird. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t. I had no lines to recite. 

The morning of our third show, Kyle quit the play. I thought it was hilarious, but Mr. Murray didn’t. He was freaking out about how we still had six shows to put on. Greg told him I knew all the lines. I didn’t even want to be George anymore, not like this anyway. I had wanted to earn it. 

“You can do it? You know the lines?” Mr. Murray asked frantically. I told him that I did, and he told me “Whit has nearly no lines, somebody else won’t have a problem with the role.” After that I was George. 

My family came back to see the show, and Ms. Williams had been to see every single one. I got to act with Greg, which went absolutely amazing since we had been practicing together. He seemed to be doing even better with me as George instead of Kyle. 

The final show actually sold out all three hundred seats. It was a Sunday matinee, and the entire football team was there—even Coach White! I couldn’t believe they all cheered for us, louder than any applause I’d ever experienced. They hooted and hollered for ten minutes, chanting Greg’s name. I think it meant a lot to him. This was some serious High School Musical-Troy Bolton-“Breaking Free” shit.  

We walked out after changing and went over to Greg’s truck. We had started talking more and more. “Do you want to come over, maybe?” I asked. “My mom and dad are out of town visiting my grandma with the twins.” 

“Yeah, I’m down.” He hadn’t gotten to see the inside of my house last time, so I gave him a quick tour. It was pretty big, like Kyle’s haunted mansion, but a lot more inviting. It had two floors, a basement, and an attic. My room was in the attic, which I had entirely to myself. 

We entered my bedroom and I flicked on the overhead light. He looked around and noticed my bookshelf. It had mostly plays and classic literature on it. I took my bookshelf very seriously, but I swear I wasn’t pretentious about it. “Jesus, look at all these books,” he said. 

“I try to read a new play every week,” I said. I sat on my bed, and he sat next to me. I leaned on his shoulder, and he moved his arm around my waist and pulled me a bit closer. I loved when he did that. “I have some I think you’d really like if you want to borrow one.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Can I kiss you?” I asked. He nodded and I got on my knees in my bed so that we were at a more even height. We kissed for the first time since the night in the playhouse. It was amazing. His lips were so soft and smooth. He pulled at my shirt, and I helped him get it off. He touched my chest, and I could feel every hair on my body stand on end. It was euphoric, yet strange, to have somebody else touch my body. I had never been touched like this before. 

I pulled off his sweatshirt and my already erect penis stiffened even more. I was so glad we had the house to ourselves. He was so big. His gut was round and meaty. He had hair leading down from around his belly button to his pubic area. I finally got to feel it. 

He undid his pants button at the same time I undid mine. I was so excited; I thought that my heart was going to beat out of my chest. My pants came off and I was in my black briefs. He was standing, and I was on my knees in the bed facing him. I kissed his chest. It tasted good, like clean and sweat at the same time. 

“Do you have any lube?” he asked. 

“It’s in the top drawer of my dresser,” I said, pointing across the room. He sauntered over to it, his back looking ridiculously sexy. I wanted to touch every part of him. I wanted to leave no area unmarked by my hands (and mouth). His jeans sagged down in the back and the slope of his lower back to the top of his ass was so extreme. I wanted to see him completely naked. 

He walked back over to me, lube in hand. He stood before me again and pulled off the rest of his clothes. I reached out, touching his stomach before my hand traveled down to his dick. It was thick and long. He had to be at least nine inches. “I’m a little nervous.” 

“Me too,” he said. “We can stop if you want.” 

“No, I don’t want to stop. I want to do this with you.” He smiled, his large hand pushing me onto my back. He put on a condom from his wallet. He grabbed my underwear and pulled it down. My penis bobbed freely from its confine. He covered his dick with lube before gently massaging my hole with lubed up fingers.  

He got on his knees as he continued massaging my hole. He brought his face close to my penis, licking the shaft. He grabbed it with his free hand and stroked it a few times before popping the head into his mouth. He sucked on it greedily, like it was some sort of tasty treat. I was so excited I thought I would cum any second.  

“Greg,” I managed to get out. “You’ve got to stop or I’ll cum too soon.” He ignored me, continuing to take my entire dick in his mouth. I thought for sure it was all over, but he stopped just in time. There were no words to describe the way I was currently feeling. This was unscripted. I just had to enjoy the moment. 

He stood, removing his fingers from inside me, and positioned me so that I was close enough to the edge that he could still have access to my ass. I was on my back; my legs were in the air and kind of on his chest. He bent his knees, trying to guide his penis inside of me, but he was too tall. I grabbed a pillow and placed it under my lower back, which helped considerably. “You better let me know if it hurts.” Even now he was concerned with hurting another person. I loved this guy. 

He slowly entered me with the tip of his dick. He kept it there for a few moments, allowing me to get used to it before pushing more and more of himself inside of me. “It—it feels good,” I moaned. I was feeling bashful, so I covered my face with my arm. 

He thrust his hips and I could feel his belly on my penis, shifting back and forth as he moved. “Move your arm,” he said assertively. “I wanna see that cute face.” 

I did as he said, looking up at him. He licked his lips and it just turned me on even more. 

“Fuck—,” he groaned, moving more slowly, switching up the rhythm. His belly had been rubbing me off, and I came after a few more minutes. Cum spurted on my stomach and partially on his gut. He wasn’t done yet, and he kept pushing into me at a steady pace. I was still rock hard and enjoyed the ride until he finished about a minute later.  

“We’ve got to do that again,” I said, panting. I stood, my legs wobbly, and grabbed a towel from my closet so that I could clean us up.  

“We most definitely do.”  

We even took a shower together after that. It was a good thing we had a detachable shower head because it did make it easier for him to rinse himself off. We were both hard the entire time, and I knew we’d be very busy the rest of the night. 

In the end, Greg and the rest of the football team made it to state, even taking the title. My entire family and Ms. Williams wore jerseys with his number on it. The scouts had come out to see him play and he killed it. He’d gotten multiple offers, but he was going to commit to the school closest to mine. Our campuses would only be a thirty-minute drive from one another. Greg wasn’t able to go back to wrestling. The coach, he told me, was extremely shocked by how much weight he had put on. He was well over 360 pounds, which was more than seventy pounds in a year. He spent the winter eating and conditioning and growing stronger. He may have had a belly, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a ton of muscle. 

I ended up getting a substantial role in the winter drama and the lead in the musical, so there was no more crying in the bathroom stalls for me. But honestly, even if I had been cast in a Whit-like role, I wouldn't have cared because Greg and I were together. 

Kyle didn’t audition for the winter drama or the musical. It was awesome; both shows went so much more smoothly without him. 

I’d been reading the play As You Like It and Shakespeare was really on to something when he said all the world’s a stage. I didn’t have to wait for lines, and I didn’t need to shrink into the background. If my life was a production, I had to make sure it was Tony-worthy. And I knew Greg would be one hell of a co-star. 

The End!

[darkbanez]

So if y’all aren’t caught up with the shooting this morning:

Today, in Nashville, Tennessee, a 28 year old trans man broke into and opened fire on a Christian Elementary School.

According to CNN:

“Here's what we know so far:

About Covenant School: The school is a private Christian school founded in 2001 as a ministry of Covenant Presbyterian Church. It has an average enrollment of about 200 people in recent years, according to its website, and it teaches preschool through 6th grade.

What happened: Don Aaron, spokesperson for the Metro Nashville Police Department, said the first calls of an active shooting came in at around 10:15 a.m. local time. When officers arrived, they went through the first level of the building, he said. They then heard gunshots coming from the second level of the building, according to Aaron. He said that's where police confronted and killed the shooter at 10:27 a.m. local time.

The shooter: The shooter has been identified as 28-year-old Nashville resident Audrey Hale. The shooter was armed with a handgun and two AR-style weapons — one a rifle and an AR-style pistol, Metro Nashville Police Chief John Drake said. Two of those may have been obtained legally and locally in Nashville, Drake said. According to initial findings, the shooter was once a student at the school, he added, though he said police are unsure what years.

Prior planning: The shooter had drawn detailed maps of Covenant School, Drake said, including the entry points to the building and detailing "how this was all gonna take place." Drake said police believe the shooter shot through one of the doors to get into the school. Drake said the school was the only location targeted by the shooter. Police have also located a manifesto that they are reviewing.

The victims: The three students who were shot and killed at Covenant School were all 9 years old, police said. They have been identified as Evelyn Dieckhaus, Hallie Scruggs and William Kinney, according to police. Three adults were also killed in the shooting. They have been identified as 61-year-old Cynthia Peak, 60-year-old Katherine Koonce and 61-year-old Mike Hill, police said.

What's next: Police will spend the next two days processing the scene and working to gather more details about what happened during a shooting at a Nashville elementary school, Aaron said, adding police also intend to release video soon. Officials said they knew where the shooter lived and they have interviewed the shooter's father.

Call for gun safety legislation: President Joe Biden called the shooting at a Nashville school "heartbreaking, a family's worst nightmare," while advocating for gun reform. Biden said Congress needs to pass an assault weapons ban because we "need to do more to protect our schools." However, a bipartisan solution is extremely unlikely this Congress with a slim Democratic majority in the Senate and a GOP-led House. Nashville Mayor John Cooper said too many children are dying from guns and that the community needs to come together to support each other.

Mass shootings in America: The Nashville shooting is the 129th mass shooting in the US so far in 2023, according to data from the Gun Violence Archive. The Gun Violence Archive, like CNN, defines a mass shooting as one in which at least four people are shot, excluding the shooter.”

(via https://www.cnn.com/us/live-news/nashville-shooting-covenant-school-03-27-23/index.html)

Obviously Twitter is having a hayday with this, right-wingers seemingly celebrating the fact that the shooter was transgender.

If you choose to care more about what the shooter identified as, rather than the LITERAL children and teachers that were killed, you are a despicable human being and you deserve everything that comes to you.

Please feel free to add more info in reblogs/replies!

[happypeaceperson]

Innocent

Mickey Altieri x male reader.

Takes place around the time of the party and Cicis death in scream 2. I wanted to write a jealous Mickey so i threw this together. I also gave a motive towards Cicis death because getting killed because of your name is wild 😭

(If you sent me requests for other stories I promise I'll get to them soon. I just wanted to do another Mickey fic first! )

Anyways Enjoy!

The lunch hall was filled with chatter. Your own thoughts being drowned out by the noise around you. You felt someone grab your arm. Looking down you see Cici. She gets up from her chair, smiling. "Hey" She pulls you into a hug. It's a well known rumour that Cici has a crush on you. Many don't even call it a rumour with how well known it is. This doesn't stop you from talking to her though. She's been a great friend to you, you couldn't ditch her for some dumb rumours. 

Anyways, Cici knew about you and Mickey. She wouldn't try to take that away from you or him. "Omg hey" you said, pulling away from the hug. Your hands rested on her shoulders. "We haven't talked in ages" You added, smiling back at her. You had been so distracted by your college work and life in general that you forgot to catch up with most of your friends

"I know," She said, laughing. "How have you been?" 

"I've been good, been pretty occupied with school work that's all." You moved your hands to cross over your chest. 

Hallie looked over from the table where all your friends sat "Oh look at that, Cici trying to make her move again" She said sarcastically, eating her lunch. Mickey turned to see Cici pull you into another hug before you went to walk over to their table.

"Hey" You said to the group, pulling out the seat beside Mickey. You leaned in, planting a kiss on Mickey's lips. In front of you sat Hallie, Sidney and Sidney's boyfriend, Derek. "How's everyone been?" You asked, stealing a bit of food from Mickey's tray. 

"Where the hell have you been?" Hallie asked, leaning over the Table. You looked at her, a confused expression on your face. 

"Um, I had work to catch up on?" You said, looking around the table. 

"For a week?" Sidney asked,joining in on the conversation. 

"Yeah I went a bit without doing much work, sorry" You put your hands up defensively. 

"Mhm" Hallie sat back down in her chair. "You had time for Mickey tho." Mickey turned his attention back to the conversation. He had been looking over at Cici,he hadn't stopped looking over since he saw you two talking. 

"Well if a guy climbs in through your window, it's gonna catch your attention." You elbowed at Mickey. He laughed. The three in front of you went on to talk about something you didn't care about. Instead you turned to Mickey, he looked distracted. "Hey" You put your hand on his lap. "Is everything ok?" You asked. 

He turned to face you. "Yeah" He muttered "Perfectly fine" He smiled at you. 

Your attention switched from Mickey to Sidney. "Are you going to the party tonight?" She asked you.

You laughed. "Yeah, if i didn't i think he'd kill me" You motioned towards Mickey, getting a laugh from the group. 

Time skip to after the party. 

You stood by Mickey for most of the party, both of you dancing around. You drank every beverage you could get your hands on. You only stopped when Sidney came to get you. "Y/N i think it's time you go home" She said, her hand on your shoulder looking up at Mickey. 

"What?" You said, the music blocking any other form of sound to enter your ears. 

"I think we should head home now." Sidney said, a bit louder. 

"Ahh, ok." You replied, relieved you were finally leaving. You didn't hate the party, it was fun but you don't like being in a house with a hundred or more students all drunk or high. You, Sidney and Mickey walked out outside, meeting with Hallie and Derek. 

"We're heading home," Sidney said to the other two. Derek offered to give everyone a ride back.Mickey declined,suggesting that you and him just walk home. You agreed. You only lived a bit away, a 15-20 minute walk. 

You said your goodbyes to your friends before heading home. "Oh shit" Mickey said, his hands moving over his pockets. 

"What?" You asked, turning to look at him. 

"I forgot my.." He paused. "My lighter, I gave it to someone back there." You didn't remember Mickey having a lighter, he didn't even smoke. You brushed it off, Mickey always had the most random things with him so it wasn't that strange. 

"You want me to go back with you?" You asked, walking forward. 

"Uh no, it's fine. I'll just run back by myself. I'll meet you back at yours." He leaned in, giving you a kiss before heading back towards the party. You looked at him for a moment. He was acting weird. You shook your head,thinking to yourself that it was probably the alcohol. You began to walk home. 

Time skip to the next morning. 

You lay in your bed, Mickey's arm's wrapped around you. You felt his bare chest raising on your back. You loved this feeling, his arms over you, his breath brushing against your neck. You felt safe, like nothing could hurt you. 

You sat up, accidently waking Mickey in the process. "Good morning," He said, rubbing his eyes. 

 "Oh shit, sorry." You apologised. "I didn't mean to wake you" 

"It's ok" He sat up at the edge of the bed, climbing out of it. You watched as he went into your bathroom. You got out of bed, heading towards the kitchen. You grabbed a glass cup before filling it with water. You took a sip from it as you heard the phone ringing. 

You walked over, answering it. "Hello?" You asked, taking another sip from your glass. 

"Turn on the news right now." It was Hallie, she sounded worried. 

"Oh um ok?" you said confused. You went over to the couch, grabbing the TV remote. "Is everything ok?" You asked. 

"Just watch it." You sat down, looking at what was happening. You watched the news report. It was outside on of the college houses. You watched in horror as you heard them report a death. You felt your heart drop when you heard Cici's name. "What the fuck?" You said, still on the phone. 

"I know, it's awful," Hallie replied. "I've got to go, Sidney's probably going crazy over it." She said before hanging up. 

You heard footsteps behind you, seeing Mickey. "What's wrong?" He looked at you. At the tears forming in your eyes. 

"Cici was murdered last night." You got up from the couch. You walked towards Mickey as he took you in for a hug. 

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry." He said. His voice sounded off to you, something about it felt weird. 

You pulled away from the hug. "Where did you go when you left me?" You asked, looking at him. 

"What?" He looked at you, his eyes not leaving yours. "I went back to the party. You don't think I did this, do you?" 

"I don't know." You said a tear falling down your eye. "You were acting strange last night." You looked away from him,turning back to the news report. 

Mickey grabbed your shoulder. "I was drunk, that's all" He said. He pulled you in for another hug "I wouldn't do such a thing" He added. Your head rested on his shoulder, looking behind him. You felt uncomfortable. He was definitely acting weirder than usual. You pulled away, heading towards your room to get dressed. 

Time skip to the police office. 

You sat beside Sidney, waiting to be called into the office. Everyone who had any relations with Cici was called in. Mickey was in the office. He looked calm,too calm for what just happened. You watched as he got up, walking out. They called your name. Sidney rubbed at your back as yiu stood up. 

You walked past Mickey, he gave you a smile, one you didn't return. You sat down on the seat that sat in front of the desk. There were 2 officers in there with you. 

"So, where were you last night?" One of them asked. 

"At the party, like everyone else." You said looking in between them. 

"And after that?" the officer sat on the desk. 

"I went home." You looked up at him. "With Mickey." You motioned out the window, towards Mickey. 

"You two went home together?" He asked. 

"Well kind of. Mickey forgot his lighter so he went back to get it." You said, not realising how suspicious it made Mickey look. 

"So you two split up than?" You nodded. "And you went straight home?" 

"Yes." You sat up in the chair. 

"How far is your house? You didn't get a ride home from someone?" The other officer asked, leaning on the wall. 

You turned to face him. "It's like a 15 minute walk, and I was offered a ride but Mickey suggested that we should just walk." 

"Mickey suggested that?" The officers looked at each other. "It's a strange coincidence he suggests that just to forget something and want to head back huh?" 

You looked at them both. "Officer, I don't know what your trying to say but Mickey wouldn't kill anyone." You said. You didn't fully believe your statement, but you also didn't want Mickey to get into trouble. 

"And you're sure of that?" The officer unfolded his arms. 

"Yes. He's a nice guy, he wouldn't have a reason to kill anyone. Especially Cici." You looked at the officers. 

"We were told Cici had a crush on you?" The officer said, getting up from the desk. "And Mickey, he's your boyfriend, correct?" You nodded. "I think that could be a very valid reason to kill someone." The officer turned to face his partner, pointing to him. "Don't you think? Jealousy is one of the main causes of murders" 

You sat there staring at the two. You never thought of that. Was he jealous? Why would he be? He knows how much you love him. "He wouldn't." You said. You felt anger rise in you. You couldn't sit there as the officers accused Mickey right in front of you. You looked out the window, catching eyes with Mickey. You turned away, you couldn't look at him. 

They both looked at you. "Ok." He went to open the door. "You're free to go" He motioned towards the door. 

You stormed out the room, muttering a thanks under your breath. You headed towards where Sidney and Mickey sat. "What did they ask you?" Sidney said, sitting up. You sat down beside Mickey. 

"Nothing just the basic questions of where I was" You didn't want to go into detail, all you could think about is what the officers said. Mickey placed his hand on your leg, rubbing it. You looked at him, providing a weak smile. You didn't trust him. He was your boyfriend and you loved him but the officers had a point. You rested your head on his shoulder. All you could do right now is wait. Wait for them to find out who did this. Wait to see if your suspicions towards Mickey was just you overthinking or if he really was a killer. 

[beardedmrbean]

NASHVILLE, Tenn. (AP) — The writings of the person who killed three 9-year-olds and three adults at a private Christian elementary school in Nashville last year cannot be released to the public, a judge ruled Thursday.

Chancery Court Judge I’Ashea Myles found that The Covenant School children and parents hold the copyright to any writings or other works created by shooter Audrey Hale, a former student who was killed by police. As part of the effort to keep the records closed, Hale’s parents transferred ownership of Hale’s property to the victims’ families, who then argued in court that they should be allowed to determine who has access to them.

Myles agreed, ruling that “the original writings, journals, art, photos and videos created by Hale” are subject to an exception to the Tennessee Public Records Act created by the federal Copyright Act.

The ruling comes more than a year after several groups filed public records requests for documents seized by Metro Nashville Police during their investigation into the March 2023 shooting. Those killed were Evelyn Dieckhaus, Hallie Scruggs, and William Kinney, all 9 years old, and adults Cynthia Peak, 61; Katherine Koonce, 60; and Mike Hill, 61.

Part of the interest in the records stems from the fact that Hale, who police say was “assigned female at birth,” may have identified as a transgender man, and some pundits have floated the theory that the journals will reveal a planned hate crime against Christians.

The victims’ families released statements about the ruling on Friday. Cindy Peak’s family wrote, “The last year and a half without Cindy has been difficult. But today brings a measure of relief in our family. Denying the shooter some of the notoriety she sought by releasing her vile and unfiltered thoughts on the world is a result everyone should be thankful for.”

The shooter left behind at least 20 journals, a suicide note and a memoir, according to court filings. When the records requests were denied, several parties sued, and the situation quickly ballooned into a messy mix of conspiracy theories, leaked documents, probate battles and accusations of ethical misconduct. Myles’ order will almost surely be appealed.

After the initial records requests last year, police said they would eventually release the documents but could not do so right away because their investigation was still open. The groups suing for the immediate release of the records — including news outlets, a gun rights group, a law enforcement nonprofit and Tennessee state Sen. Todd Gardenhire — argued that there was no meaningful criminal investigation underway since Hale, who police say acted alone, was dead.

Meanwhile, a group of Covenant parents was allowed to intervene in the case and argue that the records should never become public. They said the release would be traumatic for the families and could inspire copycat attacks.

Myles found that the copycat risk was real and “of grave concern.”

“Hale used the writings of other perpetrators in similar crimes to guide how this plan was constructed and accomplished, mimicking some not only in their methodology, but also choice of weapons and targets,” Myles wrote. “Hale even held past perpetrators out as heroes in their attacks, idolizing them.”

Also intervening in the case were The Covenant School and the Covenant Presbyterian Church, which shares a building. They argued the records should remain closed because their release could threaten their security.

The Associated Press is among the groups that requested the records but did not participate in the lawsuit.

As the court case has dragged on, pages from one journal were leaked to a conservative commentator who posted them to social media in November. More recently, The Tennessee Star published dozens of stories based on allegedly 80 pages of Hale’s writings provided by an unnamed source. The publication is among the plaintiffs, and Myles briefly threatened to hold the paper’s editor-in-chief, Michael Leahy, and owner, Star News Digital Media, in contempt.

Although Myles’ ruling will shield many of the documents created by Hale from public release, other documents in the police file can be released once the case is officially closed as long as they fall under Tennessee’s open records law.

An attorney for the lead plaintiff in the case did not immediately have a reaction to the ruling.

[g4yforethan]

the help pt. 2

pairing: mickey altieri x male!reader 

summary: after going forward with the plan, reader and mickey decide to reveal themselves to sidney prescott 

warnings: violence, kissing, cursing, blood!

a few days had gone by and the attacks had started. mickey wanted to go first and so the both of you picked how the attacks should start. you two had decided on maureen evans and phil stevens. they were two students who had class with mickey but you didn’t know too much about them. mickey had sent out two tickets anonymously inviting the both of them to a sneak peek preview of stab. a new movie based off of gale weathers best-selling book about the woodsboro murders and had described your brother as a total monster. regardless, you were gonna get your revenge. late one night, you were asleep in your dorm room when you noticed the door open and mickey walked inside. “mickey what are you doing being up so late? it’s almost 1 in the morning!” “oh nothing my love. just getting the fun started.” “what do you mean?” “let’s just say i took care of phil and maureen.” you caught what he was saying and realized that the killings had begun. the plan was finally being set in motion. mickey wanted to go the copy-cat direction in hopes of attracting more fame but secretly, all you wanted was sidney and getting revenge for billy.

when you were walking to class the next day, you bumped into sidney who looked distressed. “sidney hi! is everything okay?” you acted oblivious as you knew exactly what was happening. “it’s happening again y/n. some sick fuck put on a ghostface mask and killed two people from here.” “what?! are you sure this has anything to do with us or woodsboro?” “i don’t know. all i know is that i want to get the fuck out of here right now.” “it’s gonna be okay sidney. i’m alway here for you.” you gave her a hug and you walked your way to class. after class, mickey had informed you of a party that was taking place later at night and that cici cooper would be home alone. you knew he planned on getting her next because she shared the same name as casey becker. you went to the party and talked to sidney and hallie who took sidney to cheer her up and get her worries off. mickey arrived and after a few minutes, you two wandered off from the party without anyone noticing.

“okay baby, i need you to stay on the phone while i wait for the perfect time to sneak into the house.” you were nervous but also excited. “okay then. i’ll hide behind the bushes for now.” mickey gave you a kiss and left and you called cici cooper. after a few minutes of talking with cici, you heard a commotion coming from inside the house. a scream so loud that it was heard throughout the entire block. it was cici cooper. she had fallen to her death and you looked up and saw mickey in the ghostface costume. he ran out of the house and grabbed you and told you to run back to the party. you arrived back to the party without anyone noticing and saw sidney. she was with hallie and derek passing around drinks. you talked with them for a while when news broke out about cici. everyone left and you went back to your dorm room. no one had suspected you yet.

after a series of attacks at the hands of you and mickey, it was time for the third and final act. you had just finished chasing gale weathers but had gotten dewey. you ran out of the room and went back to your dorm room to get rid of the ghostface costume. mickey and you had planned to meet back in your dorm room and go to the theater to reveal yourself to sidney. after awhile of waiting, you realized that this was taking too long and left your dorm room to look for mickey. you reached a pay phone outside of the theater and tried to call mickey but there was no answer. soon, gale weathers comes running out from nowhere. screaming, yelling with blood on her. “give me the goddamn phone!” she yells at you and she yanks the phone out of your hand. “oh my god! you’re gale weathers! wait what is happening?!” “911! i need police at windsor college asap! the killer is cotton fucking weary!” you gasp but know secretly that what she’s saying isn’t true. “oh my god! cotton weary?? it can’t be gale!” “oh yea gimme one good reason why he isn’t” “because i am” you pull out a gun that mickey gave to you earlier and point it at gale. “now hang up the phone bitch!” she gasps and does what you say and you grab her and take her to the theater.

you two walk back to the door leading to the stage and you tell her not to make a run for it. you hear mickey talking to sidney and you yank one of the ropes figuring that derek was already taken care of. “now who’s doing that? could that be the mystery guest waiting in the wings? told you i had a partner sid. surprise cameo just for you.” you tell gale to walk and open the door and without missing a beat, you walk onto the stage with the gun still pointing at gale and now at sidney. she looks at you confused and terrified. “y/n? why are you doing this?” “what’s the matter sid? surprised huh?” mickey begins to taunt her. “why sidney? oh well you see, my motive is as simple as it can get. just a case of good old-fashioned revenge! YOU KILLED MY BROTHER! and now it’s time for you to return the favor.” “your brother was sick in the head and killed my friends! he got what he deserved. how could you do this?” “well being crazy does run in the family. and with mickey here, he taught me, guided me, loved me the entire way to where we are now.” sidney looks at you horrified that the once “good” brother would soon follow in the footsteps of her deranged ex-boyfriend. “you two sick fucks are never going to get away with this!” “oh yes we will sidney.” you start to explain “after you and gale are taken care of, me and mickey disappear and start off on a fresh new chapter. isn’t that right, my love?” “you got that right baby boy!” mickey smiles at you and walks over to you to give you a kiss on the lips. he walks back and grabs sidney and you grab gale. “now sidney, this is the part where you and gale sign off.” you aim at sidney and shoot but she doges the bullet, ultimately shooting mickey in the neck. “NOO!” you scream and run over to mickey who is bleeding. you start to cry and cry and turn around and see sidney has already picked up the gun. you pick up mickey’s and aim it at her. “i still need to get my revenge!” “oh yeah that’s what they all say.” sidney shoots and you shoot at the same time but the bullet enters your chest first. you fall back and start to cry in pain. you start to hear the sirens of police arrive and you crawl over to mickey looking at him as your vision begins to fade away. 

author’s note: hope you guys enjoyed part 2! kinda changed the ending but i thought it fit the story better and made it a little sadder!

[final-girl96]

My Boyfriend's Back Chapter Twenty-Three

YN

I groaned, reaching blindly for my alarm to turn it off. "God, shut the fuck up!" I slammed my hand down on it and rolled onto my back, stretching out my body. I was sore. Why am I sore? My eyes shot open and I sprung into a sitting position. I looked around my room but I was alone. Flashes from last night played in my mind. "Motherfucker!" When I looked down I was naked, my sheet only covering my bottom half.

I flopping back down, covering my face with my hands. I had a deep ache between my legs both from Stu fucking me last night, making me come several time and from wanting more. I started to wish he was still here to take care of it and I scolded myself. "Stop it! He's a fucking psychopath for fuck sake."

But he always makes me feel so fucking good. The way his rough hands feel against my soft skin. The way his tongue works me into…STOP!

I quickly threw the sheet off of me and stood up, grabbing clothes and putting them on. I went to grab my key, pepper spray, and backpack when I saw a note on my desk. I looked at it for a few minutes debating if I should read it or not. I decided to shove it in the draw instead and then left my room. A hand landed on my shoulder while I was locking my door and I screamed. "It's me! Yn, it's just me!"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Sid! You can't just sneak up on me like that!" I put a hand over my rapidly beating heart. "I called your name like twice," she said. "Oh. Sorry. What's up?" She gave me a concerned look, "are you okay? You've been pretty jumpy lately." I scoffed, "I have not been jumpy." Hallie came around the corner nodding her head, "girl, yes you have been." I rolled my eyes and started walking for the stairs. "Is there a reason you came up here?" I asked them.

"There was a murder last night at the movie theater. Two Windsor students were killed at the Stab premiere." I stopped and looked back at Sidney. "What?" She nodded her head, "it's happening again. They were both stabbed by someone in a ghostface costume. People thought it was a publicity stunt."

Did Stu do this before he came here?

"Where's Randy?" I asked, walking down the stairs. "Film theory, I think," Hallie said before going back to their dorm. As soon as me and Sidney walked out the door of our dorm building we had microphones shoved in our faces as reports fired question after question after us.

"Yn!"

"Yn, do you think Stu Macher had a part in this?"

"Do you know where Stu Macher is? Did you help him escape?"

"Are you hiding him?"

"Do you know who the killer is?"

Sidney grabbed my hand and pulled me along with her as we ran across campus to the film building. We waited outside the classroom Randy was in until they were done discussing sequels. Mickey walked out and smiled at me. The dude gave me the fucking creeps. "Awe, did you come to walk me to my next class?" He put his arm around my shoulder and I shoved it off. As soon as Randy came out of the room I grabbed him. "We need to talk," I said.

Sidney and I told him about the two students killed last night and he denied it having anything to do with us. He was also talking in a weird accent. "What's up with the fucking accent? Would you people get your head out of your ass and fucking listen!" I said. He stopped walking and looked at me. "This has nothing to do with us," he said. "Oh, my god, Randy! You're so deep in denial!" I threw my hands up, turning and walking away.

"She's right Randy, you're in denial. We don't want this to be happening again either but it is," Sidney said. Randy started saying something and then Sidney's new boyfriend Derek showed up. Randy walked over to me and mumbled something about getting a room while they stood there kissing. "Sorry, buddy. The geek doesn't get the girl unfortunately."

We all went to sit by one of the walls to watch the press conference with the Chief of Police. Randy nudged me and Sidney, "looks it's Gale Weathers." I looked where he was pointing and sure enough there stood Gale front and center. "I heard she got calf implants," Randy said. He started talking into Mickey's camera and I sat on the wall. "I'm going to get closer," Randy said and down to where all the reports were.

Then the fucking sorority sisters came. They completely ignored me and went for Sidney. They were throwing a party tonight, a parry I would be skipping. Then I saw Dewey. "Oh, my god, Sid, look!" I pointed to where he was standing and we both ran over to him. "Dewey!" He turned around and smiled when he saw both of us running towards him. "What're you doing here?!" Sidney asked, hugging him. He hugged me next before answering. "Heard what happened and needed to come and check you three." He said. "Where's Randy?"

"Being nosey. Come on, we can talk over here." We went to the gazebo and talked for a little while before he left and we met our friends again. Mickey tried to talk about how many times they were stabbed but Derek stopped him before asking who we were talking to. "Was that Dewey? What's he doing here?" Randy asked, coming up beside me. "Wanted to come make sure we were okay."

As we were all walking away to go to our classes Mickey came up beside me. "Don't worry I'll protect you," he whispered in my ear then walked away. It was a little fucking creepy but of course he was fucking creepy. After my class I went back to my dorm and pulled the note Stu had left me.

Baby,

I'll be back tonight at 9 pm. Meet me outside. If you're not there, I will be coming up to your room and getting you.

I Love You ,

XOXO

why couldn't my life just be fucking simple? Why can't I just have a normal life like everyone else? That's all I wanted but no, my mother had to be the whore of the town and had an affair with her daughter's boyfriend's father. Then my sister's boyfriend murdered her along with my boyfriend and they pinned it on someone else, waited a year and killed more people saving us for last and trying to kill us.

My boyfriend ended up surviving and getting away and now he won't leave me the fuck alone. Oh and let's not forget to add I'm there that someone is back to killing people as ghostface and it's probably Stu!

[coraniaid]

This is ... not so much 'headcanon' as it is just blatantly baseless speculation about the internal metaphysics of a show that never bothered with consistent world-building, but. I'm going to be honest with you: it's a fun conceit for fanfiction, but I don't think Jenny or Jesse or Kendra are alive in the Wishverse. Or any other human person who we saw killed on the show before The Wish, for that matter. I think that wouldn't make sense narratively or within the logic of the show.

Within the logic of the show first, such as it is: while it's never made quite explicit, I don't think vengeance demons can actually grant wishes that bring people back to life (at least not human beings who were killed by mundane means). Yes, the Master is very much alive and kicking in the world of The Wish -- or undead and kicking, anyway -- but

it was already established in When She Was Bad that the Master could somehow be brought back to life by his followers; and

it will later be established on Angel that there are spells to resurrect dead vampires who didn't even leave a convenient skeleton behind; and

the show has always been clear in many other ways that the rules of magic as applied to humans aren't the same rules that operate for vampires

If vengeance demons could bring back the dead, why doesn't anyone who knows Anya is a vengeance demon by the end of Season 6 just suggest Willow wishes for Tara back? (Yes, Willow doesn't know about Anya, but other people do. Anya knows, for that matter.) Why does Anya not offer this even as late as the beginning of Season 7? Why doesn't Halfrek appear in Season 5 to try to get Dawn to wish for her mother back?

Of coruse the real answer is pragmatic. Anya doesn't do this because then there would be no story (or there would be a different, inferior story). Halfrek doesn't do this because she didn't actually exist at that point: the writers hadn't invented her yet. But, within the rules of the fictional universe, I think the simplest explanation is: vengeance demons cannot actually undo a human being's death. And if they can't grant a direct wish that a person didn't die, it doesn't quite make sense to me that they could accidently resurrect somebody as a side-effect either. (Otherwise instead of wishing a person was alive, you could just wish things leading up to their death had happened slightly differently.)

I think this is consistent too with the way Anya talks about Buffy and Joyce's death. Again, the show will later retcon that she is friends with a vengeance demon that can grant wishes to children in pain. Why would Anya, as baffled and horrified by Joyce's death as she is, not even suggest asking her friend Hallie for help? (Assuming the writers had had the idea of Halfrek at this point, of course, which they hadn't.)

And narratively, just within the episode itself: though I've sometimes seen people on here claim the opposite, Giles in the Wishverse is surely meant to be right to believe that a better world than his is possible, not just for Buffy and for Sunnydale but for himself as well. There's not meant to be some ironic twist here. The idea that when the alternate Giles breaks Anya's amulet he is unwittingly cursing himself to a "worse" reality is, I think, a very strange subversion of what the show is trying to show (and, frankly, it wouldn't be true even if Jenny did exist in the Wishverse - a Giles reunited with Jenny in a world ruled over by the Master is hardly better off than our Giles). But that means, as well, he can't be unwittinly dooming Jesse or Jenny or Kendra or anyone else to suddenly not exist anymore.

The likelihood is, I admit, that in a world where Buffy hadn't ever come to Sunnydale there would be some people who were alive still who aren't in the show's true reality. For some easy examples: if the Summers never move to Sunnydale, they never invite a foreign exchange student to visit them and so he doesn't get eaten by a mummy; Joyce never befriends Pat at her local reading group so she doesn't get killed by zombies; Angel never loses his soul so he doesn't kill Theresa. Maybe, on the balance of probability, those people should be alive in The Wish.

But I don't think the show would condone Giles making the utilitarian calculation that all those people's lives could be wished away to bring Buffy back, even unknowingly. I think that -- even though it admittedly doesn't make much sense -- we're supposed to assume that (somehow) everybody really is better off in the original reality than they are in the false reality of The Wish. And, within the universe of the show, the simplest way to make that true is to suggest that, whatever happens, no wish a vengeance demon grants can ever bring the dead back to life. For some reason, events transpired in such a way that even the people who we'd think should be alive in a Sunnydale where Buffy never showed up are meant to still be dead in The Wish. (Maybe somebody else invited Ampata over; maybe Pat died in a car crash; maybe Theresa got killed by vampire!Willow instead of Angelus.)

The story just doesn't make sense to me otherwise.

(As ever, usual disclaimer that I don't think the writer of Season 3's The Wish gave so much as the slightest thought to the question of whether Jesse or Kendra or Jenny were alive in thsi reality, that the reason we don't see Jenny is that the actor who played her had already been written out of the show and was only (reluctantly) going to come back for one more episode and that the reason we don't see Jesse among the White Hats is that the writers had already forgotten he ever existed.)

[suekreandtheidiots]

Yes, I drew a mid-2000s teenager line up, featuring some of Hallie and Lance's dearest peers. No, I don't regret a single thing. 😂

***

I know I posted some short descriptions before but II brushed them up a little and want to have them all in one place, so here we go!

From left to right:

Mark McGrath (*February 7th 1987, in London/England, 5'8 ft) had to repeat 8th grade and somehow started hanging out with the cool kids of the year. Went to a fancy English boarding school as a kid... and somehow ended up at a random public school in Scotland as a pre-teen. No one ever found out what made him into the person he was... and no one really dared to just ask him either. A certain mystery surrounded Mark, which was fairly entertaining all by itself. Mark was a cool, calm and collected fella, easygoing and pleasant to be around, never as loud and obnoxious as some others but well, how do they say? Still waters run deep. And dirty. Mark was the one to ask for "special favours", such as getting weed/speed/acid/whatnot. Mark knew everyone and everything. Mark was the guy one would call if they had to get rid of a body. Mark never judged. Mark just did what had to be done. (Liked Hallie a lot, in a very innocent and friendly way, and even though the two never got to know each other on a deeper level, they always got along well and were able to communicate very naturally.)

Calum Hamish Fitzgibbons (*November 6th 1987, in Aberdeen/Scotland, 6'7 ft) was a nice kid, actually. A teenager of his time, with the appropriate brush of occasional overconfidence, because he had the looks and the wit. A lot of his peers looked up to him... quite literally, because, at seventeen, Cal was already 6'7 ft tall. Cal wasn't bad, he was just spoiled. His parents were pretty wealthy and he was used to getting whatever he wanted, without asking or having to put in any effort. That being said, when he was pining for Hallie, he kinda just expected that she would see the light one day, but he never dared to make an actual move to try and win her over. Partly because he didn't see the necessity, and also because romantic feelings for a friend are an awkward thing sometimes. When Hallie didn't just fall for him like he had hoped, and even picked his best friend over him during his absence, he was raging for several reasons. Being a bad person isn't one of them... but a male (teenage) ego is often a fragile one.

Hallie Henderson (*April 2nd 1988 in Aberdeen/Scotland, 5'7 ft) has loved writing all kinds of things ever since she was a wee lass... and being at school only fuelled that particular love! She was a very sweet and clever girl, with interest in pretty much anything, but most of all music, world affairs and also pop and rock culture, as well as clothes and boys (oooh!). Hallie decided to relaunch the school paper (with fellow writing enthusiast Lucy Dunn and the help of a few older students) at the tender age of thirteen, and had a carefully curated (and actually quite popular) web blog ("Hendersonic!") as well, in which she wrote about all the subjects and things that moved her. Hallie grew up with Type 1 diabetes, which always had the potential to put a damper on her generally happy attitude, and she was also afraid of being perceived as "plain" and "boring", and once it became cool to be "not like other girls", Hallie decided to jump right into that and became a bit of a Pick-Me, but she never lost her heart of gold (even though she tried to cover that up with the occasional *edgyness*). Cultural trends come and go, but being kind-hearted is always in style after all!

Lancelot Malcolm "Lance" Abbott (*July 27th 1988 in Aberdeen/Scotland, 5'3 ft) was an incredibly smart and headstrong prodigy; bold, clever, persistent and outspoken. It always seemed like there was nothing that Lance Abbott couldn't do... which was true, in a way, but also got to his head, unfortunately. Lance may have been kind at heart, but that wasn't exactly the part of his personality that he decided to flaunt - Lance was arrogant, on the brink of being very insensitive and plain rude at times. Despite his short and slight build, he had a very striking and intimidating presence; even people older than him preferred to not get into discussions and arguments with the little Abbott. Aside from his academic pursuit, Lance was also very musically gifted. He has played drums from an early age on, taught by his legendary dad, Craig, and had a great understanding for music in general.

Diana "Di" Ballantyne (*December 5th 1987, in Aberdeen/Scotland, 5'6 ft) was a stunning and headstrong Femme Fatale in training, with a passion for make up and clothes, and a strong disdain for Hallie and Lucy... and anyone else she deemed weird and/or boring. There was no rhyme and reason to what and whom Diana deemed boring, though, she just wanted to vibe and refused to put up with people and things she had no desire to put up with. Used to date Lance for a few months until she realised that the wee Abbott is just as much as a pain in the arse as she is, and broke up with him when things became too much of a hassle. (Met Lance again while he was in med school, and both hooked up every now and then over the years, despite not actually being into each other. Honestly, don't ask. 🤣)

It's hard to sum up Lowell "Fozzy" Foster (* September 17th 1987, in Inverness/Scotland, 6'5 ft) in just a few sentences... he was an experience. Not at all a bad kid either, but, uhm... well, let's just say that Fozzy's loyalty and integrity had limits, namely any time he sensed that there could be something in for him, when there was a lass he liked involved, or when doing the right thing was simply too much of a hassle. Aside from all this, Fozzy was a music freak, too, which is what always brought him and Lance back together, despite their various quarrels. Fozzy came from a very musically gifted family - he is the son of Andrew Foster, a well-known concert pianist, and Fionnula Graham-Foster, an opera singer. Being taught by his dad from an early age on, Fozzy was an outstanding piano player himself but he never bragged about that and rather half-arsed his way into playing other instruments instead, so he'd appear cooler to his peers. Fozzy was fun company, up for anything and an entertaining fella all around, for sure... it was just better to watch one's back when getting involved with him.

Lucille "Lucy" Dunn (* February 21st 1988) relaunched the school paper together with Hallie (and a few others) when both were thirteen and she became one of Hallie's closest friends over the years. Lucy was sweet in nature, but also quite blunt and never really cared about what others thought of her. She often spoke out what the sensitive Hallie didn't dare to say. She was also a childhood friend of Fozzy and secretly liked him a lot more than she ever cared to admit. Lucy was pretty badass overall and a true friend to anyone who managed to gain her trust, and she would not take crap from anyone, not even her teachers. When she punched a fellow student in the face after he groped her, and she was about to get detention, Lucy made it very clear to the headmaster what she thought of that - she threatened to take the incident to the paper and the police... and managed to get away with a warning. She still wrote about sexual harrassment in the school paper and dropped names, which was a scandal all on its own, but that's a different story. That being said, it was better not to mess with the young Miss Dunn - no matter what, she would strike back.

Timothy "Tim" Irvine (*March 3rd 1988) was the good soul of the gang. Outspoken and eloquent and not at all shy to voice his opinions, but where others of the same age just blurted out with whatever came to their minds at the moment, Tim actually thought about what he said. He was true friend material, always eager to understand both sides in an argument and staying respectful, even when he was mad or didn't agree with something. Tim didn't love what Lance started something with Hallie while knowing that his friend had been into her for an eternity, while they were away on vacation, but he was very willing to cut his friend some slack because he also saw what he had gone through. He was definitely not okay with the way Cal, Fozzy and Mark wanted to pay Lance back and eventually had a fall out with them as well. Tim was the last person of the former gang that Lance sent a text message to ("I'm alright, thanks. Take care, mate!"), after the blow up, and before they all went their separate ways in late Summer 2006.

***

Some closes ups, the lineart and the sketch:

[isawas-here]

Hii! Im not sure if you take requests rn, but could you do some fluff w Mickey (Scream 2)

Basically the plot is they're going on a double date along with Derek and Sidney and Mickey is somewhat nervous about impressing the reader

Reader can be male or gender neutral! <33

OMG YES FOR SURE TY FOR THE REQUEST!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh come onnn, it’ll be fun I promise!” Sidney said as she dragged you along the campus. “What’ll be fun?” You heard a familiar voice. You turned to see Derek hugging Sidney from behind smiling cheekily. “Well I was just trying to see if y/n wanted to come with us maybe on a double date..” she smiled at Derek hoping that he’d say yes. “Well who would I go with hm?” There was silence in the air besides the students bustling to there classes. “Exactly no one!” You looked at them. “I mean I have no problem with that” Derek said. “Oh cmon are you serious you have to side with Sidney”, he just laughed. “Hmm what about Mickey? I’ve seen him eying you!” she spoke up looking at you with a sly grin. “I’ll think about it… I’m not sure if I like him like that.” You walked away clutching your books in your arms trying not to think about the possibility of Mickey liking you. I mean he was very sweet and very funny , two things you liked in a partner. Maybe he did like you? Maybe he didn’t.. Why were you worried about it?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were in your dorm room listing to music softly playing in the background; working on assignments. You get a little beep on your phone. Mickey: it read. You opened your phone to Mickeys text messages

Hey it’s Mickey

Hey!

I heard by Derek and Hallie that there was going to be a double date between Derek and Sid

Oh yeah haha they tried to rope me in with them

Well I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go with me

I set my phone down and started squealing like a six year old.

Yeah ofc!

Great uh I’ll pick you up at 7?

Sounds great talk to you tomorrow!!

Same goodnight y/n!

Goodnight Mickey :)

what the hell. I can’t believe im going on a date with Mickey… do I even like him? Romance is confusing. Welp time to sleep I thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up and got ready meeting Sid and Derek in the library. “Soooo any news from Mickey, with the double date and all?” Sid asked as I slid into one of the comfy chairs. I rolled my eyes. “Yes actually he asked if I wanted to go with him and I said I’d go…” I looked at the table kinda embarrassed. “Oh my god he totally liked you y/n!” She laughed in response. “Well im not so sure if I like him yet.. I mean it’s Mickey” I looked at them with a small frown. “Also I said he’d pick me up at 7, do y’all know where y’all wanna go?” I continued. “Yeah I’ll send you the address!” Sidney said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wore a red velvet dress and some small pumps and light makeup. I grabbed my purse and a light jacket, and walked out the door. Mickey should be here any minute now. I opened the front doors of our dorms and walked outside. It was kinda weird knowing that Cotton Weary was out here and the Ghostface killer was still around, you’d think he’d die by now but nope still prowling. A few minutes passed as you checked your watch, soon enough Mickey rolled up in his car he got out the drivers side and opened your door. You smiled and thanked him as you slid inside. “Do you know where we are going or is it a surprise?” He smiled at you. You hummed a mhm and told him the address. You pulled into a old fashion diner. You got out the car and walked up to front inside hoping to see Sid and Derek, you spotted them sitting across from each other in a booth. You’d think they sat together but they didn’t, I bet they planned it. You said hello to them and sat by Sid while Mickey sat by Derek. A waitress came towards the table with her notepad and pen asking “Do y’all want anything sweeties” you looked at Mickey and he looked back at you then back at the waitress. “Can we get a basket of fries and 2 Millshakes!” he asked. Derek cut him off by “correcting him”. “Uh actually 4 Milkshakes, 2 different checks please”. You looked at Mickey. “Why the fries??” You laughed. Mickey looked at you like he’s been shot in the heart put to bf his hand over his chest. “Are you telling me you’ve never had fries and milkshakes before” he looked at you with a shocked face, you next response would probably have him in a coma. “No… I have not” you looked at him kinda shyly. “Welp im about to change your life Miss L/N” he looked at you with a intense passion. You started blushing a little bit hoping non of them would notice. “Ew guys stop flirting” you heard Sid say. Now you probably looked like a tomato and you started protesting that you and Mickey weren’t, yall wre just talking like normal people. The waitress came back soon after delivering the food to the table, you watched Mickey dip a fry into his milkshake and eat it with satisfaction. “You want to try it?” You nodded. You picked up a fry and dipped it in your own milkshake, you were weary at first and then put it in your mouth. It was actually quite good. “That’s actually really good!” You smiled at him. “Look what I can do” he gave you a sly grin and picked up a cherry from his shake and put it in his mouth. He took the stem off and started moving it in his mouth, “Hold on” he put his finger up and opened his mouth revealing that the cherry stem was tied in a knot. “Wow that’s pretty impressive” he laughed. “I know I’m just that cool!” all you could do was look at him with a smirk on your face. The rest of the night was just everyone passing laughes,telling jokes. updating their lives and feeling comfortable around another. We were departing as we got up to leave the diner. You and Mickey walked back to his car in silence driving out for he parking lot on the way home. You didn’t mind but you wondered what he was thinking. He stopped the car right infront of your wing of the dorms before he came around the car to open the door for you. “Thank you” you smiled at him. “Your welcome, I had a great time tonight thank you for coming” he looked at you shyly before rubbing his neck. “Of course you are quite the gentleman” you swayed back in forth as you looked at him. “I try to be, we’ll I’ll leave you too it goodnight y/n” he walked around the car to the drivers side. “Goodnight lover boy” you smirked as you walked back to your dorm.

(RAHHHH OMG OKAY THIS WAS MY FIRST ONE I DID MY LITTLE SPIN ON IT SORRY IF ITS WEIRD)

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

2023 Covenant School Shooting

Audrey Hale drove a Honda Fit to The Covenant School, a private Presbyterian Church in America parochial school in the Green Hills neighborhood of Nashville, Tennessee, arriving at 9:54 a.m. CDT and parking it in the lot. At 9:57 Hale sent a message to an old friend, saying an earlier message was "basically a suicide note" and that she planned to die today. The friend called a crisis hotline and then contacted the Davidson County Sheriff's Office at 10:13.

At 10:11, Hale shot through a side door to enter the building. She was armed with two rifles and a handgun. At 10:13, police received a call about an active shooter.  Hale walked across the second floor of the school before opening fire. Officers first arrived at the school at 10:24. A teacher told one of the officers that the students were in lockdown and two were missing. 

Officers entered the building at 10:25, began evacuating the first floor, and searched each room for Hale. They heard gunshots coming from the second floor. Five Metro Nashville police officers proceeded upstairs and saw him in a lobby area, firing through a window at arriving police vehicles. Two of the officers fired eight rounds, killing her at 10:27, 14 minutes after the initial 911 call. 

Six people—three children and three staff members—were killed. Five were pronounced dead at a hospital and one at the scene. They were students Evelyn Dieckhaus, William Kinney, and Hallie Scruggs, all aged 9; substitute teacher Cynthia Peak, 61; custodian Mike Hill, 61; and head of school Katherine Koonce, 60. In addition, a police officer cut his hand on shattered glass.

[sunnyie-eve]

12 | On Tape

Series: Heinous

Paring: Billy Loomis x OFC ! Stu Macher x OFC ! Mickey Altieri x OFC

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: attacked, death?

| MASTERLIST |

"Allison!" He calls out but she ignores him. "Allie!" She hears him follow her out. "Are you mad at me for saying I think it might be Randy?" He asks causing her to hit him upside the head.

"Yes! That's my best friend and I know Randy. He could never do something like this. Don't say I did the same about Billy and Stu because I never said they weren't capable of it." She watches his face. "Deep down I had a feeling it was them but I ignored it. But Randy, Randy Meeks, couldn't." She snaps at him annoyed.

"I'm sorry but I was just saying who could be suspects."

"We all are suspects, Mickey. It could be you and you can be playing me just like Billy and Stu. Then I'll feel stupid in the end all over for having feelings for a psychotic killer!" I huff.

"Al-,"

She cut him off, "I just want space from you right now." She walks off from him.

When Allison gets to where Dewey and Randy were, she pulls up a seat to their table, "What are you two talking about?" She asks them.

"Someone is trying to make a sequel and I'm getting to the rules." Randy tells her. "Number one: the body count is always bigger. Number two: the death scenes are always much more elaborate; more blood, more gore. Carnage Candy. Your core audience just expects it. And number three: if you want your sequel to become a franchise, never ever-," Dewey cuts Randy off.

"How do we find the killer, Randy? That's what I wanna know." He asks.

"Oh. Let's look at the suspects. There's Derek. The obvious boyfriend. Hello, Billy Loomis. The guy's premed, and his pity-me surface wound conveniently missed every major vein and artery." Randy goes off.

"So you think it's Derek?" Dewey asks.

"I don't. He's very different compared to Billy." Allison speaks up to tell them.

"Not so fast. Let's assume the killer, or 'ers, has a half a brain. He's not a Nick at Nite rerun type of guy. He wants to break some new ground. Right? So forget the boyfriend. It's tired. Who else do we got? Mickey, the freaky Tarantino film student. But if he's a suspect, so am I. So let's move on." Randy tells him.

"Let's not move on. Maybe you are a suspect." Dewey tells him.

"Well, if I'm a suspect, you're a suspect." Randy says so Dewey says let's move on.

"Hallie, and, or, Lia." Randy says making me huff.

"The roommates?" Dewey asks and they go on a rant about it's okay to change at times. Then they mention Gale being the killer too.

"Speaking of how I know all about obsession... I was right about Billy, who was obsessed with you." Randy looks at Allison.

"And?" She gives him a look.

"Mickey is too. He's almost more obsessed than Billy and Stu were combined." He says making Dewey look at her.

"He-he's n-not obsessed with me like that." She stutters.

"Yes, he is. Always up on you. Filming you..." Randy lists things.

"It's not like that, Randy."

"Then what? Don't tell me you two are a secret thing. Him? Him out of so many other people?" He eyes her.

"It's complicated... Why don't we just go talk to Gale?" She changes the topic and they get up to go talk to her.

"All right. Let's just assume the killer is repeating Woodsboro." Gale gets a call but ends it.

"That's doesn't explain the girls getting attacked. They weren't killed in Woodsboro." Dewey tells them.

"Wasn't for a lack is trying. The killer's trying to finish what was started." Randy tells them.

"Sid's under protection, right? Why isn't Allison?" Gale asks.

"Yeah. Because the killer says they wanted Sid dead not Allison." Dewey tells her and her phone rings again so she yells at the guy.

"You're forgetting something. In Woodsboro, there were more victims before the homestretch." Gale says so Allison cut in.

"Our principal, Tatum... your camera man." She calls them out and Gale's new camera says he doesn't want to hear it so he leaves them.

"If the killer is following a pattern, then maybe we can figure out who's next." Gale says and Allison glances at Randy. She had a feeling he could be the Tatum this time around. She was Sidney's and her best friend and now that was Randy.

"I wouldn't follow a killer's pattern. We were all involved in Woodsboro. Could be any of us." Dewey says making him and Gale argue.

This time it was Allison's phone that starts ringing and she just looks at it before answering it, "Hello?" She asks as the three stare at her.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I? You four look deep in thought." The killer speaks.

"It's the killer. He can see us." She tells the group.

"Just keep him on the phone." Dewey tells her before leaving with Gale.

"Why are you calling me and not Sidney?" Allison asks as Randy stays with her.

"You'll never find me." They tell her as Randy looks around.

"You gonna answer me?" She shouts, making them laugh.

"Give me the phone." Randy takes it from her. "Is that the best you can do? Because Billy and Stu were much more original." Randy tells the Killer as Allison looks around staying close to him. "Fuck you!" Randy shouts into the phone.

He ends up running to a guy and a group of people bump into Allison blocking her from getting to Randy. She gets stuck with them before she pushes through and realizes she lost Randy. She starts to panic while looking around. "RANDY!"

"RANDY!" She screams when she sees the news van windows crack and sees it rocking. "RANDY!" She runs over trying to open the door but can't. She could hear him struggling and groaning as he got stabbed. "STOP!" She screams rushing to the drivers door opening it making the killer stop to go at her.

She gets stabbed in the shoulder where she was stabbed last time she was in the news van. But this time it was worst as they twisted it before shoving her to the ground. Allison's head bounces off the sidewalk causing her to black out.

The next thing she knew she was waking up in the station with my shoulder bandaged up, "What do you remember?" Dewey asks her as he sits next to her.

"I tried to save Randy but failed. I remember opening the driver's side door getting the killers attention. They came at me stabbed me in the shoulder and knocked me to the concrete. It should've been me and not him."

"Randy isn't dead yet. He might make it due to you intervening. He was stabbed quite a lot but they said you stopped the killer from cutting his throat. But again, he might or might not. It's all up to him." Dewey lets her know.

"I wish Billy and Stu just killed all of us. None of this would be happening." She punches the table.

"Clam down." He says as they hear Cotton coming in with Sidney, Hallie, and her guards.

Sidney sees Allison crying and it hits her not seeing Randy with them. As Dewey talks to Sidney, Allison leaves going to the bathroom and stares at herself in the mirror. Before leaving the bathroom she cleans up her hand since she punched the mirror breaking it some.

Allison is told no one is allowed after dark and that she had to stay in her room. As she was leaving she hears Joel tell Gale that he's done and the crowd footage he's done is stuck in the van because it's a crime scene. If the killer really was watching and relishing every minute, then he's be there on a tape.

As Allison makes her way to the van she bumps into Mickey, "Where are you going speedy? Someone chasing you? Wait, what happened to your shoulder?" He realizes she was hurt.

"The killer. They killed Randy so there went him as a suspect for you." She walks past him not in the mood still with him.

"Wait, what? You need to take a break, Allison." He grabs her arm pulling her back.

"I can't take a break! Randy is dead! He was killed, Mickey!" She cries to him, "You don't know how much he meant to me." She tugs her arm away walking again.

"Where are you going?" He follows her.

"To the news van. I need to get something out of there."

"You are gonna take evidence from crime scene?" He quicken his pace.

"Yes. There's a tape in there that can show us who the killer is. I'm not missing that chance."

"Are you crazy?" He shouts at her.

"Yes I am. I'm pissed and I wanna catch this fucker before anyone else dies." She stops at the yellow tape.

"Are you really going past that?" He looks down at her.

"Watch me." She lifts the tape and rushes over to the van looking for the bag and takes it quickly.

"I can't believe you right now." He follows her away.

"I don't care. Don't you understand I have to watch these... I don't want wanna lose Dewey next or Sidney, Hallie, fuck even Gale, Derek... You..." She gives him a look.

"You plan on sneaking into film to watch a tape? There's a curfew tonight. You can't." He tells her and she rolls her eyes at him.

"When have you ever been one for rules? Never so you can either meet me tonight or not." She leaves him going to the dorms.

Back in Sidney's room she was shocked that Allison wasn't leaving with her, but Allison told her she had to check something out later at night. Also Allison told her she needed to be safe compared to her because they want her dead more.

At night when Allison sneaks her way to the film building she sees Mickey waiting outside for her, "Glad that you decide to join me." She tells him.

"Well I have a key, you don't." He shows it to her by dangling it in her face.

"I would've found a way in, trust me." She tells him as they go inside the building.

[einsteinsugly]

no kid should be having sex in middle school. with their cousin no less.

1. Like, no shit. But it happens in real life, whether we like it or not.

"Data shows that 5-20% of sixth graders and 14-42% of eighth graders have engaged in sexual intercourse. A concerning percentage of students have also engaged in other sexual risk behaviors and many are not receiving HIV/AIDS education. Additionally, there were significant differences by gender, race, and age." -NIH

It's not really even on ED's radar, since Leah is so young. And all the other kids, minus Hallie, wait until high school. Or even later, in the case of Kate, Hannah, and Betsy. There's a wide array of sexual experiences in my verse, good and bad.

2. They were told very early on that they weren't technically cousins. Red and Kitty do adopt Hyde in my verse, but the gang and their kids act both as "found family" and as very close friends. JH and ED especially.

Since Leah and James both know about not being related, they take this information and run with it. There is understandable hesitancy from their parents, Hyde and Eric especially, but alas. Hyde and Eric aren't blood brothers.

[beardedmrbean]

A federal judge in Tennessee has ordered the FBI to hand over the "manifesto" left behind by a transgender killer who gunned down three adults and three children at the Covenant Christian School in Nashville last year before responding officers put an end to the mayhem.

Audrey Elizabeth Hale, who police said identified as a trans male and went by Aiden, shot her way into the school in March 2023, killing Mike Hill, 61, Cynthia Peak, 61, Katherine Koonce, 60, and three 9-year-olds, Hallie Scruggs, Evelyn Dieckhaus and William Kinney.

Metropolitan Nashville Police Chief John Drake told reporters that officers recovered a "manifesto" from Hale's car as well as other documents, including a hand-drawn map of the school. He said last year it would be released, but it has not been.

NASHVILLE AUTHORITIES ‘AWARE' OF PURPORTED LEAK OF CHRISTIAN SCHOOL SHOOTER'S MANIFESTO

Even though police shot the suspect dead on the school's second floor, the FBI has repeatedly refused to release the manifesto, arguing that doing so "could reasonably be expected to interfere with enforcement proceedings."

The parent company of the Tennessee Star, a local newspaper, sued the FBI after the bureau denied its public records request under the Freedom of Information Act.

NASHVILLE KILLER AUDREY HALE SLEPT WITH JOURNALS ON SCHOOL SHOOTINGS UNDER BED, COURT DOCS REVEAL

"It has been long enough, and the public has an urgent right to know why this tragedy happened, how future events may be prevented, and what policies should be in place to address this and other similar tragedies," lawyers for the newspaper wrote in a federal complaint. "[The] FBI has no right to retain a monopoly on this information."

The FBI sought to have the complaint dismissed, but Judge Aleta Trauger of the Middle District of Tennessee said the bureau had failed to support its position "with sufficient clarity or detail" and ordered it to submit the manifesto to the court, so she could review the materials.

"The FBI is ORDERED to produce ex parte all documents that are potentially responsive to the defendants’ Freedom of Information Act request for in camera review, with the exception that, based on the plaintiffs’ concessions in this litigation, the FBI need not produce any documents that could not reasonably be construed to bear on Audrey Hale’s motives," Trauger wrote.

In November, portions of what appeared to be crime scene photographs of a couple of pages leaked, however authorities refused to confirm their authenticity.

The FBI, which has previously declined to comment due to pending litigation, did not immediately respond to questions from Fox News Digital.

When Hale burst in, the first victim, Hill, sustained fatal gunshot wounds in the process. According to city officials, Koonce heard the first shots while on a Zoom call, hung up and confronted the attacker. Police found her dead in the hallway outside her office.

Drake said investigators had not immediately determined a motive but that they believed Hale, a former student, had targeted the school and its affiliated church. One of the child victims, Hallie, was the pastor's daughter. 

The manifesto is expected to reveal more about the killer's motive and rage. Critics have questioned the motive behind continued delays in its release.

The National Police Association is also suing the city of Nashville for the same documents.

[mad-maximoff]

𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝟑

Chapter Sum: Addy really wants to look good for university. She decided to go tanning. Lizzie wanted her to cool down and relax with her next door.

Warnings: Language (like usual lol), of age/underage drinking (depending on where you're from), fingering, making out, consent (we love a consensual queen <3)

Word Count: 3,625

Red Love Masterlist

"Kiss me hard before you go...summertime sadness. I just wanted you to know, that baby you the best."

"I got my red dress on tonight..." I laid down on my towel on the grass under the hot August sun. My plan is to tan. I wanted to look hot for university. Like every girl does obviously. I want to look mature. I didn't want to look like some kid that shouldn't be there. However, no one from my high school got accepted into NYU so I get a fresh start.

I was shielding the sun's rays with the book I'm currently reading, 'My Year Of Rest & Relaxation'. My sunglasses weren't doing justice. The tan oil I was using smelt god-awful. It made my skin tingle with every lather I applied. I think perhaps I'm allergic. Time will tell I guess. I sported the new bathing suit I got in the city. It looked like the infamous pink Dior bikini but who could afford that on a university student's cash? I think I bought it wrong, however. The top was too small for my boobs and the bottoms were too big. I wasn't thinking about it much, I was trying to keep my mind on my tan and my book. However, that wasn't what I was thinking about. I was trying to piece together what happened the other day. Did Elizabeth touch me? Maybe I was hallucinating? It was my first high after all. I remember Lizzie hit Hallie for some reason then grabbed me and dragged me home. Everything else was a damn-near blur. I saw her in double vision the entire time. My head felt as though my brain was unhooked and just swam freely around my skull. It was a floating sensation. 

There was a little breeze throughout the backyard. It cooled my tingly skin. The breeze sent goosebumps all up my thighs making them shift around above my towel. The sensation went away as the wind died down. My phone rang out of nowhere, I wasn't expecting any calls. All I wanted to do today was read and get tan, why am I always being bothered? 

"Hello?" I answered sitting up and putting a place in my book. 

"What's up bitch!!! Whatcha doing?" It was Hallie. She sounds very happy, considering what happened 2 days ago. 

"Nothing much really. Just tanning. What's up with you?" I sat hunched over running my finger along the spine of the book just listening to Hallie's voice. 

"About the same. Just got off work. Had an early shift this morning. Are you doing okay? I forgot to call you after that whole fiasco with your crazy milf. Did your mom notice? What did you two do when you went home? Did it involve a certain cherry popping?" She giggled softly trying to not be loud. You could hear she was getting in her truck.  

"Oh my fucking god Hal, nothing like that happened! I think that it is. Mom wasn't home, and Lizzie did feel bad about hitting you. She told me. She just got overprotective that's all." I shifted my body to lay on my right side, putting all the weight on my arm. 

"Overprotective I can tell, but she came for me like a bull out the pin. I thought she liked me. She went nuts!" Her truck engine started and I heard a lighter flick on. 

"You realize why she went nuts. Your scrawny ass couldn't lift me up. She probably thought I needed help and you were doing nothing. But I know you were trying your best. Plus you're more like a bull than her! Haha! Remember when I had to sneak into the bar to come pick you up and you had a biker dude in a headlock just because he stole your seat?"

"No! That wasn't just that! He touched my ass too remember? And when you came in I had him in a headlock then bashed him over the head with a bottle." She laughed.

"Yeah, with the most expensive bottle in the damn bar might I add!" I snorted shaking my head over my best friend's antics. 

"Hey! It was the stupid bartender's fault for putting a 500-dollar bottle out where people can grab it. It wasn't tequila so I was fine breaking it. Do you want me to come over later? We can binge-watch movies again." 

I switched to put her on speaker. Just waiting for her to hang up. I love Hallie dearly but some days I just want to be alone. I don't need her constantly calling and asking to do things. I love hanging out with her in all but damn, doesn't she want to be alone too? She has a boyfriend, why doesn't she hang out with him? 

"Maybe Hal. I'll see how I feel." I huffed adjusting my glasses. 

"Uh-huh. Okay hun, I gotta let you go. Jamie's calling me." 

"Okay Hal, talk to you later." I hung up a little too quickly but I know Hallie won't take it personally. I hope.

                                          ╔═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══╗

I proceeded to try and finish off the chapter I was reading. My mind was being distracted, I kept hearing sloshing noises. I turned behind me seeing no one else in the backyard. I sat up looking in the other direction to the fence, Lizzie's house was on the other side. I saw a little shadow that turned out to be moving. It was Lizzie, or so I hoped. I couldn't see her fully. She never had anyone over. 

"Miss Addy? What on earth are you doing sitting in this August sun? It's 104 degrees out." Lizzie hung over the fence resting her chin on the wood. Her hair was dry and wavy. Her glasses covered most of her face with a brown tint. 

"I'm tanning. I don't think it's working honestly." I stood up meeting Lizzie's gaze. I stepped forward walking to where she was. I tried to straighten my back sucking in my stomach. Lizzie's hand reached out to my bikini strap pulling it away from my skin, letting it go to flick my skin. 

"Hm? I think it worked. You have some colour. You're really warm sweetie. You should come and take a break. I have the pool fixed. Why don't you come and relax with me." Her hand rested on my shoulder. Her hand was coldly damp. It soothed me for a little while. "Oh I don't want to burden you, it's the weekend after all. It's your days off." I really wanted to join her, but I didn't want to cramp her style. "Honey, I'd be delighted if you joined me. I'd love company, especially your company." Her thumb grazed my tan skin leaving my body. "Alright, Lizzie. I'll be happy to join you then." I felt a smile creep along. I was ecstatic, this would be the first time we would hang out. I opened the latch on our fence. My mom got it installed last summer, she and the girls would come over sometimes for drinks so she thought it would be easy access. I've never been in Lizzie's house or her backyard. It was neatly lawned, with stone lining the hot tub-sized pool in the middle with a gazebo covering the pool. My jaw almost dropped seeing what Lizzie was wearing, a burnt orange bikini. She looked immaculate. I've never seen Lizzie in anything like this. I've seen her in shorts and stuff like that but nothing like this. Her olive skin was accented with an orange colour. She was hot. 

"Would you like a drink, Miss Ad?" She flung open the screen door stepping into what looked like her living room. Her glasses came off resting on her head, her eyes looked tired. But her smile made you think otherwise. "I'll drink whatever you are Lizzie." I beamed back twisting a ring on my index finger. "Haha! You can't tell you are underage or anything. Don't say you want whatever I'm having. You'll for sure get ID-ed at the bar. Now, how about we try this again? What would you like?" Her arm leaned into the door. Her hips tilted showing off her soft hips. "Champagne if you have it. If not then a screwdriver." I awkwardly laughed off her comment still twisting the ring on my finger. 

"Champagne it is honey. Now, was that so hard? Go on, go sit in the pool. I'll be there shortly." She left from my sight. Like a good little pup, I darted over to the pool dipping my feet into the pool. It was then that I realized I was tan, the white underbelly of the pool showed my light brown skin. It was cold at first, but it felt nice actually. I sat on the edge of the pool letting the water hit my kneecaps awaiting Lizzie's return. 

"I thought it would be easier for us just to have the bottle." Lizzie returned with a bottle of champagne and two wine glasses. "Is that Dom Perignon?!" I was surprised to see her bring out such a fancy bottle. "For someone that isn't 21, you sure know your champagnes. What? Don't like it?" She joked planting down next to me feeling the soft hairs on her thighs graze mine. "No, no I've never drank it. I've just seen it on tv shows and movies. You shouldn't open a nice bottle just for me." Lizzie nudged me cracking the seal and popping off the cork. "Don't say that! A pretty girl deserves the prettiest bottle. Plus if it's your first time drinking champagne, I'd like it to be something nice and not shit bottles you'll drink in university dorms." She poured the glasses full handing me my glass. Her nails were neatly painted in a milk bath look. Her nails were trimmed short with a little white left over. As for my nails were sloppily painted in black with cracks where I'd chewed off. I'm trying to quit this nasty habit I've done for years. 

I took in a hefty sip almost finishing off the glass. I heard Lizzie's laughter seeing her glass fog up from her breath. "It's not a shot, did you even taste it?" She nudged me again this time she sunk deeper into the pool. "Come on Addy-baby, come in." Her hand landed on my thigh rubbing inwards. I jimmied myself lower feeling a little ashamed that I chugged my glass. "I'm sorry, a force of habit. I go to small parties. They don't serve actual drinks, just shots." Lizzie's hand grasped mine pulling my glass closer to her chest and pouring another glass. "Well then let's teach you how to drink an actual drink." Her glasses fell off her head landing on the bridge of her nose. It startled both of us, but it let out giggles of Lizzie and me. "Cheers Miss Addy, to our lovely blossoming relationship." Our glasses clinked together staring into each other tentatively. "Cheers," I smirked feeling her thighs shift against mine under the water. 

"How are you feeling since the last time I saw you? You were in pretty bad shape." Lizzie's lips pursed on the tip of the glass, sipping slowly. Which made me feel 10 times worse about my first drink. I mimicked her action sipping slowly; she was right. I didn't even taste it. It tasted like what I imagined. Sweet and full of bubbles. Like what gold would taste like. Fancy.

"I was okay, you were right. I just needed some water and crawled into bed." I turned my back placing the wine glass behind my back on the ledge. "See! Told you, take my advice baby. You were a total mess. You're friend didn't do anything but stand and watch." She huffed spinning the liquid in a circular motion. "Hallie was trying her best before you came. I'm heavier than her, she couldn't possibly lift me without help." My hands dipped into the water letting the rest of my body sink into my shoulders. Lizzie's body turned completely pressing a button on the pool, there laid little jets at our feet. It was becoming a very relaxing afternoon after all. "Yeah sure, if she had any weight on her head she would know not to let you hit the ground. You're not heavy Addy, you're very sexy." Lizzie's thigh crossed on mine laying it gently. I felt her, I felt her crotch through her bikini bottoms. Oh god, stop it! Stop thinking about that!  

I blushed again simply brushing her compliment off. "Come now Lizzie, I could lose a few pounds around my stomach. It's sad when I look down and my belly is bigger than my tits. I wish there was a way to transfer my fat to my boobs. Hahaha!" I joked sitting up straight looking down through the water. Lizzie's whole body moved onto mine. Her arm draped around my shoulders as her other hand laid directly on my belly. "Shut up now, I love your cute tummy. You're healthy, and your chest is perfect." Her hand fondled my stomach, her thumb rubbed above my navel where the top of my belly ring was. Her touch was faint under the water. I knew she was touching me, but it didn't feel like it. 

"You're probably the only one who thinks that Lizzie, so thank you for trying to make me feel better." Her body shifted once again now floating in front of me. Her hips were at my kneecaps, I parted my legs allowing her to come closer to me. Her face was half an inch away from mine. She took off her sunglasses throwing them to a ledge. "I'm the only one you should care about Addy." She bit her lip before her lips met mine without warning. It was blissfully maddening. She was rough. I couldn't possibly take control of her. God I wish I could have the courage too but I melted at the feeling of her holding me down. Her mouth was so dominating. She was rough on my lips but, her tongue was soft with every touch of mine. God, she was magical. It was everything I dreamt she would be. There it is again. That familiar touch I once felt while I was high. I knew I wasn't imagining it. She did it again. Her hand that once rested on my stomach climbed its way to my breast again. Squeezing it in its full form. Someone who finally made me feel beautiful, made my body feel beautiful. We took a breath out together, you could make out a tiny sigh Lizzie let out before she reattached her lips to mine. My throat let out a small moan, buzzing through my vocal cords. Lizzie didn't think I notice she slipped her balm under my bikini top grasping my breast bare. Fuck! Fuck! She's touching me! Me!! Oh god, stay cool! I didn't stay cool, however. I almost jumped out of my skin. I leaped back breaking our kiss momentarily. Lizzie had a confused expression plastered across her face. "Hmm? What's the matter? Are you okay?" Her grip around my breast loosened still not leaving its spot. My look must've startled her, I didn't know what I was showing. "I-I'm sorry Lizzie. You just caught me off guard. I didn't know what you were doing." Lizzie gave a tiny pout still biting down on her bottom lip. "Oh I'm sorry honey, would you like me to continue? I should've asked. I got a little out of hand." My brain shut off. It felt as though I was in a dream at this moment. My body reacted in some way I never knew I'd do. My hand pressed against Lizzie's as it was still under my bikini. "P-please. I'd like you to continue." I haven't stuttered in years like I was. I had speech therapy when I was small to better my speech. Sometimes it will slip here and there. "Good. Good girl..." With that, she leaned in. This time, I leaned with her. She tasted sweet, not sweet like the champagne. Tasted like vanilla and mint. Smelt strong like wood and floral. She was everything and more. Her other hand crept around my thigh, that part I felt vividly. Even under the water. It was heightened by 100. 

I felt so bare underneath Elizabeth, her warm complexion looked like she was wearing sunscreen with tiny gold flakes. Her brows were brushed and filled in, with light mascara. Nothing clumped on her like it would happen to me, I'd hide it with false lashes.        

 God, she's beautiful. She was warm and inviting, she made me feel very comfortable around her. 

"You're so beautiful Liz-..." I parted my lips against hers feeling her bottom lip graze mine. Her hand forcefully squished my breast warming my stiff nipple. Moving my nipple ring in circles. It frightened me; I have never had anyone touch me in that way. Yes, I was pierced so someone did touch me, but not in a sexual way. Not in the way Lizzie was. "Shhh..you're even more lovely Addy. You want me to touch you more?" Her body switched positions. Sitting directly on my lap leaving space between our bikini bottoms. I nodded pushing my head back to her lips. Her forehead met mine stopping me. "Use. Your. Words. Yes or no?" Her voice was stern and hot next to my ear. I nodded again breathing in shallowly. "Yes please..." My hands lay on her narrow shoulders caressing her collar bone. Lizzie unstuck her forehead to mine continued to press her lips onto mine dipping her tongue into my mouth again. She invaded my personal space, it wasn't like I didn't mind it. Lizzie can invade my space anytime. She was invading other places too, her hand was still laid on my thigh creeping up onto the flab where the string to my bottoms was. Her hand traced down the lining of my bottoms until she reached the middle below my belly button ring. Her nails dug into the cloth pushing down. 

Oh my god...I've always dreamt of this! God...Fuck!

I felt as though I jumped again, but in reality, my hips just bucked. She giggled unclenching her other hand from my boob pushing on my shoulder. "It's your first time, isn't it? I can tell. Your face is so red..and you're soaked-..fuck Addy..." Her middle finger dove deeper inside awaiting a reaction as she pulled out. My hands left her shoulders clutching her slim waist. She wasn't fat, her body was perfect. She was like the goddesses I'd read about in Greek books, and she was touching me. Just me. No one else around. Her thumb grazed my clit, pushing her middle finger back into my pussy. Lizzie laughed seeing my reaction. I tried to look away from Lizzie's face. Her forehead stuck to mine making my head lift. "Be a good girl Addy. I'll make you cum if you're good for me. Hm? Will you be a good girl for mommy?" I would have came right there. Mommy? Did she really say that? I never thought Lizzie was into that. I couldn't think much of it after her hand increased her speed into me. "Y-y-yes!" The warmth of the hot tub and Lizzie's breath hit me like I was going to suffocate. 

"Yes, what?" Her finger slowly slipped out of my folds too easily. My hips bucked, I was begging at this point. I didn't know what to say, does she want me to say it? I guess so. Maybe? "Yes, mommy..." Her lip curled to one side catching her teeth on her bottom lip. "Good. Good girl." Her fingers dove in deeper than before, I could feel myself clench around her middle finger. 

"Oh god...I'm gonna-oh!" Lizzie's other hand pressed my shoulder against the wall of the hot tub. It stung for a moment but I didn't mind for a second. "I know darling. I know. I feel it too." She pumped in and out of my pussy. I have never touched myself in such a way, I dreamt of her touching me. Just never thought it would escalate this quickly. "Oh, Addy. You look beautiful like this. Melting in the palm of my hand ready to cum. Go on then. Cum for mommy." 

There it was. 

I have came before, but not by another person. It felt a million times better when it was someone else doing it. To tell you the truth, I felt somewhat dirty. Like we've done something wrong. I'm over 18 and so is she. I liked her and I hoped she liked me as well. So why did I feel this way? Her hand left from underneath my bottoms leaving it empty. She was happy. So was I trying to catch my breath. 

"God you look so cute. You want more champagne?" 

"No. I'm...I'm...I think I hear my mom." I caught my breath lifting myself out of the water. Lizzie looked startled. "I didn't hear anything Ad." 

"Yeah, she's in the kitchen. I can see her in the window. I have to go. Um...thanks for the...drinks. See you later." I hopped out onto the cold grass. The grass wasn't cold, I was just in hot water. I felt like I was running, probably because I was. I slammed the fence door running into the back door. 

What the hell was I thinking? How could I? What if my mom saw us? Oh god! No! That was wrong on so many levels. I can't do it again! 

Lizzie was right. I did get some colour.

[final-girl96]

My Boyfriend's Back Chapter Twenty-Six

YN

"I'm not going to that party," I said. Randy and I were walking across campus to the cafeteria for dinner. "Oh, come on. Why not?" He asked. "So you forget what happened at the last party we were at?" He rolled his eyes, "you mean the last party you were at. I've been to other parties. And the murders at the theater have nothing to do with us." I scoffed at his denial. "You are in such denial! Randy, two people were killed at a movie based on our lives!"

He stopped in front of me and put his hands on my shoulders. "Look, I know you're worried about Stu coming back. But come on, don't you think he would have already if he was going to?" If only he knew the truth. The truth that Stu was back and I've been giving in to him. "You're going to that party with me. Plus, Dewey is here. He's not going to let anything happen to any of us."

I stood around, a drink in my hand out in the backyard at the Sorority party. Randy had showed up at my dorm with Mickey of all people. "See, this isn't too bad." I looked over at Randy and gave him a deadpanned look. "Oh, yeah, so fun!" I said sarcastically. "Nothing is going to happen, just relax and have a good time. I'll be back with more drinks!" He walked back into the house and I stood there awkwardly.

"Yn? I didn't know you were coming." I turned around to see Sid and Hallie coming up to me. "Randy forced me to come." Just then Randy came to stand beside me handing Hallie and Sidney a drink. "Took you long enough," Sid said to him. "You need to get out of that damn room of yours and stop being a hermit crab."

Mickey came over saying something about a movie sequel to Randy and they both walked off, Hallie went off another way and Sidney went to sit down with Derek. A flash of blond hair caught my eyes and I snapped my head to the right to see Stu talking to some girl. What caught me off guard was he was wearing glasses. There has only been a handful of times that I've seen him wear his glasses.

I watched him talk to the girl, well more like she was talking to him but he was paying more attention to me. I flinched when someone came up beside me and tapped me on the shoulder. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." I looked up to see a guy, dark hair and green eyes smiling at me. I raised my eyebrow at him and he let out a nervous laugh. "Sorry, I'm Luke, I'm in one of your glasses with you."

"Oh, okay? Did you need something?" I asked. He looked down and shook his head, a blush tinting his cheeks. "This is stupid. I–um…I just want to tell you that you're beautiful and an amazing singer. I've heard you in the studio a couple times. I wasn't like…stalking you or anything though!" I gave him a small smile and chuckled. "Thank you. That's very kind of you."

I looked back over to where Stu was but he was no longer there. "So, you major in music or…" he shook his head. "No, I'm a film major." I nodded my head, "oh. So you know Randy then?" He nodded his head, "yeah. Can I ask you something?" He asked. "Uh…yeah," I said, nodding. He looked around and let you a breathy laugh. "Has he always been so…how do I phrase this…"

"Overly dramatic? Obnoxious? Loud? Yes. Yes, he has been. He's very passionate about movies. He actually brought the film club back to our high school his freshman year. Convinced the principal to give him a week to get at least ten students to join." We both laughed. "You went to Woodsboro, right?" He asked, with a smile still on his face. I took a deep breath before nodding. "I did. Yeah."

"I'm sorry for what happened. I don't think I'd ever leave my room again if something like that happened in my hometown. Hell, my mom probably wouldn't let me out of the house." I didn't say anything and his smile dropped. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'll admit I know who you are but that's not why I wanted to talk to you. I do find you beautiful. I was actually hoping maybe…maybe if you'd like to get coffee or something."

"Something happening across the street! The police are over there, come on!" Everyone started to rush back into the house and Sidney came over to me. "Come on." I gave Luke an apologetic look and followed Sidney. As we were getting ready to leave I stopped. "Shit, I forgot my jacket. I'll be–" a hand clamped over my mouth. "Do you not listen to anything I say?!"

I pushed Randy away from me. "No! I do not listen to anything you say. Now, I'm going to go get my jacket!" I turned and walked back into the house. I walked into the living room and over to the couch where I left it but it wasn't there. A hand landed on my shoulder and I yelped. "Sorry! You were just taking a long time." I turned around, putting my hand on my chest. "Jesus, Sid! I'll be out in a second."

"Where's your jacket? Do you need help finding it?" She asked. "I thought I left it on the couch but it's not here. I'm going to look upstairs and I'll be out I promise." She shook her head, "I'm helping you." I sighed and nodded before heading for the stairs. Just as I got there the phone rang. I looked back at Sidney and she shook her head. I went to head upstairs when she called out. "I found it!" She came over and handed it to me and we walked towards the door.

I paused when the phone rang again. "You girls ready?" Derek asked. "Yeah, in a second." I walked over and answered the phone. "Hello?" There was silence on the other end for a few seconds before the modulated voice spoke. "Hello, yn." My whole body froze. "What do you want?" I asked. "What's your favorite scary movie?"

I rolled my eyes. "Real original. If you're going to kill me just don't already you fucking coward!" I yelled. A deep chuck sounded from the other side of the line. "My pleasure." My head snapped to my left when the voice didn't come from the phone. Ghostface stood near the door, knife in hand and tiled his head. "Sidney!" I screamed and he charged at me.