#The second part is mostly joking but genuinely I cannot begin to give a shit about Ghibli. Maybe it's as good as everyone says. I don't care

[trans-leek-cookie]

i have conflicted feelings on Miyazaki bc I've seen shit against him but also idk how reliable it is, esp considering translation can impact how statements come across. However I've decided to hate Ghibli films for unrelated reasons, those being that I hate fun and joy

[nikeiyomiurioverthinker]

Nikei Yomiuri is literally my favourite character ever but I have a LOT of grievances with his writing

I could make multiple posts about it, honestly, but I am going to start with something easy and digestible for now, aka his FTEs

Surprisingly enough, I somewhat enjoy them, he is absolutely adorable in them most of the time, I love how genuinely excited he seems at the idea of someone being interested in him and wanting to know him and I like the fact that it ends with Sora calling herself his friend and him being genuinely happy of finally having a friend at all.

And I can't know for sure if it is on purpose or not, but if it is, it's also a case of brilliant writing on Linuj's part, because it also plays into Nikei's struggle of losing those he genuinely cares about and/or being betrayed by them. I think Sora using Nikei's hand to 'kill' Shinji and then trying to convince everyone that it means that Nikei's the real murderer hits much harder after the FTEs, because in this case he isn't just being blamed for murder, but he is also being betrayed by a person that he considered to be his first friend

I also am not too angry about the fact that we end up not learning his past, honestly. Like, yeah, does it suck that we don't know how he was saved and basically his motivation for even being in this game? Absolutely, but from a writing perspective, him not telling us anything is good, actually.

Because Nikei is, in the end, someone that was let down so much that he just can't bring himself to trust and be honest with other people. We still don't know how much of what we saw of him is real or not, how deep the lie that is his persona actually is, why would he go and tell someone his past so easily? If anything, Nikei's last FTE is a good base for an eventual reveal: after Sora has effectively become his friend, he can then begin considering if he wants to open up to her or not.

Which is why I think that him almost confessing and then taking it back at the last second was a weird choice, personally. He has been betrayed by the people that he subconsciously considered his friends and his immediate reaction to this new girl that calls herself his friend is to try to score a date? It feels forced, like Linuj just wanted to add yet one more conquest to the Sora harem.

Personally, I would have had him go something among the lines of "If you are my friend, then maybe I can tell you..." and then having him shy away, showing that he does trust Sora a little bit, but that he still needs time before he actually opens up completely. And maybe that could have been picked up in chapter 4, where you have an event with only him where he explains you his backstory.

I do have other problems with his FTEs though, one of them being his pervertness. Don't get me wrong, nothing is wrong with him being a pervert, that doesn't automatically make him a bad character, but the problem is that this part of his character is effectively non-existent outside of his FTEs. Other than him asking Sora her cup size, I cannot think of any other case in which he makes a dirty joke, or even blushes or gets flustered at others saying sexual things or literally any of the shit Mikado pulls. Even in the woman's fantasy, he doesn't look embarrassed or tries to get the girls to join in, rather just being angry at them. It came out of left field and never made an appearance again, and that just bugs me.

Another problem I have with his FTEs is mostly related to bad writing decisions when trying to give Nikei motivations to become a journalist. Let me preface this by saying: Nikei's reason for being a journalist is the power that the job allows him to get over other people. He is obsessed with the idea of being in control, and nothing screams control like having so much dirt on people that they bend over backwards to do as they're told in exchange of not getting cancelled or, worse, thrown in prison. Nikei is not a good moral person, he only wants to be on top of the food chain.

(And there is also the external reason that Linuj needs as to why Nikei is the former leader of the CoU, and him being a journalist and so having the most information just makes sense)

(I also headcanon that he is autistic and interviewing is his special interest, but I can make a whole post about my headcanons for him on a later date)

Of course, we can't have him tell that he is an amoral dickwad to Sora, so we need other motivations, which are that 1. He wants to do something he believes he can excel at and 2. He wants to do something that allows him to show off his right hand.

Both of those reasons suck.

He is not good with people, clearly, as shown by him immediately asking Sora her cup size after she agreed to an interview and also his large amount of sprites where he doesn't look people in the eye, and talking with others is kind of a big deal for journalists, and the entire right hand motivation is stupid because journalism is not the job to show your sick handwriting skills, and taking notes is not even necessary because journalists are all but required to have recording devices on themselves and they are not even all that expensive to buy. If he truly wanted to show off his hand, calligraphy would have made a thousand times more sense as a talent.

(which he also supposedly has, Linuj has stated that his handwriting is nice and crisp and he takes his notes in cursive like the pretentious asshole he is)

The problem with these motivations is, if they were shit that Nikei made up on the spot for Sora, I wouldn't complain, but they are also used to introduce his obsession with his right hand, which is very much real, so it is implied that the motivations he gave, while not the whole truth, are also not lies.

And I have already explained how those reasons don't make sense.

In short, his FTEs are enjoyable if you want to see Nikei Yomiuri being cute, but they are not useful for anything else other than pandering and when they try to do anything else, they pretty much fail at it.

So, I'm giving them 3/5 stars because I love being pandered to

[dingdonghyvck]

The Only Exception || Lee Haechan x Reader

Summary: You finally realize that Haechan’s the only exception to the one rule you gave yourself.

Genre: Angst and a little bit of Fluff  

Pairing/s: Drummer!Haechan x Lead Vocalist!Reader, Minor College Student!Mark x Reader

Warnings: Explicit content, mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, implications of sex, sex jokes, use of drugs, cigarettes and alcohol, verbal and physical abuse, divorce, and a few others I probably forgot to mention

Word Count: 5.4k words

So this is part two of the Drummer!Haechan AU I wrote: Still Into You

 Please do give feedback, it’s greatly appreciated! Thank you and enjoy :)

"When I was younger I saw my daddy cry and curse at the wind.

He broke his own heart and I watched as he tried to reassemble it.

And my momma swore that she would never let herself forget”

It all started with hushed arguments, hidden whispers of disappointment behind closed doors, afraid of breaking the perfect image your family had, afraid of the neighbors to talk. From hushed arguments to daily endeavors of avoiding each other everyday, it was like a ticking bomb inside your home. A ticking bomb you had tip-toed over each morning past your parents' bedroom, hearing the muffled crying. You knew it was only a matter of time before the bomb would finally explode, imploding your house from inside-out.

You hoped and you prayed to any god willing to listen that the rumors were not true. The neighbors started talking and the news had somehow got out. And that was when everything started breaking down. The hushed arguments turned to wars of screaming and crying, sharp words that cut through you like a knife. That was when the walls of your home began to talk, they spoke to you too, they echoed the hatred your parents had for each other. They made you feel unwanted, unloved and useless, since of course the sole foundation of your life was crumbling. You were the scars, bruises, and pain they brought into the world, you were once proof of their love that turned into a ghost wandering the halls, desperately clawing against the wallpaper to make it all stop.

It didn't end with words, it seemed as if words weren't hurtful enough. You were caught in the crossfire, desperately trying to raise the white flag between the two, but you ended up becoming their stress ball. They would sometimes drown you, lock you up in the basement or straight up hit you. They kept squeezing you and throwing you around like a stress ball bound to burst, the people at school began noticing the bruises and cuts. In the end they left you alone, vacant and ignored since you began bringing your friends over your house.

And for the first time in a while you felt safe, you felt safe in Jeno's comforting smile when he tried to teach you guitar. You felt safe with Hendery's little pranks and teasing during practices. You felt safe in Donghyuck's presence whenever you two would head out after band practice, in his car with no particular destination in mind. The nights were long, but somehow it always ended too quickly for you. You wished you could stay for an eternity inside Donghyuck's car, it was a place where you didn't bother to be someone else except yourself.

It was a space where you weren't either the whore's daughter or the useless excuse of a student. You were just authentically you and Donghyuck openly accepted you, he didn't say it but you knew he did. He didn't talk whenever you didn't feel like it, he opened the car window when you wanted to watch the stoplights and streetlight wiz by. That's what made those nights perfect, it was Donghyuck's soft humming along the mediocre pop song on the radio. His weirdly specific defensive monologue whenever you brought up his tacky lavender car scent. Donghyuck's presence in general as he would sometimes just hold your hand while you thought to yourself.

One of those nights where you thought to yourself that life should always be like this, you didn't know how, but you knew that Donghyuck has to be apart of it. You decided that the world may go to shit, your parents may end up getting a divorce, you may end up living the rest of your life as a deadbeat. But you no longer cared as long as you had this place, in a worn out car seat next to him; well that was what you thought at least.

"And that was the day that I promised,

I'd never sing of love if it does not exist"

Donghyuck's sudden departure from the band shocked both Jeno and Hendery, they took it considerably well in all honesty. They still wanted to continue on with the band, partly because they needed the money from the gigs and mostly because they worried for you as a friend. You tried your best in trying to continue with your life and look for another drummer, for another Donghyuck in your life. As silly as it sounded since you were the one that pushed him away, you would think of him most days. You were only realizing how important Donghyuck was in your life.

He was always the one who took care of you, reminded you to eat and rest whenever you forgot. He would show up at your dorm to bring you breakfast or make you coffee, remind you that some of the books you borrowed from the library was due tomorrow, or even just chat you to check on how your day was going. Now that you had changed your number and avoided him like a plague you were starting to realize how much you lost.

And you had thought of calling him, or maybe reaching out to ask how his day was going, the same way he used to check on you. You were so tempted that you showed up at his place, a second away from buzzing his doorbell, but you remembered. You remembered how awful you were to him, you were reminded of the pain and misery you've caused him all through out your lives so far. You were being selfish yet again, so you stopped yourself. You immediately turned around that day and called up Hendery and Jeno to tell them that the band was over, you didn't have the guts to face them anymore.

The guilt was eating you alive, they had tried to convince you otherwise but you pushed them away too. The only person who you kept in your life was Mark. You still felt happy to be around him, although you didn't feel comfortable since you felt like you had to keep a facade around him. He seemed glad to see you more often, you'd cling onto him like a flee for days. But there came a time when he finally asked why you were so vacant these days, and where were your other friends; it was an argument caused by Mark's growing irritation for being required to see you everyday and almost having to babysit you like child, all the while trying to keep up with other activities going on his life. You had left him without a single word and returned the next day like nothing happened.

He genuinely did like you, he wished things were different but he couldn't handle the nonstop texts and calls that came from you every minute of the hour, he was beginning to get sick of it. And you immediately notice his distaste, the way he would dryly reply to your messages or not talk to you whenever he did have time to see you. You knew you were becoming a bit too much for him, desperate for company that you became too overbearing, a bit too possessive and selfish when it came to his time.

And for the first time, you felt it. You felt how your heart sunk everytime Mark chose to answer a call from a friend when you were talking to him, the way he would look anywhere else but you whenever you tried to start conversations. You were usually on the other end of the stick, careless of other people’s emotions and too busy living in your own world. You finally knew what it felt when Donghyuck dated you, and what horrible thoughts that came with it. In the end, you knew that Mark was too kind to end it with you, he obviously knew you were having issues in your personal life, but he couldn't be bothered anymore; he's tried talking to you about it, but you'd always change the topic.

So you told yourself that it was better if you would be alone for now, this is the tenfold of misery and hurt you've caused everyone around you, especially Donghyuck, your world was falling apart as more and more people left.  You eventually ended things with Mark, and he gave you a simple okay and left.  He didn't seem to notice you anymore, he continued to live his university life unscathed, it was as if you two never spoke in the first place.

He would sometimes smile at you or give you a small nod of his head whenever you saw each other around campus, but that was the most you've gotten from him. You didn't blame him, he didn't have time to waste with people like you. Being alone with your thoughts truly was eating you alive, you were beginning to go insane. Everytime you were about to reach out to anyone, either Jeno, Hendery, or Donghyuck, you'd always stop yourself to remind you that you deserved this.

You deserved to be alone, you cannot be loved. You were a heartless monster just as Donghyuck said and you lived most of your days alone while trying to survive with the little funds your new part time provided. You didn't know how, but you somehow lived as days went by. You watched the leaves and flowers bloom from the branches outside of your dorm till they wilted. It was now winter, and you freely wandered the streets. No other human could be seen outside, everyone was probably spending time with loved ones, since of course it was the holidays.

Days you should be spending with the people you cherish and loved the most, you could see the warm lights from within some of the homes, laughter resonates through the walls, probably the lovers and families enjoying their own company. Playing dumb board games and cuddled up by the fire, watching the grinch movies with eggnog and warm cups of hot choco. You never really understood the joys of the holidays, probably because the only other person you had spent it was with Donghyuck, and there you go thinking of him again.

As if thinking of him in everything you do wasn't enough, he began appearing in your dreams. You didn't know if it was pleasant to revisit old memories or did it hurt to reminisce what was lost between you two. And as much as it hurt you chose to remember him as someone you loved, perhaps not romantically, but he was someone you truly cherished. You thought that he'd comment on how cheesy you've become, so melodramatic that you'd give William Shakespear a run for his money when he's already in his grave.

You bitterly laugh at the thought, the cold makes your throat dry and eyes watery but you look up to the moon while standing next to a lamp post near the frozen river.  You could almost feel his presence, you truly were going insane that you started imagining things he'd say to you at times like this. The snarky comments and cute pet names he'd give you whenever you dragged him along for whatever adventure you had in mind. You remembered how he'd first complain about it to no end, but he always ends up coming with you. He always does, of course, he's Donghyuck, the person who stuck with you through thick and thin; the person you've hurt the most.

You begin humming a small tune, you didn't recognize it at first, but you ended up humming a paramore song. The song you both listened to during class the first day you two met, the same song that you sang here, with tears streaming down you cheeks. You didn't know you were crying until you felt the cold gust of wind brushing against your cheeks, a chill running down your spine as you sniffled.

"I hope you're happy now Hyuck, wherever you are," it felt weird to speak, you couldn't remember the last time you opened your mouth to say anything. it's been months since you've last said a word to anyone, you throat was dry and you could barely recognize your own voice, it was raspier than you last remembered.

"I'm happy enough to know we're looking at the same moon tonight at least." you laughed, your throat hurts like hell, the laugh came as a croak and you tried to gasp in air to try and stop yourself from breaking down.

It felt weird to listen to your own voice, everything felt unreal. These past few months were like a fever dream to you, you even wondered if you were dead and this was some cruel purgatory you served for the shit you pulled back then. You've thought about jumping into the frozen river, maybe the cold would at least wake you up if this was truly some cruel nightmare. If not it could also finally end all the suffering and pain you know you caused yourself, what hurt most was you cannot blame anyone else for what is happening now. You shakily let out a breath, hands gripping the metal railing. You were about to jump over it when the street's fairy lights were suddenly turned on and it reflected off the thin layer of ice of the lake.

You wake up from your daze, what the hell were you thinking? The pretty lights distracted you for a moment, you pace your breathing with the consistent flicker of the warm glow of the tiny lights, trying to calm down.

"And I've always lived like this,

keeping a comfortable distance"

senior year, prom.

You bit your lip while watching the fairy lights flicker, whose idea was it to have tiny light bulbs as decoration for the photo booth, and god you wanted to give them a kiss now. It was such a hazard that you couldn't stop thinking of the endless possible drama it could cause, the prom queen could end up stepping on it and light her dress on fire, that would at least make the night interesting. You blew the tiny patch of fake snow off the table while you grumpily waited for someone, anyone, to step on one of the fairy lights, but you were dragged out of your reverie when you hear Donghyuck's voice behind you.

"Hey ugly,"

"Hey stupid," you replied, eyes shifting away from the photo booth for a second to look at him. He stuck out like a sore thumb, he wasn't wearing a tuxedo like the rest, or even a tie to at least try and be formal. He was sporting his favorite leather jacket with a green untucked button up underneath, he looked underdressed, the only effort he made to his appearance was the way he styled his hair to showcase his forehead.

"That's not a nice way to speak to your boyfriend" Donghyuck faked a gasp, dragging a chair to sit down beside you, you raised an eyebrow at him. The stupid crease on his jacket annoyed you to no end, so you fixed it for him, it was his turn to raise an eyebrow at you.

"Boyfriend? I thought boyfriends put in extra efforts for prom? You know like in the movies, they give the girl a cute corsage and tell them how pretty they look and end up fucking in the bathroom or something?"

"You're beautiful." He says it blatantly, you stop to look him in the eyes, and it seemed genuine. You pursed your lips while trying to hide your smile, boyfriend Donghyuck was different from best friend Donghyuck, he was a lot... sweeter.

"Let's fuck in the bathroom later?" he added, to which you groaned and slapped his thigh. He only laughed at you while gently fitting his hand into yours, gently kissing your knuckles when you swore you were gonna bite his dick someday, just he wait.

Well you'll  give him credit, he at least made an effort to look nice for you. You didn't even bother to blow dry your hair today and you were wearing what you'd usually wear whenever you went out with him, just with a bit more grunge added, like black fishnet stockings. He wasn't complaining at all, he knew that whatever you were wearing tonight would end up ripped anyway, probably somewhere on his bedroom floor. And plus, you two didn't really attend prom, the only reason you bothered to this year was for the battle of the bands.

You were already done with the performance so you were all simply waiting for the announcement of the winner. You knew Jeno was probably out on the dance floor dancing with his date in a proper suit and tie like a gentleman, but you had no idea where Hendery went. One second he said he was going to get you a drink, the next he's disappeared before you into thin air. So you were left with Donghyuck, who was currently playing with your rings. As weird as it felt to have a label between you two, nothing's changed. You thought that you'd feel more awkward towards him, but the only thing that changed was the label, and you were happy in a way.

"Wanna dance?"

You perk up at his question, you finally realize that a slow song was playing. Everyone was paired off in front of you, even some of the teachers were dancing. You almost let out a laugh at the sight of some of couples who were trying their best to keep it in their pants. You thought he was joking until you looked over at him, he was shyly fiddling with his own hands now, not able to look you in the eyes. You would laugh if it weren't for the way he seemed so shy to ask, he looked like he was about to combust.

"I don't dance," you laughed, he looks up at you. You didn't know it was possible but he looked much more embarrassed now, it was cute it in a way.

"Let's get out of here?"

"Now that's more like it" you smirk, taking his hand to lead him outside of the gymnasium and to his car.  He didn't bother to fight it, he just simply let you drag him out to the parking lot.

He opens the car door for you and you played along, deciding to not tease him just this once since, of course, he was already red enough. He turns on the engine and you switch through different channels on the radio, finally settling on one when he pulls out of the driveway.

“And up until now I had sworn to myself that I'm content with loneliness.

Because none of it was ever worth the risk.”

The song on the radio hummed in the background as he drove as carefully as he could, the roads were iced and it wasn't very safe to drive right now. He was about to take the turn to his house but you stop him and told him to bring you to the center of town, he was unsure why the sudden request, but he follows your directions anyway. For the moment, you stared at his face. The way the streetlights lit up his skin, you rarely saw his forehead and it did make him look attractive. Well he was already attractive in the first place but you couldn’t help but observe the way he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel to the song’s beat, it looked instinctive and natural to him.

"So are you finally going to murder me and take my intestines to sell on the black market?" he spoke, and you laughed, throwing your head back; he was finally starting to look handsome to you, and he opens that damned mouth of his.

"Kidneys my darling! Your kidneys will be worth a fortune!" you giggled while leaning over the center console to kiss his cheek, he smiled at the sound of your laughter.

He takes you exactly where you asked him, the center of the town. The exact intersection that’s considered as the heart of your buzzing neighborhood. The exact intersection that usually had so many cars, always the cause of traffic and delay, was now completely empty. All the stores near the intersect were closed, no other person in sight but the stoplights continued to operate. The colors red, yellow, and green appearing in an ordered sequence, proportionally timed. Although there wasn't a single car in sight, Donghyuck stopped when the light turned red.

"What are you waiting for?" you asked in confusion, he shrugs.

"Can you tell me why we're here?"

You didn't bother to speak, you simply got out of the car and stood at the center of the intersection. You opened your arms up to him and he watched you curiously, you let out a boisterous laugh, spinning around your heel. You forgot that the road was slippery so you fell flat on your back, still laughing. Donghyuck runs out of his car to kneel beside you, he had a worried look to him but it immediately faded away when you looked at him with joy in your eyes.

He scoffed, not forgetting to comment on how stupid you looked before offering his hand to help you stand up. You take his hand but instead of sitting up, you pull him towards you and he slips, ending up toppled over you. His breathing was uneven as it brushed cooly against your cheek, you close your eyes at the feeling. He gently kissed your cheek after a minute, finally standing up to brush himself off. You were still lying down on the ground, flailing your arms around to try and form a snow angel.

"Are you dumb? Get up before we get run over" Donghyuck tried to sound angry, but he couldn't stop the lilt in his voice, a tiny chuckles escapes his mouth.

"Shut up already and just lie down! Why do you always ruin the moment?” you whined looking up at him, still spread eagle at the center of the intersect, he raised an eyebrow at you, it was becoming a habit to him.

“Don’t you feel it too? The world’s stopped, they’ve finally shut up! So enjoy it and come lie down with me.”

“And if we get run over?”

“Then so be it” You shrugged, Donghyuck lets out a heavy sigh before taking his seat beside you. He doesn’t lie down, so you sit up to lean against his shoulder.

And the world stops, like what you said. For a moment the only thing you two could hear was the sound of your breathing and the beating of your hearts, he held your hand in his while you both watched the stoplight change colors. It felt like you two were the only people on earth, and it was the best. There was nothing but the moon, your thoughts, the stoplight, and him. And as peaceful as it was you couldn’t stop the thought from spilling from your mouth.

“Someday I’ll burn this town to the ground” you comment, and he snorts.

“Gee, it sure sounds like a solid plan” he says it sarcastically, and you turn to look at him.

“I’m serious! You better not get in my way or anything or else I’ll have to set you on fire” you say it with the most serious tone that he’s taken aback, well that was one weird thought he thought.

His face makes you laugh and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh with you. He shook his head when he realized you were joking, probably. You felt content and happy that you decided to grant him one wish. He once again has the confused face he had earlier, just when he was finally settled you suddenly move. He tries to stand up to follow you, but you told him that you’ll be back.

He watched you open the driver’s side of the car, he thought you were about to drive away and leave him here but he was abruptly stopped mid-thought when the speakers of the radio of his car boomed throughout the empty streets. His eyes widened, he was worried that it might wake the whole street up. Then he remembered that the residential homes were located near the outskirts of town, so it was unlikely that anyone would hear. Most of this area had shops and stores, so the people are probably back at home, you both aren’t technically disturbing anyone hopefully. He relaxes back into his seat to watch you waltz back towards him.

“So?” you asked, the smile on your face was infectious.

“So?” he mimicked dumbly and you rolled your eyes in annoyance, was he always this dumb?

“May I have this dance?” you groaned, turning red yourself. You blamed it on the cold, but he couldn’t help but laugh at you. At first it sounded like he was mocking you, but when you met his eyes to smack him on the head you were only met with eyes filled with so much endearment and affection that you could only pull back your hand.

He takes your hand to stand up, you complain of course, he was heavy. But he hushed you when he placed his fingers to your chapped lips, he smiled so widely that it looked like it hurt. You pursed your lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and he securely holds your waist. Although the atmosphere was supposed to be romantic, your terrible sense of rhythm in dancing ruined it. You would think that you’d be good at following the rhythm when dancing being a couple of musicians, but you both always missed a beat by a second. And he could only laugh while you cursed, finally remembering why you never danced.

You were muttering something under you breath, but your voice hitched when he brushes his fingers against your hair. He placed a sweet kiss to your temple and you freeze, you felt your heart clench at the action. He begins whispering the lyrics to your ear, you swallow thickly. This was one of the rare times he’d sing to you, you tried to tell him countless times that his voice was beautiful, but he had always denied saying yours was better. But hearing him now, whispering softly against your ear while he nuzzled his nose to your neck affectionately made your heart throb. You take in a deep breath, this feeling in your chest, it was your heart clenching. You didn’t know if he was hurting you but you were so overwhelmed that you suddenly pushed him away.

“Did I do something wrong?” his eyes spoke, trying to reach out to you again but you take another step backward.

“This was a stupid idea” You were shocked to hear your voice crack, Donghyuck frowns at your comment.

“What do you mean?”

“Take me home.... now.”

He tried to take a step towards you but you run back towards his car, closing the door to wait for him. You lower the volume of the radio and try to gather your thoughts, what the fuck was that? You watched him walk back towards the car and swore to yourself, whatever the hell you felt earlier, whatever he did to you, he will never be able to do again. It was too much of a risk, and you swore to yourself to never let yourself be that vulnerable again.

He tries to talk to you on the way home, but your replies were dry. You were busy fiddling with your fingers while looking outside the window. He tried his best to make you tell him what he did wrong but he couldn’t get another word out from you the moment he pulled up in front of your house. You were about to leave but you decided to try and turn things around, you tried to get back to what you two were used to.

You kissed him, hauling yourself over the center console to sit on his lap. He tries to pull away but you continued to kiss, hastily lifting his shirt to try and remove it. In the end he was weak to your touch, he could never deny you of anything. He hoped that you two could talk it out in the morning but you were unavailable the next few weeks after that, busy fooling around with Johnny.

“I've got a tight grip on reality but I can't let go of what's in front of me here.

I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up, leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream”

Present day.

The next day you decided to visit your home town. Although you didn’t have any family left to visit, you had volunteered to play at an orphanage, it was the least you could do for the holidays. If you couldn’t be happy, you could at least make others feel it. Who knew that Jeno’s stupid guitar lessons would end up becoming an asset to you, you could at least spread a little joy to the children who didn’t have parents, you somehow understood how they felt, in a weird way.

It was a joy to finally sing with a purpose again, hearing them laugh and sing along with you made your heart sore. Well at least you didn’t feel as useless after playing with a few of the kids and chatting with the caretakers and other volunteers. It felt freeing, to finally do something right. You fucked up this year for the most of it but you felt a bit less burdened when the children asked you to braid their hair or took your hand to dance with them. After serving your purpose at the orphanage you find yourself at the intersection. You don’t know what you wanted to accomplish, but your feet ended up taking you here.

And as expected it was filled with bustling life, people going in and out of shops to buy late christmas presents, children building snowmen and riding the tiny slopes made by the snow. The traffic as usual was heavy, the cars were honking and the streets were so noisy that no one could bearly hear themselves think. You sat by a bench near the park, the intersect still in your sight. You were eating a bagel mindlessly when a little kid sat beside you, he was eyeing your guitar.

“You play?” the little kid asked and you nodded, giving him a small smile to not scare him away, you probably looked like a walking corpse; you can’t remember the last time you slept properly.

“A little bit, like five songs?” you smiled and he instantly asks you to play, there was this urgency in his voice that you couldn’t help but immediately do what he was asking.

You bite into the bagel while tuning your guitar, thinking of a song to play, well out of the five you knew how to play. You began strumming the guitar to Paramore’s The Only Exception, humming the tune as best as you could with the bagel in your mouth. You end your humming after the first chorus to be met with a grimace, the little kid laughed at you.

“You’re no good”

“Hey!” you take out the bagel from your mouth to yell jokingly at him, he scrunches his nose up when you ruffle his hair and you laugh at his annoyed face, he somehow looked familiar, was he one of the kids from the orphanage? Wait were they even allowed to leave the orphanage?

“So what’s your name?” You ask, putting the guitar back into its case. The voice that meets your ears wasn’t the little boy’s, it was a voice you haven’t heard in a long time, a voice you thought you’d never hear again.

“Dongsuk,”

This has to be a dream, it couldn’t be real. You blink a few times before pinching yourself, you were probably hallucinating. Because there is no way, not a chance the Lee Donghyuck was now standing in front of you. That shit only happens in movies, this can’t be real. But you could only rub your eyes so much, he looked real, like real enough that he was getting closer to you. And he finally speaks, and you finally realize it really is him in the flesh.

“Where have you been?” he speaks, you first thought that he was talking to you but he grabs the little boy’s arm. He glances at you and you try to speak and he simply turns his nose away from you, you feel your world crack in half.

To his defense you were the one who moved dorms, changed your number, and avoided him like a plague. So his reaction was expected, you don’t know why you were so surprised. He was about to walk away when you finally speak, he stops cold in his steps when he hears your voice.

“Donghyuck...” He turns to look at you, and his eyes were still the same. It still had the same hurt and sadness you’d usually see when he looked at you, but he looked much more angrier than you remembered.

“Let’s... talk”

“You are the only exception, oh and I'm on my way to believing.”

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Hi! I love everything that you write and heh I am a fan! 😄 tbh this is my first time requesting something on Tumblr! If you don't mind and if I am not being a bother...can you write about how the guys would react If MC suddenly starts making meme references? I don't know how I got the idea but I am REALLY curious. And love you! :D

Hiya! Tyvm for the kind words, and apologies that this took a while! I hope you have the chance to enjoy it regardless ❤️❤️❤️ Love you too, sweet pea! I promise to get to the next request you’ve sent ASAP~

Aight but this would be hilarious because the range of the reactions is just ungodly. I will be putting this under a cut after Napoleon so I don’t clog up everyone’s dash, but all the suitors are included below otherwise! 

Comte is the one that recognizes a few, but didn’t really stay in modern times long enough to be as well-versed as a Gen Z kid might. Regardless he finds the wittiness and absolute chaotic fuckery to be delightful, and will 100% support the harmless nonsense. It never fails to get a laugh out of him

Mozart that first day be like: “Buzz off MC I hate you” MC, because she likes swinging bats at wasps’ nests: “Well that’s not very cash money of you” Mozart: ?????????? Comte, giggling in the bg like the secret fae he is This one’s just because I’m petty, but after the events of Comte rt I just imagine them encountering Vlad again and MC’s just “I lived bitch.” while Comte is flipping him off behind her lkjahgkjhdsg

Comte @ Leo when he finds the latter under his desk: Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you.  MC: wheezing from the hallway as she’s about to give him his letters

MC: So how was your day, honey? Comte: Good, good--briefly had to go beastmode upon the punk that pilfered my lint roller MC, biting her lip to keep from laughing: So does Leo still have his kneecaps? Comte: for now.

Comte, @ literally anyone upsetting the MC: I won’t hesitate, bitch

Comte: Be careful with my emotional baggage, it’s designer

MC: What if I was evil and ran towards you at very fast speeds Comte: My arms are strong, I would catch and hug you

Leo and Dazai are the ones that don’t have a single reference point but are filled with so much dumbass chaos energy that they just. Understand immediately???? Nobody knows how or why, but they just catch on so fast--adapt the language in a matter of weeks. Never underestimate the power of combined boredom, depression, and humor

I swear to god I just see MC taking them their Blanc/Rouge and being like “here you go sir, one enslaved moisture” and they just go fucking hog wild from day one. MC starts impersonating Theo when he leaves the room around Dazai, like fake deep voice “you all only hate me because you do not like me and I am mean to you. grow up.” Or like the MC meets a baby on her travels with Leo around town and she holds them and says v seriously and sagely “So you are Baby? I have heard tales of your exploits.” and Leo about loses his shit right there. They both think MC is the funniest person alive--they’ve never been more eager to throw a ring at someone in their entire life.

Also a bonus for my beloved Dazai:  MC, facing even the slightest inconvenience (like dropping her fork) in the most dramtic voice possible: Life is not daijoubu. Dazai: wheezing

MC, after watching Theo turn down a woman at the bar in the meanest way possible: bro quit letting the darkness consume you u r scaring the hoes Dazai, literally rolling around on the ground, half-drunk and dying:

MC, walking alongside Dazai and stopping to stare at her reflection in the River Seine. Dazai’s expecting some sad or twisted shit, since people often feel comfortable talking about those things around him, but instead she just: “Oh, it’s you. The source of all my problems.” And he about falls into the river from shock HAHAHA

At this point don’t be surprised if his next book is about an absolute madlad woman similar to MC

Napoleon finds it to be a delightful quirk more than anything? He doesn’t really understand it, but he finds it funny when they change their voice for effect or speak in exaggerated tones. If it’s just comprehensible enough for an outsider to understand--or Sebas gives him context--chances are it’ll send him into a laughing fit

For this one I just imagine MC singing that Ratatouille meme song obnoxiously bad while cooking, and Napoleon and Comte are just so wildly amused by it bc it makes zero sense and it’s only vaguely French at this point

MC @ Napoleon while they’re cooking brunch: Can I offer you a nice egg in these trying times?

MC, conflicted because she’s tired and wanted to sleep in but also got to see Napo’s cute sleeping face for a few hours: For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5AM on the day I can sleep in. Sebas: Early to bed and early to rise makes a person healthy, wealthy, and wise MC: early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch Napoleon: laughing in agreement

Isaac is the type to be bewildered and concerned at first (especially when he hears the more nihilistic ones hoOOOoooOO BOY) but eventually begins to understand it’s some bizarre attempt at humor (that hurts Zack baby). While some part of him laments that it reminds him of Dazai and he’s secretly jealous of how she and Dazai bond over it, he will sometimes join in the chaos when the mood strikes him and he’s feeling mischievous

Isaac: How are you feeling? MC: Oh, I’m not Isaac: seconds from dialing 911 Isaac: Are you okay? MC: Oh yeah dw I just suffer from that syndrome where your neutral expression makes you look like you’re an angry serial killer Isaac: say sike rn

Isaac, tutoring MC and correcting something:  MC, muttering while redoing it: The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math. Isaac: unable to help a laugh

One time MC was avoiding Isaac for fear of hurting his feelings and he just confronts her like: Isaac: back by unpopular demand, me! What’s wrong, MC pls MC was so hecking proud of him

Isaac, telling MC about a recent discovery he learned at uni from another professor: bones typically heal stronger after they’ve been broken--so long as they’re set properly, of course MC, looking him dead in the eyes: So what you’re saying is that I should break every bone in my body until I become superhumanly powerful? Isaac: please do not, no

Mozart and Jeanne are just. Totally lost. Why are you talking like that??? Why are you making “crab hands”???? They don’t understand. Maybe never will. They reach a point where they just kind of laugh and shake their heads, endeared by the oddity after they’re used to it and have determined it isn’t a threat/insult. 

MC: It’s a cold and it’s a brooooken, Waluigi. Waaaaluigiiiii...waaaahluigi..... Mozart: surprised, then starts snickering and playing along on the piano

Arthur, asking MC very personal questions out loud because he is an idiot sometimes: Soooo MC, are you a top or a bottom? MC: I’m a threat. (If he asks a second time, the response will be “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy.”) Jeanne, fighting a smile:

MC, about to punch an asshole: Your free trial of being alive has ended Jeanne, seconds from laughing for the first time in 100 years:

Also, because I genuinely can’t help myself. You know that knight meme like “Parry this you fucking casual.” I cannot stress enough that it is literally the personification of Jeanne’s entire character. I’m not even joking.

Arthur and Shakespeare are utterly fascinated by the rapid evolution of wordplay and the sheer hilarity. They will ask all about these so-called “memes” and ask for examples of them if MC can show them (either somehow accessing her phone or drawing them). MC draws Arthur the knife cat meme and he about a s c e n d s at the hilarity of it all, points and yells THEO IS HOLDING THE KNIFE. He is correct. They will be delighted and follow along eagerly, and--god forbid--will make their own based on late 19th century struggles.

Is this where Shakespeare got the idea for “What, you egg? stabs him” and “You are a saucy boy.”? I’m too scared to ask. Don’t even get me started on “The Fool jingled miserably across the floor.” That one is just too on the nose...

I can’t even imagine what would happen to Shakespeare if MC like translated vines and memes into Ye Olde English around him. Imagine she’s at one of those noble balls and hears rumors of these two guys living together and they’re so obviously gay and he says “And those gents w’re roommates.” And in the most false surprised tone ever MC just replies “oh mine own god, those gents w’re roommates.” Imagine having a wife that’s just as hilarious as you are and hits you with all the force of a bag of wet mice every time you speak in retaliation, he’s going into palpitations.

Every time Arthur does smth stupid MC just: “I Pretend I Do Not See It.”

Vincent is tickled pink by MC’s penchant for finding joy and/or amusement in nearly everything they do, and he smiles gently when he sees them muttering and laughing to themselves. He wants to be able to join them in what they love, but he has a harder time following along and understanding the darker humor sometimes. Mostly gets confused??? Please give him the easier ones to mimic and laugh when he tries--or just include him in your jokes MC. He’s babie your honor...

But he also. Will not. Stand any kind of self-deprecation or borderline verbal self-harm. He’s usually very easygoing and calm, but for whatever reason that stuff makes him go deathly quiet and upset.

MC, after something goes horribly wrong, hugging Vincent: Oh Vince, we really in it now Vincent: giggling a little despite his worries, relaxing

MC: Theo stop simping for Vincent that’s my job

MC, when Theo leaves the room and she gets Vincent all to herself: The evil is defeated.

MC: And this is where I would put my will to live...if I h a d one! Vincent: ;-; MC: oh shit, oh fuck, I was only kidding Vincent wait (MC was subsequently lectured and loved on for many hours)

Theo is conflicted because on the one hand, he loves to see you smiling and having fun. On the other, you’re clowning as hard as Dazai and Arthur and he can only handle so many monkeys in his circus. Most of the time he will roll his eyes and be the straight man of this comedy, but you might find him cracking a smile--or accidentally letting a chuckle slip past his lips now and again.

MC, after meeting Theo: I’m a nice person, but I’m about to start throwing rocks at people.

Theo, those first days: Oh? You’re approaching me? Instead of running away, you’re coming right to me? MC: I can’t beat the shit out of you without getting closer.

Theo: Every time I ask MC to explain “vibe check” to me she hits me with some kind of improvised weapon

MC, after the “incident” (you know the one): This year, I lost my dear lover Theo Theo, in the distance: QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I’M DEAD! MC: ;-; sometimes I can still hear his voice...

Sebastian is last because oh boy. OH BOYYYYY I LOVE HIM. Okay so the way I see this happening with Sebastian is just. So wild. Because at first he’s t r y i n g so hard to be the proper butler man. He does not meme. But then he starts to drift closer to what Niles from The Nanny was, where he’ll quip and joke in private or when the situation is just beyond the amount of absurdity he can handle without making a snarky comment. Everyone in the house can’t fathom how Sebas and MC got so close so fast, but there are points where they’re just “Are they even speaking English anymore???” It’s 11 times funnier than normal because Sebas almost never smiles or laughs when memeing, the deadpan quality of his playing along sends MC every time

Has ABSOLUTELY said “HEY. PANINI HEAD. ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME???” jokingly when MC made a mistake in the kitchen. They laugh about it for y e a r s

MC: I can’t date someone who keeps a lamb as a pet, that’s so weird Sebas, brushing Lotte in front of MC: MC: MC: Okay, I will make an exception because she looks very polite

MC and Sebas, fully aware of the fame some of the men will reach in modern times: We will watch your career with great interest.  (I s2g that’s like half of Sebas’ rt right there I’m crying)

Sebas rt with Lotte be like that 500 dollar Mareep meme: “sometimes a family can be just a boy, his gf, and their 500 dollar two foot tall Lotte”

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 5

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Revenge is sweet but a well-timed dick joke is sweeter. xoxo gossip girl. Please supervise one Bucky Barnes on the internet. Questionable music taste. Detention is the price we pay for justice. Bruce Banner is too precious for this world, too pure.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit​ @littlegasps​ @pilloclock​ @shereadsinquiet​ @downeyreads​ @hermione-grangers-wife​ @individualistfem​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! 🎶🎵I love you biiitch ain't ever gonna stop loving you biiitch 🎵🎶

"Initiate phase one," I added a growly undertone to my whisper, holding my phone inconspicuously, as if I was making a simple phone call. There was no answer but I didn't expect one: I was testing the voice recorder app that I had downloaded for the sole purpose of documenting and relaying the inevitable fall of one Flash Thompson. 

Making my way through the crowd of students during the busiest time of the day, I made the most intrigued and outraged facial expression I possibly could. Spying my targets, I leaned against a nearby wall, putting a hand over my mouth in fake outrage, keeping my eyes wide and trained on the opposite wall. Just as I had predicted, the two sophomore girls started giving me side-eye by minute two of my staring and finally approached me as I contemplated the wall for whole five minutes.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" The brunette asked, her blonde friend hanging a step back.

"Yeah, totally," I mumbled. "I'm, like, shook beyond imagination, but nothing, like, bad."

The girls traded a curious look, seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion. The greedy gleam in their eyes had me internally cheering. "What happened?" The blonde one asked, coming closer.

"I'm not sure if I should tell that to anyone," I stammered, watching them bodily move forward. "Well, okay, I can't keep quiet. But you must never, ever speak of it or I'll get expelled or something," I said nervously. They both nodded so rapidly it reminded me of Funko Pop figurines. "You know the senior guy, Flash? Brown hair, kinda hot?" Again, they both nodded, conspicuously grinning. "I think I just saw him in the closed girls bathroom on the third floor with, like, some brunette from Ms. Johnson's History class," They both gasped. Predictable. "But that's not the worst! They were like, y'know," I made an obscene gesture with my hand and they instantly covered their own mouths with their palms in shock. "And the chick was like 'is it in yet?' and he was like 'yah' and I just closed the door and ran, oh my god I hope they didn't hear me," I squealed at the end, playing the part of a mortified teenager.

All three of us giggled uncomfortably for a moment. The blonde girl stared at me suspiciously. "And what were you doing there?"

I faked a nervous stammer, looking around briefly and showing them my lighter for a moment. They both gasped and nodded in recognition. "Don't tell anybody or my mom is going to have kittens," I pleaded. Both of them nodded solemnly, noticing their own group of friends approach. I used the brief moment to get lost in the river of pupils and by the time they turned around to introduce me, I was already at the opposite part of the hallway.

For the time being, everything seemed peaceful. There were a few giggles and side-eyes directed towards Flash Thompson but nothing out of the ordinary. He was disliked by most of the student population even if nobody dared to admit it outright. I took care to walk around without my earbuds for the day and pulled out my phone to record the most interesting conversations around me whenever I caught the tell tale signs of a gossip mill beginning to run its course around the school.

"Oh my god, I heard about this girl that was caught fucking Flash in the girls bathroom and she literally said 'is it in yet', can you imagine the shock, jeez!"

"Some chick literally just rejected Flash because his dick was too small."

"Rebecca from AP chemistry told me someone saw Flash's micropenis. Poor guy!"

"I wonder if his girlfriend dumped him because he can't do shit, I mean, he doesn't look like the type to eat the kitty."

Those were just the highlights of the Friday afternoon. Come the weekend and the news of Flash's unfortunate condition will make the rounds through every single group chat that the school has and by the time Monday rolls around, nobody will have a clue who started the rumour in the first place. I had to carefully select the girls who were to distribute the rumour and I was happy with the outcome: Marissa and Layla with their squad of chatty, bored rich girls were the perfect choice. I thought they would jump at any opportunity to cause drama and I was right.

It was sufficient to say I was bristling with pride as I cut and compiled the audio track from today's school day before sending it to the group chat.

Clint, Peter and Natasha appeared online as soon as the message delivered and I was delighted at their response. Romanoff's kind words, specifically, made me all warm and mushy inside. I didn't resist the feeling, basked in it even as I did a happy dance around my room. Peter's nonsensical string of emojis was another point of laughter for me. 

It wasn't exactly the smartest way to go about killing Thompson's reputation... Alas, simplicity is the way to success when it comes to large crowds of teenagers. That tiny little vindictive part of me was very much looking forward to the weekend and the results of the inevitable distortion of the rumour I had started. Who knew, maybe by Monday Flash Thompson would not only have a micropenis but horns and hooves as well.

Near bedtime, I had all the avengers send me their regards and thumbs up. I answered the flurry of texts as quickly as I could but there was no point in keeping up with ten or so people constantly streaming their questions, opinions and comments. 

I settled on a single easiest response: pulling my dad's old uni sweatshirt over my tiny lacy pajamas to preserve some modesty, I settled in front of my mirror, turning on my Bluetooth speaker to play "Boss Ass Bitch". In true gen-z fashion, I put on my best resting witch face and solemnly lip-synced to the song's eponymous chorus. My eyeliner was sharp enough to cut paper and my prismatic highlighter glittered enigmatically in the cold light of my blue lava lamp.

The response was, once again, delightful and I genuinely belly-laughed at the adults' attempts to meme after Peter. His blushy face emoji started a whole nother conversation that I didn't participate in but watched from the sidelines with glee, snorting every time his friends and mentors gently teased him about the very obvious crush he harboured on me. 

Seeing Peter starting to go absolutely nuts, I interjected with an offer (more like a dare) of a lip sync battle. He jumped on the bandwagon, immediately going offline to undoubtedly film an epic video of what I thought would be dorky-dancing to some hipster song. I was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be a pre-recorded tik tok video of him and Ned fighting with lightsabers while mouthing the words to Fergalicious that played over the Imperial March.

Weirdos. I still followed him on the app, though, it was pretty funny.

Bucky interjected with a very well executed rendition of "Bring Me to Life": he was wearing his full Winter Soldier get-up, complete with an AK-47, dramatically serenading Steve who looked seventeen shades of done with his partner's antics. Wanda's following twenty second voice message consisted of nothing but pure hysterical laughter, summing up everyone's reaction to the video. Bucky was going to go viral one of these days...

Obviously, I had good competition and nobody else seemed to want to participate so I rearranged my surroundings a little bit and stood up at my full height and swapped the old sweatshirt for a cute crop-top hoodie. My thigh-highs were on display and with my make-up, I looked like a proper internet e-girl. I leaned against the mirror as I mouthed along to the song with my best interpretation of the famous Lucifer smirk, seasoned with a tiny bit of angelic innocence: "Doctor, doctor, give me the news, I got a bad case of loving you..."

Needless to say, I won the competition. Eventually Wanda joined in, looking menacing and ominous with her dark clothes and Natasha's red hair flashing somewhere in the background; even Tony did a round (AC/DC as his soundtrack of course) with one of his Iron Man suits but nothing beat my stunt and the reaction that it caused.

I had accidentally called out Bruce with the choice of my song and his teammates gave both of us a lot of cheeky comments about it. We relented and flirted with each other a bit as the conversation flowed into more mundane discussion; I said my good nights somewhere between Tony's bitching about the hobbies of my generation and my nightly skincare routine. The little green heart that I'd become accustomed to over the past few weeks greeted me just as I was about to lock my phone.

Bruce was really too precious for this world. My crush on him was different than the one on Tony, it mellowed out in comparison. I wanted him to hold me, to stroke my hair, to call me his darling and wrap me up in one of those dorky button-ups that he insisted on wearing in spite of Tony's unwanted, however very valid, fashion advice.

For all that's worth, the scientist probably knew or at least suspected and had the good grace to play along just enough to satisfy my deep need for attention... Without crossing any actual lines. It was frustrating, it was disappointing but I had virtually nothing to complain about. Besides, I didn't want to lose the quirky friendship that we had. Banner was, probably, the least judgemental person I knew and I wasn't about to trade that for an awkwardly stolen kiss.

Monday and Tuesday passed in a flurry of giggling and snorting every time Flash walked by. His girlfriend broke up with him, very publicly, accusing him of cheating and he didn't even deny it - just insulted her and stormed off, leaving even his friends looking lost and clueless. I started dragging Peter and his two pet nerds along with me just about everywhere I went in case Thompson decided to do something stupid again. If judging only by the looks he was throwing our little company, he was on his way to figuring out who began nibbling at his reputation.

The week was coming to an end and the rumour began dying off, slowly. That just didn't sit with me, I wanted the fucker gone. Due to the obvious time constraints, I approached MJ regarding Peter - after a brief argument, we came to an agreement regarding Peter's safety should I need to leave him alone in the hallways or at lunch. 

I needed to do this alone so if I got caught, I won't drag them down with me. Granted, I would probably get something like a suspension and the school will attempt to call my mother (she never picks up) but that's about it. That's where her reputation comes in handy-people consciously avoid dealing with her, she can be that unbearable.

But first, I needed to get a teacher that's on my side. After carefully considering the candidates, I settled on my Social Studies professor - he taught the college-level classes and was overall a very chill, nice dude. And he disliked bullies with a flaming passion. So it didn't take me long to work him into a righteous fury - just a quick chat over a cup of tea in his homeroom and a few pictures of Peter's bruised face, complete with my own pleading puppy eyes. We agreed Mr Davies would "accidentally" leave the teacher's lounge unlocked during third period and I would sneak in. The plan wasn't foolproof but if it worked, not only Flash, but also his whole misogynistic, bigoted family would go down.

As I was leaving, Mr Davies looked up at me with a bright smile: "Give them Hell, alright?" And I suddenly noticed he was, in fact, very attractive. The smile brought out the fine wrinkles around his mouth, the crow's feet around his eyes - he smiled a lot. Silver strands mixed in with the wooden brown of his hair.

I let my eyes slide over him briefly before baring my teeth in return. "I owe you one," I don't know what possessed me to say that. My mouth really had a mind of its own sometimes. The room suddenly became hot.

"Sure," He replied, totally oblivious.

On Friday, I made myself a small nest in the empty classroom opposite the teacher's lounge and sat waiting for the signal from Mr Davies - he'd tap on the door once and I'd quietly go inside the teacher's lounge, retrieve Thompson's file and make my way back to the empty classroom to grab my backpack and carry the file to my locker for further examination. 

The first part went successfully and I managed to snag Thompson's file. It was heavy and hefty, all the evidence of his rowdiness compiled into one flimsy plastic folder. There were A LOT of pink slips and I rejoiced internally: at least there was a paper trail of his exploits. The principal didn't do anything about it which was... If not against the rules then at least frowned upon; the plan was to take copies and anonymously submit them to the school board prompting at least an investigation into the blatant disregard for Flash's immoral and illegal behaviour.

On my way back I stumbled upon the principal herself which got me not only a stern talking to, but a whole detention for skipping class. Whatever, I was too elated from potentially ruining the life of a dumb fuck who ruined my friend's face.

Surprise came in the face of Mr Davies, who, having heard the commotion in the hallway, stepped out of his class and saw me being lectured by the principal. 

"I'll take her for the detention," I heard the familiar voice behind me. The principal nodded solemnly and I had no choice but to sigh in resignation. "Three thirty, be here," He nodded to me, walking back, looking way too smug for his own good. So I wasn't the only one excited about the successful completion of stage two of my nefarious plan. Cue evil laughter.

[maandags]

can i have something with draco malfoy and plants

the Forbidden Forest is quiet this time of night.

granted, the Forbidden Forest is quiet pretty much always, which is mainly due to the fact that it’s — surprisingly — forbidden for students to roam and wander. for good reason, too; the man-eating spiders and the morally questionable centaurs that, among others, make up its population aren’t known to be particularly friendly towards Hogwart’s students.

this, like all the warnings your friends have bombarded you with to try and keep you from entering the Forest, did not deter you in the slightest. in fact, it just made you want to explore its woods more. and so that’s why, at twelve whole years of age, you first set foot in the Forbidden Forest. now, you only went maybe 50 feet into the Forest that first time, giggling to yourself, adrenaline coursing through your veins, hand gripping your wand — looking over your shoulder every couple of minutes to make sure the school grounds weren’t out of sight — but it was enough to give you a taste, show you the smallest of flickers of the life brewing deep inside the forest, and it left you addicted straight away.

now, four years later, your little excursions to the Forest are never more than a few days apart. you know its paths, know its flora and fauna, know every square inch of it like the back of your hand. you’re not scared anymore of going.

nevertheless, the first few steps are always a thrill. it’s the tangible change in atmosphere, the soft bed of grass beneath your feet making way for a layer of dead leaves and branches and rocks where the tiniest of creatures wriggle about. it’s not fully dark yet, so you walk slower than you usually would, allowing yourself to look around and try and recognise as many plants and beasts as possible. (another reason why you didn’t really want to stop your visits to the forest: your Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures marks have never been higher.)

after an hour or so, as you trudge deeper into the forest, the surroundings start to grow more visibly magical in nature. trees look blurred when you try to look at them directly. big leaves shift unnaturally in completely still air. sparkly birds let out trills that sound a little too human. a swarm of small, yellow-and-blue songbirds fly over. one of them swoops down and lands briefly on your outstretched arm, and you pet it, resisting the urge to bury your fingers in the fluffy plumage, knowing full well that instead of flesh and bones these birds are made of some sort of bluish-black goop that a) smells absolutely rank, b) along with sticky and very quick-hardening seems to be vaguely acidic in nature and c) is a major bitch to wash out of clothing.

the bird flies at your side for a while, trilling in response to your soft whistles, the tip of its wing tickling your cheek every other minute. you spot a few pixies, who respond to your cheery wave with a string of hoots and screeches, a cluster of three-feet-tall mushrooms pulsing with a harsh pink light, and a slow-moving cloud of gold mist, which you give a wide berth, holding your breath for good measure.

then an arrow whizzes past your ear, and your hand flies up with a gasp. your fingers come away red with blood.

you spin on your heel, hand pressed up to the side of your head, and narrow your eyes at the centaur standing ten feet away from you. ”haha, Brin. very funny.”

he levels an unimpressed stare at you. ”you know you’re not supposed to be here, Y/N.”

”you’ve been telling me that for four years now.”

”and you’ve been ignoring it for four years.”

”indeed I have.” you spin around, yanking the arrow from the tree it landed in. ”can I keep this?”

Brin glares at you. you roll your eyes but hand the arrow back to him. ”you’re no fun. that arrow has my blood on it, I should be legally allowed to keep it.”

Brin shakes his head, turning around and starting to walk back the way he’d (supposedly) come. ”I can’t even begin to explain how flawed that logic is.”

you snicker, hurrying after him. Brin might be a little stuck up, but he’s also one of the few friends you have in the Forest, and even then you don’t see him that much. ”so. how’ve things been here?”

Brin briefly glances up at the sky, and you immediately regret asking, already steeling yourself for an incomprehensible monologue about stars and the positions of planets and whatnot. if you were better in at astronomy, you probably would have been able to understand some of it, but you’re shit at astronomy, so it’s mostly gibberish to you.

but all Brin says is, ”things are stirring.”

you raise a brow. ”things?”

”are stirring, yes.”

”stirring.”

”yes.”

”the things.”

he looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. ”I really don’t know what more you want from me, Y/N.”

you look back up at him, unflinching. ”literally anything else. ‘things are stirring’ is all I got out of you, and that’s not much to go on.”

Brin sighs, short and sharp. ”I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. forget about it. it’s not something you should concern yourself with.”

you pretend to gag. ”you sound like Bane.”

Brin opens his mouth, about to object, but stops dead, narrowing his eyes and throwing out an arm to stop you. his tail swishes from side to side and he stands still, head cocked, listening intently.

for all your joking around, you immediately shut your mouth, the tension gripping Brin all of a sudden leaking into your body as well. it’s all fun and games until a centaur gets genuinely nervous, and in those situations it’s best to watch the aforementioned centaur and do what they do. your hand slowly creeps towards your robe’s breast pocket, where your wand is stored, but you don’t pull it out yet.

Brin’s eyes flick to you, irritation flashing in them. ”someone’s here.”

you pause, not sure if this is an inconvenience or a Bad Thing. ”um. elaborate, please?”

Brin takes a deep breath. ”one of yours.”

as if on cue, the silence is split by a blood-curdling scream.

your head snaps towards where the sound came from, but it’s too dark and too far away to see. ”shit,” you mutter under your breath, before summoning a globule of light to hover in front of you and taking off in the direction of the scream.

one of you. did that mean another human? a wizard? a Hogwarts student? but no, it couldn’t be — no Hogwarts student would be insane enough to venture this far into the Forbidden Forest this late into the night.

as you follow the strangled cries of panic and yelps of pain, you start to get a dim visual of what happened, and you curse again.

Devil’s Snare. the little shits are everywhere, their roots creeping along the forest floor and waiting for any living thing to stumble across them. you’ve since learned to look out for them, jump over them and walk just fast enough to avoid getting entangled, having had a few close calls yourself.

this Snare is a particularly nasty one. old, gauging by its height and the thickness of the vines sprouting from its core. strong. fucking hell. you stop just out of reach, sending a few more globules of light to surround it as to get a better view of what the exact fuck is going on.

the person is almost completely covered in vines at this point. struggling, crying out in fear and pain, gasping for breath. the vines, of course, only tangle further around his body. after a bit of heated internal debate, you begrudgingly admit that if you’re going to help this guy, you’ll need to get closer. so you do, careful not to get too close just yet. the light you’d sent up is not enough to make the Snare let go of its prey, but it is enough to (mostly) prevent any stray vines from grabbing hold of your ankles.

”stay still!” you shout, kicking a vine away and shooting three more lights to hover around the trapped guy.

he does not stay still. in fact, he doesn’t look like he heard you at all.

in the meantime, the smaller vines have taken more of an interest in you as you approach, and you growl, muttering a spell under your breath. a straight blade of white-hot flame sprouts from your wand, and as you calmly swing it in a wide arc, the light and the heat makes the plant recoil. as you pick your way through the branches and vines, getting ever closer to the guy, whose struggling is starting to get weaker, you cup your hands around your mouth, almost singing your eyebrows with your sword of fire in the process, and repeat, ”STAY FUCKING STILL!”

”what?”

”STAY STILL. I can’t help you unless you stay still!”

a faint groan sounds, and the figure stops struggling for a split second, but the vines tighten around him and out of reflex his arms shoot out, trying to fight the pressure off his chest.

”oh my god, I cannot believe I’m doing this,” you pant, closing the rest of the distance between you with a couple big leaps, landing smack in the middle of the biggest and nastiest vines, and that’s when you discover that the biggest and nastiest vines also have spikes, because the vine that immediately wraps around your calf digs its spikes into your flesh and you cry out.

a hand flails in front of your face. you grab the wrist to which it is attached. a plan forms in your mind — a crazy plan, an insane plan that just might be the death of both you and the unknown guy. but it’s the plan you have, and thus the plan you’re going with.

with your fiery blade you cut through a few of the vines that cross the guy’s chest — and then you put your wand away, extinguishing the fire and quickly stuffing your wand in your breast pocket.

”what are you doing?” he asks, and that’s when it clicks. the indignant tone he still manages to have even though he’s being crushed to death; the curl of his lip you can’t make out in the fray but can picture perfectly in your head.

you reel back, though it’s not as dramatic as you’d have liked it to be, because a thick vine has already snaked across your back (but that’s okay, that’s part of the plan, it’s okay, it’s fine) and you only manage to be pushed back into his chest with an oof.

you wrangle free, pulling back just enough to be able to make out his face. ”Malfoy?”

recognition flashes in his eyes — nothing more than two specks in the darkness — and he says quietly, ”Y/N.”

”fucking — ow —” spikes dig into the back of your thigh — ”the fuck are you doing here?”

”I think we have other things to worry about right now,” he says faintly, grunting as he’s pushed closer to you.

you scrunch up your nose but concede, promising yourself that you’ll question him later — if you even get out of this alive. ”if I die right now, Malfoy — for you — I will come back to life so I can murder you myself.”

he purses his lips, but nods, as if to say, ”that’s fair.” it is. it is fair. little shit.

you take a breath, steeling yourself, then dive down into the tangle of writhing vines at your feet, ignoring Malfoy’s shout of your name above you.

this is where it gets gross, and where you might lose a hand. one hand comes up to your chest and yanks out your wand, and the other searches beneath you — vines, vines, spikes (ow), more vines, a single leaf, and then, finally, the disgustingly soggy pulsing heart of the plant. you give a triumphant ”AHA!” then stick your wand into the core with a squelch that makes you gag, pull out your hand and shout the sword of fire spell. the flaming blade cuts through the heart. the vines shudder — convulse — and then go limp, and you shrug them off, staggering away, gagging, tripping twice before falling against a tree and retching, a hand pressed against your stomach, taking deep breaths, trying to blink the black spots away.

as soon as you feel like you can shout without throwing up, you march up to Malfoy, who looks about as good as you feel, tear out your wand and stick it under his chin and yell, ”WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”

you expect him to yell back. that’s how the two of you have always functioned: you shout something, he yells something back. he yells something, you shout back.

but he doesn’t. he just stands there, looking deflated and shaky and frankly on the verge of tears. ”thank you, Y/N.”

it catches you off-guard. you pretend it doesn’t. Malfoy never thanks anyone. ”no, fuck you. answer my goddamn question. what are you doing here?”

”I was following you, all right? I know you’ve been going into the Forest for ages, and I wanted to know what you got up to. that’s it.”

you scoff. ”right. you were just following me. that’s not creepy at all.”

”listen, Y/N. I don’t know what else you want from me.” he sounds tired and defeated and it makes you angry, because it’s so Not Malfoy that it’s unsettling, and the last thing you need right now is ‘unsettling’.

you throw your hands up into the air and start stomping away. ”I don’t know! I don’t fucking know. just — ugh!” you kick a dead tree stump, out of which comes charging a single fat gnome, waving a small stick and shouting an incomprehensible string of what are without a doubt profanities you’ve never even heard of.

”Y/N.”

”what?!”

”you’re bleeding.”

you stop walking, dropping your face in your hands and bursting into tears.

ten seconds. that’s all you allow yourself. ten seconds until you’ve got to get yourself together; ten seconds to scream and cry and sob your heart out. ten seconds, and then you take a deep, deep breath, wipe your cheeks and say, ”right,” and start walking again.

for a moment you don’t hear anything, and you think Malfoy is going to stay behind — but then he sighs and jogs a few steps to catch up to you. you walk in silence for a long time. the only words you say is when you quietly warn him not to step too close to a certain rock, or not to touch a certain flower.

when you absent-mindedly pull a leaf off a green plant and press it to your nose, inhaling deeply, he looks to you in alarm. you roll your eyes. ”it’s mint.” you inhale again, letting your eyes flit closed. ”it’s comforting.”

a little bit later, and there’s a faint rustling to your right. Malfoy sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth; you rub a tired hand to your eyes. ”I was almost thinking you’d just left.”

Brin purses his lips, picking you up and wordlessly depositing you onto his back. you let your head drop against his back. ”thank you, Brin.”

”I would have helped you.”

”I had it under control.”

”I know.” he extends a hand towards Malfoy, who looks at it for a split second, then his gaze flits to you; you give a small nod, and a half second later he’s sat behind you, hands carefully resting on your hips.

”you…” your voice falters. ”you don’t have to do this, you know. Bane… and Magorian… surely they don’t approve of this.”

”they won’t know,” Brin says quietly. the forest around you slowly shifts back into a more peaceful atmosphere. the songbirds return. moonlight starts to filter through the foliage, and you take a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been needing.

a few hundred feet before the edge of the Forest, Brin stops. ”this is as far as I go.”

Malfoy slides off his back, then holds a hand for you to take, and you do, because you’re tired and wobbly and unsure whether your legs will hold your weight.

”thank you,” Malfoy says. you cast him a sideways glance. that’s the second time he’s thanked someone tonight, which is two times more than you thought he was capable of.

you nod curtly. Brin bows his head, then levels his gaze at you. ”I hope I don’t see you again, Y/N.”

you give him a lopsided grin. ”no promises.” and for the first time, something like a smile peeks through the centaur’s serious facade.

the last trek back onto school grounds is uneventful, bar the fact that the adrenaline has now completely worn off, and you start to feel sore all over, and you realise that your left leg — calf and thigh — is indeed bleeding. a lot. you have scratches on your arms and a nasty one on your cheek as well, and you’re covered in muck and grey slime. you probably look like something straight out of a Muggle zombie apocalypse film.

”you know the forest well,” Malfoy says as you step out of it.

you’re too tired to argue. ”yeah,” you reply simply. ”I love it.”

”you’ll be going back?” there’s a slightly incredulous hint to his voice, like he doesn’t quite believe it himself — you almost died. how could you possibly want to go back to such a place?

but the truth is that you do. you do want to go back. because the forest has been more of a home to you than Hogwarts has ever been. because you love its trees and its bushes and its weird magic plants and its pixies and centaurs and birds of enchantment. you love everything about it. even the near-death experiences. that’s what makes it fun.

”I will,” you say. ”I will be going back, Malfoy.” it sounds a little too much like a challenge. it sounds like you’re saying; try and stop me. I dare you.

he merely nods. he’s taken out his wand and cast a simple light spell, and the glowing tip of the wand sways as he walks. in the light, his eyes reflect gold. ”good.”

your eyebrows shoot up with the speed of a thousand Firebolts. ”excuse me?”

he grins; a boyish, sharp grin, that makes your stomach do a very irrelevant flip. ”I would have been disappointed if you didn’t.”

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 29: Sasha

Nobody in the Archives says anything, but a subtle change starts coming over the team after Michael’s unexpected visit. Jon starts spending more and more of his time in his office and seems tense and fidgety whenever they go in to talk to him, or he comes out to talk to them. Tim’s body language becomes more and more closed-off and his jokes become rarer and with an edge to them that’s never been there before. Martin seems mostly himself, but there’s a desperate, almost frantic eagerness to please about him that hasn’t been there since the first few months they were all in the Archives when he was trying desperately to earn Jon’s tolerance, if not approval.

Sasha makes it three weeks before she cracks.

It’s Tim that’s the final straw, Tim and the look he puts on Martin’s face. They’re winding down for the evening, tidying up their desks and the statements they’ve been dealing with—mostly false, to be honest—and Martin ducks into Jon’s office to remind him of the time, then comes back and informs Tim that Jon is “finishing something up” and won’t be ready to leave for a bit.

Tim shoves a drawer shut. “Fine. He knows the way home then.” He snatches up his files and stomps off to put them back on the shelf.

For just a second, Martin lets his emotions loose from behind the placid look he’s had plastered there lately, and Sasha sees the genuine shock and devastation in his eyes. Tim’s only left Jon behind once in the almost six months since the infestation of the Archives, and she still remembers Martin’s mock-stern look, Tim’s teasing smirk, and Jon’s sheepish grin as they told her about having to literally talk him out of the building. Hell, he barely lets—or let, anyway—Sasha walk out of the Archives alone after she stopped living with them; his protective-slash-herding instincts have been in overdrive. And both he and Martin worry about Jon’s health and safety, a lot. Bad enough that Tim is—seemingly—willing to leave Jon behind. Worse that he’s essentially making Martin choose between them. Sasha actually can’t guess which way he’ll go.

“Right, that does it,” she says abruptly. She looks at Martin and waves at Jon’s office. “Go get Jon out of his office.”

“He’s in the middle of—”

“He’ll come if you ask him,” Sasha says certainly. “But you’ll have to ask him.”

Martin frowns. “Why?”

“Because you’re the one he trusts most right now.” For a second, Sasha feels a little…not lightheaded, exactly, but the same sensation she gets when she drinks a glass of champagne too fast. It’s a feeling that’s been increasingly common lately, so as usual, she ignores it and keeps talking. “The only recording he has of Tim from before that table was delivered is the one we did the night after Jane Prentiss attacked, and he can’t bring himself to relisten to it, so he’s got no real proof Tim hasn’t been taken over by that thing the Primes mentioned. And even though he knows you and I are still ourselves, he’s a little on edge around me because I’ve been more distant than the two of you have been. So while he doesn’t really think any of us are out to get him, you’re definitely the only one who’s going to be able to pry him out of his shell like the stubborn mollusk he is.”

Martin stares at her for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, okay,” he says quietly.

He gets up from his desk and goes over to Jon’s office. Sasha gets up, too, puts on her jacket, and then goes over to the trapdoor and unearths the handle, but doesn’t open it yet. Instead, she heads back to their cluster of desks, grabs a torch out her drawer, and waits.

Martin, accompanied by Jon, comes towards her just as Tim comes back out of the shelves. Sasha doesn’t hesitate. She grabs Tim’s arm in an iron grip and jerks her head at Martin. “Come on. This way.”

“Sasha, what the hell—” Tim begins, but Sasha doesn’t give him a chance to argue further. She drags Tim over to the trapdoor, yanks it open, and half-shoves him down ahead of her.

“Come on,” she repeats over her shoulder, then starts down the steps herself. Behind her, she can hear Martin coaxing Jon into heading down under the floor, and then the door shuts behind them, leaving them in darkness for a split second before Sasha clicks on her torch.

She doesn’t bother knocking on the first door they come to, just turns the knob and opens it. The Primes start up from a nest of blankets, blinking sleep out of their eyes, which, okay, she should have expected. They aren’t exactly nocturnal, but they also don’t have cell phones anymore—not that there’s service in the tunnels anyway—so they tend to sleep when they feel like and get up when they want, and since they can’t come out into the Archives safely during business hours, they ordinarily don’t wake up until close to the time the team is usually packing up to leave. All of which is something they’ve certainly told her at some point and she’s filed away for later use and just never thought about until now. They both look slightly panicked, likely because neither one of them has the slightest clue who just barged in.

“This,” Sasha announces, releasing Tim’s arm and pulling the door shut behind Jon and Martin, “is an intervention.”

“Sasha, Christ, you scared the piss out of us.” Martin Prime sighs.

“Sorry,” Sasha says, even though she isn’t particularly. “I just thought we ought to do this somewhere the Ceaseless Watcher…couldn’t.”

Jon Prime feels about and locates two pairs of glasses. He slides one of them onto his face, then hands the other to Martin Prime before getting to his feet. “An intervention for what?” he asks, sounding weary.

“Yeah, an intervention for what?” Tim echoes. He sounds pissed. Tough.

Sasha folds her arms over her chest and glares at him. “That’s part of it. You’re acting like the world has personally offended you and you’re taking it out on the three of us. And you”—she turns her glare on Jon and waves a finger at him, which he flinches back from like she’s flung a knife at him—“are twitchier than the most neurotic statement-givers we’ve ever had down here. It’s getting ridiculous and it stops now.”

“Oh, does it?” Tim snarls. “What makes you think it works like that?”

“It’s going to work like that if I have to knock your fool heads together,” Sasha snaps back. “You can’t keep going on like this. We don’t deserve your attitude—”

“My attitude?”

“—and you don’t need to be so suspicious—”

“I beg your pardon?” Jon bristles at her.

“—so enough is enough—”

“You expect me to believe—” Jon’s voice is rising with every word.

“—anything to worry about—” Tim is waving a finger at her.

“Guys, come on,” Martin says pleadingly, but it gets lost under the flurry of words from the others.

“I’ve got one of those, too.” Sasha brandishes her own finger at Tim. “You can’t—”

“—what you’re hiding—”

“—all calm down and—”

“—don’t even care—”

“—trying to work while you—”

“—never see what you’re—”

“—lack of oversight—”

“Everybody shut up!” Martin Prime shouts.

The silence is almost deafening as all four of them turn to look at Martin Prime. His eyes are closed and he’s massaging his temples. “Look, if you’re in here having this talk, it’s because you want us to be involved in it, and I cannot follow the conversation if you’re all talking at once. Frankly, I doubt any of you can either, but I can’t focus on who’s saying what and it all blends together. If you don’t want us involved, fine, go find another room to argue in, but if you’re going to do this in here, knock it off. You are going to have to take turns.”

Sasha’s never actually heard Martin—either Martin—raise his voice, which definitely serves to make her pause. They all stand in silence for a long moment before Tim speaks. “Fine. I’ll start. You want to talk about my attitude? Let’s talk about my attitude. Or better yet, let’s talk about your attitudes, towards this whole…situation.”

“What?” Martin and Jon speak at the same time, Martin sounding confused and worried and Jon deadly calm.

“We are working for the evil embodiment of knowledge,” Tim grates out. “You know that. You know the more we learn about this shit, the deeper we go! And none of you are even hesitating—”

“Tim, it’s our job,” Martin tries. “We—”

“You’re not even trying to resist it!” Tim shouts, wheeling around to face Martin as he clenches his hands into tight fists.

Martin flinches. No, that’s too mild a word for it. Martin recoils, cringing back away from Tim and curling inward on himself, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped protectively around his midsection, head turned sharply to one side, eyes screwed shut, lips pressed tightly together. He looks up just as quickly as he looked away, eyes wide and wet. His pupils are so blown out they almost swallow his irises whole, and his skin is paper white, throwing every freckle into relief so stark they look almost three-dimensional. It obviously costs him a great deal to make eye contact with Tim, but he manages it, and something about his posture…

It hits Sasha in the same moment it hits Tim, judging by the sudden shift in Tim’s expression. Martin has braced himself to take a blow. He actually expects Tim—Tim—to lay a hand on him. Since Sasha knows it’s not anything Tim has ever done in the past that makes Martin think that, it must be something from further back, and she’s struck with a sudden, powerful desire to take a trip up to Devon and find out if all the true crime stuff she reads in her spare time will make it easier for her to commit a homicide and not get caught.

The anger drains out of Tim’s face, replaced with shock and remorse. “Oh, God,” he chokes out. “Martin, I—I didn’t—” He starts to reach out, then evidently realizes that won’t help and runs his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. It’s just…I’ve been watching all three of you. I-I told you the other day, I see your face—all your faces—when you’re looking into some of this stuff, and…I’m scared. I’ve already lost one person I care about to this. I don’t want to lose anyone else.” He takes a deep breath. “And—I feel like I’m watching you all die right in front of me.”

“Oh, Tim,” Jon Prime murmurs. He sounds—and looks—heartbroken, and Sasha remembers the careful way the Primes picked around talking about Tim that first day. She wonders if Tim Prime felt the same way, and if they ever got this conversation. From the pinched look on Martin Prime’s face as he wraps his arm around Jon Prime’s waist, she somehow doubts it.

Martin’s lip trembles, and he swallows twice before he manages to speak in a small, shaking voice. “It’s not—i-it’s hard, Tim. I’m t-trying, but…I think it’s too late for me. Even before…even before we knew, I was…” He closes his eyes and turns his head away for a moment, evidently fighting back the tears. “I thought it was just wanting to prove myself. Now I don’t know. But i-if I don’t dig into things deep enough, it hurts. And I don’t know how to stop it.” He looks up and turns to Martin Prime, but without, Sasha notices, relaxing his protective posture. “Was it…was it like that for you?”

Martin Prime hesitates, then nods. “I think so. It’s hard to be sure, since, you know, I didn’t know what we were up against for longer, but by the time I started thinking maybe this wasn’t a great idea and I should stop…I couldn’t.”

“My God,” Jon Prime breathes. “I-I didn’t realize…was it like that for the others?”

“Maybe? It’s not like we sat around and compared notes. And I was definitely in it deeper than everyone else, even before things got bad.”

“Jesus.” Tim tugs at his hair for a moment, then lets his hands drop to his sides. “I am sorry, Martin. A-and you, too,” he adds, looking at Jon, then at Sasha. “You’re right, you don’t deserve…I just, it’s always been an issue with me. I get scared and it comes out as anger. I’m not angry at you. Not really. I mean…maybe I was, a little, but mostly it’s the whole…situation. I feel so damned helpless. I didn’t know anything about what Danny was involved in, so I couldn’t do anything to save him, and I lost him. Now I do know what’s going on, and I still can’t do anything to stop it.” He takes a deep breath. “I—I’ll try to talk it out before it gets this bad again.”

“Thank you,” Martin says softly.

“That helps,” Jon mutters. “A bit.”

“Right, your turn,” Sasha says, turning to face him. “What’s got you so on edge?”

Jon stiffens. “I beg your pardon?”

“Come on, Jon. You’re as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a rocking chair factory. I half expect to go into your office and see you with a map covered in pins and string. And I don’t get it.” Sasha ticks off points on her fingers. “You know who killed Gertrude Robinson, so it isn’t like you suspect one of us, let alone suspect us of trying to kill you. You’ve been obsessively playing every tape you can find from before that table got delivered that has one of us on it, over and over, so you know our voices by heart and know we haven’t been taken over, except for Tim because you can’t bring yourself to re-listen to the tape you made after Jane Prentiss attacked, but you’ve got that Polaroid we took on your birthday last year stuck in the bottom drawer with your backup recorder, so—”

“How do you know that?” Jon interrupts, a slight edge to his voice and his eyes widening.

Sasha stops, runs through what she just said, and covers her mouth with one hand. “Oh, shit.”

“You say things like this and I’m supposed to, what, not be suspicious? Not worry that I’m just…hearing what I want to hear on the tapes and you’re not—” Jon waves a hand at her.

“No, I’m—I haven’t been snooping through your office or anything. I just—” Sasha winces and glances at Tim. “I guess I’m…in too deep, too.”

A despairing look flits through Tim’s eyes. “I was afraid of that.”

“Jon, I swear to you, nobody in this room has it out for you,” Sasha says, turning back to her boss. “And I think the evidence is on the side of ‘I would know’. You know that, too. I told Martin earlier you don’t really suspect any of us, I know you don’t. I’d even go so far as to say I capital-K Know it. The Not-Them isn’t in the Archives. We don’t even have any real evidence that it’s anywhere, that it’s taken over anyone, and if it has it isn’t bothering us—”

“But we don’t know that!” Jon bursts out, gesturing in a way that has Martin taking a half-step back to avoid his flailing hands. “There’s no—it could be anyone in the Institute, it’s not like any of us went around gathering tape recordings or taking Polaroids or anything, so how would we know? How could any of us know? I-it could be anywhere, it could—and it’s not just that thing. Michael just appeared in my office, and even if he was after Helen Richardson, he could come in at any time. Jane Prentiss was living in the walls, my God, she—she was right here all that time, for all those weeks, a-and she could have come in at any time and we never would have known. Breekon and Hope just appeared—Rosie said she had no idea how they got in to deliver the table, and then they came down here and—they could have done anything and I wasn’t even here—” He draws in a sharp breath. “You think you can’t—I-I’m supposed to be in charge. If, if these things can just waltz in whenever they please and I can’t even detect them before it’s too late…it’s bad enough when they come after me, I-I almost want them to come after me, because that means they aren’t going after you. I don’t know what else to do. I can’t keep any of you safe.”

Jon Prime closes his eyes and turns his head towards Martin Prime’s shoulder. The tears brim up in Martin’s eyes, but he blinks them back fiercely. Tim lets out a hiss between his teeth. “And you think we’re going to be okay if you get hurt?”

“No! No, but—God.” Jon closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m scared, too. A-and I’ve never—I’ve always had to deal with this sort of thing alone. So I—I suppose I went too far that way. I was trying to handle it all myself, and…” He looks up and looks at the other three. “I am sorry. I never meant—I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t realize I was—”

“Shutting us out?” Sasha supplies.

“Folding in on myself. Scared of things getting down into the Archives, and it started translating into being scared of what was already here. I-it all…compounded.” Jon gives a small, bitter laugh. “I was so desperate to protect you all that I didn’t realize I was making things worse. I-I’ll try to open up a bit more, too.”

Martin’s shoulders sag slightly in evident relief. Tim manages a smile. “Tell you what, boss. I’ll let you know if you’re being an asshole if you’ll do the same for me, deal?”

Jon actually smiles back, a little. “Deal.” The smile fades, though, as he turns to Sasha. “I—while we’re being honest, Sasha…I’m not sure how much I trust you these days. It’s—it’s not that I think you’re…I know you’re still you. You’re right. I know that. But…you’re keeping secrets. I-I’m not saying you’re not allowed to, but…the way you avoid us, it makes me worry about why. What you’re up to.”

A stab of panic hits Sasha, for no real reason. It’s not like it’s a dangerous secret or anything, it’s just…she doesn’t tell her secrets. “It’s not about the job, Jon. I promise.”

“I believe you, but…that doesn’t mean it can’t hurt us. Or you, for that matter. I worry that you’re involved in something that might be…” Jon gestures vaguely at the universe.

“You’re the one with the ability to just know things about people,” Tim points out. “Which means our ability to keep secrets from you has just gone down drastically, not that you weren’t the type to dig them out anyway. Hardly seems fair that you’re the only one who gets to have secrets.”

“Wow, okay.” Sasha frowns at him.

“Sorry, I don’t—” Tim closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “That wasn’t nice. I’m sorry.” He pauses. “Or at least, I’m sorry for how I said it. I think I meant it. Maybe not that harshly, but…”

“Sasha,” Jon Prime says quietly. “Take it from someone who’s been there. It will be a lot easier on you—on all of you—if you trust them with…whatever it is now.”

Sasha is about to say that he doesn’t have to be cagey when she realizes that he doesn’t know either. Her counterpart never told them, and then she was dead and it didn’t matter. Which means their Sasha took her secret to the grave. Something else occurs to her about that, and she can’t hold back a gasp at the sudden lance of pain, covering her mouth with her hand. Oh, God, that means…

“My uncle,” she half-whispers through her fingers. She closes her eyes for a minute, takes a shaky breath, then lowers her hand and tries to speak in a more normal tone. “My mother’s baby brother—he’s only about ten years older than I am. My parents died when I was six and he…he raised me. He taught me everything I know—especially about computers and, well, hacking and all that.” She takes a deep breath. “He’s in prison. Something to do with something he unearthed that he wasn’t supposed to. I don’t know all the details, he won’t tell me and I haven’t wanted to risk digging for them, but he’s been there since 2010. It’s why I came to London in the first place, and it’s why I live where I do—so I can be closer to him.”

“Sash.” Tim sounds shocked and sad. “Why didn’t you ever tell us?”

“I—I don’t know. I’ve always been like that, I suppose. Uncle Wade used to tease me about the way I would dig up secrets, he’d say I should have been named Harriet instead of Sasha. I never did anything with them, I just…liked having them, I guess. But I’ve also always been big on keeping them. It’s like…like it wasn’t a good secret if anyone but me knew it.” Sasha lets out a blow of frustration. “I can’t explain it, Tim. The only answer I can come up with is that I didn’t tell you because then it wouldn’t be a secret. And it’s stupid, and I know that. I should have told you all a long time ago and I’m sorry.” She bites her lip and looks over at the Primes, who both look stricken. “I…I’m guessing, um, Sasha Prime never told you that.”

“No,” Martin Prime says softly. “She never talked about her family. We never knew…” He trails off.

Which means Uncle Wade, in their time, probably never knew what happened to her, Sasha thinks miserably. She suspected as much before, but to have it confirmed…it’s painful. She presses her lips together for a moment, then looks at the others. “If anything happens to me—”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Jon says sharply, a flash of panic in his eyes.

“But if it does—you’ll make sure he knows?” Sasha swallows. “Wade Copper. HMP Pentonville. Just…promise me that if something happens to me, one of you will tell him. Please.”

Tim swallows, but nods. “Cross my heart.”

Sasha relaxes. “Thank you.” She looks back to the Primes. “I’m sorry. I know I’m technically not the one who didn’t tell you, but…I kind of am? So I’m sorry I never told you, either. I—I don’t know if that would have made things better or worse.”

“Worse, probably,” Jon Prime says, a little distantly. “The Not-Them never went to visit him, or at least not on days when I was…well, stalking it, instead of Tim or Martin. But if I’d known…if I’d thought for a minute about…” He sighs. “There was a lot going on, and I’m afraid I didn’t give a lot of thought to who might need to be notified of our Sasha’s death.”

“Think Elias would have told him?” Tim asks. Sasha can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

“I doubt it,” Jon Prime answers. He sounds bitter. “He probably got more delight out of the uncertainty and fear and anguish your uncle felt, not knowing why you’d suddenly stopped coming to visit, not understanding why no one would talk to him about—”

“Jon,” Martin Prime warns.

Jon Prime pulls up short. “Sorry.”

Sasha shakes her head, not sure what she’s denying. Maybe that he needs to apologize at all. She thinks she’s starting to get it. It’s probably not going to be uncommon for any of them to suddenly blurt out a truth that has the potential to hurt at least one other person in the room, because that’s what the Eye thrives on, is the fear of knowledge. The fear of secrets exposed.

“Is that why I’ve got that aspect of it?” she asks aloud, surprised by the direction her thoughts are trending.

“What?” Jon Prime frowns at her.

“The—you told us that you’ve got all sorts of…weird Archivist powers. You can compel people to tell you things and sense when people have statements for you and sometimes you just Know things without knowing how you know them, right?” Jon Prime nods cautiously, and Sasha continues. “I haven’t noticed me being able to compel anyone, I don’t think I can force people to tell me things or anything like that, but I-I think I’m developing the ability to just…Know things. Like about that Polaroid. I get this weird…fizzy feeling in my mind? Like it’s full of bubbles, or—”

“Or static?” Jon Prime supplies.

Sasha closes her eyes briefly. “God, how did I not think of that?”

“Probably because it never would have occurred to either of us that you might…that that might happen.” Jon Prime glances up at Martin Prime, then back at Sasha. “You’re right. If you’ve all been sharing the recording duties as well as the research duties…well, Jon is still the Archivist and still going to get the lion’s share, but I suspect the rest of you will at least develop something. Possibly not you, Tim, if you stop now.”

“Yeah, not happening,” Tim says, sounding reluctant. “I might not like it, but now that I know…I’m not going to leave my family to do this alone. I’ll help. Damn the consequences.”

Jon manages a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s the spirit.”

Sasha smiles, too, then turns to Martin. “What about you?”

Martin blinks, evidently surprised. “Me?”

Sasha gestures around them. “We’ve all been…acting like this. You’ve been acting like yourself, or more accurately like you did when we all started out in the Archives, when none of us knew you yet and you thought you had to prove you belonged here. I don’t need freaky Eye powers to know that you’re trying too hard. We put the burden of…everything on you, and none of us thought about how the way we were behaving might have affected you. So, it’s your turn. What do you need from us?”

Martin stares at her, then at the other two. Tim’s face is still ashen, Jon’s eyes still wide, but they’re both looking at Martin intently—like they can see something about him that Sasha can’t. Which they quite possibly can. Sasha may have been given the gift, or curse, of being able to ferret out secrets and hidden knowledge, but the friendship these three have developed, especially living in such close proximity to one another, has probably given them an understanding of one another that is beyond anything an entity of fear can see. His shoulders slump slightly, his protective posture eases back, and he actually smiles—it’s small, but it’s genuine.

“Actually,” he says, and while his voice shakes, it’s not as bad, “just you having asked means a lot.” He takes a shuddering, steadying breath. “I-it’s just, well, I don’t…do so well alone anymore? I-I mean, I’m trying, but…I don’t think I can actually…” He trails off and doesn’t finish.

“You’re not alone, Martin,” Jon says, his voice cracking slightly. “Not anymore. Not ever again.”

All the tension seems to seep out of Martin in one rush, and his arms drop to his sides as he straightens, like a burden has just dropped off his back. Sasha isn’t sure who moves first, Tim or Jon, but they both reach Martin in almost the same instant and wrap him tightly in a hug. Martin hugs them back, his eyes squeezing shut, but Sasha sees the tear force its way out of the corner and the relief in his face. She realizes he’s been suffering these last few weeks and wonders—have any of them touched him, even briefly? Have any of them touched one another, or have they all been keeping separate and distant?

Whatever the case, Sasha decides that, just this once, she wants to be a part of it. She lets the torch fall heedlessly to the ground and crosses the floor to join the group hug. Someone’s hand curls around her arm, she’s not sure who, but she feels the warmth of her friends—her boys—soak into her body and wonders why she’s gone so long without this.

She raises her head briefly and looks in the direction of the Primes. She can just see them in the torch light glowing up from below; Jon Prime is watching them with a look of mingled warmth and longing. Giving in to impulse, she jerks her head to indicate that they should come closer.

And, for a wonder, he does. They both do, and suddenly there are more arms joining the pile and six people instead of four. Six broken, lonely pieces slotting together to make a single picture. Not quite complete. It may never be complete. But at least there aren’t any holes. Not anymore.

[dumbdancemomssideblog]

S1E1: The Competition Begins

okie dokie first ever episode of dance moms rewatch starts now :0 i actually remember watching this the very first time it aired on lifetime because i was channel surfing and saw a commercial for it earlier that day. that was the summer between 8th and 9th grade. ah memories... i didnt know what to expect because i did dance when i was a kid but not on a competition team and it was mostly ballet so i was pretty unfamiliar with this whole world. 

anyway lets begin. this is probably gonna be a longer post than what i’ll end up writing for the other episodes in season 1 bc the first episode introduces so much info, just a heads up

Act 1: (aside: yes its insufferable to divide this into “acts” when its really just like “segments separated by commercial breaks” but thats how they’re called in actual tv scripts so im just going with that cuz i cant think of a better/easier way uwu)

god this is so fucking early 2010s lmao

i miss these days where they were just talented nobodies from pittsburgh on a low budget reality tv show that nobody even knew would be successful. and the bad hair and makeup but idk if that was also just a 2011 thing lol

THE REAL HOUSEWIVES GREEN SCREEN INTROS IM DYING

the chalkboard !!!! they werent doing the pyramid on the mirror yet 

(apparently abby never did anything similar to the pyramid thing but the producers made her and it became a whole Thing on the show and thats why the moms were like wtf is this bullshit the first week)

mackenzie looks like a toddler. chloe is so tiny. theyre the 2 who changed the most physically over the course of the show

i remember watching this for the first time being used to ballet lyrical and jazz but never having done or really seen acro/gymnastics in dance choreo and being SO flabbergasted. i was thinking “a chin stand is not dancing what the actual hell” and yknow what? i was right

melissa: “my boyfriend knows how much i spend on dance because he signs the checks...............hermehhemrherrmehermh” (the most awkward laugh omg)

maddie is wearing a fucking bumpit in her hair i cannot

melissa deadass just said out loud “im here for my daughter im not here to make friends” ok everybody mark that one off on your catty women’s reality tv show bingo card!

camera man accidentally getting in the shot filming right in front of the huge wall-mirror.... what is this, amateur hour? i’ll let it slide since its the first day of filming rehearsal but step it up, boys

aw i forgot about maddie getting sick and crying :/ poor kid

melissa saying “i cant stand a chid that’s sick” sounds so edited like the intonation made it seem to me like they just cut her off mid-sentence i love lifetime

oh this was still when they were wearing normal stuff to class/rehearsal like black leotards bc they werent getting sent a trillion crazy 2-piece dancewear outfits for free yet bc they werent famous, man those were the days

Act 2:

[obligatory b-roll footage of downtown pittsburgh] 

the maddie chloe paige trio !!!! this is making me feel so nostalgic

“knees together, paige. you’re bow-legged, you need to fix that”

“you’re tall, you’re skinny, you’re a beautiful girl, you can do better than this. FOCUS” shes like 10 abby what the hell

“people think im tough and i guess i am but i would rather be the one to make your kid cry in the privacy of my studio than at an open-call audition in front of hundreds of people”

okay unpopular opinion alert: i agree with a lot of what abby says about stuff like this but her delivery is flawed, to but it euphemistically, that being said i think the production team of the show and the fame inflating her ego changed all of this somewhere over the course of the second season and its really sad to see :/ i can expand on that thought later tho

aw paige crying bc abby correcting her (but not saying anything personal or out of line, just technique corrections (at based on what we were shown, we dont know everything she said oop)) shes a sensitive kid she never should have been put on this show :( 

paige looks exactly like her mom i didnt realize that before

nia and holly were done so dirty throughout the whole series in terms of the narrative the producers set up about nia being the weakest link :/ 

Act 3:

cathy’s entire involvement in the show from the very beginning was so painfully obviously scripted (or at least heavily staged) 

vivi was also done dirty by the show’s narrative and she was only 6 and they presented her as like the butt of the joke bc her mom’s “character” was crazy and also she wasnt good at dance. i wonder how she feels about the show now that shes a teenager hmm. she really seemed not to give a fuck about dance for better or for worse when she was a kid tho so maybe she doesnt care ?

in what universe would an owner of another competitive dance studio bring her own kid to another studio more than an hour’s drive away, AND be under the impression that she could compete with them in a week, especially when they showed the kids’ and moms’ shocked reaction at the start of the episode to having to learn a dance in a week and compete it? like really what is the point of cathy and vivi being a part of this show im so ????

Act 4: 

THE MINISTER DAWN OUTBURST HOW DID I FORGET ABOUT THIS

this fight is about 50% of what got them a full season 1 and then things took off from there tbh. the other 50% was the electricity dance but thats a point for next episode..... :)

“you’re a minister act like one” “YOU’RE RIGHT I AM A MINISTER! LET’S PLAY THE BIBLE GAME ABBY, WHEN JESUS SAW THINGS THAT WERE WRONG HE WENT AFTER THEM, AND YOU’RE NOT GOING TO DO THIS TO MY KID” ma’am i think the wrongs jesus addressed were of slightly more importance than a preteen being told she cant take a dance class if shes violating the studio’s dress code

this is so good bc it wasnt staged afaik and there are regular students all throughout the building just STARING at them like lmao what even is going on, so im pretty sure this is real???

regardless, yeah dont wear socks and a tshirt to an acrobatics class, thats common fucking sense

another cameraman-in-mirror sighting, but its hard to think about angles when filming spontaneous drama like this, so i wont count it against them

“you called me fat” (i remember that being in the episode but thats not on the episode available through lifetime on demand that im watching from my moms tv hmmmmmm) “i told you to close and tuck in your two-piece costume, theres a big difference. HOW CAN YOU REMEMBER THAT BUT YOU CAN’T REMEMBER TO TURN YOUR FEET OUT” uh scream

she really called the police on this woman i cannot handle this. can you imagine being a police officer responding to this call? 

“we have a parent thats out of control. pardon? no shes doesnt have weapons, just her mouth” iconic

im sorry im still not over the hair and makeup. the flat hair with the side bangs. the black pencil eyeliner applied all the way around the eye. why did any of us think this was a look :( why did we do this :(

Act 5:

they went all the way to phoenix to compete 3 numbers, only 2 of which are shown in the episode.

i think this is the only time they ever went to west coast dance explosion because its an actual competition and they wouldnt allow filming after this lol i think they did go to wcde one weekend in addition to a competition where they were filming but it wasnt shown or mentioned at all

abby not wanting brooke and paige to have a french manicure on stage if theyre the only ones in the group with the french tips is perfectly valid idk why it was framed as some crazy micromanaging shit

i also am really not a fan of the whole “high functioning alcoholic wine mom/crazy stage mom” schtick they were pushing for the first few episodes of this show

in retrospect i feel like so many of the quips in this episode were intentionally fucking crazy just to get the audience engaged enough to want to watch more episodes...

“see those girls down there, those girls with the legs? thats who you’re up against, so step it up”

abby warning them that its dangerous for their little party hats to slip when they’re doing aerials and pirouettes and stuff: “what if you were at radio city music hall and they had the ice rink out and you were doing a side aerial and fell 13 stories down and died, huh?” fantastic point abby thank you for saying that to 5 girls ages 8-12 less than 5 minutes before they went on stage. perfect time for a teaching moment like that :)

i forgot how bad the camera work was in the first few episodes for footage of their performances. like they really didnt think the show’s audience would actually want to watch the kids dance, the producers and editors thought we just wanted to see stage mothers yelling at each other lol

also the mic feed over the music of abby talking to herself giving them corrections while watching them dance on stage.... im so glad they quit doing that. i dont remember them doing it like that for any other episode, i hope im right

this choreo is very basic and its a cute dance i guess but its very cringe in some places and for the first episode this is such a forgettable group routine

their scandalized reaction to placing third and the sad piano music is so funny honestly

and maddies reaction in the interview which was almost definitely fed to her by the producers where shes like “i win all the time i dont really know what its like to LOSE i always win or get runner up” so many of maddies lines from season 1 interviews sound so fake and she was probably too naive to know they were getting her to say that stuff so they could paint her as a conceited brat (she was EIGHT)

the trio costume was so ugly im sorry (is it supposed to be like a 50s pinup bathing suit?) (and the headband thing looks so bad) and also the music is bad but they had no real authority over that bc of copyright stuff

chloe’s headpiece coming forward and the ensuing drama was another moment in the episode that really solidified public interest in the show imho.... 

“YOU’RE IN THE BAR HAVING A DRINK AND YOUR KID’S HEADPIECE IS FALLING OFF” “it did not FALL OFF it CAME FORWARD it was FINE!!!”

“mistakes happen, we’re human.” “YOU are. mistakes like that dont happen to me”

and then the “next time on dance moms” with the WILDLY INAPPROPRIATE electricity dance, of course. genuinely that was really smart of the producers in terms of structuring things to generate intrigue lol. and obviously it ended up working....

[slasherscream]

cooking headcannons with poly Billy and Stu and their s/o? 😎 i feel like stu is the type to flip pancakes super high and get them stuck on the ceiling and billy is the type to just order in bc he gave up after 2 seconds

A/N: you’re braver than any us marine to be in a kitchen with these two

billy loomis x reader x stu macher  ft. cooking for (with) dummies

                                                     ——————– 

For this we are assuming you can cook and thus, fair warning, you will always be cooking. They’re not assholes so they’ll totally do dishes for you (Billy will. If Stu can worm his way out of a household chore he will do so by any means necessary) but why should they cook when you’re so good at it? Their logic? Unbeatable. 

They both walk away real fast whenever you seem to be about to “teach them” something. They don’t want to know! You’re the chef of this house. Don’t be grouchy about your designation. How about some kisses? Would a kiss make all this free labor better? Stu sure thinks it will.

Billy kinda likes rigid roles in the relationship because it gives him the illusion of stability. So you always doing this one thing in the relationship is like a security blanket of sorts. Please get him some therapy-

Express to him that cooking can be a bonding activity as well as an important life skill to have and you’ve got him! He tends to like lowkey “dates” and more than that he really enjoys “couple activities” though he’d rather die than admit it. It’s because he wants you to spend 100% of your time with him and Stu. Like some kind of exotic leech you can’t get rid of. 

Stu is gonna groan because work and he’s never cooked anything in his #Life but you can get him into the kitchen with both promises of affection and by strategically withholding said affection. He’s needy. 

So you got them in there! What now? Strap in for the ride of your fucking life buckaroo-

Billy has a lot more cooking experience than Stu but like….not much compared to you. At least in terms of quality if not quantity. Meat. Breakfast food. Pastas. Crappy soup. Enough that if he was living in a college dorm alone he wouldn’t die. Eats raw vegetables (and fruits) but has probably never cooked one I won’t lie. 

Only learned and figured out cooking because you know …MIA Mom. His Dad certainly didn’t buck up and learn that particular skill for the two of them. It was either takeout or semi-crappy Billy cooking.  

Stu, if he wasn’t living with you and Billy, would have scurvy and he’d be dead. No cooking skills. Can’t cook ramen. Can maybe use a toaster. Perhaps even a toaster oven. If you ever leave him alone he’d die like a tamagotchi but faster.

Takeout and fast food are his only saviors. He knows all the numbers to every place that delivers by heart and he knows closing times and menus too. He survived his teenage years by the grace of his Mother, occasional family chefs, and God. 

Start on the basics. Stu knows nothing and Billy is (shittily) self taught. This will be the most maddening part of living with the boys since moving in with them. They are struggling. You are struggling. 

They’re good with knives so that skill translates pretty quickly. Everything else is a mess. 

Stu you teach one skill and he goes overboard with it. Overzealous … if you will. So yes he will flip a pancake into the ceiling. He’s going to over-whisk/stir everything. And if you need him to chop something?? He’ll just sit there and mince it to shit. Anything you put in front of him. Minced to granule. Very proud of himself.

                               you: baby i needed it in chunks                                                              stu: :D                                                              you: nevermind. great job, babe-

He’s so eager to please he’s doing his best and genuinely following all instruction to the best of his ability. If you just hang in there eventually he’ll do everything you teach him to do just the way you taught him to do it. He’s a good student in that sense. Just… hang in there.

Billy can get all the basics of cooking down great. It’s the recipes and seasoning that’ll get him. The finer points of cooking will be his downfall. He’ll rage quit long before you can register his mounting frustration. 

The type to not want to do something because they’re not immediately good at it? Billy? Never.

Stick with it and he’ll actually enjoy it to some extent. Doesn’t mind cooking alone but only really likes doing it when he’s doing it with you. He likes the normalcy and familiarity of it. Moving around each other like clockwork. Little jokes. Playful nudges. It’s a routine he’ll start to love, in all honesty.

Wiping down a counter (he’s a clean as you go type) and you pop up beside him with a spoon for him to taste? But wait! It’s too hot so you’re just gonna blow on it for a second first?? He started cool guy smirking like “god look at them” but missed the mark and it wound up a sappy “god look at them” smile.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again he’s a sucker for domestic life. He’s trying to build a love nest and you and Stu had better be on board, eager participants or so help you god-

Stu is good at all things prep work. He can still barely cook honestly but he won’t burn the house down trying to make something basic. He shines at breakfast foods like all men who can’t really cook but like to say they can. Could he offer you a waffle? Grits? Some perfectly cooked eggs? French toast?

If he can be bothered to wake up in the morning before you or Billy he will make you both breakfast in bed. It’s rare because he never wakes up first. Sweet when it happens though.

Always very careful about getting out of bed but Billy is the world’s lightest sleeper so he notices instantly someone’s left the bed. You’re up next because Stu cannot cook quietly under any circumstances. Pots and pans and banging of all volumes come from the kitchen.

You and Billy always share sleepy smiles before curling up together and dozing back off, all the while waiting for your boyfriend to come kick open the door dramatically while bearing food.  

Billy eventually gets pretty good in general but he really enjoys cooking you and Stu’s favorite foods. These are things he can cook perfectly with his eyes closed. Were you moping today? Go take a nice, hot shower to relax. Come back and oh wow? Your favorite comfort food on the counter. Where’d that come from?? If you gush over it he acts like it’s no big deal but he loves the praise and loves babying you. Want him to stab whatever made you upset? Just asking! Just as a side note! No? Fine.

Stu cooks/helps you prep mostly so the “who’s turn is it to do the dishes” debate will be more confusing and in the end Billy will usually wind up doing them to avoid a secondary Great Stalemate (there was a lot of bastard energy in the house the first year of living together. it mostly belonged to Stu). Also does them because Billy’s a softie for you ….and Stu, admittedly. Why else would he not stab him when you all know it’s Stu’s turn to do the fucking dishes-

Billy wants to try and cook something new with you once a month. You guys don’t really have set date nights (billy vc: lame) but if you did this would be one of them. Stu loiters but rarely joins the actual cooking process. Mostly just hanging out in the kitchen while you and Billy work your magic. He will distract one or both of you with dancing and singing.

Dancing may begin as lighthearted and goofy but be wary and wise — he can get the drop on you and make it groping and grinding quicker than you can say “burning food-”. Billy? 50/50 chance on him prying you away from Stu and scolding him because you’re both busy or him joining in. 

You have all nearly set the house on fire because somehow Stu wound up on his knees between your thighs, Billy’s hands tangled tightly in his hair while he whispered feverishly what he wanted to do to you in your ear.

If it had been a scary movie you all would’ve been killed since you literally didn’t notice the small stove fire until Billy jumped out of his skin with a yelp of, “Oh shit!”

If you don’t live a long life with these disasters you’ll live a short but sweet one together.

                                                     ——————– 

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Paul

(Not my gif)

- You met Paul at a concert. You were there with your friends and had turned to ask them something only to find you were all alone. You fought your way through the crowd looking for them before you were pushed into a hard body.

- When you looked up you saw this Bon Jovi looking ass motherfucker. He turned to look at the person who bumped into him with a glare before his face turned into one of confusion. He finally looked down at the ground where you were close to being trampled. When he saw you he bent down and offered you a hand with a smirk playing on his lips.

“You alright sweetheart?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Sorry about that but have you seen some girls-” you describe your friends as he pretends to look concerned.

“Hey, why don’t I help you look for them?”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course, can’t let a pretty girl like you wander around alone.”

- Just as the others in the gang were about to grab you, you saw your friends walk past and you quickly excused yourself, thanking him for his help. 

- You figured you would never see the man again and tried your best to forget about his ridiculously handsome face. That is until you got lost while trying to find your way home. 

- You had somehow gotten turned around in the crowds along the boardwalk and ended up on some abandoned side street with no clue of where you were. You were just trying to find a phone booth or someone who could point you in the right direction when you heard a motorcycle riding up behind you. 

- You were a little worried as the bike stopped beside you (considering you were all alone with no way of defending yourself), that is until you noticed just who was on the vehicle. 

“Oh hey, it’s you!” You smiled and the man offered you a charming grin as he leaned against the handlebars of his bike. 

“You alright Sweetheart?”

- You told him about the predicament you were in and he quickly offered you a ride home insisting he knew exactly how to get to your street; you figured you had nothing to lose and accepted. Surprisingly enough the handsome stranger wasn't an ax murderer and actually took you home, well, to the end of your street. You didn’t want to just lead a stranger to your door no matter how attractive he was. 

- When you were just about to part ways he asked you out saying something alone the lines of  “I think you’re gorgeous and I think you like me as much as I like you so how about I take you out sometime?”

- A bit cocky but sweet enough, so you decide to give it a try. Your first date is obviously at night, he takes you to an ice cream shop on the boardwalk and the two of you get to know each other better. 

- You wind up having your first kiss that same night; you get ice cream on your lip and he moves in and kisses it off. It’s horribly cliche but cute and you should honestly expect nothing less from Paul.

- By the end of the night you decided that you definitely wanted to keep seeing him and Paul decided he liked you as a girlfriend rather than a meal soo... yay?

- The instant he sees you there is a smile on his face, you just have that effect on him. His day is instantly 100x better.

- He’s picked you up and flown around with you, sometimes it’s to scare you and other times it’s sort of romantic. He’s also held you to him and hung with one hand gripping the train track. You threatened to break up with him if he ever did that one to you again.

- Matching fishnet.

- This gang is full of jealous possessive man eating bastards. It’s half ‘they’re my mate and I love them’ complex and half ‘how dare you even think you could compare to me’ complex.

- You’ll be talking to some guy at the bar or wherever and all of a sudden there will be a tight grip on your shoulder. If you turn around his lips are going to be on yours in 0.02 seconds. If you don’t he just stands behind you glaring at the guy until he uncomfortably excuses himself.

- He’s constantly chewing gum or something like it. He has an oral fixation

“Paul if you want me to kiss you take that shit out of your mouth.”

- He seems to always be touching you. You won’t even realize it sometimes, you’ll just be zoning out thinking about nothing in particular and suddenly he’ll be at your side with his arm wrapped around you.

- His eyes roam your body whenever he sees you. Partly because he’s usually horny and partly because he just finds you so beautiful.

- Anything you do makes him hot and bothered so expect some impromptu make out sessions.

- He’s a pretty goofy person, anyone can see that even if they don’t really know him. You’re always laughing and joking around with each other. He lives to see you smile. 

- He has both his arms wrapped around you most of the time; he’s usually hugging you from behind.

- He rests his chin on your hand or shoulder a lot. If you put your palm out his chin will be on it in seconds, sometimes you question if your hands are magnetic.

- He makes it obvious to everyone that you’re his at all times. Everyone must know that the two of you are dating. 

“Come on babygirl we’re leaving.”

- Helping him shave and do his hair since he can’t goddamn see himself in mirrors.

- Comparing him to glam rock singers; he’s very proud whenever you tell him that he has *insert singers* hair or eyes or whatever.

- Really enthusiastic about dangerous activities. Paul why are you so excited to jump off a cliff you adrenaline junkie.

- Sarcasm is a big thing in the relationship especially when fighting.

“Well damn darling why don’t I just turn vegetarian if you don’t like me killing people?”

- You fought often during the beginning of your relationship but things got better later on. It was your first few big fights that led him to rethink everything and realize just how much he cared about you. After you get through those he’s genuinely one of the best boyfriends you could ever have and the two of you rarely fight unless you really have to. 

- Most of the time you fought because he flirted too much.  It was hard for him; a male vampire whose probably hundreds of years old, to understand how a teenage girl or young adult feels. He didn’t do anything to purposefully hurt your feelings but he just didn’t see the big deal. 

- When you’d fight he’d say a lot of things he didn’t mean before he’d angrily storm out, leaving you all alone. You’d usually walk home in a huff not wanting to wait however long it would take for him to come back. Except when he comes back and sees you’re not there he’ll get even angrier and decide to ignore you.

- No matter how much he might want to in the moment he can never hold a grudge. When you cross each other’s paths a day or so later he’ll start to say something to you only for you to just walk on by. It hurts, more than he could ever imagine and he mopes for the rest of the night before he’s actually ready to apologize. 

- He’ll randomly show up at your window to apologize, you’ll be sitting on your bed or at your desk and just hear a persistent knocking. Your initial reaction is probably just to look up with a blank/ annoyed face because you already kinda know what this is about.

- You’ll go and open the window and he’ll pop out, scaring the hell out of you which doesn’t really help his situation although the flowers he has does. He’ll crawl inside, putting the flowers on your table before he turns to you and opens his arms for a hug.

- He’s not that great at apologizing but if the flowers didn’t fix everything he’ll give an actual worded apology a try, promising that he’s learned from his mistake and telling you just how much he wants you back. 

- Being slightly afraid when he’s around your neck expecting him to turn you or drain your blood even though you’re pretty sure that’s not how it works with the gang. You still have a bunch of hickeys though even if you’re kinda nervous while it’s happening.

- Making out like horny teenagers but also like medieval lovers from romance novels. There’s just a lot of passion between the two of you. 

- He wants to be as close to you as possible 90% and is a certified cuddler.

- You basically lay on top of him when you cuddle; your head will rest on his chest, your chest to his stomach and your legs tangled with his.

- Sexual innuendos, you always have to slap his chest because he just. won’t. stop.

- Probably likes you to sit in front of him when riding on his motorcycle so he can kiss your cheek and neck.

- Playful pushing and wrestling. He especially likes to pin you down while he just about straddles you.

- He likes calling you pretty lady, sweetheart, babygirl and doll.

- Sitting on his lap constantly, mostly because he tugs you onto his lap as soon as he’s sitting down.

- He has you put eye shadow and eyeliner on him. At first you were the one to ask if you could do his makeup to which he replied “put it on me doll” but then he shocked you by asking you to do it himself. 

- A lot of stupid games like truth or dare and hide and seek. He’s childish but adorable.

“Can I dare you to give me a blowjob?”

“No Paul you cannot.”

- Being slightly scared of David, he gives you wolfish grins whenever he sees you look at him and finds it amusing when you look away and grab onto Paul. David; and all the others in the gang, low key want you for themselves. 

- He randomly shows up to where you are and distracts you if you can’t leave right then and there.

“What the hell are you doing here!?”

“...I missed you.”

- He picks you up and makes you wrap your legs around him. If you don’t you’ll fall so you really have no choice. He likes the feel of your legs around him ;)

- He only turns you when you’re ready and the two of you spend the rest of your eternal lives together.

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

you don't have to write it if it doesn't speak to you, but i just read and loved your fic where peter calms tony down from a panic attack, and now i offer a Good Concept: Peter trying to help Tony get through a meeting at SHIELD when Tony's spacey and in pain from a headache/fever?

@taylortut !!!! I really like this prompt girl!!

In the course of his lifetime Tony has witnessed the discovery of alien life, multiple alien invasions, discovering that the very threads of his reality all coincided within 6 stones, and yet he had never been more confused in his life up until this moment.

Everything Nick Fury says seems to be a jumble of words that don’t seem to be any language, perhaps some alien language but even then they’re barely even audible. They’re all slurred together and seemingly slowed down like his VCR tape had just malfunctioned.

He feels warm and hot all over and he felt like his face was on fire but his lower half was stuck in the middle of the arctic, and he wanted to scream. There was part of him that wanted to throw a tantrum and crawl up on the floor wailing in agony, but he was a grown man who was much respected with a very strong image to pursue and doing such a thing was..out of character, to the say the least.

Tony doesn’t remember the last time he felt this sick, hell, he doesn’t even think he’s ever felt this sick in his entire life. He grits his teeth together as he braces this headache that comes in ravaging like a hurricane in his head, destroying every cell in his brain. His fists are balled intensely in an attempt to anchor himself through this whirlwind of pain, and he doesn’t know if he’s really not concealing his discomfort well at all or Peter is just this observant but either way he can sense that the kid is staring holes into him.

Peter, as always, is kind and loving, with a soul softer than his damn hair, which is pretty damn soft. He doesn’t stare at Tony with malicious or judging intent, he stares at him with genuine concern and worry, and this sort of nervous energy he sort of sees in himself. He knows this kid isn’t his, but it sure feels like it.

Peter doesn’t quite know sign language all too well, he’s only just started after all (because he was an avenger now, all the avengers know sign language for Clint, why was he any different? and yes, Mr Stark, he was an avenger now) and he seems to be making up his own bizzaro form of sign language, which mostly consisted of an equally outlandish series of facial expressions. Tony has absolutely no clue what this kid is trying to communicate, but he can only assume is a, ‘you okay?’

As dumb and ridiculous as this exchange is, at least its amusing and it’s giving him a break from everything else that’s going on.  Peter’s great at that. He gives him a little break from everything in the world that’s shitty and bleak and shows him what’s right with the world. His headache hurt a little bit less.

Tony raises an eyebrow in amusement.

Peter shows a bit agitation, frustrated he can’t quite get his point across, not wanting to interrupt Fury who seems to still be going on about these Ravagers he doesn’t really understand, and tries mouthing his message, but Tony pretends like he doesn’t understand, because yes he’s sick but he’s a little shit and being sick doesn’t stop that.

Peter, who’s directly in front of him, gives him a look that just tells him he knows what he’s up to. He looks absolutely done with him. He sighs dramatically,  and goes on listening to some guy who’s started drone on and on about budget control. Tony knows he’s not really listening though and trying to discreetly check in on him, and he makes a mental note to see about teaching Peter a thing or two about stealth.

But all the joking and lighthearted tomfoolery doesn’t last long and it fades quickly and the storm starts up again. He feels awfully lightheaded and his head hurts so much, his whole body is heavy and he feels lost. It’s like he’s disconnected and disassociated and he’s simply hovering around, him and his body seeming to not connect. He feels a little delirious like his entire body is slowly dying off in a desert and his face is burning.

He feels like his body is begging for rest, gripping at his chair to anchor himself as he’s hit with yet another tidal wave of pain, nausea, and hot and cold waves and Peter seems to sense this. He eyes him worriedly, trying to keep up his discreet charade but he gives it up.

“Do you guys want some water?” Peter chirps up suddenly, interrupting the guy who’s still on about budget control, earning himself an annoyed look. He blushes a little as he realises what he’s done is a little rude, but to him Tony’s welfare is more dire right now than how much money is being allocated towards a new doorway.

“You can get some if you want, Mr Parker,” He sighs, teeth gritted and quickly resuming his bit.

Tony shoots Peter a tired look but the kid is gone in a flash, and when he’s gone it’s like everything is much worse because there’s no one to sulk at. He stifles a cough into the tailored fabric of his suit jacket, going relatively unnoticed which he’s glad for. He lets himself slump just a little, not too much, he still has an image, but he lets that image go just the tiniest bit.

Every second Peter is gone seems to last an eternity and a half. The world does by in this agonisingly slow pace, it seems to blur out of focus so his headache is heightened and he can practically hear his head throbbing. He feels so incredibly faint and so horrible he doesn’t know if he’s even here, it’s a nightmarish version of his life that is so surreal and trippy without the promise of a high.

Eventually Peter returns with a cart full of glasses, and passes some to random people in the conference room. Tony thinks about how out of place he looks, but he understands it for him and it makes him love the kid a lot more now. He wheels the cart towards the him, and passes him a glass of cold water that his brain is crying tears of joy for, as well as a oddly folded napkin.

Tony eyes it suspiciously and lifts the fold to reveal two aspirins and all he can do is give Peter the look of pure gratitude and euphoria.

Peter deliberately drops a napkin to crouch down and whisper, “I got them off this really nice lady called Daisy–you owe me one.”

He discreetly pops the pills into his mouth and gives Peter a nod, taking a good sip of his water. He doesn’t normally accept good actions like this so casually, but he lets his pride go because the sense of gratitude and appreciation he feels outweighs any sense of gargantuan ego he has.

And then everything felt like it was going to be fine. ‘Hell yeah I’m gonna make it through this’, Tony thinks proudly, his headache hurts and the cold and hot waves are rushing up and down him in the most uncomfortable way but he can handle this. He can hold on. Things are actually going in his favour for once. Everything is okay in the world.

But then hell breaks loose and Tony’s world is entirely shaken and flipped and nothing is okay.

He doesn’t exactly know what’s happened because his mind is focused solely on not passing out and keeping up a healthy facade, but he thinks Thunderbolt Ross said something that pissed off Fury and they’re yelling and they’re so loud and there’s more voices yelling and it’s all meddling and it’s just too much.

There’s a ringing in his ears and the room is closing in and Tony can hear his heart thumping and he can feel it and the dull roar of the ringing is now a shrill shriek. The lights seem to be fading in and out and the sounds only seem to get louder and everything seems to be heavier and weighing down on him

and Tony is drowning.

Tony swallows hard as his heart races and his breathing shallows and his hands are sweating. He grips the chair hard and tightly and the pressure he’s applying is so much he can feel the skin of his palms straining and his skin burns. He looks around wildly, his lip trembling and he’s shaking and he feels so lost. He feels so sick and his body cannot handle any more and he’s losing control fast and Tony more than anything hates losing control because he feels like he’s floating away and he feels so hauntingly light.

He desperately wants to ground himself and come back because he’s so terrified he’ll float away so far he can never come back. But then his gaze locks upon Peter’s and it’s like he’s grabbed his hand just before he’s fallen off the cliff into nothingness.

And he still feels like he’s teetering off the edge but he’s still here, and as Peter gives him the kindest look he’s ever seen he feels himself being brought back up to the surface slowly but surely. Everything else seems to fade into a dull roar and he focuses his entire entity on to him.

‘Breathe’, Peter mouths, and he begins to breathe in and out slowly and steadily, gesturing for him to follow suit.

Tony nods shakily, and slowly tries to match him. He’s off tempo and he’s rushing, coming in a bit too early but he gets a sense of the rhythm and follows him, never once tearing his gaze, completely locked on him. And he feels safe. He’s still here.

Peter gives him a smile, a proud smile, and Tony’s left wondering what he ever did to deserve such a sweet person in his life.

Peter’s face shifts and he pulls out his phone, pretending to read a text, and it’s really obvious, and the mental note Tony made to teach Peter about stealth seems to climb up quite a bit.

“Uh, guys?” Peter interrupts the chaos that is Shield’s conference room, earning a particularly venomous look from that budget control guy from earlier.

“Yes, Mr.Parker?” Ross sighs.

“Uh, I just got a text from Mr Rhodes and he says he needs myself and Mr Stark like..uh..urgently?” Peter lies.

“Just go,” He brushes off quickly, seemingly uninterested and diving right into his angry tangent.

Peter gestures towards Tony, raising his eyebrows and heading towards the door. Tony follows, the journey a horrendous trek that seemed to leach every single joule of energy remaining in his body. He keeps himself straight and professional, but the moment the doors closed he feels his knees buckling and his body becoming light and his world begin to tilt.

Peter was quicker, his instincts alert and responsive and in a swoop his arm was catching him and pulling him upright, supporting and caring.

“We gotta get you home, Mr.Stark, I’ll call Happy,” Peter suggests, his grip strong but not hurtful in any sense.

“You shouldn’t see me like this,” Tony laments, remorse and shame lacing his words.

“Why not?”

“Your role models shouldn’t be weak.”

Peter is silent for a moment, but he softens, “All my heroes aren’t perfect.”

“Captain America was the scrawny little guy from New York,” Peter explains softly, and chuckles, “Just like me.”

“Dr Banner has some mental health problems. Hawkeye is hard of hearing. Black Widow used to be an assassin. Winter Soldier’s going through some pretty serious trauma, and so is Falcon. The Scarlet Witch worked with Ultron. And Thor..uh, he seems pretty perfect but uh, I’m sure there’s something–oh yeah, he’s got pretty strong emotions he can’t resist sometimes.”

“But my point is.. All my heroes aren’t perfect . And neither are you and that’s okay. It helps me know that I can be somebody too, you know?” Peter says, and looks over at him to give him a reassuring smile that tells him everything will be okay.

“I..didn’t have a lot growing up and seeing that my favourite heroes don’t have everything makes me feel like I can really do something with my life, you know? All I need..is that drive to make the world better, right? So yeah, no, I gotta disagree with you Mr Stark, my role models don’t have to be always strong. They just gotta keep trying.”

Tony can’t help his smile, “The whole world should be like you, kid. Kids like you remind me about why we do this.”

Tony puts a hand on his shoulder and brings him a bit closer, “Now, enough sap talk and let’s get me the hell home.”

[aviationfiction]

XX

Dante St. James

The dewy morning breeze heightened the vicious round of goosebumps that tortuously trickled onto every aspect aspect of my skin leaving me to quietly berate myself into refraining from shamelessly rubbing my hands on just about every part of myself. My fingers nervously tugged at the waist band of the dusk grey Nike running shorts I’d chosen for this morning festivity and instinctively my eyes panned over to who has effortlessly conquered every lobe of my brain. As one earbud rested properly inside of her ear and the other loosely hung in front of her body, I followed the thick black wire’s trail until my vision set onto the two soft and delicate aspects of her womanhood as they rested in the confines of a fuchsia and sunset orange sports bra; both natural and perfectly molded to her beautiful form. As she mumbled along to Stevie Wonder, she looked over her shoulder and politely gifted me with a small smile to make sure I was reminded that she was aware of me and she knocked out every bit of breath I had remaining in my body as she slouched forward and bent over far enough to lock her hands around her ankles. I focused on the deepened arch in her back and eventually tormented myself with the velvety, curved, and plumpness that gracefully rested just below it. My face contorted into a grimace and utter shock filled my frame as I lost the fight to glance away from her. I’ve never objectified a woman to this magnitude but in my defense I have never in my twenty eight years of living seen a woman like this. She is not fair to the human race. She is the cause for a war; serving as the undeniable demise of a million men. Her sun kissed skin gleams brighter than the finest gold and her intoxicating olive and honey eyes, serve as her weapons; weakening all who dares to stare into them for a lengthy period of time. Every aspect of her body is sculpted to perfection. She serves as a paragon of the higher power’s capabilities and showmanship. She is the personification of his excellency.

“Why aren’t you stretching? Wouldn’t want you to cramp up.” As she slowly eased herself up out of the position, my salacious thoughts halted. To mimic what she began to do, I pulled my leg back until the heel of my foot was touching the back of my knee.

“I believe I should be alright. I will have already beat you before anything begins to cramp or ache.” A scoff slipped past her glossed lips and she playfully rolled her eyes while transitioning into stretching the other leg.

“Yeah, okay. Being a basketball player and a track star aren’t equivalent. Speaking of, did you play ball in high school?” As she bopped her head from side to side, the loose ends of her high ponytail swung in all directions. Stretching went out of the window. The top of her slightly bounced to whatever beat that was blaring into one of her ears as the lower half swayed back and forth in a manner that was sexier to me than it should have been.

“I didn’t play when I was in school. I played for summer leagues my uncle registered me for throughout the city. I played recreationally at the Boys & Girls Club in Brooklyn and I continued to do that until my adulthood.”

“I see. So that means you’re skilled?”

“I’m skilled enough to bust Fred and Mike’s asses regularly and I suppose I’m good enough to win some two on two games whenever we have them at the court.” We smirked simultaneously, as she pulled her loose long ponytail through her hand to smooth it out to her taste.

“Alright, so you remember the exact directions for this race right? We’re just running all the way up Truman Drive, we’re going to turn around at the top of the street, and run all the way back to this point. Got it?”

“Sounds fair enough to me. You ready?” As I mentally measured the distance of the street itself, I properly stood along side her for a fair start and chuckled as she continued to steal competitive glances at me. Concurrently, we both leaned down and properly aligned our heads and necks and I mimicked her by raising my hips to a position above my shoulders. It baffles me that she’s never run school or professional track a day in her life because she looks like a professional along side a shameful amateur such as myself.

“I am. On your mark. Get set. Go.”

Autumn took off and I purposefully lagged behind her for what was supposed to be a bit of teasing and sheer amusement for myself, but it turned into nothing more than an unexpected distraction as I gawked at her body from behind. The bouncing of her ponytail was nothing in comparison to what was happening below her waistline and I nearly tripped myself as I purposely sprinted ahead of her to end the visual and cease those thoughts.

Though she was just about on the heels of my Nikes, I made the turn at the top of the street as she directed and took a decent lead until I was finally at the start point of our humorous little race. As I slouched over, I couldn’t help but to laugh at the expression of disbelief on her face as she did her best to catch her breath. I almost thought she was aiming to take the sore loser route until a smirk began to dance along her lips and she amusingly shook her head in acceptance of her defeat. If only she knew that she could have easily dusted me had I not been running the fastest I’ve ran since I was a young boy hanging around outside. I sprinted past her for the sake of my sanity and remained in the lead because I couldn’t bare the levels of lust formulating within me. The adrenaline pumping through me isn’t by my own doing. She’s the cause and effect of that and if she knew, I’d be the butt of her jokes forever.

“So where’s this iHop that you spoke about?” As I stood up straight, she playfully rolled her eyes in response to my question and paused whatever song she’d been listening to from her iPhone.

“I’m not taking you to iHop. I’m going to prepare the breakfast myself if that’s okay with you.” My eyes widened at her revelation and I quickly nodded in agreement with the idea. I hadn’t expected her to offer to cook anything for me nor did I expect her to allow me into her home. Though she instructed me to park in the driveway, she was already outside waiting for me so there was no reason to offer me entry. I figured we’d throw on jackets and take our sweaty frames to the nearest restaurant for quick bite to eat and part ways. This is a plot twist that I can appreciate.

“No one’s home. My father’s in D.C. for something work related and my mother is out there for some type of summit or conference at Howard University. I’m assuming they’re most likely going to stay an extra day or two to do their romantic thing and return home. So yeah, it’s just me here today.” As we walked along, she snickered. “Why am I making it sound like I’m sneaking you in? I’m sounding so hot in the pants teen right now.”

“Well. Are you sneaking me in?” I teased her and smirked when she widened her eyes at the question. She then lightly smacked her hand into my arm.

“No. It just makes me think of the movie ATL when Lashonate’s character Tonya says to T.I.’s character Rashad look my momma not home, you want to give me a ride? And then Rashad says man your momma ain’t never home. You remember that?” I haven’t heard of the movie nor seen it. I knew Tip was into acting but I never had an interest in seeing him do it. I’d rather be a fan of his music; mostly the earlier work. This is the second time I’m hearing that Lashonte name from someone. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anything she’s acted in before.

“No. I’ve never seen that.”

“My God, Dante. What do you watch when you’re at home chilling? You better not say House Of Cards either.”

“Honestly, I like the old television shows more than I like the current ones so when I am watching television, if it’s not the news or sports, I’m watching Martin, The Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air, Living Single, or The Wayans Bros. I occasionally check out The Cosby Show. I like the Jeffersons, Good Times, and Sanford and Son. I don’t mind the repeats or anything like that. All of those shows still entertain me all the same and do the trick when I want some entertainment while lying in bed or having a bite to eat while at home.” I glanced in her direction as she nodded her head. “I’m assuming you’re more of a wide range television watcher?”

“Well, I suppose so. What else is there to do when you’re sick and cannot do anything but lie around in bed? Television was my entertainment for quite some time; not just here. It was also my entertainment while I was in Miami. At least here, I live with my parents so the house isn’t so quiet all the time. Not only that, but there are also at least two people here that I can speak to. In Miami? My God. There was a point when I thought I’d go crazy and start speaking to the walls or the many fixtures throughout the house. I used to cut the television on in the master bedroom, living room, as well as the den so that the house wouldn’t be so damn quiet while I was in there alone. I’d watch all kinds of shit whenever I was bored and didn’t have anywhere to go. Old, new. Hell, I watched shows about nonsense that I wasn’t even interested in. I did whatever I could to cure the boredom at home and then post stroke.” Once she opened the door, she stepped aside and granted me entry into her home and like anyone unfamiliar with a territory would do, I began to observe the beautiful ambiance.

“You had the stroke here in Jersey?” A family portrait aligned perfectly with the satin wenge hall table under it. All five family members were in it. I was the first time I saw Shane as an adult and with that one photo,  I could easily see the tight knit relationship between he and his younger sister, as she cheerily leaned into his body and rested her head against his own. Everyone looked genuinely happy in the photo; even the dreadfully earnest Issac. The striking family looks like something out of a catalog; maybe for Bloomingdales or something simpler like The Gap. They’re the family that immediately draws you in during a holiday commercial.

“Yes. Right here.” She pointed at the floor of the very area we were standing it and we briefly stared at it before our eyes locked on one another. “It started off as an intense headache. I’d been crying that day. Actually, no, I’m being modest. I was a mess. Between mourning my brother and having been recently served those divorce papers, I was having one hell of a meltdown that spiraled out of control. Honestly, all I remember is everything going dark. I thought I’d finally met death.” My stomach tightened at the sound of such a final word and she turned away to continue to guide me through their home. We passed what I assume to be a sitting room that is there simply for show rather than to lounge in. The completely white and glass interior were a clear giveaway. A large portrait of their fallen son and brother was by far the most solemn and yet most important aspect of it.

“Did you want to die?” Silence fell between two of us as my question deepened the depth that I’d absentmindedly treaded into. I’ve had these questions lingering on my mind for the past couple of weeks but I wasn’t sure about how to introduce them. Though our honesty is refreshing and what is seemingly drawing me closer to her, I’d never want to overstep the imaginary boundary lingering between the two of us nor would I ever push hard enough to hurt or discomfort her.

“That day? Yes.” We turned a corner past their family dining room and upon entering their tradition style of kitchen, she tossed her water bottle up on top of the carrara marble island top. “I never felt suicidal or anything  along those lines but I suppose the pain got the best of me that day. I didn’t have a single thought to fight what I believed was going to happen once I hit that floor. I figured if death was approaching, I’d accept it if it had to be. Overall, I didn’t have the desire to die. Emotional pain is by far the worst of it all. I don’t think physical pain comes close to it but I won’t set that in stone because I cannot speak for anyone other than myself. Dealing with that kind of pain everyday took one hell of a toll on me but I didn’t want to be defeated by it, especially when it came down to Andreas’ shit. Shane would have breathed life back into my body and killed me himself if I had just the slightest idea to die on his behalf. My brother was too much of an advocate for me and my future for any of that.”

“So what did you choose to live for?” She leaned her unrivaled frame into the doors of the stainless steel refrigerator and stared at me without wavering. I swallowed the expected knot in my throat and continued to keep eye contract with her though I wanted to do anything but that. The fear of my knees buckling suddenly became my reality as I leaned into the counter top awaiting her answer.

“Three reasons. Faith. I’ve always believed that we as human beings put a bit too much faith in God when it comes to every single thing. I don’t know why, but it felt like such a lazy approach. Around that time, honestly, I felt like I had nothing but him to cling to. It was the first time I put it all on him and firmly believed that he’d make sure I made it through it all in some type of way. I’m standing here and I’m functional so those blessings were gifted. The second is hope. I’ve been one hell of a pessimist over these past couple of years, so I had to work on becoming hopeful again. I’m still working on it but I’ve progressively gotten better. Lastly, myself. I don’t know what the hell the future holds for me. It scares me to think about it but I have to believe that everything’s going to work itself out positively for as long as I work on it.”

“Faith. Hope. Self. I like and highly respect that. You know, a lot of people usually name their family or something completely outside of themselves as reasons for living and that’s cool but ultimately, I believe that you have to want to live for yourself before you can have the desire to live for anyone else. That falls right along the lines of needing to love yourself before you can attempt to love someone else.”

“Exactly. You get it. It’s not a selfish way of thinking. It’s simply the way things should be.” Suddenly, she turned and swung open the fridge’s door to examine the contents inside. “You said French toast is your favorite right?”

“It is.”

“Are you allergic to peaches?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Do you like peaches?”

“I do.”

My response was the igniting she needed. Silence fell between the two of us as she swiftly removed all of the ingredients necessary for whatever breakfast meal she planned to create. I did my best to figure out what exactly she’d need the peaches for as she placed four of them in a bowl on the counter top but she completely lost me when a bottle of bourbon joined the items.

“You want bacon or sausages with this? We have pork or turkey for both. I could also take this in a southern direction and do fried chicken or steak.” My eyes widened at the thought of fried chicken or steak for breakfast. I’ve never had either one during that time of the day. “ What? You’ve never had steak or chicken for breakfast? People usefully do the steak with eggs and homemade hash browns. Remember Big said cheese, eggs, steak, and Welcher’s Grape? And of course fried chicken and waffles is a southern staple at this point. You can get that dish at any Waffle House or just about any southern based diner these days. Actually, Heather literally wants chicken and waffles at her bachelorette party. She threatened me about that.”

“Chicken and French toast though? Will that work?”

“Of course it will. So chicken?”

“This is even more of a challenge, because everybody can’t make fried chicken.” A smirk linger on my lips as she daringly raised one of her eyebrows at me and laughter spilled from my body as her hands met her hips.

“There is no challenge. I am the queen of fried chicken. I make fried chicken better than all of the women in my family. Hell, I probably make fried chicken better than your mama.” Probably is an understatement. I haven’t even tasted nor can I imagine what her style of fried chicken tastes like but I know for a fact that it’s better than my mother’s. That’s not really her specialty and I won’t tie race into it because I doubt it’s that. The cooking thing is quite new to her even though she’ll talk anyone into believing that she’s been playing the matriarch of the family and doing it for decades. I can easily tell the difference between her cooking and those nights when she slyly has a chef come in and prepare dinner. I don’t know what her talent is but it’s certainly not standing in front of a stove and concocting specialty dishes. She makes a decent burger and sandwich though.

“Prove it.”

“I will, now there’s only one rule when it comes to myself and being in the kitchen. Everyone has to follow it including you.”

“And what’s that?”

“You have to get out. Follow me.” She walked around the island and once she passed me, I did as she instructed and trailed behind her as she lead me to what was the traditional living room. The color palette followed along with the neutral and muted tones throughout what I’ve already seen of the lower level of the home and the family graduation portraits on the wall gave yet another one of the areas in their home a lived in and homely atmosphere.

“Here’s the remote. Please make yourself comfortable. There’s every channel you could possibly want or think of on there. You can order a movie if you’d like. There are also some DVDs somewhere in the entertainment center if you want to go that route. Uh.” She paused as I chuckled and a smirked formed on her face. “What?”

“I think I can manage.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s just television sweetheart.” Swiftly, I pulled my lip in between my teeth and nearly bit myself as a punishment for defying my own rules. A pet name? I’ve never gone that far with anyone, not even women I’ve temporarily involved myself with. Sure, I have nicknames for my loved ones but anyone else has either been addressed by their first or last night. I called Samira by her first name while she opted for “darling” and I despised it. I often felt like she was speaking to me as if I were some toddler girl running around her apartment playing in her cosmetics and accessories. I don’t favor my mother’s constant usage of pet names either. As I stand here, I’m wallowing in contradiction and oddly, it feels far more conventional than I expected or needed it to.

“Okay then. I’ll call you when it’s all ready.”  

“I’ll be here.” I purposefully flopped down on the couch as a sign of the comfort she pleaded for and I earned the smile I was looking for while taping the power button on the remote. She disappeared down the hall within seconds, leaving me to find some type of visual to entertain me until she finished concocting breakfast.

I settled on ESPN as I always do and it did serve as a distraction for nearly an hour. Though the fumes of the meal were certainly enticing me, it was the sound of Autumn singing along to R&B tunes spanning from the sixties to the nineties diligently working as competition to the television. I left the couch vacant to steal a peak at her twice and each time, she was swerving her hips from size to size while singing along to whatever medley was playing. There wasn’t a song that she didn’t most of, if not all of the words to. Yet again, as I slightly poke my head past the wall and peer in at her, she’s swaying those hips and questioning who can she run to when she needs love though song and dance. In her hands were two glasses of orange juice and no actual food in sight.

“You’re peeking again?” My already rattled body froze as astonishment filled my eager frame and displayed itself on my face. She turned to face me and her infectious smile effortlessly placed one on my face. I’d been caught and hadn’t noticed. There was no way that I’d notice it. Each time, her back was turned to me and I made sure of it. I’m not sure how she spotted me.

“How’d you notice?”

“I sensed your presence.” She didn’t bother turning the Bluetooth speaker off nor did she wait for my answer as she walked past me. “Breakfast is in the dinning room.”

She continued to sing along with Xscape as I slowly trailed behind her and upon entry to their family dining room, the spread on the table left me quite speechless. I didn’t expect even half of what I saw nor do I understand how she found the time to bake additional biscuits, place down croissants, and create a fruit platter. She’d already pulled out my chair and had three separate plates awaiting me at what is the place at the head of the table. In one plate, a vegetable omelette, in the second was mouth watering fried chicken, and lastly was three pieces of French toast spread across a oval style plate with peaches and a sauce tantalizingly dripping over every aspect of them.

“My famous southern fried chicken, a vegetable omelette, and cinnamon French toast with a homemade bourbon peach sauce smothered over them.”

“Wow.”

“Mhm.” Her smirk was a one of pride and she pointed at the chair so I’d sit down and give her a verdict on the taste. There’s no doubt in my body that the flavoring of every dish is beyond belief but every chef loves and deserves a compliment despite already knowing that their skills are top of the line.

I began with the dish I requested over them all. As her arm draped over the back of my chair and the radiating heat from her very close body swarmed my own, I nearly melted in the chair at the flavorful piece of French toast as it’s infectious taste left my taste buds in a trance. The cinnamon, peach, and tangy bourbon were to be expected but the vanilla and maple were a plot twist that left my mind in a frenzy. All of the flavors could have easily been a tooth aching overkill but she was able to create a perfect balance between all of it. She officially overthrew my mother’s best dish. There’s no debating or reconsidering that I can do. Next was the omelette. She meshed the eggs with an assortment of bell peppers, red onions, cherry tomatoes, spinach, and a hint of parsley for the healthiest and yet still extremely tasty part of the meal.

“Now the chicken.”

“I didn’t tell you how the French toast and omelette is yet.”

“I can wait. Try it.”

She didn’t fry those little wing parts that are sold as a hot wing appetizer at local restaurants. Instead she had three drumsticks awaiting me on a plate with a side of Sriracha on the side. I didn’t hesitate to bite into one and the rush of flavoring ceased my mouth and most of my attention. Without ever asking or knowing, she conquered my desire for just enough crispiness with irresistible flavoring. Before I could compliment her, I’d taken another bite and relished in not only the poultry but all she’d done for me this morning. The only breakfast I can recall anyone making for me is either Autumn who now playfully forces me to have it during flights or the complimentary breakfast at hotels. I’ve skipped the most important meal of the day for years and as I stuff my face with Autumn’s cooking, I feel like a fool for having done so.

“Damn.”

“Damn what?” She leaned over so that the side of her face was aligned with my own and she placed her ear near my mouth. She earned a bit of laughter from myself as she waited what I had to say.

“You’re one hell of a cook. This is beyond home cooking. I feel like I’m inside of a restaurant right now, seriously. How the hell did you learn to cook like that?”

“Boredom.” She plopped down in a chair on the right side of the table and grabbed a biscuit out of the basket in the center of the table. She didn’t bother with buttering it and from the looks of it she didn’t need to. I could literally smell the buttermilk as she pulled it until it was in two pieces and she broke off a piece of one of the halves to drop into her mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“I was somewhat of a decent cook because my mother taught me some of what she learned from my great-grandmother and grandmother throughout her teen and early adult years. I wasn’t interested in being in the kitchen but there were days when I did keep her company and I’d assist. Once I got married, I felt like it wasn’t enough. I wouldn’t have been able to keep his stomach full and his taste buds pleased with what limited knowledge I had, so I took a couple of random cooking classes and eventually I began to buy tons of books and even iBooks on my iPad filled with recipes to try out. I spent a lot of my lone and leisure time just cooking whatever the hell was in the refrigerator. I can admit, I did eat my feelings for a while and I did gain some weight. When I was ready to get rid of it, I started working out and I just switched my cooking habits to healthier options. So yeah, boredom.” As she pulled her legs up and plopped them over the arm of the chair, she began to shimmy her shoulders while blissfully singing along to Diana Ross and The Supremes. As she sung about her “baby love”, I balance my attention between the meal and her.

Usually while eating on my own leisure time, I’d be flipping though paper work or going between the plate and my laptop to continue working towards beating whatever deadline I or the company set out for myself. It didn’t bother me much because I live alone and there’s nothing odder than just sitting at a table all by your lonesome and eating in silence. The thoughts that come about during those minutes aren’t gratifying ones. I often berate myself or those that are supposed to be dearest to me. I contemplate getting the hell out of here and all the wrong and right ways to do it. I wonder if I’m actually serving my purpose or if I’m wasting whatever I have left of this life on what will never be beneficial to me. I stare out at the unrivaled view of New York City skyline that I have from my costly penthouse apartment and wonder if I should be grateful for all I have or look at it as the payout for a self-imposed prison sentence.

Now, as I sit here staring at this extraordinary woman while she snaps her fingers, wiggles her toes, and does her best to mimic Diana’s tone of voice, I’m convinced that I don’t want to see anything else but this while I eat a meal. I don’t even care that we’re not exchanging words with one another. She’s offering me more entertainment than I deserve simply by lounging in that chair and being herself. She’s a ray of light in the mind full of darkness that I carry around with me from day to day. Her carefree spirit and obliviousness to the positive affects that she has on those she encounters radiates this aura of innocence that warms and calms my spirit. She’s a beautiful being in her entirety and I aspire to be as resilient as she continues to be despite all the loss she’s faced over these past couple of years. I can see that hope that she speaks of. I can feel it in the midst of the fluttering within my stomach and the sporadic skipping of my beating heart. Initially, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to be friendly; as I quickly took a disliking to her discomfort around me. In such of short time of working together and spending personal time around one another, our recently developed friendship has gone from being interesting and opening to this oxymoron of beautiful difficulty. She has unknowingly crushed all my mental capacity when in her presence. I now function on an emotional overdrive that is foreign, fearful, and yet extremely human.

“What are you doing today?” My question halted her personal karaoke session and she pondered on her answer for a second.

“Other than an early evening session with my therapist? Nothing.” She grabbed another biscuit out of the basket and took a bite out of it instead of breaking it into pieces like she did with the first. “Why? Do you need me to do something for you?”

“No. I was only asking because I wanted to know if you’d like to hang out with me today? I have a few things to do but it’s sort of a loose day for me. First I need to head home to freshen up and change. If you get ready while we’re here, you can just go with me. I have to stop by my office to wrap something up. What time is your appointment?”

“It’s starts at five. It’s later in the evening because she’s coming into the office late today.”

“I can drop you off. I’m supposed to check out a property around five thirty, so I can drop you off and pick you back up. Tonight, Diddy’s hosting a party at the club to celebrate some new flavor of Ciroc. It should be fun. He always brings a crowd and tons of special guests with him. Are you up for it?” Though I wanted to finish it all, I couldn’t eat another bite. After having swallowed down the last bit of French toast I had left, I tossed in the towel on the half of omelette and piece of chicken I had left.

“Sure. I suppose I can just bring a change of clothes and get ready at your place?”

“Yes. You don’t have to worry about being alone at the club either. As I said, today’s a loose day for me. So I’ll be by your side.”

“So it’s bring Autumn To Work Day?” We shared a laugh over her title for what we’d be doing as she swung her legs over so her feet would hit the floor. “Or is it Show and Tell?”

“Both.”

“It’s fair enough, seeing as though I bring you to work with me all the time.”

Without struggle, she grabbed all of the plates I’d been eating out of and walked out of the dining room with them. I helped by grabbing the baskets of croissants, biscuits, and the small fruit platter. Though she insisted that I go and digest all that I consumed on the couch, I assisted in drying the dishes that she washed and we put them away together. Instead of leaving me downstairs alone, she invited me to hang out in her bedroom while she readied herself in her bathroom and the connecting closet. I lounged at her desk while checking out some Showtime show about an extremely wild Chicago family that she raved about before disappearing into the bathroom. The whimsical setting in her bedroom meshes well with her personality and I marveled in it’s setting while becoming intoxicated by the scent of her favorite perfume and body wash.

“Was I long? I’ve been dressed. I just put on a splash of make up. Oh and I already put my stuff together for tonight.”

Angelic. That’s the only word that could be used to describe her cream attire. The skirt and top combination were a matching set; coordinated together by the way of pleated ruffles. The length of the skirt was that of a high school cheerleader and my attention locked in on her caramel thighs as I’m sure the designer intended them to. She added some youthfulness to the get up by pairing it with a pair of low Converse sneakers that perfectly matched in color, a high ponytail, and a pair of large hoop earrings that reminded me of the era I was born in. All she’s missing is a piece of gum in her mouth because the lip gloss is certainly shining on her lips.

“You literally look like you’re fifteen.” She does. If she happened to walk amongst a group of high school students I nor would anyone be able to pick her out as the oddball in the bunch. She’d blend in amongst them perfectly.

“Sixteen. Thank you very much.” Her chuckle was husky and yet airy, much like her laugh and she continued to stuff her neon green purse with her daily on the go necessities. I noted four types of lipstick, a mirror, and her Apple iPhone charger thus far.

“You look nice.” Nice. That’s platonic right? I figure if I say beautiful, gorgeous, phenomenal, ravishing, or anything alone those lines it’d be clear that I’m flirting or checking her out beyond a friendly manner. Nice is simple. Even great can be simple. She won’t stare at me as if I’ve lost my mind with either of those words.

“Thanks. This is so old. All of my clothing, shoes, and accessories were shipped up here from Miami a couple of days ago and literally all of it is downstairs scattered around the basement area. I feel sorry for my poor father because that’s where he and his buddies tend to hang out. Issac likes it down there too. It’s somewhat of a man cave, I guess. Anyway, my things have taken over for the time being and I’ve gone through a couple of boxes to pick out things to wear. Can you believe it’s even categorized by season just as I had it in the closet? I guess I should consider that a parting gift.”

“It doesn’t look old. It looks brand new.”

“It is. It’s brand new because I’ve never worn it. What makes it old is when I purchased it. You’ll be surprised how much of that stuff still has tags on it or how many of the soles on those shoes are spotless. You don’t get dressed up when you don’t have shit to do. I shopped out of boredom and hope.”

“Hope for?” We’d switched spots. She was now sitting at her desk applying jewelry to her body and by the way of her concentration, there is clearly a method to the way she likes them placed and stacked.

“Hope that my husband would give me a reason to put it on. I wanted to be beautiful for him.” The use of the past tense is my first bit of disappointment with her. She didn’t have to want to be something that she already was and still very much so is. There isn’t an article of clothing sold in any boutique, anywhere in the world that has the capacity to make this breathtaking woman beautiful. If anything, she makes the attire beautiful. She could never be of use in the advertisement industry because the products would never sell. People would be entranced by the woman in the ads far more than they would be with whatever product is being shoved in their faces for profit. I’m never going to know every single detail that ultimately resulted in the demise of their marriage but I refuse to believe it was because she wasn’t beautiful enough for him physically. I’d hope he’s not that shallow and realistically speaking, it’s simply not possible.

“You were.”

“I was what?”

“Beautiful enough for him. Actually, you were out of his league.” She nearly dropped her necklace as she erupted into laughter at my comment. In the midst of it, she paused to curve her lips to the left side of her face for a quick side eye gesture, and she continued to laugh while applying the last piece of jewelry she needed to complete her task with accessories. Though it wasn’t meant to be a joke, I don’t mind her taking it as one. I like modesty and it’s clear that she, much like myself, has a hard time accepting compliments. Actually, she’s worse. I tend to be appreciative and give my thanks for the acknowledgement. Autumn lets them fly right over her head.

“I’m ready. Sorry I took so long.”

“You weren’t long. My mother takes damn near half of a day to get ready, so waiting for you was a breeze in comparison to waiting for her. I feel like I have to call her and have her start getting ready the day before we have to be wherever we’re going. It’s ridiculous.”

“Well, it takes women a bit more time to get the hair, make up, and attire looking right. I’m not saying this is an excuse, but we are by far the most critiqued gender when it comes to our physical appearance and what we do and don’t do to enhance it. So it all starts there.”

“So you’re blaming men?” She stood up and swung the strap of her designer bag over her shoulder.

“Well, if the shoe fits Mr. St. James. Honestly, I’m not though. Often times, I feel like women are far more critical of trivial shit then men are.”

“That’s rational. Men are shitty though. I won’t deny that at all.”

“Not all of them. Just ninety-nine point nine percent. Thankfully, you fall in rank with the rare.” The flutters intensified as my lips slightly fell agape. The timorous side of myself that I so often try to mask, engulfed my body as I pondered a response. The compliments she bestows upon me are frequent these days and what affects me isn’t just what she’s saying; it’s the purity and genuine emotions behind it. I can easily pick apart when someone is saying something because they feel obligated to do so, for the sake of self-gain, or because it’s fitting in the moment. More than anything else, she expects quality out of me on a personal level which is by far the hardest aspect of pleasing anyone. I appreciate that. I believe that everyone has the capability to achieve greatness in some facet; we just have to figure out what is that we’re great at or what we’re willing to continuously work at to excel. What I don’t believe in is the goodness of all people. That’s the greatest challenge. Autumn, unknowingly, has taken on a role of keeping me focused on making sure I keep that aspect of myself in high regard along with Fred, Mike, and Stacey. I’d like to think that my uncle is looking out for me as well.

“Thank you.”

“No, but seriously, your interior design tastes are impeccable.”

Autumn flopped down on the couch in my office and grabbed one of the Basquiat books resting on the table as a source of entertainment for herself. She’d been complimenting my apartment and now office on and off for two hours now, while asking for tips that I don’t have to give. Based upon what she’s shown me of the interior design of the Miami home she once lived in, her taste in interiors upstages mine effortlessly. She, unlike myself, understands color palettes and how to liven up a place. Mike refers to my apartment as a dungeon because of the thematic black and grey that runs through every single aspect of the place. It’s modern and sleek, but certainly dark. I rarely look into psychological studies but maybe it’s why I often have dispirited thoughts while I’m home. My office is better in that aspect and it’s only that way because I had absolutely nothing to do with it. This is Stacey’s doing.

“They’re not. I took the easy way out. Anyone can make black look good.” Though the contract is finalized, I’m going over some last minute adjustments for Calvin Harris’ residency before flying out to Vegas. It’s set to begin tomorrow night and I need every single aspect of it to run through perfectly for the sake of the press. Last minute requests is why I have no interest in handling artists but I’m going to lock this in for the sake of the company and I’ll eventually pass this account to someone else. I’m not a manager or a personal publicist and I don’t want to be. The tedious aggravation in booking them for appearances and performances at the club is more than enough.

“It still looks amazing as fuck.”

“Thank you.”

“And your closet damn near made me pass out. It’s amazing and that mirror that you have in there? Whew! Your closet is very Christian Grey.”

“Very who?” I pressed send on the final e-mail that I needed to send over the Hakkasan group and glanced over in her direction. It was one hell of a gamble, but I was able to secure him an extended three year partnership with the group as a disc jockey and music consultant. He’ll be the resident DJ at Hakkasan nightclub once it has it’s grand opening, Wet Republic, and also at Omnia nightclub inside of Caesar’s Palace.

“You’ve never heard of Christian Grey?” Her giggle was sheepish and her face suddenly turned a slight hue of red as her body shifted on the chair.

“No. Who is he?”

“Nevermind.” She couldn’t cease the laughter at my lack of information about whomever she was referencing to so I did what anyone would do. I immediately opened up another tab and typed the exact name into Google. When the results appeared, I clicked the first link available.

“Christian Trevelyan Grey is the male protagonist of the trilogy, Fifty Shades of Grey. To the outside world, he appears to be a handsome and attractive young man in the business world. However, he has a hidden face: he is adept of BDSM.” It was my turn for my face to flush in embarrassment as I skimmed through more of the synopsis about the man. Fredrick’s talked about his weird interest in BDSM enough for me to know exactly what it is and what it entails. Autumn couldn’t contain her laughter no matter how many times she attempted to do so and the smirk on my face was followed by my narrowed eyes as I pondered how she made the connection between myself and this character.

“How is my closet very Christian Grey?”

“Because it’s very sleek, masculine, and it’s filled with suits, dress shoes, and you have those pull out draws with your ties neatly folded inside of them. That’s how Christian is described. He’s a business man, just like you are.”

“But why do I have to be compared to the kinky ass business man?”

“I’m not saying that you’re kinky. I’m just comparing your styles in terms of business attire. I wouldn’t know if you’re into BDSM or not unless I asked Samira or that three month girlfriend from college.”

“Or you can just ask me.”

Silence fell between the two of us as her eyes locked with mine. My audacious statement through us both for a loop. I’m more than willing to tell her whatever she’s interested in knowing, including a honest answer to such an invasive topic of discussion. I’d let her explore her curiosities so I could vicariously live through her while doing my best to shield my own. My yearning to figure her out beyond our honest dialogues is researching unbearable territory. I’m now interested in what makes her writhe and breathless. I want to know what ignites the sparks and sets her ablaze; mentally first. I want to know it all.

“I’m so sick of you acting your skin color and not answering my phone calls immediately. Save that light skinned shit for someone else.” The door to my office swung opened and startled the both of us out of the ongoing gaze and Stacey stood there with her hand on her hip; glaring at me with every bit of an attitude. She called while I was driving and I hadn’t turned on the Bluetooth, so I couldn’t answer her in the car and it slipped my mind to return the call when Autumn and I arrived here. Usually, she’d just call me back and scold me over the phone. This pop up is surprising and will most likely become highly embarrassing within a couple of minutes.

“I was eventually going to return your call. Why are you not home with Kaylee? I’m sure she’s missing you already.”

“I’m Kaylee’s mother. I am not her damn slave. Cut the bull- ” Her sentence abruptly ended when her eyes locked on the woman who’d been accompanying me since this morning and her mouth fell slightly agape at the sight. Without shame or modesty, she gawked at her as if she herself had any attraction to women. If I didn’t know any better, I’d be expecting her to say some absolutely outlandish pick up line and ask for her number by the time she concludes it.

“Okay, Google Images does you no justice. Don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful in those photos, but damn, you’re fine as hell.” If I could escape looking like an idiot, I’d submit to the urge to slide under my desk. I settled for palming my face and shaking my head at the bold and obnoxious compliment that left Autumn not only completely off guard but shockingly amused all at once. She lightly chucked at Stacey’s statement as an air of speechlessness took over her frame and she stared up at my ever so ridiculous assistant as she continued to do a full assessment of her with her eyes.

“I’m Stacey, the best thing that ever happened to Dante. I’m his executive assistant, confidant, and one half of his brain. I am by far the dominant side of it.” Autumn loudly laughed at Stacey absurd description of herself and she quickly latched her hand onto hers and gave it a light shake and squeeze.

“I’m Autumn.”

“Yes you are. I’m so glad to finally meet you. I’ve heard nothing but great things. From what I’ve learned, your spirit is even more beautiful than your external.”

“Well, thank you. I’m so glad that I’ve been given a rave review.” Both women glanced in my direction and in that moment I no longer wanted to slide under the desk. The urge to be Spiderman and jump out of the window felt far more appropriate. The smirk on Stacey’s face frightened me more than it ever has because I know just how far her sarcasm can go when she’s attempting to push me to the edge. She refuses to let up and now that she’s in front of the very woman that has become the focal point of our latest conversations; God help me.

“Stacey, did you really come here over a missed phone call?”

“No. I needed to access some information that your little temporary assistant couldn’t find even if it slapped her in the face. I don’t know why you didn’t just let me find you someone. No one’s better than me, but I could have done better than her. She’s been working here for three years now and still can’t get her shit together. Anyway, I changed the hotel arrangement. She originally had you all booked for the MGM Lofts, but those shits are horrible. I don’t know where the hype is coming from. You all will be staying at the Wynn. You, Mike, and Fredrick will be staying in the three bedroom duplex in the Encore Tower and Autumn you’ll be in the two bedroom apartment just one floor down. You all get housekeeping twice a day, butler service if you want it, a cabana for everyday that you’re there, daily access to the spa and fitness center for no additional charge, and priority on shows, dinner, and some other shit that I’m sure you’ll find out about when you arrive. You’ve stayed there before so you know how awesome those Wynn Towers are.”

“Yeah, they’re probably the best of the best when it comes to Vegas.”

“Exactly. Oh and your birthday. You’re turning thirty. What do you want to do? I may not be working right now but I’ll be damned if I’m not involved in planning that.”

“I know I don’t want a party. So don’t try it.”

“How about a destination birthday celebration? You can celebrate here over a nice dinner or maybe even a barbecue at Mike’s house and then you go somewhere that you’ve never gone before. I can plan it and make sure you have the best of the best.”

“What’s with the vacations? I have my mother in one ear nagging me about a family vacation and then you in the other one for my birthday.”

“You need one.” My eyes widened at both Autumn and Stacey making that statement in unison. I couldn’t help but to jerk my head back and playfully cut my eyes at the both of them.

“Okay, I’ve officially gone from liking you to loving you. Welcome to the family.” Stacey shook Autumn’s hand once again as they shared a laugh over their common agreement for what I need in my life and both women returned their attention to myself.

“You two are hilarious.”

“What about Santorini, Greece or the Maldives? Bali is lovely too.”

“Sounds like honeymoon locations.”

“Well, you said it, I didn’t.” My body froze in astonishment as her statement. What it suggested quickly registered in my mind and I locked my eyes with her own. The smirk on her face wasn’t as playful as it had been. She transitioned into a devious character and slightly panned her eyes in the direction of Autumn who thankfully wasn’t looking at her anymore.

“Is there anything else that you want?”

“No. Just wanted to make sure things are going well on the work and personal front for one of my favorite people in the world. I’ll go now. Do you need anything before I do? Autumn are you hungry? We have an amazing cafeteria downstairs. In addition to that, there’s a Subway and Pinkberry on the ground floor. Are you interested?”

“Pinkberry? Seriously?”

“Oh yes. We have that. You want some?”

“Absolutely. I love frozen yogurt. I enjoy the coconut milk coconut flavor with strawberries, granola, and almond nuts in it.”

“Got it. Dante, are you hungry?”

“No. Autumn made me a big breakfast. I’m still full.” Her eyes widened at my revelation. I said it on purpose. Now that I’ve given her some type of information, she’ll stop being purposefully invasive. It’s always a give and take type of situation with that one when it comes to my business. I poke fun at Mike being a gossiping female but even he knows when to cut the shit and fall back for the sake of not being overbearing. He knows I’ll inform him of what he wants or needs to know eventually. There’s no waiting game for my assistant. If I’m not willing to tell her when she needs to know something, she’s going to pull out all of the stops to get it out of me. She’s what I call a nightmare of a therapist. Often times, I’m appreciative of her forcing bottled up tension out of me but this subject matter? It’s brutal.

“I lost a race against him and his bet was for me to buy him breakfast. I decided to just cook it for him instead.”

“You slaved over a hot stove for…him? That’s impressive for the both of you, honestly.”

The gratified expression on her face earned a smug look on my end and she merrily walked out of my office with the sound of her heels clacking the marble flooring.

“I like her. She’s so sweet.”

“Sweet? Just imagine dealing with that personality for hours.”

“I can tell she’s one of the genuine people in your life. I can already tell there’s a big sister and little brother type of dynamic there.”

“Yes, that’s accurate. She’s family at this point and she’s taken on the role as the bossy and overbearing big sister who I can’t help but love. She keeps me in check for sure. I always playfully shut her down when she calls herself the other half of my brain but in some aspects, she actually is. She keeps me sane in this place and makes sure everything is in tact. She’s damn good at her job but she’s an even better person. She’s just loud as shit.” Autumn chuckled at my over exaggerated facial expression in reference to Stacey’s personality and nodded her head in understanding.

“Well, I’m glad you have her. You need it. You need people to force you to have an actual balance. I’ve noticed that about you. Your boys aid in you letting loose and actually enjoying yourself. That’s what friends are for, of course, but I have a feeling they work a little harder at getting you to go along with their shenanigans but when you do decided to do so, you up enjoying the hell out of yourself. Stacey’s the reinforcement.”

“And you.”

“Me?”

I cannot recall the last time I’ve actually gone out with a woman and thoroughly enjoyed myself from start to finish. There have only been a handful of outings between the two of us, but each one holds it’s special place in my memory. Our time together has only gotten better and far more exciting as we’ve gone along, instead of regressing or turning into a bore. I would have never gone to Disney World Paris, Crazy Horse, or to the Parisian theater if they weren’t interests of hers and most of all, had she not been there. I probably would have never sat around sipping a glass of cognac while enjoying the bay at Palmeiras had she not been sitting across the table doing the same. I’m laughing more. We’ve been addressing aspects of my life that I barely ever touch on through simple discussions and the tasks of keeping my guard up to the highest peak is alleviated around her.

“Yes. You tend to be a reinforcement too aside from being apart of the fun. Whenever we speak, you always make note of me needing to add some play in-between all of the work.”

“So if I’m reinforcement, then I’m family like Stacey? Maybe like a cousin?” She smirked and that gleam in her eyes only aided in the laughter that was already happening from the question by itself.

“A cousin? Nah.”

“Then what?”

We stared at one another in silence as she awaited her answer. Her mauve painted finger nails lightly tapped the surface of the hardcover book she’d been holding in her hand since she plopped down on the couch.

“I’ll let you know with time.”

“Don’t take too long.”

She flipped open the book and began to admire it’s colorful pages while I remained astonished and enamored by her response. It was effortless on her end. Four words knocked the wind out of my chest, turned my insides into knots, and sent my mind into a frenzy. She’s more than a reinforcement.

If all of the listening to Stacey’s obsession with all things involving love, soul ties, and horoscopes was worth it, then I’m assured that the woman relaxing on my couch has been placed in my life to capture every aspect of me and I’m going to have to allow her to because it’s beyond my control.

Luminous lights bounced off of the regal like gold setting as the bass to Diddy’s “Bad Boys For Life” blared from speakers in every single direction. The pompous Hip-Hop mogul had been standing on the stage in all of his grandeur since his arrival and has yet to stop his onslaught of egotistical promotion of self. Occasionally, he’d throw in a statement about the vodka but overall, he’s selling himself just as most of these artists do. Along side him stood his model girlfriend Cassie and I couldn’t help but to chuckle and shake my head at how much of a prop she appeared to be. I’ve yet to see him glance in her direction to be assured that she’s comfortable and content with her surroundings. He hasn’t even thrown an arm around her shoulder to stake claim on his territory. I suppose he expects people to just know. Given the way her eyes have slyly followed Fredrick around this room, maybe their arrangement isn’t exactly what I expect it to be.

As the crowd covered the dance floor, I choose to lean with my back to the bar while inhaling the aroma of cinnamon and berries and feeling natural sultriness radiating from the body covered in the scent. As her shoulders rocked back in forth to the beat, the right one continuously lightly brushed against my side and garnered my attention each time. While readying herself in my closet, she opted to take her ponytail down and flat iron her long hair so it’d cascade down her back flawlessly. She kept her make up minimal with the exception of the deep red lipstick she coated her lips with. While her face is certainly an attention grabber by itself, tonight, it’s the dress and her body in it. It’s the cause for the numerous bottles of Armand De Brignac and Dom Perigenon that have been sent her way in hopes of her joining the sections containing the men who were dumping money into dozens of bottles of champagne. It’s the dress that had Diddy’s security guard whispering an invitation to his section in her ear. It’s the dress that left me frozen in my closet as I walked in while she was exiting. It’s the dress that put a whole new spin on what little black dress is supposed to mean.

“Step over here for a second.” Fredrick stood to the left of me for a second and eventually, I stepped away from Autumn and walked just a couple of inches down so he’d be able to say what he needed to. Mike was already awaiting us, with a silly little smirk on his face.

“I have to ask. How are you going to bring her on a date to our club? I didn’t think anything of it when y'all had a quick bite to eat upstairs. That could have been corny but it’s whatever. The club though? Really?” I bid my gallant best friend the blankest stare I could muster up and Mike erupted into the most ridiculous fit of giggles. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was the one to plant the idea in Fredrick’s head to question me.

“First, shut up. Second, we’re not on a date. We went running this morning and I invited her to hang out with me for the day. It’s exactly that. Not a date.”

“That dress says it’s a date. Do you see it the way I see?”

“And how exactly do you see it?” My facial expression hadn’t contorted into anything else. If anything, it unexpectedly hardened.

“He’s about to fuck you up. You better watch your eyes dog.” Mike rested his arm over Fred’s shoulders as he continued to cackle like the Lion King’s hyenas. He looks like them as well. He looks like all things that are irksome right about now.  

“Wait, y'all went running? Like young rich white couples? Wow.” That statement earned a laugh out of me. I knew Mike would get one and that statement was worth it. That was a joke between all of us since our college days. We often differentiated the difference between white couples and black couples and running together was considered super Caucasian.

“Okay. Y'all can go about your business.”

“Oh no. We’re good right here. Everything is handled. A tense, flustered, and lusty Dante is far more interesting than sitting up in the office or being out here and watching Diddy act a fool on stage. I want to see this in person; not on security footage.” Fredrick slap his hand into my shoulder and winked before walking around me and smothering Autumn with a hug and making her smile with whatever suave shit he said.

“I’m happy for you man.”

“Mike, shut the fuck up man.” I couldn’t stop laughing at him. His facial expression paired with the commentary couldn’t be taken as anything more than pure jokes, though he’s as serious as a heart attack.

“Just say thank you.”

“For what?”

“Because I’m happy for you. You thank people for that, even though I’m supposed to be automatically happy for you because I’m your best friend and brother. Thank me.”

“Mike…” He cut me off.

“Thank me.”

“Thank you.” He like Fredrick, slapped his hand into my shoulder in jest, and left me to stand there as the outsider while they showered Autumn with admiration. Much like my own, she lit up their eyes, as they leaned in close enough to make out every word that spilled from her red lips. I expect the both of them to form some kind of bond with her over time. If she’s going to be around, why wouldn’t they? They’re my family and I’d rather her take a liking to them over the people who are biologically tied to me. She’s safer in that manner.

The atmosphere within the club lightened up and became more of a loose fun type of vibe when Diddy and his fifty person entourage made their exit out of the back door. He didn’t leave without showering the three of us with a drunken thanks and praise for the service and nicely tipping every bottle server that worked the V.I.P section. With him out the door, the intensity amongst the staff eased and the smiles returned to their faces as they cheerily walked and even danced around the club serving bottles and drinks to guests. We continued to occupy places at the bar, the three of us standing, while Autumn remained in her seat surrounded by the three men who most probably thought were her bodyguards if they couldn’t identify us as the owners. We all chose to have drinks; even her. The Jack Daniels and pineapple juice in her glass served as kryptonite for her hips and thighs as she moved in her seat along to whatever beat and melody that pleased her ears. What I didn’t expect was for it to carry her out of her seat. In a trance, I looked on as she danced along to DJ Envy’s ode to Atlanta by herself, and eventually both men who were on either side of me left me to take in the sight all alone.

The black uninhibited silk elegance stuck to her body like the fluidity of a second skin and carved out the shape of her frame with every move that she made. The deep open back, steep neckline, and slit up her thigh exposed her blemish free caramel skin and her left cool enough to not break a single sweat. Instead the perspiration was showcasing itself behind my own neck. One wrong move could expose plenty and yet it worked so well against her body, I’d believe the designer made it just for her if she told me. With every sip of my preferred potent brown liquid I took, my thoughts became less about her dancing and more about if she had anything on the lower half of her body aside from the silk of the dress.

“Come and dance.” She shouted her request loud enough for me to hear as the music suddenly switched to the ninety five underground club favorite “Freaks” by Doug E. Fresh. Reluctance filled my mind quickly and I started to deny her of what she asked for until she extended her hand to reach for my own. To kill the last of my nerves, I downed what was left in my glass and pushed up off of the golden bar to follow her as she headed towards the crowded dance floor.

Playfully, she bopped her head and rocked her body to the infectious beat as I did the same. Every bit of it was platonic, even the moment when she grabbed my arm and came closer. A few turns happened and she playfully bumped my hip with her own. I couldn’t help but to wrap my arm around her waist as she did so and I drew her body close to mine. The bopping and rocking continued while the warmth from our bodies and mouths enhanced the allure and abrupt intensity. The tips of my fingers dug into the softness of her hip and the nervousness I believed had washed away with the Hennessy returned when she suddenly pulled back from me. Thoughts of some type of way to make a quick getaway immediately flooded my brain until her plump backside met my body in a force that nearly caused me to stagger. My hands locked on her hips as she twirled and popped herself against the part of my flesh I’d been trying to keep in check since this morning. As if her hair could read my mind, it fell over her shoulders and gave me the perfect view of the side of her face each time she lifted herself up and laid her entire body against my own.

Her beautiful torment of my body never ceased as we danced through song after song to the surprising and yet fitting reggae set. I hoped my stiffened flesh would serve as a form of discomfort for so she’d stop what my mind and body swiftly became addicted to but it seemingly served as motivation for her to continue. I hadn’t spotted Mike or Fred ever since they walked away but I’m assured in my theory that one of them told Envy to refrain from changing the genre of music for the remainder of the night. I had Autumn against my body for two hours because of it.

For two hours she snatched just a little bit more of my soul.

“Any stops?”

My head leaned against the cool window of the SUV and I shook it in hopes that Marv noticed it through the rearview mirror. The heaviness in my tired eyes worsened although I had a constant rush of cool air smacking me in the back of my neck and on the top of my head from the overhead air conditioning vents. I don’t typically run behind schedule for flights but this morning was a first, as I could barely drag my exhausted form out of bed after having only taken a two hour nap since arriving home. Had I left the club and went straight home, I would have slept for a possible four or five hours, but instead I contentedly sat in my car outside of Autumn’s house having the most trivial banter with her. Her heels were off, my blazer sat sloppily in the backseat, my tie loosely hung around her neck, and our seats were reclined as we idly lay there going back and forth with jokes that probably wouldn’t have been as funny if the alcohol wasn’t still in control of our systems. Honestly, the funniest part of the early morning may have been the thirty minute nap we took, and the both of us popping up damn near simultaneously to laugh at that happening. We parted ways shortly after; her slipping inside of the house under the gaze of her nosy neighbor and me doing my best to quickly get back into Manhattan before the morning rush.

That was nearly three hours ago. Just three.

“I have your newspaper here. You want it?”

“No. I’m alright Marv.”

“Music?”

“No.”

“Rough night?” I erased the concern off of his face by lightly laughing.

“Crazy night, in a fun way.”

“Really?” His eyes widened in surprise as would anyone’s who knows me well enough would do. “Hungover?”

“Slightly.”

“My man.”  He slid his right hand in between the driver and passenger side seats and I quickly slapped my own into it before returning to my slump position against the window.

In understanding, he left me silence the entire ride to BlueStar. That hour ride was another nap; a teaser leading up to the next one that I’m sure to take on the flight to Vegas.

“Good Morning Mr. St. James.” With a nod of my head in greeting to the service worker, I looked on as he retrieved both of my bags from the trunk of the SUV and I bid Marv a quick goodbye. Usually I’d be jogging to cease any further lateness but I couldn’t. The guy and my bags were a long way ahead of me, as he quickly moved to board them onto the plane. Mike and Fredrick were already on board. I could tell by the cup holder in Autumn’s hands as she stood along side her brother. There would have been three Starbucks drinks in it if they weren’t already here. Instead, there’s my lone cup of coffee waiting for me in the hands of the woman who made my day, night, and morning.

“Why are you lagging man? Age catching up with you?” Issac voiced his joke loud enough for me to hear and a smirked danced along my lips but never quite formed as I reached the siblings.

“Long night.”

“Oh yeah? It was one of those nights huh?” My eyes narrowed and quickly normalized at what he was suggesting may have happened last night. It felt like one of those nights without it being one of those nights.

“Nah. None of that. It was just a late one at work.”

“Oh yeah, I know how that can be. Your flight attendant here picked up some Starbucks for you and I’m sure she’ll whip up a couple of extra cups of coffee for you on the flight so you’ll be nice and perked up for Vegas. Right Autumn?”

“Yes, I can do that. Good Morning Mr. St. James.” Our eyes locked as she handed over the coffee and the ever expected flutters ignited within seconds. The sight of her in that dress suddenly replaced the current sight of her in her uniform and the vision her long tresses swinging over her shoulders superseded the low ponytail in her hair now.

“Good Morning.”

I sipped the now slightly cool drink to begin the effects of the espresso and continued to take in her being though she’d already pealed her eyes away from me in an alarming and pointless nervousness.

Am I a dirty secret?

I know we’re nothing and yet we’re something. Well at least I feel that way.  It’s what I want to believe or maybe I’m hoping for a lot. Either way, this is a beautifully weird dynamic.

“Well, you’re behind schedule so why don’t you get going.” My eyes panned to Issac and his eyes no longer held the playful gleam that’s identical to his sister’s. As his eyes narrowed, I could sense him assessing me.

“Right. See you soon man. Sorry for the hold up.”

“Right.”

As I ascended up the steps, I could feel a set of eyes burning a hole into my back.

They weren’t the eyes that I wanted on me.

They weren’t the eyes that I needed on me.

[redlemonz]

Day #24

Not a great rush of adrenaline this morning, that's for sure. My heart beat is again unsteady and relatively quicker, and my breathing slowed. I can safely say that it was the result of some incredibly bad dreams, for the most part, which I'm trying my best to instantly forget so I can move on with my day. Not worth going into detail to remind myself and feel like shit, but it was essentially just a bunch of major things going downhill within family, friendships and even her - yes she made an appearance, surprisingly enough. All the damn blame from everything that was going wrong was absorbed by me. I couldn't help to think in these scenarios that if I were a better person to them, that I could've altered the ill fate suffered by my loved ones. Now I'm shaking at the thought of it, and even drawn a couple of tears because of the intensity of what I just suffered through. It's been extremely difficult to distinguish dreams from reality in that regard, because I'm the same, bad person in each universe. I'm actually struggling a bit more this morning from the after effects of those dreams, and my breathing hasn't stabilised after a while - genuinely thinking there's a possibility of fainting, which would be nice if it were back in my bed. It's hot and and cold at the same time. I'm drawing a bit of anxious sweat through what feels like a fire inside me. It's sort of like a similar feeling to having a fever in a way, but an anxiety fever. Have even resulted to attempting to breathe through my mouth as a substitute but that's only raising the heart beat. Fun times in the weak struggle. Can't find the balance this morning and so I'm not looking forward to the rest of the day ahead, especially as I'll be stuck in a team meeting the entirety of the day. The day dreams that will fill up the time will have my head fixated on her as usual. Day 24 - A coin & a clock I received a special coin today that I forgot I purchased, which one of three at work ordered online on behalf of me about a month ago. It's special because it's a double sided coin, which depicts only heads on both sides, and has the word 'liberty' engraved into it, along with the design print of the famous sculpture in New York City. It's intriguing because it's utilised by a rather famous comic book villain (yup, comic books - more fantasies, surprise) who determines the fate of his victims with the flip of that very coin, which means that they're ultimately doomed either way because they don't actually receive the equal chance they're led into falsely believing that they're entitled to in the circumstance. That's the interesting factor - the false hope that is generated for the soul who doesn't have knowledge upon the fact that their future has already been decided for them. It makes you realise that liberty is nothing more than an imaginative term, a living irony promoted by society that's suppose to make you believe that you have this false sense of freedom. It's achieved well enough too, considering we're mostly all brainwashed to some degree and follow the norms and conventions created by our societies to live life as the sheep we are. That's just one man's opinion though, and I understand that it's quite generalised and doesn't actually apply to each individual - just the majority, who are "drowning in the mainstream" as one of her hipster jokes would go. This new piece of memorabilia I have acquired is a reminder to me that I'll always be stuck in my ill-fated sadness in the end, no matter what choices I make in the present. That this road will eventually lead to a cliff with no remaining bridge to cross, no matter what temporary happiness may be found on the way. I'll never be able to get to the other side of the bridge.. where she resides. I managed to take my friend anxiety, to the gym this evening, so we could both get pumped up to a whole new level. Certainly you could note that it took me a lot of willpower which I didn't know existed at this stage, to go a second time within the week already - haven't done that for a while due to my fears of breaking down. I don't really know what to say, except for that my heart break is currently being re-lived greatly right now due to my nemesis, time, reminding me that it's been exactly 4 weeks tonight since I received a message from her asking to talk the next day of Armageddon. Even worse, the last time I had any contact with her was Monday - three days ago, which again specifically resembles the gap in which in that past time we did not communicate either. My mind is determined in just finding any fucking excuse at this point to link events, coincidences and any resemblances it can find to remind me of the pain from that moment. Sadly, it's working well in it's favour because it's in my nature to be accustomed to thoughts like this. I remember thinking that everything was going so well, and that she finally listened and understood me with the pain I uncomfortably had to openly express with her on several occasions (especially recently at the time), and that I would just give her some space and time to take that chance on me finally. But little did I know that she was only being friendly and polite (as is in her sweet nature), when asking to speak to me the next day, because I had no fucking clue that not only did she break her promise, but she would break my heart and end us. Supposedly the three days felt like a lifetime apart and she actually lived a joyous life in that time, which means she didn't need and/or want me anymore. In my head I was just speechless and in shock, so I remember going absolutely insane with my over the top friendliness in that moment. That's because I had fucked up enough, and finally clicked then and there as soon as she had enough, how I had been behaving and mistreating her that whole time. I was constantly overreacting and poisoning her life with my unnecessary insecurities and problems, so she justifiably finally decided to dispose of the negativity in her life, i.e. me. Since that precise moment, it all started crashing down on me about what I had done, and to this very day I'm still in shock (hence the recurring madness) about how it all played out and I suddenly went from what felt like everything to nothing - with a single phone call. Here I was, ready to be the happiest guy alive (I cannot emphasise how much I was looking forward to this moment, with all the hope in the world) as I thought my insecurity of being hidden from her family was going to be finally over. Nope - It was the exact opposite. My world turned upside down, and so did my head and heart along with it. So here I am, an even more broken shell of a man - if I ever were a man, rather than just a boy to begin with (that'd probably even be a compliment at this point with the immaturity I displayed). But hey, it's more than fair enough. It's what I deserve for mistreating her the way I did. To be honest, I was never really good enough for her to begin with, and I'm sure she always knew that too - which is why she always had doubts about us from the very beginning anyway, and continuously rejected me. I very much do appreciate that she tried for me, and for us as a whole though, as she really did put in so much more than I think even she was expecting, prepared to, and thought that she ever would. I guess I can only hope now that I brought her some happiness above all the pain and trouble I caused her, and that she'll continue to cherish that good part of what we were (wonderful weekend + sick-day monday was beautiful in that regard). And I hope that she's happy now too.. It's been basically four weeks after all, and she's not usually one to be stuck in the past for long so yeah. All I can continue to do now is accept all my mistakes, and learn through all this torturous pain and punishment, even though I tried my best - I just didn't succeed (fuck off again, Coldplay). It's all so excruciating right here, right now though, as I've honestly lost the will to simply try with stuff, I guess. I may as well confess that in my weakness I even messaged her just before, asking how her week's been, but haven't heard back from her in these couple hours. At least she's living a busier life and properly moving on unlike the loser I am, whining about my fucking feelings. I suppose these are all pretty standard confessions of a broken heart though too, yeah? Likely. I'm just being a naive asshole - nothing new. She doesn't owe me any time or attention anymore, and she never did. Whether it be a tangible object or a memory, everything seems to find its way into being my enemy these days, because my mind chooses for it to be. Oh well - my pit is getting a bit dry, tonight's a night better than any to water it with some tears.