#all nerds need to be shoved into a locker it is law

[clockworkcrow]

Mouse Koan, by Catherynne Valente

I.

In the beginning of everything I mean the real beginning the only show in town was a super-condensed blue-luminous ball of everything  that would ever be including your mother and the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles and the heat-death of prime time television                   a pink-white spangle-froth of deconstructed stars burst into the eight million gods of this world.

Some of them were social creatures some misanthropes, hiding out in the asteroid belt turning up their ion-trails at those sell-outs trying to teach the dinosaurs about ritual practice and the importance of regular hecatombs. It was

a lot like high school. The popular kids figured out the game right away. Sun gods like football players firing glory-cannons downfield bookish virgin moon-nerds angry punkbrat storm gods shoving sacrificial gentle bodied compassion-niks into folkloric lockers. But one

a late bloomer, draft dodger in Ragnarok, that mess with the Titans, both Armageddons,       started showing up around 1928. Your basic trickster template                   genderless                   primary colors                   making music out of goat bellies                                                           cow udders                                                           ram horns                   squeezing cock ribs like bellows. It drew over its face the caul of a vermin animal, all black circles and disruption. Flickering silver and dark it did not yet talk it did not yet know its nature.

Gods have problems with identity, too. No better than us they have midlife crises run out drive a brand new hot red myth cycle get a few mortals pregnant with half-human monster-devas who grow up to be game show hosts ask themselves in the long terrible confusion of their personal centuries who am I, really? what does any of it mean? I’m so afraid someday everyone will see that I’m just an imposter a fake among all the real and gorgeous godheads.

                  The trickster god of silent films knew of itself only: I am a mouse. I love nothing. I wish to break everything.                   It did not even know what it was god of what piece of that endlessly exploding heating and cooling and shuddering and scattering cosmos it could move.                   But that is no obstacle to hagiography.                   Always in motion                   plane/steamboat/galloping horse even magic cannot stop its need to stomp and snap to unzip order:                   if you work a dayjob                               wizard                               boat captain                               orchestra man beware.                                                 A priesthood called it down like a moon men with beards men with money.                               It wanted not love nor the dreamsizzle of their ambition but to know itself.                               Tell me who I am, it said. And they made icons of it in black and white then oxblood and mustard and gloves like the paws of some bigger beast. They gave it a voice                               falsetto and terrible though the old school gods know the value of silence.                               They gave it a consort like it but not it.                               A mirror-creature in a red dress forever out of reach as impenetrable and unpenetrating as itself.                               And for awhile the mouse-god ran loose eating                               box office                               celluloid                               copyright law                               human hearts and called it good.

II.

If you play Fantasia backwards you can hear the mantra of the mouse-god sounding.                                     Hiya, kids! Let me tell you something true:                               the future                               is plastics the future is me.                               I am the all-dancing thousand-eared unembodied god of Tomorrowland. And only in that distant Space Mountain Age of glittering electro-synthetic perfection will I become fully myself, fully apotheosed, for only then will you be so tired of my laughing iconographic infinitely fertile and reproducing perpetual smile-rictus my red trousers that battle Communism my PG-rated hidden and therefore monstrous genitalia my bawdy lucre-yellow shoes so deaf to my jokes your souls hardened like arteries that I can rest.                               Contrary to what you may have heard it is possible to sate a trickster.                               It only takes the whole world.

                  But look, don’t worry about it. That’s not what I’m about anymore. Everybody grows up.                   Everybody grows clarity, which is another name for the tumor that kills you.                   I finally figured it out.

You don’t know what it’s like                   to be a god without a name tag. HELLO MY NAME IS                   nothing. What? God of corporate ninja daemonic fuckery? That’s not me. That’s not the theme song I came out of the void beyond Jupiter to dance to.                   The truth is I’m here to rescue you.                                     The present and the future are a dog racing a duck. Right now you think happiness is an industrial revolution that lasts forever. Brings to its own altar the Chicken of Tomorrow breasts heavy with saline                               margarine                               dehydrated ice cream                               freeze-dried coffee crystals Right now, monoculture feels soft and good and right as Minnie in the dark.                               It’s 1940.                               You’re not ready yet.                               You can’t know. Someday everything runs down. Someday entropy unravels the very best of us. Someday all copyright runs out.

                              In that impossible futurological post-trickster space I will survive I will become my utter self                               and this is it: I am the god of the secret world-on-fire that the corporate all-seeing eye cannot see. I am the song of perfect kitsch endless human mousefire burning toward mystery                               I am ridiculous                               and unlovely                               I am plastic                               and mass-produced                   I am the tiny threaded needle of unaltered primordial unlawful beauty-after-horror                               of everything that is left of you                               glittering glorified                               when the Company Man                               has used you up                               to build the Company Town. Hey. they used me, too.

I thought we were just having fun. Put me in the movies, mistah! The flickies! The CINEMA. The 20s were one long champagne binge.                                     I used to be a goggling plague mouse shrieking deadstar spaceheart                   now I’m a shitty                   fire retardant polyurethane                   keychain.

Hey there. Hi there. Ho there.

What I am the god of is the fleck of infinite timeless hilarious nuclear inferno soul that can’t be trademarked patented bound up in international courts the untraded future.                               That’s why                               my priests                               can never let me go                               screaming black-eared chaotic red-assed jetmouse                               into the collective unconscious Jungian unlost Eden                               called by the mystic name of public domain                               The shit I would kick up there                               if I were free!

I tricked them good. I made them put my face on the moon. I made them take me everywhere their mouse on the inside I made them so fertile they gave birth to a billion of me.                               Anything that common will become invisible.                               And in that great plasticene Epcotfutureworld you will have no trouble finding me.

                              Hey.                               You’re gonna get hurt. Nothing                               I can do.                               Lead paint grey flannel suits toxic runoff                               monoculture like a millstone                               fairy tales turned into calorie-free candy                               you don’t even know                               what corporate downsizing is yet. And what I got isn’t really much                                           What I got                                           is a keychain What I got is the pure lotuslove of seeing the first lightspray of detonated creation even in the busted-up world they sell you.                                           Seeing in me                                           as tired and overworked                                           as old gum                                           the unbearable passionmouse of infinite stupid trashcamp joy                                           and hewing to that.                                           It’s the riddle of me, baby. I am everywhere            exploited          exhibited          exhausted                               and I am still holy.

It doesn’t matter what they do to you. Make you a permanent joke sell your heart off piece by piece                               robber princes                               ruin everything                               it’s what they do                               like a baby cries.

                                                                  Look at my opposite number.                                                                   It was never coyote versus roadrunner.                                                                   It was both                                                                   against Acme                                                                   mail order daemon of death. Stick with me. Someday we’ll bundle it all up again the big blue-luminous ball of everything                   your father                   the Tunguska event                   the ultimate star-spangled obliteration of all empires. I will hold everything tawdry in my gloved four fingered hand and hold it high                      high                      high.

It’s 1940. What you don’t know is going to break you.       Listen to the Greek chorus of my Kids lining up toward the long downward slide of the century like sacrifices.                                           Their song comes backward and upside down                                           from the unguessable extropy                                           of that strangesad orgiastic corporate electrical parade                                           of a future

                                          Listen to it.                                           The sound of my name                                           the letters forty feet high. See ya see ya see ya real soon.

Some people say that in order to be effective, post-apocalyptic fiction needs to strike a balance between having the cause of the apocalypse reflect contemporary anxieties, and framing that cause in a way that's at least somewhat plausible. These people are cowards. Write that story where the extinction of the human species was caused by overzealous copyright enforcement. You know you want to.

[goldenchan-fx2thepeacock]

Don’t Go Running Off Into Danger, Even If I Do pt 3

Hek. I woke up today and found that my FNP phic has 41 notes and my DGROIDEIID phic is gaining attention and reblogs; holy shit. And I woke up at noon. It’s Saturday. I sleep in on such days. Anyways. Last I checked, Val and Danny were gonna go get Dani, but we need some Dip and Mabs action cause I forgot last night. I will probably develop an uploading schedule later. For now, just have random updates. I might even make a side blog for this shit.

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Chapter 3

Dipper stood off in the background as Danny got into an argument with a dracula ghost. By the amount of times he heard Plasmius, this must’ve been Vlad. Danny looked pissed when he finished. He still took Dipper and Mabel to their classes, but when they tried to find him at lunch, he was absent.  “I wonder where he is?” Mabel pondered.  “I’m sure he just had something to do,” Dipper replied. Some guy walked up to their table.  “Hey, you’re the kids Fenton is touring. Listen, he’s Phantom and I have proof!”  “And you are?” Mabel said patiently. “Wes Weston. Listen, you gotta believe me!” “We legit just moved here, we have no clue what you’re talking about. Leave us alone,” Dipper said. Wes looked taken aback.  “Fine! Fenton better worry. I will expose him. I just need more proof,” Wes stalked off. Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look.  “Should we be worried?” He asked Mabel. “He seems to have it under control,” 

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Danny stared off into the daylight as they flew. Val set down.  “Come on. She’s fine. Why are you losing it?” “Just a certain Wisconsin Ghost told me about you keeping her,” “Vlad?” “Wait, you know?” “I’ve known since I met Dani,” “Jeez. I’ve known since I met the guy during my parents college reunion. I’m still pissed at him for that whole invisble wall fiasco,” “That was him?” “Yeah. I mean, I started it, but he kept trying to get in my mom’s pants. I needed to put him down a peg,” “You made his wall invisble!?” “Yeah. But it’s not like being naked on camera is going to tell the public any secrets,” “I’m confused. Why do care so much?” “It’s nothing,” Danny grunted. They were headed to the basement. “It seems to be something,” “I have things I’d prefer not to reveal to the entire school,” “No one saw your dick. You managed to catch it in time,” Val was confused. Danny laughed.  “Hey Val. Why would a guy have a female clone? Oh right. I forgot to tell you. Dani is more or less my clone because Vlad was being extra creepy,” “Weird. So she isn’t your cousin. Wait. OH MY GOD! Danny, I understand completely. If Dash knew, you’d be dead meat,” Val caught on quickly. Danny couldn’t but laugh at the dead meat. “Hey! What’s funny?” “I am dead meat Val!” “I’m an idiot. Anyways, we’re here,” She opened the basement door. Dani was sitting on the couch.  “Danny? Val? What’re you guys doing here. Shit, sorry Danny,” “It’s fine. She knows,”  “Who else knows anyways?” Val said.  “You, Jazz, Tucker, Sam and literally all the ghosts,” “Vlad included?” “Vlad included,” “And Amity Park can’t connect the dots?” “No one knows Danny Phantom has a human life. I’d be seriously pissed if someone told the general public,” “That’s fair. Anyways. We’re here because a certain Dracula cosplayer told Danny you were in danger,” Val said. Danny snorted. “Dracula cosplayer? I have to use that on him,” “Why would anyone think that’s a good look?”  “My ‘dad’,” Dani said. Thus causing both her and Danny to break out in laughter. “Where does the whole cousin thing come in?” Val asked. “My ‘Unkie Vlad’. It’s his way of making me family,” “Unkie?” Val looked lost. “I like being a little bitch to him,” “He deserves it! You should expose him,” “If I expose Plasmius, Masters exposes Phantom,” “Oh jeez,” “And there is a very good reason not to expose Phantom. And they wear way too much white,” Dani said quietly.  “I’d prefer not to get dissected,” Danny said haughtily. “They already want to,” Val made a noise of disgust.  “How could anyone with a set of morals do that?” “Heh. I’m a ghost. Not really real to most of the world. I don’t have feelings. Don’t feel pain,” Danny repeated what the ghost hunters had told him way too many times.  “That sounds awful, but we should get back to school. Cya Dani!” Val waved and put on her helmet.  “Hey, wanna leave the quick way?” “What do you mea- AAAAAAAH!” Val screamed as Danny made them both go intangible and up through the roof. “Never. Do that again,” “Hey, at least you didn’t end up going through the table and random floors and get banned from handling anything fragile,” “I’m confused,” “When these powers first came in, I was stuck dropping everything. From my pants to beakers,” “Oh jeez. So, why aren’t nerd and nerdette with you?” “Tucker had to go see a doctor out of town and Sam’s mom took her to this convention thing. They’ll be back tomorrow,”  “No comment on the nicknames?” “They’ve been called worse,” Danny shrugged. “And I’ve been shoved in way too many lockers to care,” “I have one last question. Why on earth would you try to date me when I was trying to kill you? And why did you destroy the suit when I could’ve been inside?” “That’s two questions. But Fenton and Phantom needed a distinction, and I knew you weren’t inside. Technus was controlling the suit,” “You are a mystery,” “I’d like to keep it that way,” “You won’t tell anyone my secret if I don’t tell anyone both of yours?” “That makes it sound like you’re going to tell one of them,” “That’s not what I meant,” “We need to come up with an excuse as to why The Red Huntress suddenly has a truce with Phantom,” “Later. I need coffee,” “I couldn’t agree more,” The plume of blue air showed up. “OH COME ON!” “What,” “I have to deal with something,” Danny sped off. 

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Dipper and Mabel looked at the chaos in the caf.  “Students! Hide under tables! Ghost Hunters and/or Phantom will be here soon,” Mr Lancer yelled into a megaphone. “Already here!” Someone yelled. A flash of white said Phantom. There was blue ghost throwing boxes around.  “I am the BOX GHOST!” It yelled. “Yeah, we know. Just say it already,” “I will win this fight with boxes of... spoons! BEWARE!” “Don’t you know not to bring a spoon to a knife fight?” “You do not have a knife!” “No, but I do have a thermos!” Phantom pulled out a green and grey thermos and flipped the lid.  “I will not stay in your cylindrical object!”  “Looks like you’re gonna have to,” Phantom pressed a button and a beam of light came out of the thermos and sucked the Box Ghost inside. “Is everyone okay?” Kids pushed out from under the tables.  “Phantom! Will you sign my book?” Dash said. This must be a cruel joke.  “Ghost boy! The Fenton Peeler is back in action,” “Whoops, gotta go!” Phantom dashed off as Jack and Maddie Fenton came rushing in. “Darn it. Missed him again,” They ran off. Danny walked into the caf and ran over to them. “You guys are lucky that your first ghost attack was the Box Ghost. Harmless,” “Doesn’t look very harmless to me! That’s gotta’ve been at least a level 5,” Dipper opened the journal. “Nah. Box is a solid 2. Hardly a step up from an ectopus. Might get concerned if Desiree shows up. She’s a level 5,” “What’re you?” “We more or less tested it. Pretty sure I’m a 7,” “That means they aren’t a big concern to you most days,” “Mmm. King Pariah was a level 10. That was terrifying. Vlad’s an 8. Convinced he’s a 9,”  “Okay,” “Skulker gets to be a 6 on a technicality. Without the suit, he’s a 1. He can be an 8 on a bad day. I think Frostbite is a 9. He won’t bother you guys though. Dan must’ve been a 9, but I’m not going into that. Technus is an 8, but can be a 10 if he gets his hands on the right tech. Clockwork is an 11, which technically doesn’t exsist, but Clockwork breaks the mold. He won’t bother you unless you end up destroying the world in the future,” Danny shivered.  “Who’s Dan?” Mabel looked confused.  “Nobody. Just a horrible way to learn not to cheat on tests,” Danny shivered again. “But that’s not important. I didn’t cheat on the CAT,” “Your life seems more hectic than Gravity Falls sometimes,” Dipper said. “Where is that? I’ve never heard of it,” “Oregan. Never Mind All That,” He knew the rules. “You know, the way you say that is kinda creepy,” “We’d be breaking the law if we told you why,”  “Jesus. Well, it’s not like we’ll get another Pariah unless an idiot thinks it’s a good idea. He’ll never get his hands on the crown of Fire,”  “Time Out,” Dipper and Mabel looked around.  “Umm, CW, why aren’t they out with everyone else?” “They’ve met Cipher. At this point, I cannot pause time for them,”  “Eh, whatever. Mason, Mabel, this is Clockwork. What’d you need?” “I actually came to speak to you about the Crown of Fire. In defeating Pariah, you gained ownership,” “I, uh, did what now?”  “Gained ownership of the Crown. Though in your case, it would be the Crown of Ice,” Clockwork repeated. Danny looked lost.  “I don’t need to be the King of the Ghost Zone,” “Someone must take the place. It’s your duty,” Danny looked like he was about to have a full on panic attack.  “Can it wait?” “Two years is a long wait as is,” “B-but it went thousands of years before!” “Because they failed to remove the crown and it wasn’t a singular person,”  “What’s two years in the Ghost Zone? As far as I’m concerned, that doesn’t seem like a long time. Walker was gonna give me a thousand year prison sentence,”  “You get some time, but I’ll tell you, if you take the crown, the Ghost Zone enters an era of peace unprecedented,”  “Danny, what’s happening,” Mabel asked. Danny snapped and started hyperventilating.  “I can’t. No. Why? I just wanted to keep the world safe! Is that too much to ask?” “Daniel, you do get time to think about it. Just remember, time can pass however fast or slow I want it too,” “Right, of course. Cya CW,”  “Time In,”

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Danny trudged home. Exhaustion and anxiety gripped him. Mason and Mabel had been concerned, but he wasn’t about to explain everything. He’d talk to Sam and Tucker tomorrow. It didn’t help that he’d had gym after lunch. At least there wasn’t any more disappearing walls.  “Danny! How was school?” Mom asked as he walked in the door.  “Great!” Danny said and rushed upstairs. He’d deal with The Box Ghost in a minute. Jazz stood in his doorway. She didn’t know about Dan, but she did know about Pariah. “Danny, is everything okay?” “No, everything is not okay!” “What happened? Is it Dash again? We should report him,” “It’s not just that. You remember the Pariah incident?” “Yeah, you don’t just forget that,” “Well, turns out that by beating him, I ‘gained ownership’ to the crown,” “That doesn’t sound bad exactly,” “It’s horrible!”  “How?” “I just wanna be a kid, ya know? It’s hard enough living a double life, but ruling the Ghost Zone? I’d have no chance to do anything remotely useful in the human world,” “You wouldn’t need to. If you ruled the Ghost Zone, ghosts wouldn’t come here anymore,” “The King can’t enforce rules in the Human World. It’s just scary,” 

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Aight, that’s a chapter, I guess. The ideas tend to come from random places, and my brain is running out of ideas. I need to do another “planning session” which is coming up with scenarios in my head to make sure they make sense.

[izzielizzie]

Chapter Nine

Oh hey look a chapter are y’all proud of me? it’s short as heck but bear with me it gets better (also I just can’t write from Nate’s pov) also thank you so so much @natewynoou for helping me write this chapter

I hear the sound of a locker slam when I step out of my counselor’s office. I was dreading the meeting since talking about my feelings is awful and I’d rather eat crushed glass, but considering I wasn’t accused of murdering Simon this time, I guess it wasn’t that bad. “Hey Nate,” Maeve Rojas says as she falls into step next to me.

I glance down at her. “Hey.”

Maeve shakes her head. “You don’t talk much do you?”

“Neither do you.”

“Depends on the person.” Maeve gives me a breezy shrug and I look at her properly for the first time and nearly stop in my tracks. 

“Jesus Maeve, did you raid Bronwyn’s closet?” She narrows her eyes at me.

“What?”

“You’re wearing a dress.” She is indeed wearing a maroon overall dress over a black shirt, the dress is the same corduroy kind Bronwyn wears. 

“No shit Sherlock.”

I shake my head at her, bumping my shoulder against hers. She shoves against me, and adjusts her bag over her shoulder. Her hair is in a braided crown.

“So who are you impressing?”

“Who says I’m impressing someone? Can’t I just wear a dress when I feel like it? Anyway, if I was impressing someone I wouldn’t wear these.” She kicks one leg up in front of her, and I can see her scuffed, beat up Converses.

“Really? I thought someone once said that Converses are hotter than heels.”

Maeve turns as red as her dress. I can still remember the day Luis Santos said that before a school dance when Maeve insisted that she couldn’t wear her old shoes. She playfully slaps my arm, and I’m reminded suddenly of Bronwyn. I feel a rush of affection towards this girl next to me.

“That hurt darling,” I joke. Luis used to call her darling when we were younger. 

“Oh yeah? And don’t call me darling.”

“Yeah.”

“Mhm.” Maeve pushes through the front door of the high school, and she skips blithely down the steps. I smile a little. It’s crazy how she’s still a little kid. She turns back to me. “Are you going to the parking lot?”

“No Maeve, I actually parked my bike on the roof deck.”

“Very funny.” She waits for me at the bottom step and she matches her steps to mine as we walk. We both look up when someone calls Maeve’s name. Luis Santos is perched at the end of his ancient Honda. He’s wearing his football jacket and his gym bag is resting next to him.

“Not impressing anyone huh?” I ask.

“Shut up,” Maeve grumbles. 

“Yes ma’am.”

“Oh, Nate.” Maeve, who sped up to reach Luis, turns to look back at me. “My sister’s working today, and when you see her, will you tell her that I need to talk to her?”

“Sure,” I say before I can fully understand the implications of “when you see her”.

“Great, thank you!”

I nod at her, and my eyes shift over to Luis. “Hey Nate,” he says to me. His hand is on the hood of his car, and Maeve is leaning back against his arm. I just smirk back at him. He looks mildly unnerved for a second. Good. I turn back towards my motorcycle. I’m ready to get the hell out of this place, but not before one last thing: 

“You two aren’t fooling anyone you know!” I call over my shoulder.

“Shut up!” Maeve calls back. I catch her flipping me off as Luis laughs. 

With a chuckle I climb onto my bike as my phone chimes in my pocket. I look down to see a text from an unknown number: Hey Nate, this is Bronwyn. Maeve said you needed to talk to me? I’m at work right now, but feel free to stop by.

Maeve. That little meddler. Well, if she’s giving me a sign to talk to Bronwyn again, then I might as well take it. Beggars can’t be choosers and all that stuff. 

“Where?” I text back. She responds instantly with the address, and after a moment of hesitation, I start my bike.

When I arrive at the door of the quaint little cafe Bronwyn apparently works at - why she works I have no idea, her family has more money than they need - I’m startled to find I’m not the only one who’s reaching for the door handle. My eyes meet with Cooper Clay’s. Addy Prentiss is sulking a few feet behind him.

“Hey,” he says to me awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s probably thinking about the last time the three of us were together. 

“Hi,” I respond. I turn to Addy. “Hey Addy.”

Addy crosses her arms over her chest. “Hello,” she says as if she doesn’t really want to talk to me but is being forced into it. Fair, I guess. 

“Well, um, we should go in?” Cooper asks, his southern accent kicking in.

“I guess so,” I say, pushing open the door and smirking as I wave them in like an usher. Addy gives me a halfhearted glare as she passes. I follow her, shutting the door behind me. I turn to see Bronwyn looking up from a book. She’s standing behind the counter, her hair on the top of her head in a messy loop, a spotted headband knotted in the front. There’s an apron over her white button down, and she looks… really, really cute.

 “Hey,” she calls. We all pause, looking at each other.

“Hey,” Cooper finally responds. 

“Well this is awkward,” I say dryly, and we all start laughing nervously, like we don’t know if it’s okay to be laughing after our last interaction.

“Well, if you guys are here, want some coffee?” Bronwyn asks, waving her hand up at the menu above her. I shake my head, and Cooper and Addy both say no. “Good choice, it sucks,” she tells us as she looks around the empty cafe. She puts her book down and pushes past the barrier separating the back from the front of the store. She leads us to a table.

“So why are we all here?” Cooper asks as we sit, Cooper and Addy sitting as far apart as humanly possible while still sharing a table. Bronwyn and I go for the opposite choice, her right thigh pressing against my left one. 

“Maeve texted me that Nate wanted to tell me something.” Addy flinches when Bronwyn says her sister’s name. Bronwyn looks at Addy guiltily. “Look, Addy, I’m sorry I called you a bitch. I felt so bad about it. I mean, yeah you cheated but, if my boyfriend was as awful as yours I’d do the same.”

Bronwyn probably thought she was apologizing, but Addy just looks defensive. 

“What does that mean?” she snaps. Bronwyn looks stricken. “Nothing, I mean-”

“Well at least I have a boyfriend, nerd.”

Bronwyn looks hurt and angry at the same time. Cooper and I exchange startled looks. 

“Okay moving on, Luis told me to come here.” Cooper looks at Addy as if expecting her to answer the question.

“Luis too,” she says. Huh, so maybe Maeve and Luis don’t spend all their time making out. Just most. 

“Well, they probably want us to talk,” Bronwyn says.

“About?” Addy asks, irritated.

“About the stuff at the police station,” Bronwyn starts, sounding like a lawyer. “We were all interviewed individually about stuff that hasn’t gone out yet, which probably means that we’re real susp-”

“Wait!” Addy says, sitting forward, her long hair bouncing pleasantly.

“What?”

“That stuff Simon was gonna post… it’s not posted yet?”

“No, Princess,” Bronwyn says, repeating Simon from detention. “Not yet. You’re still in the clear with your boyfriend.”

“Can we just stick to the subject please?” Cooper asks.

“Yeah, sure. Anyway,” Bronwyn switches back to her lawyer voice like she uses it often. She probably does. No wonder Maeve hates her now. “They probably want us to confess to killing so they don’t have to make a whole case. If we confess we’ll be dealt with and this won’t go public.”  

“So you think there was foul play?” I ask, startled.

“I mean, has anyone given a reason for Simon’s death yet? We’ve already had his funeral.”

“No,” Addy says.

“Yeah, because they don’t have an explanation. Except, thanks to his Tumblr, now they do. And it’s us.”

“I don’t use steroids,” Cooper blurts out suddenly.

Bronwyn looks startled. “I didn’t say you did.”

“I’m just putting that out there,” he responds.

“Great,” Bronwyn says, eyeing him suspiciously. She shakes herself a little. “We need an action plan. They’re going to try to separate us and twist our minds until we blame someone. We need a united front. I think that’s why Luis and M-” Bronwyn glances at Addy. “And my sister brought us together. Because we can’t fight like this. This Tumblr stuff isn’t public, if we look hard enough I think we can find a law against posting private information.”

Bronwyn looks around at us, and I can see that Addy and Cooper are starting to believe that Bronwyn can give us an out from the shitstorm headed our way. I would too, except my phone buzzes, and I look down at it.

“Too late, Rojas,” I say.

“What do you mean?” she asks. I hold up my phone, opened to About That where the latest post was published less than a minute ago. It’s the gossip post about us.

Cooper swears under his breath and Addy buries her head in her hands. “We’re screwed,” Bronwyn says.

I don’t even have the energy to thank her for stating the obvious.

[solitvdcs]

* michael evans behling, cis male + he/him | you know ryan kennedy, right? they’re twenty-four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, one month? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to i’m not okay (i promise) by my chemical romance like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole wrapping boxing gloves in slow motion, permanently arched eyebrow, closet battlestar galactica fanboy thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 27, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

TRIGGER WARNING FOR CANCER AND SUICIDE ATTEMPT

basic info

full name: ryan malcolm kennedy

birth date: october 27, 1996

pronouns: he/him

hometown: small town, idaho i don’t have a specific town

sexuality: bisexual

height: 6′2″

eye color: dark brown

hair color: dark brown

build: athletic

tattoos: fuckin shoulder tat of something idk

piercings: none

style: jeans and t-shirts. style??? he doesn’t know her

favorite color: red

favorite food: tacos

zodiac: scorpio sun, taurus moon, capricorn rising

mbti: isfj

hogwarts house: gryffindor

enneagram: type 5 wing 6

temperament: choleric-melancholic

alignment: lawful neutral

i don’t have it in me to type up a full bio, so we’re gonna try some bullet points xoxo

ryan wasn’t always the beefy, closed off, intimidating guy that everyone lowkey talks about whenever he’s not within earshot. he was just a lanky nerd who wore graphic tees with science puns and glasses and thought he’d never grow into his limbs. he was shoved into lockers, got his books knocked out of his arms, all the things you’d expect in a small town high school. closed off in an introverted way, rather than a “hide your emotions at all costs nobody can know you feel things” kinda way. the people he was closest to, though (read: his family and antonia and nobody else) knew the kind, caring boy underneath.

CANCER TW. his two sisters, paige and allison, were his favorite people in the world. he would do anything to protect them. and they were both so talented, with paige being mensa level smart and allison well on her way to the olympics for gymnastics. tragedy fell when allison broke her ankle after landing a simple dismount she’d done hundreds of times before. many appointments later and the diagnosis was osteosarcoma in her leg, and before long her olympic dreams - and her leg - were gone. it was the one thing he couldn’t protect her from and he still can’t stand that.

he was probably always a little in love with antonia, at least the antonia he’d always known. when they reached high school and she decided to become a completely different person, he felt himself holding onto something like sand slipping through his fingers or some other metaphor like that. it was only the beginning, though.

SUICIDE ATTEMPT TW. maybe being one of the only mixed families in their school made them a target, and he could handle it - he knew he’d get out of their some day. paige was sensitive, though, and high school girls are mean. rumors spread in an attempt to take her down a peg, the rumors mutated and got worse, and one day ryan overheard antonia adding to them. he met her eyes to let her know he’d heard, then refused to acknowledge her for the rest of the day. he was the one who found paige unconscious later that night, an empty bottle of pills next to her.

college was where he thrived, rising to the top of his class and hitting puberty to boot. people from high school found him on social media and started thirsting over him, but he knew the truth and refused to entertain them. as the muscle built up, so did the walls around him. that soft, caring guy is still somewhere underneath, though, for those who are willing to work for it.

he’s a big plant nerd, like his apartment is covered with them. blame the biology major maybe, but he can’t get enough. he’s really got a green thumb and has a garden on his balcony (hoping to have a house once he pays off his med school debt).

he’s not sure what made him pursue medicine. maybe some kind of hero complex, needing to save everyone he could. he’s an intern for the local hospital, no concentration decided yet.

honestly i’ve been trying to write this for three days, pls take this crumb and plot with me <3

[renalyn28]

#1

Mirror BEYOUty

When you look at photos of model...

what do you see? what do you think?

Maybe you see things like beautiful, skinny, flawless.

How about when you look at photos of obese people? Do your thought change?

Maybe the when you look at those images, you see something like fat, ugly or even with weird.

Do you realize that could be considered bullying? Don't worry, it’s not your fault. Society and media have trained you to look this images in that way.

Hello, I’m Renalyn Belandria, senior high student and I’m 17 years old.

From young age we are trained by media with images in Facebook, Instagram, TV, Magazine, It’s literally everywhere.

From beauty campaign to definition of perfect, girls are those who have to have collarbones you can see from a mile away. From boys it's all about your hair and jawline and if you can't meet up to those standards aren’t worth the time. Media tell us we aren't good enough and give us unrealistic photoshoped, perfect images. This is why I believe we are prone to bullying.

No offense to anyone ; i don't believe you can exactly stop bullying there's no law, cure or punishment. You can give a human being to make them stop being rude to each other. No, the change starts with you.

As a great man, an idol of mine one said; "You must be the change, you wish to see in the world. Bullying starts and stops with you, an individual".

For starters, it’s not just a nerd, geeks and weirdos that are bully and shoved into the nearest locker. No, far from it. Anyone and everyone is bullied. So who do you trust if a friend, a teacher or peers can't always be there for you?

I know how this feels; totally alone, no friends to be with, like no one could ever understand. I’ve been bullied university in my elementary days. I can tell you bullying is real and it hurts you more than just emotionally.

So, what is my solution?

You always have yourself look in that mirror, a little closer ,a little harder.

Find that one thing, that ability, that trait that you love about yourself. I know this is not easy an task. We are our own hardest critic and the media has taught us to be unaccepting of ourselves. Always trying to fix the little things, but never quite make it to perfect. But it's there; whether its skin deep or something on the inside. When you find that, you hold on to it and the next time you're bullied, you cling on to it and you say “ I know myself and they are wrong. They’re wrong.”

Do you know yourself better than any bully does. Don't let someone tear you down. Showing people who you are, and other media or bullied to find you, is what are call Mirror BeYouty. Being you are, is one more attractive and beautiful to me than a good jawline and some great hair. Your character is what makes you will, You! You don't have to teach the whole world on how to report a bully or tell a principal you read a mean text. No, you need to teach the whole world on how to be themselves and not let anyone whether be a bully, a boss, a teacher, or even a parent tell them different. You are all beautiful, so show your BeYouty.

[ace-t-fic]

This a Peter si fic I started (its purely 'feel good' no eye roll moments) but never found out what I wanted to do with it. This hasn't been grammar checked ethier.

The yearly trip to science industries (after the fiasco concerning OC labs) was heavily guarded by the gpa efficiency minimum and it was usually 123 Seniors at Midtown high each year. That only left less than 30 who had the gpa needed in order to attend the field trip. But with detentions and tardies that often brought it down to 25 added in with the people who actually turned in their permission slips drop that number down to a solid 13. That usually  meant the whole decathlon team, one jock, the Sat acres and people with tiger parents. 

So when the paper was only passed to Peter and Flash in their homeroom he wasn’t surprised who qualified for the field trip. 

Last year's field trip the students all got to go to Tesla and returned the day after. Liz said it was a fun experience and even one of the kids was later offered an internship available to him after their graduation. Liz herself wasn’t all that interested in the company herself but she said the experience was an enjoyable one. So Peter would have been lying if he said he wasn’t practically buzzed for when his senior year trip came. 

He wondered if they would be able to tour the new labs Wakanda had set up. He wanted to go for a while but their outside personnel was strictly limited to certified personnel and those with names that ended with Stark or Banner or Avengers. But the name staring back at him was just laughing at him, “congratulations, you have qualified for this year's exclusive Senior trip to SI inc.” an all paid expense to visit his work. Now instead of taking the City bus he could just catch a ride on a big ugly yellow one. 

Not that this was a let down it was still an amazing opportunity many would kill for. He thought gazing behind him to stare at Flash who fist bumped the air. The attention caught his attention and he made brief eye contact with Peter with a smug little smile on his face. Peter only flashed back his before the flash rolled his eyes and no longer paid him attention. 

Flash still didn’t partially believe Peter's internship-neither did anyone else really- but flash was the most put out about it. He would be lying if he says he wasn’t rooting for Peter the night of his junior year party. He even helped Diana, the maid clean and dust just in case Spiderman really did show up. And when he didn’t show up he told Peter exactly how he felt about it with a new string of nicknames. Added on to the occasional passive agressive shoulder shove but nothing more or less beyond that. Sure he was a dick but he wasn’t a good fighter, just richer than Parker he was beating him in the fight of life. 

Peter only rolled his eyes back, shoving the paper into the back of his class notebook. 

The minutes ticked by steadily as Peter waited to meet Ned at his locker. He’s almost deadly positive Ned received one too and is waiting to shake the life out of his shoulders. Peter may work at Si but Ned’s never been and the experience in itself is quite entertaining. Things are always different when best friends are involved. 

“Anyone who received a field trip paper will have to have it signed and returned to me, the office, or Mrs. Meyers up to five days before the date of the field trip. Other than that we will continue on with the stock market Tomorrow!” The teacher screamed over the rustling papers and scraping chairs as he let them out a minute early, if you ask anyone on campus that made him the cool teacher.

Petter grabbed his folders, having lost another backpack he was sure laid webbed to the building and exited the room. He easily made it to his locker before Ned did and even got to close it before he was approached

. 

“Dude you can show me your lab.” he whispered to peter. 

“Actually I can’t, my lab is Tony’s and that's only because Bucky has been keeping him away from the lab.” Peter announced before he got his hopes up. “We’re probably gonna tour below mid level, I don't think they allow anyone without a permanent badge into any of the labs.” 

“Do we get to meet any of the avengers?” 

“Probably Bruce, he’s usually chilling with all the other scientists. It’ll be cool though you know i haven’t actually met him? The dude has to be dumb smart, you know Tony scraps ideas if he can’t get Bruce to sign off on them.” Peter gushes, before an arm is roughly swung around his shoulder. “Ow-no.”

Flashes pffts, “give me a break i hate this as much as you but apparently since I’m friends with idiots i have to slum it with you and- I’m sorry what's your-”

“Ned”

“Yeah Ned, that sounds familiar for the trip. I asked more about it and this might be a good time to turn in our submissions for the upcoming Intern conference. We get in ahead and we can probably impress him enough for our stuff to actually be looked at. Peter, I know your tech smart, I do numbers and possibilities and Ned we’ve been in coding since middle school together so we can definitely do that.” Flash rambles.

“What are you talking about?”

“We’ve been coding together for 6 years and you just barely remembered my name?”

“What I’m talking about-Peter is welcome to the winning team. Listen your smart parker you may or may not have an internship although its kinda sketchy that out of nowhere you a loser 17 year old defies all social laws and pops on the popularity chart” Understandable he still cursed Ned for saying anything right before he asked Mary jane to prom god that was embarrassing. 

You know that fancy stuff doesn’t bother me Peter. If I wanted to solely date you for your internship I’d hope someone would’ve knocked sense into you to get over me. 

“But I honestly feel as if we wow at least one impressionable person. They'll seek us an audience with Stark before the rest of the crowd.”  Flash continues. 

“You know that honestly doesn’t sound bad?” Ned finishes unsure over the look of alarm on Peter's face. Because yeah it’s not a bad idea and that expo meant the world to the real science losers around the GLOBE. And Ned really did want to be involved beyond the guy in the chair way before Peter turned into Spiderman. Peter would probably still be hands deep in his theories if he hadn’t gotten bit by some escaped lab spider. This expo at one point in his life -sophomore year- was the only thing that was gonna get Aunt May out of the nearly slumps. 

And flash…. Well he’s just a fucking nerd to put it lightly he was just rich, and since he was rich and gushes this much about being a intern of all things meant he might’ve been worse then both Peter and Ned when they first envisioned running coffee for Tony stark. 

Plus it would be kinda unfair to see if he could pull strings for Ned instead of proving that he was capable of it far more on his own. “Fiiiinn-”

“Whoop! You might actually not be so bad penis.” and with a clap on his shoulder disappearing with the ringing of the bell. 

Peter clenched his jaw shooting a ‘why’ look at Ned, “Oh don’t give me that look, you think I want to work with him. He has money and resources and he is good at real numbers not technical of coding, look you're an spaceship mechanic, he does the landing the thrust or whatever they do and I’m the guy who counts down which is honestly better then both of those jobs-” 

“Please Ned you're embarrassing me '' Peter laughed as he and Ned made their way through the day. 2 months until the field trip that was more than enough time for three geniuses to at least come up with a concept and a prototype for something cool. 

Scrap that they’re screwed. 

“I almost died.” Ned said, sitting in a shock of foam. “You guys just sat there, you were gonna watch me die.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Ned reared back at Flash's comment, “Dramatic! I just went up in flames!” 

“Hey, it was your boy Peter who made it. Plus maybe if he didn’t bail early last  Monday we could’ve caught that our numbers weren’t matching up with his” Maybe if some assholes weren't trying to rob F.E.A.S.T after their charity event he wouldn’t have had too. 

“I told you things happen Flash, I do in fact have a life.”

“MJ tell you that”

“-oo burn”

“Ned!- ok listen in order for this hoverboard to work we have to make sure everything is matched up. It shouldn’t have done that so something else must’ve gone wrong too.” Peter explained grabbing the notebooks and tossing them on the Flashes workbench. Hoverboard and back to future stickers on the covers.

“Might be the fact that it isn’t Hovering. But that's just me.”

[colossalsummer]

KOTLC book one READ ALONG part 4 of 5

I read the first Keeper of the Lost Cities book and annotated every page. Here are the highlights. (Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5)

Chapter 31

Astin: “You’ve broken a very serious law, Sophie.” 

Sophie, just trying to fit in at elf school and maybe get some new parents:

Ah beans not again

Chapter 32

…she couldn’t help wondering what the Councillors needed protection from. Alden was always saying how safe their world was. THANKS I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO KNOW

Chapter 33

Terik: “…I can sense potential.” I’m a Stupid Detector *pretending to scan* beep... beep... *points toward Dex* beep-beep-beep-bee

Chapter 34

Sophie: “What are we doing here?” Tiergan: “Breaking the law.” YEAH PUNK ROCK CHOOSES YOU BABY

Tiergan: “Do you miss your human life?” This is so sweet. I don’t trust very many people in this book but I really believe that he has her best interest at heart, 100%

Sophie: “What if I’m someone bad?” Tiergan: “I can assure you you’re not.”

She made it one whole month without unnecessary stress or worry… Just enough time for the eye lashes to come back in 👌

*Sophie blacks out* Then someone else grabbed her, cradling her in their arms. Keefe Keefe Keefe

Chapter 35

Fitz. Oh that’s fine too I guess

Elwin: “She’s tough. How else could she survive so many disasters?” Thanks. It’s my Human Upbringing™

Chapter 36

…Sophie could see an eagle-size golden pterodactyl trying to escape the leash Grady held. Please have fuzz please have fuzz

Grady: “They have fire-resistant fur.” YES! Pycnofibres! 

Unfortunately for the Ruewens, fire is humanity’s best quality.

Verdi’s mind told her she wanted a tummy rub as a reward. ⚠ Nerd alert ⚠ but I really like that touch is a high-value reward for a dinosaur. Young tyrannosaurs relied on some parental care, and it looks like at least the juveniles may have been covered in feathers (which may have shed as larger species aged). So it makes sense that a dinosaur that was used to humans, like birds that are used to humans, might appreciate preening and associate good feelings with touch! I know I’m overthinking the snot out of this but I’m very pleased with this tyrannosaur representation so far. Shannon Messenger is doing everything for me that Jurassic World refused to and I’ve never been so grateful.

I’m also hyperfocused on Verdi and the pterosaur because watching the Ruewens shut Sophie out is really agonizing and I just can’t deal

Chapter 37

Sophie blows stuff up so much I’ll bet she’s a firebender or pyromancer or whatever it’s called

Chapter 38

So let me get this straight. Alden found Sophie, a superbaby who would be sure to have an insane childhood, and placed her with the Ruewens—the most emotionally fragile couple he could think of.

Chapter 39

Number of times I wrote “OH NO” in this chapter: 9

Cancelled. As in started. Then stopped. This line shattered me like a freaking Fabergé egg

She dug out her iPod, shoved in her earbuds, and switched to her “angry” playlist. The screaming was jarring at first… SOPHIE IS A METALHEAD

Hey this magical world sucks I’d like to go home now

Chapter 40

Sophie: “How did you get into my locker after midterms?” PLEASE BE A BLACK SWAN PLEASE I’VE NEVER WANTED ANYTHING SO BADLY LORD ALMIGHTY

Keefe: “Necklace?” Sophie: “Yeah, you really didn’t have to do that.” Keefe: “Good, ‘cause I didn’t.” Oh okay not in love with me that’s fine

Alden smiled. “Human technology.” Shut up Alden

Alden: “They’re trying to stop the conspiracy theories from spreading any more than they already have.” Cool suppress critical thinking 👍 I love living here

Alden: “Humans die every day, Sophie. It’s not our job to keep them all safe.” Wowee

Alden on Everblaze: “Fintan called it the ‘fire of the sun on earth’.” Is it straight-up fusion??

Alden: “I’m afraid they may be trying to get you exiled—and trust me when I say you don’t want to go there. It’s a very dark place.”

Stay tuned for the finale.

[pallas-cat]

part of me reading academic debates is like “yes ok this is super important it advances law/science/whatever” but the 10:23PM on a sunday part of me is like “all of you goddamn nerds needed bigger things to worry about and deserve an afternoon shoved in a locker for making me read this shit”

[shadowofthelamp]

Needle and Thread

Oh yeah, I didn’t post this here. So, for my LGBT lit summer class one of the options for our project was a short story, so I wrote a human au Tulix thing. The teacher said she liked the ‘creative names’, pffft.)

Wordcount: 4000

Warnings: Mentions of dead animals/dissection

It started with a dead squirrel, a swiss army knife, and a bag of mints.

Tulip Bennett had only just begun going to East Side Middle School since her old foster home had belonged to the district across town. When she was adopted, she got a new house and a new dad, but also a new school, new people to deal with- and folded under that, new school weirdos.

“Look, I don’t know if anyone’s told you yet.” It had been conferred on her in harsh whispers- the harshest that could come from a fellow sixth-grader, one named Samantha in hot pink and pigtails. “Stay away from Nebula, the girl with the overalls.”

“Nebula? That’s a cool name.”

“Trust me, the girl it comes with isn’t. Her family is weird- the mom always walks around in a lab coat that’s got something red on the bottom half, and the dad killed somebody once!”

“Killed somebody?”

“That’s what Dave says!” And her tone left no argument- what Dave said must be law, to the twelve-year-olds that had been dwelling in these halls years before she had. “Just keep away if you don’t wanna get hurt.” 

Tulip had nodded and gone about the next week or so getting only glances of the girl at lunch where she usually had her thick glasses buried in a thick book. From a distance, she just kind of seemed… like a nerd. Which wasn’t intimidating. She kind of wore black a lot, sure, but that wasn’t much. Tulip didn’t see why everyone seemed so scared of her. If there was one thing she was good at, though, it was floating around to plug herself into different groups. Her pastel dress, round shape, fluffy red hair, and quiet demeanor were camouflage, allowing her to slip in and ask questions in a soft way that usually got answered.

“Why don’t people like her?” 

“She brought a bunch of live beetles into class last year. One got on my arm and she started yelling at me when I pushed it off. Like it mattered if I squashed a bug.”

“Have you seen those gloves she wears? They’ve got blood on them!”

“Look, she’s tearing something open right now!” At that, Tulip turned, squinting. Sure enough, there was a blueish huddle on the corner of the playground. Her hair was bundled up in a bun that resembled a haystack atop her head. 

She kind of looked like Alex had at the house before last, the boy who used to eat worms, and he was actually nice when she got to know him, so Tulip brushed her skirt and made a decision. 

“I’m going to talk to her.”

“Didn’t you hear me?”

“Mhm, but I’m gonna say hi. If she’s mean, I’ll leave.” It seemed like a fine plan to her, even as the other girls called out in protest. 

“She’s just going to stab you!”

“You don’t know what you’re doing!”

Tulip tuned them all out, crossing the blacktop like it was an ancient battleground from the games Eliza had played at the table in the Grant house. Tulip had liked the little blue fairy figure and took a moment to pretend now, borrowing her bravery. After all, she’d been at the school a week already and had managed only to float around on the outskirts of tightly-knit friend groups, a lone tumbleweed in this middle-school desert. If she was a floater, Nebula was in another galaxy, and that just wouldn’t do. If she was mean, then Tulip could always just leave her be. She didn’t like judging books by their covers, especially when those covers had gooey-sweet chocolatey insides the way some of her foster siblings had.

Besides, she was skinny enough to look like she’d snap like a twig, so she couldn’t be that bad compared to Tulip’s few self-defense classes at the mall. She’d already dug her small ziplock baggies of mints out by the time she reached Nebula and put on a winning smile. “Hi there.”

“Huh?” Nebula turned, eyes huge and buggy under her glasses with a color that kind of looked like the glow-in-the-dark star stickers Tulip’s dad had put up on her ceiling. The glasses themselves were… what were they called, cat eyes? They kind of gave her the look of an inquisitive alien. Now that she was up this close, Tulip could see a little piece of purple plastic settled inside her left ear. She raised an eyebrow. “Who’re you?”

“I’m Tulip. I’m new here.”

Nebula squinted. “Hi, Tulip. I like your name.”

She beamed. “Thank you! Do you like flowers?”

“Uh-huh. I’ve got a big garden back home, and I bury the bodies in it.”

Tulip’s beaming dropped a few watts, and her smile fell for a moment before she forced it wider again. “The… bodies?”

Nebula scooted over, revealing- oh, oh, that was gross. She had a knife in one plastic-gloved hand, the blade splattered with deep red, and the fingers of her other gloved hand were deep in the guts of a gnat-swarmed dead squirrel. “Like these. They’re all over once you know where to look, and it helps the soil grow stuff better.” She smiled, a surprisingly genuine one. “That’s what Papa says, and I’ve seen it works.”

“You… kill squirrels for-“

“Psh, I don’t kill them.” Nebula waved the knife. “I find them. Usually, some other animal killed ‘em.” She pointed at the squirrel’s skull with the point of the knife. “This one? Probably a cat, it has teeth marks in the crushed skull. Last week someone got a rabbit with a BB gun but just left it to die.” She clicked her tongue. “I don’t know why they let them suffer like that.”

“You like dead animals… to feed your plants?” Tulip asked, still not willing to get any closer. 

Nebula nodded. “Uh-huh. I mean, I like knowing how stuff works in general but- you ever seen the Lion King? Circle of life, big loud musical number?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s like that.” She lifted the squirrel up. “The squirrel eats the plants, then the plants eat the squirrel.”

That… made a sort of sense, if she thought about it. “Everybody seems scared of you.”

“Everybody seems like a wuss,” Nebula said with a shrug. “Who needs them?” She grinned again. “I like you, though. You haven’t run away yet.”

“Yet?”

“Most people do. I’m used to it.” 

Tulip took a deep breath and sat down next to her, holding out her bag of mints. “Well, that’s no way to go through life.”

Her smile dropped a little. “Huh?”

“Tell me about your plants.”

“You- want to listen to me?” Her voice cracked slightly, and Tulip could hear something pained behind it, a kicked kitten that had grown claws. She’d heard it before in kids who were about to age out, who were used to being pushed aside. 

“I do.”

Nebula lit up like a supernova and snatched the bag, stripping off her glove to grab a mint. 

__________

It had come easier, after that. Nebula talked fast and thought even faster, with a laugh that tickled Tulip up her spine and back down again. It didn’t sound like bells or a piano or any of the other pretty ways she’d heard laughs described, it was like a needle. Quick, sharp, and liable to puncture passerby but help repair a bad day if she only threaded it first. 

Over the days, she got to talking about her parents. They weren’t crazy, her mom was a butcher and her dad did experiments on animals for medicine. Tulip didn’t care much for that, but it was a far cry from murderers. Tulip’s dad was just an accountant.

“Hey, did I ever tell you what I did to Andrew?” She adjusted her glasses, shoving them up the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were so big behind them, like a galaxy all their own. 

“No, you haven’t.” Tulip sipped at her milk as she watched a beetle crawl up Nebula’s braid. She’d probably let it go come 3:15, but for now, Nebula just let it scurry up and burrow down in her hair like it belonged there. 

“Oh, man, I should have. So, he was making fun of my parents, right? Saying they’re ‘mad scientists’ and ‘I’m a freak’ and ‘where’s your witch hat’ and all that. Not very creative stuff. Well, I’ve got a bunch of beetle shells that I use for art at home, so I dunked one in glow-in-the-dark paint and stuffed it in his locker, with a note that said ‘with hate, from Nebula’.” She snickered. “He still thinks I’m a witch, and that was in third grade.”

“And you didn’t hurt him, right?”

Nebula waved a careless hand. “Pssh, of course not. It’s a lot more effective to creep people out over actually hurting them.”

Tulip chewed on her ham sandwich thoughtfully, hearing the lettuce crunch between her teeth. “Is there a… a reason you want to creep people out?”

“If everyone thinks I’m a freak, more time to do what I want, right?” She picked at her jello, watching it wobble and shake on the tray. “I don’t get a choice in how people see me, so I might as well give them what they want. It’s fun being the weirdo, sometimes.”

Tulip just blinked at that. “But why?”

“Why not?” Nebula countered. “You want to spend your life chasing after people who don’t really care about you?” She lifted her fork, shoving the gelatin into her mouth before shifting it over to her cheek, pointing the tines at Tulip. “I’ve seen how you float around like a ghost. You’re checked out of your own life because you’re so afraid someone won’t like you that you don’t get close enough to anyone that might.” She swallowed the dessert in her cheek, letting it settle as she stared.

“Isn’t it lonely, refusing to ever bend a little?” Tulip countered after a moment’s thought. Nebula gnawed on the inside of her mouth before sighing.

“Agree to disagree, Tutu. Agree to disagree.”

Sixth grade passed in a blur, with Nebula tugging her away during breaks to show her whatever new thing she was invested in that day. She slowly dialed back on showing off the dead animals when Tulip admitted they made her queasy and started talking about her plants, or her insects while they were still alive. She was the only person that Tulip had ever seen let a wasp crawl over the back of her hand without getting stung. 

That summer, they stomped around the bog behind the gas station, peat soaking their ankles as they captured frogs and let them go again after taking pictures. One of the girls from her scout troop invited her to a dance where they might see boys, but it just didn’t sound appealing to Tulip when she could swing Nebula around to creaky old songs from her dad’s record player, with her newly-made dresses spiraling around her knees. In July, Tulip began to sew in earnest- she’d liked piecing together odd arrangements of clothes from the thrift store before, but… 

‘Why are you wearing a Halloween costume?’

‘Spirit week with ‘ugly clothes day’ was last week, Bennett.’

It was easier to just go with simple dresses from the store. 

When Nebula had gotten a look at her closet, she’d immediately dug out the frankensteined skirts and haphazardly sewn tops and laughed. Tulip had been about to slam the door shut when she held one up.

“These are great! Why don’t you ever wear them?”

“Huh?”

She spun on her butt to hold the shirt up, owl-eyes squinting to superimpose it over Tulip’s body. “Not that I don’t like your pastels, they fit you, but these are so much more fun. Did you make them?”

“Well-”

“If they’re from some auntie that you feel like you can’t throw away, that’s fine. I just think they’re neat.”

“I thought you didn’t like girl’s clothes.”

“I don’t. That doesn’t mean I can’t tell what would look good on you.” Her cheeks darkened for a moment, and she shoved the shirt into Tulip’s hands. “Come on, I want to see you in it.”

“Neb…”

“You can’t just hide from me that you’re good at making stuff like this, I’m your best friend. It’s against the law,” Nebula declared.

“Like you care about the ‘law’,” Tulip snorted, but allowed herself to be pushed into the closet. It was easy enough to slide her shirt over her head, but… she fussed with the buttons on the old shirt. This was a bad idea. She tried to do it up, but it didn’t fit- her soft body oozed from the bottom, having gained some weight since she’d created the shirt years ago. She pulled it open again, looking around in the light from the slats. Freckles dotted her belly, and she felt almost like a puppet inhabiting her own milky skin. Her fingers fussed with the handmade shell necklace that rested just above her sternum before she pulled the shirt back off, grabbing the one she’d been wearing before and a vest she’d made with stretchier material. It was still tight, but not annoyingly so, and she knocked for Nebula to open the door.

When she did, the other girl grinned. “See? Told you.” A gloved thumb pointed lazily to the wall-mounted mirror, and Tulip twirled. It hugged her form, but in a way that felt… nice. She must have made it big- maybe for an older sister at the last house.

Nebula jokingly blew a kiss. “You’ll be the belle of the middle-school ball.”

Tulip bumped her with her hip, but her cheeks dotted pink.

After that, often when they met after school, Tulip would sew while Nebula talked, the machine doing the chattering for her on her desk, Sometimes, the needle had to be poised between her fingers when she needed a more delicate touch. Once, Nebula even asked her to show her how to sew- she was making taxidermied animals and ‘wanted to see if I could copy your steady hands’. It ended up a bit of a mess, but Nebula put it up on her bedside table anyway. She liked imperfection and just patted the little squirrel’s head with its corkscrewed eyes. “Besides, it’s more memorable this way.” She offered to make Tulip a mouse to watch her sew if she found any, and Tulip found herself agreeing.

In seventh grade, Tulip had started to drag her to her girl scout meetings, to try and make friends. Some of the other girls still shied away, but if quiet little Bennett liked her and had gone this long without getting a scalpel through her brain, maybe she wasn’t that bad. She lit up when they mentioned they were working on a gardening badge and offered them her assistance. 

They learned that it was best to talk on her right side because her hearing aid on the left didn’t always work, and her needle-sharp laugh melted with the new acquaintances like gallium- just as bright, but not as pointed. In fact, when she dug in the dirt with the other girls, overalls smeared with soil and flowers surrounding her wrists, the hard edges that made her smile a smirk began to melt too.

Eighth grade came and went, and the night before high school, they were doodling on opposite pages of Tulip’s big sketchbook, laid out on the floor. “I just feel like… everything’s changing,” Tulip muttered. 

“It doesn’t have to,” Nebula said, chewing on her pencil with brace-clad teeth. “You’ve still got me, and you’ve still got the scouts that haven’t dropped out, and I’ve got you.”

Tulip rolled over. She was wearing one of her favorite shirts-- Neb had picked out the fabric, with a pattern of stars that rounded her stomach in a way that made her feel big in a good way, like the whole universe lay underneath her skin. “How much?”

“Huh?”

“How much do I have you?”

Nebula turned, bouncing her foot on the ground. “C’mon, I’m not good with the mushy stuff…”

Tulip scooted a little closer. “You’re my best friend, Neb.” She set a hand on Nebula’s cheek, rubbing a smudge of dirt with her thumb, and felt the thin cheekbones heat up underneath her. 

“You’re… you’re mine too,” Nebula muttered. “I feel… comfortable. With you. Cozy. Is that weird? You’re a very cozy person, and you managed to get me other people to talk with me, which is a feat let me tell you-”

Tulip kissed her. She could taste the root-beer flavored chapstick, and the feel slight indent of her braces, and Nebula’s gangly limbs just starting to grow into themselves folded into her lap like a fawn’s.

Nebula pulled back, adjusting her glasses that had tilted askew, but the smile on her face was wide enough to reach the stars before she leaned in again and the world melted around them, nothing but the rich scent of soil and copper that clung to Nebula’s clothes and the sweet strawberry perfume that dusted Tulip, and everything felt like tying off the final stitch on a perfect project. 

[mattzerella-sticks]

Lollipop (a Dean/Cas Halloween fic, inspired by nerd!Dean in 14x04 “Mint Condition”) (ao3)

Dean Winchester isn't the most popular boy in his school. In fact, you couldn't get lower on the totem pole than him. But he's come to accept it, even if it means dealing with people like Gordon every time he tiptoes out of the status quo. Making first impressions is hard given that he's known most of his classmates since the beginning. But besides Charlie, he doesn't have anyone in his corner.

Except for Castiel, the school's quarterback who transferred to their school last year. But he'd never go for someone like Dean...

           Halloween was Dean’s favorite day of the year, no matter what Sammy thought. Dressing up in fun costumes, watching scary movies – not to mention all the candy! It might have been a few years since he stopped trick-or-treating, but the magic of the holiday still captures him. And even though Dean is in school, he still managed to add a little flair to his outfit. Right now he pulls at his already-loose tie, trying (and failing) to show the rainbow-colored S-symbol on his shirt that’s peeking out from behind his unbuttoned button-down. Luckily he’s not too absorbed in his wardrobe, able to spot the blur of red before it pounces on his back.

           “Happy Halloween!” Charlie shrieks, arms tugging tight on his neck. He chokes out a “Charlie” while he pries her off of him. She doesn’t budge at first, but lets go after a few more seconds of his choking. Dean whirls to face her, red as a bloody corpse.

           “Were you trying to kill me?”

           “Pfft what? Why?” she giggles, “If you died I’d have no friends!”

           He pouts, but accepts her answer. “So, if murder wasn’t your main goal, then why the strangling?”

           “It’s Halloween!” Charlie shouts, oblivious to the stares of the other children, “I thought you might like a good scare to get the day started.”

           Dean rolls his eyes. “I already got that when Sammy forgot to lock the bathroom door.” It was the one time he regretted remembering his glasses on the way to the shower. Seeing Sam reminded him of that one scene from Sleepaway Camp, and Dean wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “Anyway, where’s your costume?”

           “I’m wearing it,” she says, pulling the pointy-eared mask down and tugging her red-and-black cape out to match her wingspan. “I’m committing more than you, Clark.”

           “Shut up,” he mumbles, pushing her lightly, “Ma said I couldn’t wear my Batman costume to school. Said something ‘bout it bein’ too distracting.” She didn’t say that. When Dean told her his plans for his last Halloween as a high schooler, Mary sighed and forbade him from wearing it. Dean argued with her, but she laid the law in their house. “I just don’t want people to say anything about you,” she told him after Dean stormed into his room, pillow held tight against his chest. “Your costume is so nice, but it’d be too… much for a classroom. And you wouldn’t want something bad said about it after you put so much money into it, now would you?”

           She had a point, but he still wanted to dress up as something. His day-costume earned him a sigh and a long hug when she saw it, but that’s all Mary said on the matter.

           “Mary,” Charlie groans, falling against the row of lockers next to Dean’s, “Why must you break up the Bat-Duo?!?”

           Dean smiles at her. “Hey, ease up alright? I’m still DC – and I even managed to add a touch of gay.” He pulls at his shirt in a classic Superman pose, cocking his hip the extra inch to Charlie’s delight. Dean lets her laugh wash over him, happy to bring joy to his friend.

           It’s short-lived.

           He’s shoved into the lockers, knocking his head against the metal. His glasses fly off his face from the force, and he bites down the pain.

           “Well, looks like I found Superfag’s kryptonite – locker!” The grating laughter clued him in on who caused stars to dance around his vision.

           “Gordon,” Dean hisses, squinting at the blurry shapes in front of him, “What do you want?”

           “Just stopping by to say how much we love your costume,” Alistair tells him, the voice coming from his left, “Really captures the whole lonely, gay nerd vibe you send out.”

           “Although if you’re gonna be trick-or-treating, you’ll need something better,” Brady jeers, “No one’ll let you touch their Twizzlers looking like that?”

           Charlie huffs from next to him. “Why don’t you jerks leave us alone, all right?”

           Gordon mocks her with a pity laugh. “No one asked you Bat bitch, so why don’t you step off, huh?”

           “Leave her out of it,” Dean says, drawing the focus back to him, “Just because you can’t deal with your massive crush on me doesn’t mean you get to take it out on her.” He knows he hit a nerve by how the air shifts, the energy tensing and pricking his skin. Gordon grabs his collar and slams his head back against the locker once more, then leans in close.

           “What’d you say to me, Winchester?”

           Dean doesn’t back down. “You heard me. Get any closer and you’ll regret it.”

           “Oh, right – because I’m so scared of the gay kid with the dead dad.” Dean flinches – because of Gordon’s words and the fist that smashes next to his head. Charlie gasps, and he notices more than sees how silent the hallway has become. A fuzzy wall surrounds them, an indecipherable sea of colors and features – as if the blow to the head sent him into a Picasso painting.

           “Now,” Gordon continues, his hushed voice cutting across the silence, “You wanna apologize while you still can?”

           Dean knows he’s not walking away from this without a bruise, and only hopes it’s not bad enough that Mary has to call off work, again, to pick him up. That being said, he chooses to not make it easy for himself. “I’m sorry,” he wheezes, smirking, “Sorry I won’t let you suck my dick.”

           “That’s it,” Gordon rears back another fist, “I hope you like jawbreakers.”

           He braces for impact – only it never comes. Dean opens an eye, letting the air whoosh out of him when he sees Gordon’s fist inches from his face. Something stopped him before his punch could land, and even with his poor eyesight he can tell his savior has dark hair and broad shoulders.

           It’s when he hears a familiar rumble that he realizes who saved him.

           “Walker,” Castiel says with his cool, ‘I-gargle-rocks-for-breakfast’ voice, “what do you think you’re doing?”

           “Back off Novak,” Gordan snaps at the other kid, “Just teaching this nerd here his place.”

           “You seem to be doing a shitty job, then,” Castiel tells him, “Because his place is as far from you and your neanderthal friends as possible.” The chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘burns’ is nice.

           ‘But where were they before Cas stepped in?’

           Gordon doesn’t let go. “What’s it to you if we rough up Winchester here?”

           Castiel takes a step back. “Go ahead, then. Do it. But you wouldn’t like the consequences.”

           “You think you scare me?” Gordon chuckles. He puts up a brave front, but even Dean can hear the warble in his response. “What’s a tight ass like you gonna do?”

           “It’s funny,” Castiel says, “how easy it is people write off the things they see on Halloween. They might see a bunch of bruises and blood and think it’s a costume. Would you like to test this phenomena?”

           Gordon doesn’t waste any time dropping Dean. He steps back into his cluster; enough that his features start to soften into indecipherableness. But he can sense the hatred in his words. “You’re lucky Winchester,” he spits, “But not that lucky.” He and his friends break through the crowd, dispersing them and forcing them on their way.

           “Dean,” Charlie comes to his side, rubbing his back, “Are you okay?”

           He musters up a false smile. “Yeah… nothing I’m not used to.”

           “Excuse me, these are yours… right?”

           Dean turns to see Castiel standing a little too close. He’s holding his forgotten glasses in his tan blobs. Getting tired of looking through wax paper, Dean takes his glasses back with a small ‘thanks’. Although not seeing Castiel in crisp definition might have made the following conversation easier.

           The blur takes clear form now. Castiel’s once soft jaw hardens, and Dean can make out the small cracks on his dry lips. Notice how the blue in his eyes seems to match the color of his varsity jacket. And his hair, as always, looks as neat and tidy as the storylines on Dr. Sexy. Dean swallows around his heart, and hopes he isn’t blushing too bad. The other boy has been an object of his desires for some time, now, ever since Charlie convinced him to attend one of their school’s football games last year. He didn’t get a good look at him on the field, but after the game was another story.

           Dean was waiting for Charlie, shivering in his dad’s old leather jacket. “Damn Charlie and her tiny bladder,” he muttered, rubbing his hands together, “Why she couldn’t hold it ‘til we got to the pizzeria…”

           “You look cold.”

           He rolled his eyes, and had a smart retort on his tongue. It died there when he got a good look at who said it. “Huh? Oh… yeah. I’m just… waiting for my friend.”

           “Have you been waiting long?” Castiel asked, bundled in a puffy jacket and fuzz-ball hat. Dean realized he had only played football when he did a full-body scan and noticed the grass on his knees.

           “I’m not sure,” Dean said, “But… shouldn’t you be with your team?”

           “Pardon?”

           “I just always thought,” Dean babbled, teeth chattering, “After games a team always stayed together or… something.”

           Castiel cracked a smile at that. “Then I must not have gotten the memo,” he said, “But maybe that’s because I’m still getting used to how things are done here at Carver Edlund?”

           “Oh, you’re new?”

           “Transferred in this year,” he nodded, holding a hand out, “Castiel Novak.”

           “Dean Winchester.” Dean shook his hand, and felt the other boy leave something in it. “Oh, look buddy – I’m the wrong guy to give drugs, too.”

           “What?” Castiel gaped, eyes wide, “No, no – you misunderstood – it’s a Hot Hands.” Dean opens his hand to look at the orange packet Castiel dropped into it. “My mom always seems to give me more than I’ll need and… you looked like you could use it.”

           “Oh, um… thanks.”

           “It was nice meeting you, Dean,” Castiel said, stepping away, “I’ll see you around.”

           “…Yeah.”

           They’ve shared a few more conversations after that, but tend to stick to their social circles. Not from lack of trying. Dean thought about going up to Castiel one day in the cafeteria, but he had took to long and was scared off after Bart called him on ‘staring’.

           “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Castiel says, shocking him back to the present, “Gordon shouldn’t be allowed to walk the halls without a muzzle.”

           “It’s fine, Cas, really,” Dean tells him, “Gordon’s like a big teddy bear… with teeth and claws and anger management issues.” Neither Castiel nor Charlie laughed at his joke. “I could have handled it?”

           “Before or after he broke your nose, Dean?” Charlie scoffs. Dean casts a wry glance in her direction.

           Dean curls in on himself, pocketing his hands, “Nothing I wouldn’t have dealt with before…”

           He feels Castiel’s fingers tilting his chin up, putting the other boy in his line of sight. “Even so,” he whispers, “Doesn’t mean you should be okay with how they treat you.” Dean’s throat goes dry at that; unable to come up with anything that won’t make the situation even more embarrassing.

           The silence drags on, and soon enough Castiel takes a step back. He scratches at his neck, and now has trouble meeting Dean’s eyes. “By the way,” he continues, mumbling his words, “I – uh… really like your shirt.”

           “What?”

           “Superman?” Castiel points out, “Not my favorite hero but… he’s really cool, too.”

           “Oh.”

           He’s saved by any more awkwardness by the first bell’s ring. Castiel puts even more distance between them. “I should,” he nods his head to the left, “I should get to class. Stay safe, Dean!” Castiel darts away before he could say goodbye.

           Dean barely moves, even when Charlie takes Castiel’s spot. “Well if that didn’t flash me back to Love, Simon…”

           He blinks at her. “What?”

           “Oh don’t ‘what’ me you disaster gay,” Charlie chuckles, “He’s got a thing for you.”

           Dean blushes at the notion. “That – that’s crazy,” he stammers, “How could you – he’s not – it can’t be –“

           “Dean, why do you think he doesn’t?”

           “Because!” He glances around and leans close to her, whispering. “Because… he wouldn’t be interested in me.”

           Charlie sighs, and then tosses her arm over his shoulders. “We gotta get your confidence up one day, otherwise we’ll never conquer the seven kingdoms of Moondoor, my dear Handmaiden.”

           “Charlie…”

           “Let’s just get to class.”

           He lets Castiel and his haunting, blue eyes drift towards the back of his mind.

           “No! But we…we killed you!!!”

           Dean laughs as the girl screams her head off and rushes down the hallway from Hatchet Man – albeit not far in those heels. He sticks his hand into candy bowl and pulls out a bite-size piece of chocolate, unwrapping it and popping it in his mouth. Dean smiles around his as Hatchet Man’s victim trips over nothing in her haste. “God,” he chuckles, “They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.”

           Just as she starts to make her way towards the elevator, the doorbell rings outside. Dean sighs and looks towards the door in annoyance.

           He knows he’ll have to answer it. There’s no one else but him at home. Sam had been invited out with a few friends, and Mary was dropping him off before going to a costume party at the Mills’.

           “Are you sure you don’t have to go anywhere?” Mary asked him before she left, pulling her coat tight around her cowgirl outfit, “No special plans with friends?”

           “Charlie said she had to finish a project for her Coding class, so she’s too busy to hang.”

           “And there’s… no one else?”

           “Ma, it’s okay – I mean, someone has to hand out the candy, right?”

           “We can leave the bucket out with a sign if you’d rather be doing something else?” Mary tries one last time, “Maybe if Sam asks his friends…”

           Dean winces. “I don’t wanna crimp my baby bro’s style. Besides, if I show up they might kick him out because he’s the less awesome Winchester.”

           Sam walks into the room at that comment, and levels Dean with a flat look. “Yeah, because I’m the one in the replica superhero suit.” Dean crosses his arms, or as best he could in his Batman costume.

           After the rough day at school, which only felt worse since everybody stared at him and whispered behind his back more than usual, he traded in his button-down for the Kevlar and spandex. It’s a special costume – hand-made for him by a person down in Texas. The cost wasn’t thatmuch – in fact, he managed to pay Mary back after a full summer down at Singer’s Auto Repair Shop. It was worth it, since stepping into Batman’s boots made him feel cooler, more badass, and most importantly – safe.

           Although there’s probably nothing cool about a teenager in a Batman costume lounging on a sofa.

           The doorbell rings again.

           “Alright, alright, I’m coming!” he grouses, pulling himself up. He tosses his glasses off and tugs the cowl over his face before opening the door.

           On the other side of the door is a little boy dressed as Luke Skywalker, gaping up at him, with his bag’s straps loose in his little fingers. Dean fights back a grin, not wanting to ruin the act. The other reason Dean had wanted to stay home was because the suit always got him compliments. Little kids figured he was the real deal, and their guardians always flashed him a smile or nodded as he played along with the children. He’s even recognized a few kids from school give him compliments.

           Dean’s not sure they knew it was him under the mask, however. If they did, they might not have said anything nice.

           “Hello, Luke,” Dean starts in a low growl, “Are you here because you sensed something in the Force?”

           The question snaps the boy back into focus, and he remembers what he came here for. He giggles, and holds out his bag. “No Batman,” he says, smiling with three-fourths a smile, “It’s Halloween!”

           “Halloween? Ah yes… that makes sense,” Dean smirks, looking away, “And you want me to go out and stop criminals! It’s about time I start patrol…”

           “Noooo…”

           Dean bends down as much as he can, to meet the kid on his level. “Then what should I do?”

           “Give candy!” the kid pushes his bag out once more, “Trick-or-treat!”

           “Candy? But candy is for good little boys and girls who uphold the law,” Dean offers the boy a stern look, “Do you promise to do just that?”

           “Yes Batman!”

           “Then here is your candy.” Dean grabs a generous amount and drops it into the boy’s almost full bag before standing to his full height. He watches the boy search his bag with a bright smile. The boy shares it with him.

           “Thank you, Mr. Batman!”

           “It’s no problem,” Dean says, “Just a hero doing his duty.” He’s about to return to his movie when a deep chuckle draws him out longer than he intended. Dean sets his sight on the bright, red blur standing a few feet away from Luke. He squints, making out a yellow lightning bolt on his chest. The symbol clues him in that the guy’s supposed to be the Flash, but it’s his next words let him in on who’s behind the mask.

           “You seem to be very good at your job… Batman.”

           ‘Holy shit,’ Dean thinks, mouth falling open slightly, ‘Is that… Cas?’

           “What can I say,” Dean grimaces, “Batman’s good with kids.”

           “As he should be,” Castiel chuckles, “To have raised four…”

           “Yeah, um…” he clears his throat, “is Luke here your brother?” The younger boy is oblivious to the conversation, chomping his way through a full-size candy bar.

           “What? Oh, no,” Castiel looks over at the boy, “Jack’s my nephew. My brother Luke is laid up with a cold so he couldn’t take him trick-or-treating so… here I am.”

           “Ah.”

           “You know, you’re the first person to guess brother?” Castiel continues, “People kept asking me if he was my son…”

           “Yeah, well… you don’t look old enough to have a kid,” Dean chuckles, “but you do sound like you would.”

           “That might be true,” Castiel says, “My brother says I have the voice of a chain smoker.”

           “Luke?”

           “No, Gabriel.” He pauses. “What about you?”

           “What about me?”

           “No other plans besides manning the door.”

           Dean bristles at that. “It’s not glamorous, but somebody has to do it. I’m sure there’s probably tons of parties you could be at right now, too.”

           He doesn’t see the look on Castiel’s face, but Dean notices the red get closer. “I… I didn’t mean to offend,” Castiel says, “It’s a good thing you were here… the past few houses were just bowls of candies and signs. You, answering the door… it’s brings a human element back to Halloween.” The words send a chill up Dean’s spine no horror movie could ever accomplish.

           “Yeah, well…” Dean fumbles, holding the bowl up high, “thanks. Want some candy?”

           Castiel reaches forward and rustles through the candy before pulling out a lollipop as red as his costume. He takes his time unwrapping it, slowly pushing it past his lips. Dean’s suit, made to fit him perfectly, feels uncomfortable.

           “Cherry,” he says, “My favorite. Thank you, Dean.”

           It takes a few seconds for Castiel’s words to register. He almost drops the bowl. “Cas you – you recognized me?”

           “Of course,” Castiel grins, “There’s not that many boys our age who would invest a lot of money in a suit like ours.”

           “Like ours?”

           “Oh – you aren’t wearing contacts?” Castiel asks, “I figured with the suit…”

           “I mean, I don’t wear the mask indoors,” Dean explains, “And I don’t usually get into conversations with the people I’m handing candy, too.”

           “That’s fair…” Dean squirms, unsure what the next step in the conversation is. He’s not good at this, and doesn’t want to say something that would be like walking into quicksand. Castiel takes the decision from him.

           “You know, I like this costume better than your earlier one.”

           “You do?”

           Castiel hums. “Indeed. Batman is one of my favorites.”

           Dean cocks his head to the side. “Then why’re you dressed as the Flash?”

           “I said he was one of my favorites, not my favorite.”

           “Oh,” Dean says, rubbing at his neck, “Yeah… Flash is pretty cool, too.”

           “Yes…” Castiel pulls his lollipop out and takes a step closer. “Hey, Dean, have you ever heard of Batflash?”

           “I… I don’t think I have?”

           “It’s the romantic coupling between Batman,” he gestures to Dean with his lollipop, “and Flash,” he points back to himself. “Some people like to think that the relationship is strictly platonic but… well, I would say otherwise.”

           “You would…” Castiel’s intention strikes Dean in the back of the head as if it were a baseball bat. “Oh.”

           The other boy leans fully into his space, enough that he can see Castiel’s pink-tinged smirk. Castiel pushes the lollipop into Dean's mouth, and moves towards his ear. “I’ll be bringing Jack back home soon, and after that I don’t have anything else planned.”

           “No… no parties?”

           “None that’d make me want to be anywhere but here.” Dean softly moans around the candy. “So, if you’d like… I could come by and teach you the finer points of the ship?”

           He nods.

           “Very well,” he says, stepping back, “Keep that safe for me. Jack?” The smaller boy looks up with chocolate-stained cheeks, and offers another goodbye to Dean.

           Dean watches them fade into the fog of the night as he tries to process what happened.

           The house is dark and quiet, the television screen long since muted. Now teens from generations ago silently scream as they face down their doom. Mary opens the door slowly, stepping into the darkness, boots in hand. “Dean? Dean, I’m sorry I’m late but Donna wouldn’t let me leave without showing off her pictures from her trip to Aruba last spring.” She turns on the light. “Dean – oh!”

           Mary can barely contain her grin at the sight on her couch. Dean, still in his Batman costume, has fallen asleep, nestled in the arms of another boy. She thinks he’s dressed as the Flash, but she’s never been as good at the superhero names like John was. The other boy has his nose pressed firmly into the crown of Dean’s hair, and there are candy wrappers scattered between them.

           “Oh thank you all that is great and merciful,” she sighs, tearing up at the sight of her boy’s contented smile.

           The warm feeling fades, replaced with a more mischievous thought. She takes out her phone and snaps a quick picture. “Sam’s going to be so pissed he missed this.”

           Mary forwards it to her youngest son before heading off to bed.

           ‘A great Halloween indeed.’

[inbarfink]

Ace Attorney Lawyers ranked by their ability in physical combat

Miles Edgeworth: Giant nerd who always gets freaked out whenever anyone, friend or foe, suggests a violent solution. Assuming he has no backup from his more combat-capable allies, he’s done for. If forced into combat, he’d probably just try to sue his attacker and then get shoved in a locker

Klavier Gavin: Also giant law-abiding nerd, but more capable of keeping his cool then the current Chief Prosecutor. It’s only a slight edge over Edgeworth, though, since he still has a very punchable face.

Apollo Justice: A big step up in power-levels from the previous two. Apollo might be smol, but he is Done your shit and this Donenss gives him strength. His famous Chords of Steel can serve as a tactic to confuse or weaken his enemies. 

Mia Fey: While she usually known for playing the part of a wise mentor, in the two times we get to play as her it’s clear that she wants to Punch. All of the Things. If Apollo is fuled by Doneness, Mia has righteous anger - piss her off enough (by, for example, being Dahlia Hawthorne) and she will find a way to destroy you. Assuming we are talking about Mia while she was still alive, there’s also her Spirit Channeling powers to account for. While we’ve never seen them on screen, Maya told us they are “first rate” and I believe her. Who knows which spirits she can channel to try and get the edge in battle?

Phoenix Wright: Hardest one to place tbh. I keep flip-floping on where’s he’s placed compared to Mia and Apollo. Because unlike the two DA ranked below him, he is a disaster when it comes to being on the offensive; Phoenix Wright is a complete wimp who has never returned a punch in his life. However, he is also almost supernaturally durable and unbelievably lucky. If a burning bridge, a raging freezing river and a speeding car didn’t manage to take him down, what chance does another human (even a more combat-capable one) has?

Simon Blackquill: Look, Simon Blackquill is 1.88 meter tall, he owns a katana and a trained attack-hawk (giving him both short range and far range advantage). Not to mention how he could probably use the whole psychological manipulation in battle to intimidate or goad his enemy. There’s not even a lot of intersting points to bring up, he is literally an action movie Ronin who also just happens to also be a lawyer.

Franziska von Karma: What advantage Simon has in size and being able to cover both long and short range, Franziska makes up for by sheer determination and force or personality. Franziska von Karma doesn’t NEED analytical psychology to intimidate her enemies, she’s been intimidating grown men since she was a 1.49 M tall 13 years old (although one of those men was MILES, so). She has once whipped Phoenix Wright into unconsciousness in a temper tantrum, which I already mentioned to be quite a feat. Her whip might not be as dangerous as Blackquill’s sword, but she will not relent until she defeats you with it.

Athena Cykes: Athena Cykes is the strongest lawyer. One day, she’ll be stronger then whales. I believe in her.

[labyrithn-blog]

it’s always baffled me why nathen is such a standoffish character and so arrogant and egotistical and prideful when there’s never been any sort of trauma in his life to explain that behavior — he had both of his parents and large extended families in his life and they all treated him very well and were very loving and supportive, and he’s never experienced any sort of personal trauma at the hands of a third party — until i was watching some svu tonight and it dawned on me that the reason he acts the way he does is because it’s a defense mechanism specifically against “bullying”.

i’ve mentioned before that nathen grew up a pretty bullied kid in school. he’s always been lanky and defenseless and the stereotypical glasses-wearing ““ nerd”” with his nose buried in books, straight-A student, picked last for sports and all that jazz — and his bullying has always been pretty physical: getting pushed around, shoved into lockers, deliberately hit during gym class with sports balls or fouled, “swirlied” in the toilets, etc.

even during high school, when he became very open with his sexuality and began building his “reputation” as a sexual partner, the bully never completely stopped — although it did lessen exponentially, which was due to the fact that he’d successfully devised his own method for combating bullying: making himself an undesirable target. he traded his glasses for contacts, dressed better, carried himself more proudly, learned how to read people to tell which bullies would cow beneath words alone and which ones needed subtle displays of “force”. ( this ability to read people also assisted both in his sexual encounters, and later in his career in law enforcement. )

his defenses evolved to a point where he almost entirely rid himself of outward emotion because he deemed it an “exploitable weakness” — and, although it served him well in his school years, it’s severely hampered his ability to form close relationships with people because he’s so accustomed to keeping everyone an arm’s length away from him that he can’t imagine anything else. 

he’s spent the better part of his life trying to be such an enigma to everyone that along the way he became an enigma to himself. his own emotions are so foreign to him at this point that even in rare instances where he wants to be outwardly emotional, he doesn’t know how to express them in a way that might seem sincere. 

[megaphonemonday]

Please please please. Bawson prompt where Mike and Ginny have time off and decide to attend Comic Con. Lawson being a huge Star Wars nerd and perhaps Ginny dressing up as Princess Leia to surprise Mike. Eternally grateful.

i’ve never been to a con and only watched the original Star Wars trilogy after I saw ep 7, so i’m uniquely unqualified to write this? but when has that ever stopped me before?

a new hope | ao3

“You’re not gonna make me wear the bikini, are you?”

Mike adamantly did not choke on his tongue, but Jesus did he want to. Bad enough that they had to sit through this meeting at all, now Mike had to do it while pretending an image of Ginny in that iconic costume wasn’t occupying all his focus? 

What the hell had he done to make the universe hate him so goddamn much?

“No, no. Nothing like that,” Oscar assured her without batting an eye. He leaned his elbows on his desk and stared down the three Padres seated across from him. Blip, Ginny, and Mike stared back, largely unimpressed. 

Before their GM got a chance to press his case, though, Blip decided it was his turn to crack a joke. 

“Well, I’m not wearing it,” he drawled, wicked grin lighting up his face.

Mike allowed himself to react to that, leaping on the chance to fight back the wild tangent—Ginny and gold and miles and miles of smooth skin—his imagination so eagerly provided. This was not the time for that, no matter what his mind (and something a bit further south than his brain) might tell him. 

He snorted. Ginny did, too, though she tried to play it off as a cough. 

Oscar finally grimaced, looking vaguely pained. 

Well, if fucking with the front office was on the table, Mike could definitely get behind that. He shook his head (and with it the idea of Ginny in any kind of swimwear) before rubbing a contemplative hand against his chin and offering, “I’ll see about getting mine back from the dry cleaner.”

Ginny’s lips flickered in a quick smile, there and gone in a flash. Blip, though, didn’t bother reining in his amusement. He guffawed from her other side, reaching around the pitcher to offer Mike a fist bump. 

Oscar just heaved a sigh, entirely too put upon. 

“Are you done?” Their GM looked nowhere close to entertained. Not that it bothered the three ballplayers. 

Still, they all traded glances and, after a silent conference, nodded their agreement. 

Rather than risk them changing their minds, Oscar plowed forward. “The Publicity Office hasn’t settled on the final details, but I can assure you there will be no swim suits involved. Can we count you three in?”

Mike shot a glance first to Blip. The center fielder shrugged. It was no skin off his back to dance to the front office’s tune this time, as long as he also got his pot shots in. They were in agreement there, so both men turned to focus on the woman sitting between them.

Ginny gnawed on her lip uncertainly as she weighed her options. No one, aside from maybe Amelia, would blame her for sitting this one out. But even Amelia could probably agree that having her client’s face plastered across every Padres ad spot, every bit of promotional material, since she’d been called up last season was exposure enough. Nonetheless, it only took a moment for Ginny’s eyes to slide to Blip and then Mike, checking to see they were all in agreement. 

Mike did his best to show her, when she turned those luminous brown eyes on him, that he’d follow her call, no matter what. Thankfully, whatever she saw, it was enough to get Ginny to give him a shallow but decisive nod. 

That settled, her thoughtful frown faded and was replaced by her deep dimples, flanking the grin spreading across her face. Mike only got a quick glimpse of it before she turned back to the desk and the anxious GM sitting behind it.

“I’m in,” she declared, to Oscar’s clear relief. 

Mike personally thought that was a little premature given the mischievous spark kindling in Ginny’s eyes. Blip was clearly in agreement, settling back into his chair and folding his arms over his chest, delighted anticipation lighting up his face. 

And Ginny Baker did her best not to disappoint. 

Still grinning, and flanked by her two teammates, she laid her lone stipulation on a long-suffering Oscar: 

“But only if I get to hold the lightsaber.”

Mike wouldn’t say that his love of Star Wars is anything even approaching a secret. Sure, it wasn’t the coolest thing about him—hello, he was a major league ballplayer—but it wasn’t like he’s lied about liking it during his time in the majors.

Exhibit 1: Every season the graphics team made him re-answer the same Fun Fact! questionnaire for the Jumbotron and every season his favorite movie was Empire Strikes Back. It was probably on his Wikipedia page by now—it’d be one of the few true things on there. 

Exhibit 2: He’d actually bought the theme song and set it as his ringtone. Back when people actually had ringtones, at least. 

Exhibit 3: He’d named his dog Jedi for god’s sake, and proceeded to talk about that poor, dumb dog a lot, oftentimes to reporters who were far more interested in his OPS and the tweaks he was making to his batting stance. It was a matter of public record.

Nonetheless, Mike also wouldn’t say it was something that a lot of people actively knew about him. And that suited him just fine. After all, he had a reputation in his clubhouse to preserve. He couldn’t very well maintain order and lay down the law if his entire team thought he was no better than the geeks so many of them had spent their high school careers pantsing and shoving in lockers. 

But this might be the year when that hard-earned reputation as a hard ass went up in smoke. 

Because this year, Mike Lawson was going to Comic Con.

Okay, he was going to stand outside the San Diego Convention Center wearing a silly costume to film the ad spot for Petco Park’s annual Star Wars Night, but who cared? 

He was going to fucking Comic Con. 

He wasn’t sure who in the front office this bright idea belonged to, but he was seriously considering sending them a gift basket of some kind. At the very least, a thank you card.

In all the years Mike had played San Diego baseball, he’d never actually had a chance to attend. When he first started playing, it wasn’t nearly the three ring circus that it would one day become. Before his very eyes, he’d gotten to witness it evolve from a niche convention to the star-studded event of the summer. 

Well. Sort of. 

Mostly, he’d gotten to marvel over the proceedings and pandemonium from across the street for a few minutes each year before getting back to business. 

What sacrifices he made to live the dream, right? 

So now that Mike was finally getting a shot at coming within spitting distance of the convention hall, he wasn’t going to stop there. Despite having no passes to speak of, he was determined to get inside and see Hall H for himself. He did, after all, have a secret weapon on his side. 

Well, she would be once he’d convinced her.

“C’mon, Baker,” he urged, leaning against her door and flashing what he hoped was a winning grin. He was going to charm her into this, damn it. Not wheedle and whine. Still, his next words weren’t quite the pinnacle of persuasive power he’d hoped for. “It’ll be fun.” 

“I doubt that,” Ginny huffed, swiveling side to side in her rolling chair. She eyed him suspiciously. “This is the third time you’ve brought it up, though, so you really must think so.”

He shrugged, trying to play it off. 

The funny little smile on her face told him he wasn’t particularly successful. Rather than tease him, she drew a knee up to her chest and began unlacing her cleat. “Okay, say I were to concede that it could be fun,”—Mike perked up at this softening of her earlier blunt refusal, though of course that wasn’t the end of it—“I don’t see how I’m supposed to get us in. Don’t you need tickets or something?”

“Well, yeah, but you’re Ginny Baker.”

She started working on the other shoe, though how she managed when her eyes were rolling hard enough to fall out of her face was a mystery. She’d accused him last summer of doing it too much, but the way Mike saw it, Ginny was just the pot (Or was it the kettle? Something like that.) in this situation. 

“Yeah, ‘cause there’s a lot of overlap between the geeks at Comic Con and the clinically Ginn-sane.”

“You’ve got crossover appeal,” he tried, though it sounded weak to his ears for all the truth of it. God, he was off his game. “And who says geeks can’t have layers?”

“You talkin’ from experience there, Lawson?”

If Ginny’d just been teasing him the way she’d done all season—like relentless humor would erase any number of charged moments they couldn’t seem to keep from stumbling into—Mike could’ve replied the way he had all season, with a gruff reminder of who was captain here. 

(Which, honestly, was far more effective in reminding Mike why those moments should be avoided like the plague. He was her captain for Chrissake. Of course there couldn’t be any more than fleeting, godawful tempting, moments between them. No matter how appealing she looked, grinning up at him after landing a solid dig, or how much he wanted to know how long it would take for him to kiss that grin away.)

He would’ve done just that, except his mental facilities were otherwise occupied. 

Because Ginny had chosen that moment to stand up and start unbuttoning her jersey, casual as anything. Like it didn’t matter that he was standing right there as she shrugged it off and was left in just the clingy spandex of her undershirt. 

It probably didn’t matter. Mike had seen her dressed exactly like this at least a hundred times before. He’d almost gotten used to the fact that he could usually make out the outline of her sports bra—and sometimes, when the A/C was cranked all the way up, even more than that. 

Except, Mike had never been confronted with the direct prospect of Ginny Baker getting undressed before. 

(Not even at that goddamn photo shoot last season when he’d caught sight of her in that robe, fiddling with the tie before she looked up and saw him. 

And Mike’s had dreams about that day. Dreams where Ginny didn’t march over and twitch the curtains closed and where no one else was within even shouting distance of the studio. Which was a good thing because those dreams were not always quiet.)

Like she had no idea what was going through his mind—or, worse, did—Ginny’s hands fell to her belt buckle just as she looked up at him, an eyebrow arched in question. 

Mike’s brain shorted out. 

He muttered something, though God only knew what, and got the hell out of there. 

It was the only option. After all, there was no way he could focus on getting Ginny on his side of this Comic Con thing if half his brain—and some certain other body parts, if he was being honest—was more concerned with getting her somewhere else entirely.

In the end, Mike never broached the subject with Ginny again. It was probably better for all involved if he didn’t try and nudge her into doing something she was skeptical about. 

(Mike tried to tell himself he only meant Comic Con. 

He was at least partially successful.)

Instead, he tried to focus on the positives. He’d get to hang out near Comic Con for a few hours, and on Star Wars Day no less, which was better than he’d managed so far in his life. He’d get to see all the people in their costumes and chat with some fans and maybe even see about sweet talking his way inside for just a peek around.

It would be fun.

Thank God it actually was. 

He, Blip, and Ginny had a blast filming their bits for the promo. Mike couldn’t remember laughing so hard or so helplessly in a long time. Ginny got to hold the only lightsaber, as promised, and was like a kid in a candy store with it. The shoot director had her swing it like a baseball bat while Blip and Mike pitched plushy little Stormtrooper heads at her. More of them ended up hitting her than not, but she didn’t seem to mind much. Blip and Ginny got into a wookiee roar-off, though neither of them, in Mike’s unwanted opinion, were all that good at it. No one had to wear the gold bikini, though plenty of con attendees had made their own. Mike gamely put on the Leia wig and frowned forbiddingly at the camera for a few moments even though he just knew it’d end up in the final cut. 

It was worth it for the way Ginny’s cheeks pinked up as she howled with laughter, leaning heavily against Blip to keep her balance. 

All told, the whole process only took a few hours, most of which were spent goofing off and looking like incredible dorks. 

He’d certainly had worse days.

Still, Mike couldn’t help but look wistfully up at the massive edifice of the Convention Center when the ad director called a wrap. He shook it off quickly enough, shaking hands with the various crew and clapping Ginny and Blip on the back before heading towards the Park to pick up his car and go home. 

Maybe yelling at Attack of the Clones would cheer him up. 

“Lawson, where are you going?”

He turned around and came face to face with a puzzled Ginny Baker. Her brows were drawn together in confusion, a light sheen of sweat glimmering there, dark curls blown wild by the sea breeze. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. In a Padres blue shirt with the words “San Diego” stretched across her chest in the Star Wars font—a shirt which happened to match his—and one of her endless pairs of leggings, Ginny didn’t look all that different from usual.

Which, Mike supposed, was exactly the point.

“Home, Baker,” he said, well used to repressing any and all thoughts about Ginny. They were all dangerous at this point. “To have a beer and take advantage of the off day.”

“Oh, I thought—” Her lips pursed uncertainly before she swung her backpack to one shoulder so she could rifle through it. After a moment, she drew out two lanyards, each hung with a plastic card sporting a familiar logo. Mike stared at them for a beat before refocusing on Ginny’s face. She grinned a little, but it was fading fast. “I thought you wanted to go—”

“I did. I do,” he corrected fast, almost tripping over the words. “Definitely. I just didn’t think—”

Ginny relaxed almost immediately, her forehead smoothing out. “Well, who am I to deny the Padres’ number one Star Wars fan?”

Mike couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Where’d you hear that one?”

“Sonny,” she replied promptly, bright grin returning. “Then Butch, Blip, and Bessner. Tommy texted me about it. Even Al said he hoped you’d get a kick out of seeing all the Star Trek stuff.” 

He ignored his skipper’s flub; Al refused to watch anything that wasn’t on A&E or the History Channel. Instead, Mike picked up one of the lanyards still dangling from Ginny’s fingers, examining the pass for a moment before letting it fall back to join the other. 

Gruff, but just so he wouldn’t tip his hand, he said, “Just because our teammates have big mouths doesn’t mean you had to do this.”

She shrugged, clearly a little uncomfortable. Mike raised a brow and she busied herself with righting her backpack, ducking her head so she wouldn’t have to look at him. Jesus, did he want to reach out and tip her chin up, give him a better view of those wide, brown eyes. Thankfully, for everyone involved, he kept his hands to himself and just waited her out. 

When she was done and it was clear Mike wasn’t going anywhere without an explanation, Ginny blew out a huff of slightly disgruntled air. 

“I know I didn’t. Just—” Here she paused, tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth as she weighed her words. Not that it seemed to do her much good since she let them all out in a rush, “I felt bad for calling you a geek.”

Mike rocked back a little on his heels. Was that what she thought happened? Well, he should probably be grateful she hadn’t assumed he couldn’t keep his perving under control, but, Christ. How fragile did she think he was?

“Baker, you told me to get my fat ass back behind the plate just last week. Geek’s where you think you crossed the line?”

Ginny at least seemed to see ridiculousness of the situation, a grin curling over her full lips. She flapped her hand at him anyway, saying, “It’s different on the field. Plus, you stopped asking about it when you’d really seemed so excited. It wasn’t that hard to get these.” Her fingers waggled at him and the plastic passes clacked together lightly.

Yeah, sure. Mike knew for a fact that Comic Con Badges sold out in the blink of an eye. 

Still, he couldn’t help but glance back to the Convention Center.

Sensing that she had him on the ropes, (And why was he resisting at all? A full day with Ginny, schooling her on all the wrong opinions she’d spouted during the commercial shoot, sounded like the fucking dream. Or one of them, anyway. Which, then again, was exactly why Mike should go straight home and forget all about this encounter.) Ginny pressed her case. 

“C’mon, Mike,” she cajoled, waving the lanyard in his face. “It’ll be fun.”

Hearing his own words echoed back at him, Mike folded like a house of cards. In one swift move, he liberated a pass from Ginny’s grip and had it hanging from his neck. “All right,” he agreed. “But I’m not gonna play body guard for you when everyone on the floor realizes exactly who’s in their midst.”

She laughed, shaking her head, but Mike didn’t care that she didn’t agree with him. Ginny Baker was smiling at him, a fond spark brightening her already twinkling eyes. As far as he was concerned, Ginny could call him a moron and a geek and an old man and whatever else she wanted just as long as she kept smiling at him like that.

But then it was gone as she turned on her heel and marched off towards the entrance. “I really think you’re overestimating how popular I am,” she tossed over her shoulder with a little smirk, leaving Mike to catch up. 

Well. What else was new?

In a way, they were both right. 

Ginny certainly got recognized and was stopped every so often for a selfie or an autograph. To be fair, Mike was, too, but Ginny bore the brunt of the attention. Given the relaxed set of her shoulders and the genuine grins she gave everyone who approached, Mike could tell this was hardly the worst she’d ever dealt with. 

Mostly, though, people’s eyes seemed to pass right over them. 

Ginny insisted that meant she was right: there wasn’t a big enough overlap between sports fans and con dwellers. Mike figured it had more to do with what they were wearing. Well, what they weren’t wearing. After all, it was easy to overlook two more people in street clothes when there were so many amazing, and frankly baffling, costumes on display. 

Even when one of those people was arguably the most famous woman in America. Certainly in San Diego every other weekend of the year. 

Mike, personally, couldn’t figure it out. He couldn’t conceive of any situation in which Ginny Baker simply faded into the crowd. No matter what, no matter the size of the room or the number of people, she’d always be the first and best thing he noticed.

Apparently, though, Mike’s feelings were not universal (and what a lucky son of a bitch he was for that small mercy). So, it was easy enough for them to slip through the crowd, largely unnoticed, and straight to the Star Wars booth. 

Booth was maybe—definitely—underselling what it really was. Even through the masses of people, it was impossible for Mike to miss, looming over the entire convention hall and making his poor, fanboy heart thunder in excitement. Once inside the huge pavilion, he couldn’t decide what needed to be inspected first. Well, he wasn’t about to waste time trying to figure it out, so he dove right in, only absently checking to make sure Ginny followed along. There was a model X-Wing taller than he was and just a little further on, that was a bank of costumes and props from the new movie. Dotted around the space was station upon station of merchandise, selling everything from replica lightsabers—far more realistic than the one Ginny’d swung around all afternoon—to licensed costumes to the tie in comic books and action figures. And plastered across every flat surface were giant Star Wars logos. Just in case anyone forgot exactly where they were. 

In short, it was a Star Wars fan’s Holy Grail. 

Mike could only marvel, and feel a little nostalgic, over what he’d been missing out on all these years. He would’ve killed to see something like this as a kid, though even if it’d been around, there was no way his mom could’ve taken him. 

Still, he got to see it now, and it really was amazing. Almost overwhelming, to be honest. But still ridiculously cool to finally experience. 

And it was all thanks to Ginny.

Now that the initial frenzy had faded enough that Mike could think clearly about something other than a galaxy far, far away, he sheepishly turned to make sure he hadn’t lost track of her. 

Well, he definitely had, but at least she’d kept an eye on him, making sure to stay in his orbit as he geeked out. He had vague recollections of letting his excitement spill over and gushing to her over every little detail that caught his interest. She’d always responded, suppressed amusement coating her words, not that Mike was really in the right frame of mind to appreciate how much she was indulging him.

He was now.

He chanced an embarrassed look at her, but she was already looking back, a fond smile on her face.

“Sorry,” he muttered, feeling the tips of his ears begin to burn, only about ten minutes too late. Jesus, this was not how to convince women he was worth their time and attention. Not that he was doing that with Ginny, but—

“For what?” she laughed, though it hardly stung. For all she was definitely laughing at him, it was too warm and sweet for him to mind. “I didn’t know there was room for anything other than batting stats and heat maps in that head of yours. It’s nice to know you’ve got range.”

He rolled his eyes, but still said, “For geeking out on you, I know you’re not—”

“I don’t know why you think I’m not into geeks, Lawson,” she interrupted, with some kind of significance in her tone. “If you haven’t noticed, they’re kind of my thing.” 

Thinking about it—which Mike really tried to avoid when it came to Ginny’s dating habits—he realized she wasn’t wrong. 

After her thing with video game guy fizzled in the off season, Ginny’d been out on more than a few well-publicized dates. Often with Bay Area tech guys. Mike had just figured she was getting as far away from ballplayer jock-types as she could. But maybe if a ballplayer jock-type also happened to—

“Your thing, huh?” was all he could bring himself to say.

Ginny rolled her eyes, and he couldn’t begin to figure out how she found it so annoying when he did it. On her, Mike couldn’t look away. “My type or whatever.”

“I see. So that means I should go give that guy your number?” He nodded to the beanpole of a kid who’d been staring not so subtly at Ginny’s ass for the last five minutes. If anyone fit the role of “geek,” it was that kid. 

(If Mike were interested in being fair, he’d acknowledge that the kid also happened to have excellent taste. Ginny’s ass in this—and every—pair of leggings was practically a work of art. 

Thank God Mike had no interest in being fair.)

Right on cue, she turned to look and the guy in question turned bright red and spun around to disappear into the crowd. 

Good.

“If you think your creaky knees can catch up with him, be my guest.”

That startled a laugh out of Mike. At this point, he wasn’t sure how she kept managing to surprise him, but Ginny Baker was never one to rest on her laurels. So, Mike laughed long and loud in the middle of the San Diego Convention Center, ignoring the confused looks being sent his way as he delighted in the woman standing before him. All that mattered was that Ginny was lit up with a proud, smug smirk, reveling in her latest accomplishment. And while that look would’ve rubbed Mike the wrong way on any other face, on her it was just another facet he was grateful to uncover. 

“God, I love you,” he sighed, his stomach aching from all the laughter. 

It was only when Ginny went still, eyes wide and lips parted in shock that Mike went back and catalogued his words. 

Shit. Oh, shit. 

His mouth worked without anything to show for it. He tried to form the words to reassure her that it wasn’t what she thought, that he didn’t mean it, that she should forget it— 

But he just couldn’t. 

Not when saying so would be a filthy fucking lie. 

Instead, Mike stared helplessly at Ginny, speechless for once in his life. His heart thudded against the his ribs, threatening to burst with each second of silence. It wasn’t helped by the sheer variety of emotions that flickered across Ginny’s face, surprise and worry and hope and far more, there and gone too quick for him to name.

Finally, though, after what felt like an eternity of silence, she took a tiny step towards him, her chest practically pressed against his. Her face tipped up towards his and her full lips stretched into a bright, blinding, brilliant grin.

They were surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people, but it didn’t even matter. Mike couldn’t look away from the one thing he’d walked in knowing like the back of his hand. 

And why should he? He’d never seen someone so beautiful. 

“I know,” Ginny said, simple and easy and just as devastating as it’d been the first time Mike heard Han Solo say it.

She didn’t pull it off with quite the same self-assurance as a young Harrison Ford, but what did Mike care about that? Ginny Baker, in any circumstance, was way better than Harrison Ford.

He couldn’t help but grin back, so close to ducking down to see how well their smiles lined up.

Like she could read his mind, Ginny tucked her chin down and Mike broke out of the daze exhilaration and her eyes had put him under. Immediately, he cleared his throat, trying to nudge his heart back into its rightful place in his chest. As he did, he was suddenly and unpleasantly all too aware of the swirl of people eddying around them. He glanced around, worried that they’d caught the attention of someone with a smart phone. 

Only when he felt warm, dry fingers twine through his did Mike abandon his search and turn back to Ginny. Looking up shyly through her lashes, she offered, “We’ll pick this up later, okay?”

She squeezed his hand and a flood of relief rushed through him. It was the easiest thing in the world to reply, “Whenever you’re ready, Ginny.”

Her smile this time was less blinding, but just as precious. Mike reveled in the way her eyes roamed over his face. His thumb stroked over the delicate skin of her wrist and Ginny’s dimples deepened in reply.

Mike would’ve been more than happy to live in that moment for the foreseeable future.

Eventually, though, the bubble had to burst. They couldn’t just go on ignoring the thousands of people milling around them, after all. 

So, Ginny gave him a decisive nod and something shifted in her body language. Her smile remained, but it wasn’t the private thing that’d been there a moment ago. It turned playful. Mischievous. 

Mike knew that look too well to expect anything good from it. 

“C’mon, Lawson. I see a guy in a Chewbacca costume and I wanna see if there’s more hair in it or your beard.”

“Ha fucking ha, Baker,” he groaned, even as he followed her willingly through the crowd.

Maybe, though, that was more to do with the fact that her hand remained firmly in his.

That, Mike thought even as he curled his fingers more securely around hers, was a pretty good consolation. He would take that. 

Well. 

He’d take it for now, at least.

[deerlingnotes]

unconventional advice for your first year of high school

(by a jaded 23 year-old who’s speaking from her own experience to all the young’uns out there about to start their freshman/grade 9 years)

never underestimate the ridiculous things your classmates will do on a dare because grade 9s have the maturity of small chihuahuas. don’t let them get you involved (but appreciate from afar so you’ve got good stories to tell)

don’t stop in the middle of the hallway!!! if you’re lost step off to the side to figure out where you are. i can’t stress this enough, the only thing that we would complain about with niners/freshmen was that they would block the hallway and by senior year you just lack the patience for that

do not let other kids make you feel bad for being passionate, excited, or vocal about the things you love. being a nerd is a good thing despite what a lot of people will say or think. 

the only people i knew who ended up in lockers got in there voluntarily- never once did i hear or see of anyone getting shoved into a locker. 

exams are terrifying the first time, but study hard and stick to what works for you. you study best in silence at your desk? cool. listening to classical music and lounging on your bed? cool. spreading your notes all over the floor while binge-watching Friends? (that one was definitely me. might sound un-productive, but i spent all 4 years on the honour roll so) there is no perfect way to study: only the way that works for you.

don’t let that kid in math class throw your pencil sharpener out the window, no matter how cute/tall he is. he’s actually kind of a jerk and you can do way better.

your friends and you might drift apart. it will suck, but it’ll be worth it in the end when you find the people that are truly your people.

it is downright terrifying to find a seat at lunch, but it gets easier the more you go for it. (also there is nothing wrong with eating lunch by yourself. sometimes you’ve gotta be your own bff.)

take cool classes in addition to the ones you need. philosophy, yearbook, media arts, photography, ancient history, and law had nothing to do with my career choices, but they were fun and interesting.

there are teachers who are downright mean for no reason. all you can do is keep your head down and survive. try to bond with others in the class who can help you out and you can commiserate together. and remember: it’s not permanent. 

it’s okay to skip freshman activities day. school often doesn’t understand that not everyone thinks messy and loud relay races are a good time. you gotta do you sometimes. (don’t skip orientation though. it honestly helps.)

for uterus-havers, always store pads or tampons in your locker. ALWAYS. (pun intended.) other essentials to keep in the locker: deodorant, chapstick, an extra t-shirt, lined paper, and pencils. 

breathe. smile. laugh a lot. get to know your teachers. join clubs. take cool field trips when you can. be patient with yourself. high school is confusing and terrifying with moments of happiness mixed in with it!! you will get through it and you’ll come out the other side with a sense of self and some great stories. 

[nastytrashblog]

Stigma (Wings Fanfic)

A/N: I wrote this for 7 hours straight, I wanted to finish this before the weekend, but I woke up late and corrected it just now. This is the longest fanfic out of all so far. It’s 6,254 words, I struggle with a 1000 word essay, but I can make this? Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Fluff, bit of angst, suggestions of smut, high school au, V x Reader

Tae, are you okay?” You saw him in the corner of his room and walked towards him.

“No, I’m a monster.” He cries and shoves his face in between his knees.

3 years ago

“Class this is (y/n).” You just moved schools. You were in grade 11 and moving was harder now than it was before in grade 2, or 6, or grades 7 and 8. Your mom basically moved around the whole country for work. Okay that may be an exaggeration, but anywhere she had to move, you went with her. Your dad was a housewife, or a househusband if that’s even a word. He did work at home fixing computers and taking out the viruses. It wasn’t really an “under the table” job. Okay maybe it was, but he does get good pay. He receives a lot from his customers, and it helps keep the family going. You were an only child, but if you had a sibling, it would make the situation a lot harder. You didn’t keep any close friends because you moved around a lot. You were kind of lonely. However, your mom said for sure, that you are not moving anymore.

Everyone had their eyes on you. You felt nervous, but at the same time excited.

“(Y/n) you can go sit at the back seat there in the corner.” You nodded and went to the back. Your seat was right by the window. You looked out at the sky like it was some kind of scene in a movie or those shoujo animes. “It would be so weird if a guy came up to me just-” you were in the middle of your thoughts when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turn around to a brown haired boy in a grey hoody and black pants.

“Do you have a pencil?” “Is this dude serious? He came to school without a pencil.” You looked on his desk, there was nothing but a textbook. You sigh and look in your bag for your pencil case.

“Need paper too?” You ask. You might as well offer it now before he bothers you later. He nodded and you took out 4 pieces of lined paper and a pencil. You handed it to him and didn’t even thank you. “What’s the deal with him?” In a blink of an eye, your class was done. You took out your timetable to see what class you had next. “Ugh, I have math.” Just then, someone picked up your timetable in a swift motion before you could even react.

“Hey! That’s mi-” You look beside you to see the same guy that took your pencil and didn’t even say thanks.

“You have every class with me, weird. Except for… law? You take law?” He looked up at you confused and raised up his eyebrow. You immediately take the paper out of his hand and shove that and the rest of your stuff in your bag.

“Yeah, is there something wrong with that?” You say without making any eye contact.

“Nope, nothing at all.” You get up swinging your bag across your shoulder and he does as well. You walk out the door and he trailed behind. You turned around and looked at him. You didn’t realize it until now, but he was exceptionally tall.

“Why are you following me?” He laughed and looked at you.

“I’m not following you. We have the same classes, but it seems that you need my help because math, it’s that way.” He pointed his thumb behind him. You stomp down the hall in the direction he said to go as he walked behind you. You finally reached math class and looked for an empty spot. You sat down at the back of the class and the guy sat in the desk beside you. You took out your sketchbook and pencil and drew. You try to ignore him, but 3 boys sat around him and started to talk.

“Sup man? Did you do the homework?” One asked.

“Nah, but I know Namjoon would’ve. I planned to copy off of him.” He laughs. One dude hit him in the arm, you guessed he was Namjoon.

“You have to do your own work, I won’t be saving you ass all the time.” Namjoon opened his bag and gave him a copy of the homework. He took it and thanked him. “Huh, I guess he knows how to say thank you, but he didn’t bother to say thanks to me.” He took out your pencil and started to copy it down.

“I didn’t know you preferred pink pencils.” The one in front of him said.

“It’s not mine, it’s hers.” He pointed at you with his pencil. You turn to them and all their eyes looked at you while he was busy writing.

“Oh, new friend Tae?” Namjoon said. “Tae? That’s his name?”

“I’m Jimin. That’s Jungkook, and that nerd is Namjoon.” The one in front of Tae pointed out. You didn’t know how to react. You feel frustrated for some reason. “Why is this Tae guy getting me in these situations? I’m awkward af, how do I respond to this? Just act cool. No be yourself, always be yourself.”

“Umm, hi-i.” Your voice cracks. “I cannot believe that just happened!” You clear your throat and try again.

“I’m (y/n).” You give them a faint smile and look back down on your sketchbook and continued to sketch.

“Whatcha sketchin there?” Jungkook gets up from his desk and stands behind you.

“Just doodling.” “Why am I being nice to him? Well, I guess he didn’t do anything, yet at least.” Jimin and Namjoon get up as well and crowd around your desk. Tae stayed seated trying to finish copying before the class starts.

“That’s pretty cool! What is it?” Jimin asked.

“It looks like a man with snakes as legs holding a whip in one hand and a ball in another with branches around it.” Namjoon explained. (A/N: this is the symbol that was on the garage door that Taehyung was vandalizing in his teaser. In Jin’s awake teaser, it is the wallpaper in the hallway so that’s how I know. Okay back to the story.)

“I don’t know. Wherever my hand moves, that what I draw. I don’t really think about it, I just get carried away.” You respond still looking down and shading in the figure.

“Here you go Namjoon, I’m done.” Tae said hitting his hand on his arm while holding the papers. Namjoon’s attention went from you to him and took the papers back. The teacher walked in telling everyone to get to their seats. You put away your sketchbook and took out grid paper. He then did attendance. “Jungkook.” “Here.” “Namjoon.” “Here.” “Taehyung.” “Here.” “Taehyung? I guess Tae is his nickname.” “Jimin.” “Here.” he went down the list and asked if he missed anyone. You raised up your hand and asked for your timetable.

“I see, you just moved here. And your name is?” He asked.

“(Y/f/n and l/n).” He wrote down your name at the bottom of his list and smiled at you.

“Well (y/n), welcome to my class. I’m Mr. Kim if you don’t already know. I guess we should start now, you may go back to your seat.” You went back and opened to page 10 as instructed and listened to the teacher. However, you saw in the corner of your eye Tae looking at you. You turned your head to him and he turned his away. You stared at him until he looked back. You pointed to the front of the board and he gave you a mocking face. You gave him one back and he sneered, and faced the board. You let out a smile and pay attention for the rest of the class.

Lunch eventually came and Tae invited you to sit with him and his friends. You agreed because it was either that, or sitting in the washroom stall. Both of you got your lunches and he guided you to a table filled with boys, some that you already recognized.

“Hey guys, this is (y/n). You already know Namjoon, Jimin and Jungkook. That’s Hoseok, Yoongi, Jin and Mark.” He sat down beside Jimin and you sat across from him beside Mark.

“So how do you know Tae?” Hoseok asked.

“He’s in every single one of my classes.” You respond.

“Except law.” Tae added with his mouth full of his sandwich.

“Aww, I’m sorry. That must suck.” Yoongi said. They all laugh and you let out a little smile.

“You have a really nice smile (y/n).” Mark said looking at you.

“Ouuu! Does Mark like the new girl?” Jin teased.

“Wha- no!” He turned towards you “Not that there’s anything wrong with you.” he then turned towards Jin, “Why can’t a guy compliment a girl without having the assumption that they like her?”

“Because she’s ugly. Nothing to compliment unless you’re interested.” Tae said while taking another bite. You kicked him from under the table and yelled “ow” with his cheeks still full. You and the whole table laughed. You turned to Mark who was looking at you. “He’s not that bad looking. He has a nice smile, nice eyes, and ouu, those piercings, nice! Wait, what am I doing? I just met him, snap out of it!” You had fun meeting all of Tae’s friends. You exchanged numbers and became friends almost instantaneously. The next thing you knew, lunch was over and it was back to class. You were throwing out your garbage and Mark walked beside you.

“You have science next right?” You turned and faced the almost 6 ft man.

“Yeah, you have it too?” He smiled at you and simply nodded.

“Shall we walk together?” He asked.

“Yeah, I just need to get something from my locker.” He was okay with it and both of you walked together. You reached your locker and switched out your books. You took your science notebook out and put your math and English notebook inside. You look at your mirror and saw Mark staring and smiling at you. You closed your locker and looked at him.

“You seem to be happy.” You said. He scoffed and both of you started to walk to the science department.

“Yeah? Maybe it’s because I was introduced to you.” You felt your cheeks turning red. “Oh no, what’s happening to me? This actually can’t be happening. Do I like Mark?” You slap your cheek and surprised him.

“Are you okay? You slapped yourself pretty hard.” He stopped in front of you and leaned down to look at your face. You stood in shock and covered your face with your hands. He chuckled and moved your hands away from your face.

“Don’t cover that beautiful face of yours.” He smiles. “WHY IS HE COMPLIMENTING ME SO MUCH?! I CAN’T HANDLE IT!” Someone then bumped in between both of you removing his hands away from yours. You looked to your left and saw Taehyung.

“Flirting with her already? Hurry up and get to class, don’t block the halls.” Tae walked into class. You and Mark followed. All three of you sat at the same bench with you beside Tae and Mark in front of you. Class started right away, but you were distracted the whole time. Mark was staring at you and you told him to pay attention many times, it didn’t work. Class was over and all of you went to art. You entered the room saw a table with all of Tae’s friends. “I guess I have class with all of them, should be fun.” Tae rushed to the table and sat. He started to hug Jin.

“Jin, I was third wheeling all of period three!” He said in a baby voice. They all looked at you and Mark.

“You weren’t third wheeling.” You said.

“Yes I was!” He said once more in a baby voice and pretended to cry. Jin shook him off of his arm and you sat down next to Jimin with Mark following you.

“I thought you said you didn’t like her Mark.” Yoongi said looking from you to him.

“I don’t.” He said bluntly. It somehow felt like a spear going through your heart hearing him say that. The lights were turned off and the curtains were closed. A single flashlight in the front turned on and you jumped in your chair.

“Shadows, they’re everywhere!” The next hour and 15 minutes were all fun and games, literally. You had competitions figuring out what the figure is with just its shadow. You got closer to the guys, but most importantly, Mark. You talked the whole time and at one point he put his arm around you.

The day went by fast, but luckily it didn’t stop there for you. You got closer to Taehyung and talked about a lot. He asked about your past and both of you exchanged information, basically playing 21 questions. However, you got closer to Mark as well. It was awkward at first, it seemed so easy to talk to Tae, but you didn’t know how to start a conversation with Mark. You asked Tae for help. He felt weird at first, but then helped you anyways because of your constant pestering. This was usually how your day went. You talked and got closer with Tae during class, got closer to the other during lunch, talked to Tae after school and asked for help for Mark.

One night, you decided to ask Tae to help set both of you up.

“Hey Tae, can you help me again.”

“Ugh, every single day you ask, shouldn’t you know what to do by now?”

“No, not how to talk to him, but kind of, to help me date him?????”

“What? No! I’m not setting you up with my friend.”

“Why not? You’re already helping me to talk to him!”

“As a friend, but not as a girlfriend.”

“Pleaaaaaaaaase!”

“No!”

“PLEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”

“NO! NO MEANS NO!”

You started to call him in the middle of the night and he gave in. You thanked him a billion times and he made it happen. It was obvious to everyone, except you, that Mark liked you, so it was easy for Tae.

“Yo Mark!” Tae yelled across the halls and ran to him.

“What’s up?” He turned around and faced Tae.

“You should ask (y/n) out.” He said out of the blue.

“What? We discussed about this. What if she doesn’t like me?” Tae took a deep breath in and out.

“Trust me on this. Oh and when you ask her out, don’t make it big. Buy her flowers, white tulips are her favorite, she thinks roses are overrated, and… Oh! Buy her a teddy bear. Kay thanks bud, see you at lunch.” Tae then ran off to math leaving Mark with what he told him.

When 2nd period ended, you went to your locker before going to the cafeteria. You opened it and saw a note fall.

Come meet me at the garden at lunch, I need to tell you something. ~ Mark

You didn’t know what to do. “Did Tae tell him already? This is too soon!” You looked in the mirror and fixed your hair. You powdered your nose and closed your locker. You went outside and met him there.

“Mark?” You approached him. He turned around holding a bouquet of white tulips. He walked up to you and gave them to you.

“Umm, (y/n), I wanted to tell you something, well I’ve been wanting to ask this for a while actually, but umm…” He stuttered. You found it funny yet cute and let out a giggle. He smiled and took a deep breath.

“(Y/n), will you be my girlfriend?” He got the words out of his mouth. You walked up to him and hugged him. You heard his heart beating faster and faster.

You looked up at him, “I thought you would never ask.” He picked you up and spun you around. You suddenly heard clapping and he put you down. Both of you looked and saw the guys cheering.

“And you said you didn’t like her.” Jungkook laughed.

You dated for the rest of your high school years, and went to prom together.

3 years later

All was good, until university came along. He wanted more, he wanted all of you. You weren’t ready. He was understanding at first, but then he started to get aggravated. He thought that you loved someone else and would hurt you in so many ways. He would make fun of you, call you names, and when he was drunk, he would hit you. You wanted to leave him, but you didn’t know if you still loved him or not. You wanted to make sure before you left him, otherwise, you would regret it. You were still in contact with the others, but didn’t as much. They were busy with their own girlfriends, and some, fiancees, except for Tae. He was there for you, but you never told him what was happening. You had a free week by yourself as Mark had a vacation to Cuba with his family. He couldn’t contact you because a) He didn’t have a worldwide plan so he couldn’t text you, and b) The internet was slow in the lobby. You asked Tae if he was available that week, but you already knew the answer.

“Yo Tae, you awake?”

“Yeah (y/n), what’s up?”

“You down to go out tomorrow?”

“What for?”

“Nothing, I’m just going to be bored for the next 7 days.”

“So I’m just a backup?”

“No, don’t be so dramatic.”

“Yeah yeah, okay. Where are we going?”

“Is there anywhere you want to go?”

“Anywhere but my house.”

“Wow, very helpful.”

“Okay fine. Amusement park? I wanted to try that new ride.”

“Amusement park it is. I’ll be at your house at 8:00 am.”

“WHY THAT EARLY?! IT’S LIKE 2:00 AM RN! I CAN’T FUNCTION WITH LESS THAN 6 HOURS OF SLEEP!”

“Then you better get off your phone now, good night tae.”

“GRRRRRR U FRUSTRATE ME!”

“Ha, you love me.”

“NO! BYE I NEED SLEEP!”

You didn’t sleep much that night, you were excited for some reason. “Maybe its because I haven’t seen my best friend in forever. Yeah, that’s it.” You stared at the ceiling all night, planning what to do, and which rides to go on first. “It’s going to be a fun day.”

You opened your eyes and hear you alarm blaring in your ears. You got up and got ready. You put on a white shirt, black pants and brought a flannel just in case it gets cold. You wrapped it around your waist and looked in the mirror. “Wow, I look so basic.” You thought. You didn’t really care at this point. You went downstairs and drank milk and ate a cookie. You figured that you’re probably going to wake up Tae when you get there, so you’re going to treat him to a big breakfast. You grab your keys and run out the door excitedly. You jump into your car and call Tae. Of course, he doesn’t answer, so you drive to his house. Once you arrived, you skipped to his front door and rang the doorbell, no answer. You rang again, no answer. You opened his mailbox and looked for the secret compartment that he installed. You opened it and got the spare key. You opened the door quietly and got a glass full of cold water. You crept up the stairs and opened his door. You walked slowly to his bed and poured the water on him.

“GOOD MORNING SLEEPY HEAD!” You yelled at the top of your lungs. He got up and shook his head like a wet dog. He opened his eyes and looked at you with anger. You take that as a sign to run and you did. You ran down the stairs and you heard Tae chasing after you. You luckily got out the door before he could catch you. He always sleeps shirtless wearing nothing but his boxers, so you know he won’t be coming out.

“Get ready, if you’re not out in 5 minutes, I’m not buying you breakfast!” You yelled out. You opened your phone and started your stopwatch. You sat on the bench on his front porch. You heard running down the stairs and him panicking trying to get his shoes on. He got out at exactly 4:58:97.

“Wow, you almost didn’t make it!” You got up and laughed. He had a towel on his head and wore almost the same thing you did. A white t-shirt, a green jacket, black slacks, and timberlands. He looked at himself, then looked up and down at you.

“Oh come on!” He yelled still drying his hair. He tried to go back in, but you pull him out.

“Oh no, you’re going like this if you want to or not.” You grabbed his hand dragged him into your car as he whined. You got into the driver’s seat and turned to him.

“Okay, maybe lose the flannel, I don’t want people to think we’re a couple.” You put the keys in and started to reverse,

“Why? I thought you loved me.” He teased.

“As if!” You scoff. He laughed and was still drying his hair.

“Speaking of love, how are you and Mark?” You didn’t want to talk about it right now. Although he is your best friend, you didn’t want to tell him, not yet anyways.

“It’s fine. So where do you want to eat?” You changed the topic.

“Ouu, I really want to go to caffe Demetre.” He said happily.

“You crazy? You know how expensive that is?” It was at a red light and you looked at him. He did his pouty face which always disgusted you.

“Pwease?” The light turned green and you started to drive again.

“No, you’re getting Mcdonalds.”

“YA! YOU WOKE ME UP THIS EARLY, MADE MY HAIR AND BED WET, AND RUSHED ME TO GET READY! I DESERVE ME SOME DEMETRES!” He yells in your car.

“Okay fine! You have a point.” he smiled and you turned left on your way to demetres. He ordered a lot and the total came out to $80. You barely ate anything except for a part of his waffle.

“Let’s go Tae.” he was standing at the ordering area for take out. He got a plastic bag and walked towards you. “Oh come on, you just ate a billion crepes, and now you’re getting another?!” You say annoyed.

“This isn’t for me, it’s for you. Eat it in the car.” He walked out the door. “Well, that was sweet of him.” You trailed behind and entered the car.

“So, how am I supposed to eat this while driving?” You asked.

“I’ll feed you.” He suggested.

“Oh no, I don’t trust you. I’ll eat it now!” You try to take the crepe, but he moved it away from your reach.

“Wow, the years that we have been friends and you don’t trust me to feed you? I’m hurt.” He said sarcastically. “Just drive us there, you can trust me.” You accepted it and started to drive. You regret doing that because he teased you. Whenever the fork was under your mouth and you opened it, he would pull it away. Luckily, you finished it before you arrived at the amusement park.

You arrived at the ticket booth at 10:00 am and get your ticket to enter. When you stepped onto the park grounds, you took Tae’s hand and started to run to the rollercoaster. The line was already long and both of you waited there for an hour. You had a good talk and caught up with each other’s lives. Throughout the whole day, you would have competitions on who could keep a straight face, or who could eat the most hot dogs in a minute. When you were taking a break, you decided to verse each other at the carnival games. The ring toss was up first. You missed all except for one.

“I swear this is rigged!” You say throwing your hands up.

“Watch me get this, first try.” He threw every single ring and got 3 out of the 5, which meant he won a prize. He chose the giant teddy bear and a little red bow on it. He hugged it like a little child.

“Lucky! I wanted that one.” You said mad crossing your arms. He was extending the bear out to you, tell you to take it.

“No, it’s okay, I was kidding.” He shoved it in your arms and you held it.

“I got it for you, you think I want this?” You took it with a big smile on your face.

“You’re such a cute couple.” The man working at the game said.

“Oh no, we’re not dating.” You explained.

“Sorry, it just seemed like it. You look good together.” He walked away and assisted the next customer. The day went by faster than you thought. After all the competitions, it was a tie, but both of you still had a blast. It was nearing 11:00 pm, the closing time, and you walked through the gates.

“So what do you want to do tomorrow?” Tae asked.

“Maybe the movies. It will be cheaper.” You suggested. He agreed with it. Once you reached the car, you shoved the giant teddy bear in the back seat and put a seat belt on it. You sat in the driver’s seat and put on yours.

“Is that really necessary?” He looked from the back seat to you.

“Yes, Bubsy needs to be safe during this drive.” You say like a child.

“Bubsy? You already gave it a name?” He questioned.

“Yeah, got a problem?” You said. He shook his head and you drove Tae home. You arrive at his house and he turned to you.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to wake me up tomorrow like you did today.” He sighed.

“No, I didn’t get sleep last night. So whoever wakes up first will come over and wake the other one up. Deal?” Both of you shook on it.

“Wait, why did you not get-” You interrupt him by pushing out in the car.

“Byeeeeeee.” and you drive off. You arrived home and took Bubsy out of the car. You ran upstairs and placed Bubsy on your bed and took a bath. “Ahh, today was fun. This is going to be a really fun week.”

The next few days with Tae were just as fun as the first. You shared laughs, memories, it was like the old times in high school, before you started dating Mark. Eventually, Saturday came, the last free day that you know you’re going to have with Tae. You decided to stay at your house and order pizza. You had a lot of deep conversations about your futures. Eventually, Mark was brought up.

“So, you haven’t been talking about Mark lately. Anything the matter?” he asked and took another bite of his pizza. “Should I tell him? Maybe I should. It’s been going on for a few months now. He is my best friends.”

“I-um- I actually have something to tell you.” He sat up and put his pizza down. “So lately, Mark has been, frustrated, sexually frustrated. I told him I didn’t want to yet, but he keeps pushing.” His face scrunched up and thinking that that’s complete BS. “And that’s not all. Now, when I tell you this, please don’t freak out.” He nods and crossed his heart. “Well, he would kind of yell at me and hurt me emotionally… and physically.” He got up due to his anger.

“WHAT?!” His face turned red with anger.

“But that’s only when he’s drunk!” Taehyung paced back and forth.

“You have to break up with him!” You get up and face him.

“What?! No!”

“Why not?”

“It’s because- you said you wouldn’t freak out.”

“But knowing that you, someone I love, is getting hurt by a douchebag like him, of course I’ll freak out!” Tae was getting really angry you didn’t know what to do.

“I know you love me Tae but reall-” he stopped you by grabbing the side of your arms.

“No you don’t. I don’t love you the way you love me. You love me as a friend, I love you more than that. Ever since I saw you, I thought you were so pretty. You made my heart beat faster than anyone! Even just by looking at you, you make me crazy, and I can’t take it! I tried to get over you, but the past few days made me love you even more.” You were surprised at what he just said. You never thought that he felt that way.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen Tae, I’m so sorry.”

“Why did you do that to me then? Why did you become friends with me?”

“I’m sorry!” You yell. Tears are welling up in your eyes. You never had a fight with Tae before.

“Forget it, what right do I have to tell you what to do.” He grabbed his jacket and walked towards the door.

“Kiss me!” You yell out to him.

“What?” He turns around.

“I said kiss me. Please, kiss me. I want you!” You say walking towards him. He drops his jacket and pushes you to the wall. He places his lips on yours gently and then deepened the kiss. You flung your arms around him and a tear rolled down your cheek. He snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. You melted in his arms. You jumped up and put your legs around his waist. He walked up the stairs and placed you with care on the bed. He was on top of you and you played with his hair. “What am I doing? I’m making out with my best friend, but it feels so right.” You started to take control and pushed him onto the bed without breaking the kiss. You started to unbutton his shirt, but he pushed you away. You got off of him and he stood up from the bed.

“You should sleep now, I’ll clean up downstairs.” He walked out, cleaned up the empty box of pizza. He put on his jacket and shoes, and closed the door behind him. The whole time you were sitting in bed, contemplating on what just happened. You made out with your best friend, he took you to bed and you didn’t think twice about the possibility of you having sex with him. With Mark, if you even got close to what you and Tae were doing right now, you would push him off. When Tae did it, you didn’t mind. “Do I still love Mark? Or am I with him just as a habit?” You laid in bed cuddling Bubsy, replaying the moments of today. “But knowing that you, someone I love, is getting hurt…” “You love me as a friend, I love you more than that.” “Kiss me.” You hugged Bubsy tighter getting a whiff of his cologne.

You woke up the next morning to the door opening.

“I’m home baby.” You hear a familiar voice yell. You run to the bathroom to clean yourself up from the aftermath of you crying all night. Luckily, you wore your pajamas, which was just technically short shorts and a white tee, when Tae came over. You walk out of the bathroom and ran downstairs and jumped into Mark’s arms.

“Hi baby!” You kissed him.

“Ahh, I miss your smile.” he kissed you again and put you down.

“I’ll make you breakfast babe.”

“Now that will be great.” he smiles and kisses you again, but on the forehead. He sat on the couch and turned on the TV. You took out the eggs and bacon. You started to cook the rice first and made a cup of coffee for Mark.

“Thanks hun.” He sipped and went back to watching TV. You continued to cook and finished making everything.

“I’m done, let’s eat.” You set the plates on the table. He looked over your shoulder and looked at the food.

“Ouu yum, I can’t wait. Let me use the bathroom first.” He went upstairs and you go back to the kitchen to clean. After a few minutes, you heard him walk down the stairs. You turn around and see him mad stomping towards you. He slapped you across the cheek and clenched his teeth.

“You were fooling around with someone here weren’t you? I can smell his cologne in the house, in the bedroom, on that teddy bear, and… on you.” He said silently, but deadly. He placed his hand around your neck. “No no no, not again!” Then you heard the house door slam open. It was Tae.

“Get your hands off of her!” Tae yelled. He was carrying something in his hand, but was hiding it.

“Tae? What are you doing he-” Tae grabbed him by the collar and shoved something in his stomach. You looked down and saw it was a broken glass bottle. He stabbed him many times. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t speak. You’re watching someone you love, or you think you love, get murdered in front of you by someone else that you might have feelings for. You got the courage to move and run to Tae.

“Tae stop!” Mark fell once Tae let go of him. His hand was covered in his blood. He immediately had a face of instant regret. Tae ran out the door with the glass bottle still in his clutch and drove off before you could say anything. You called 911 to try to get Mark to the hospital. When the ambulance came, he was announced dead. They took his body away and you had to leave. You drove to Tae’s house and entered, it was unlocked. You walked to his bedroom and saw him in the corner.

“Tae, are you okay?” You walked towards him.

“No, I’m a monster.” He cries and shoves his face in between his knees.

“No you’re not!” You said putting your hand on his shoulder. He shook it off.

“Yes I am. Look!” He showed his hands that had blood on them. “This is how a monster looks like. I killed Mark, one of my best friends.” You heard two people calling for Tae’s name. They ran up the stairs and saw him. It was his brother and sister.

“Tae, are you okay? Once I got your text I drove here with your brother.” She said drying his eyes. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Okay? Sis, he just murdered someone.” her brother pointed out.

“Thank you captain obvious, but right now we need him to calm down, we need him to talk. (Y/n) can you get me a wet towel please?” You got up and got a hand towel from the cabinet and wet it. You also got a glass of water to bring to him. You head back to Tae and his sister. You wipe Tae’s hand to get the blood off. Her sister gave him the water and he stopped crying.

“Okay, now that he’s better, I think we need to discuss on what to do. I think Tae needs to turn himself in. It’ll get worse if we keep him in hiding.” Tae’s sister turns towards him looking at him like he’s crazy.

“I AM NOT PUTTING MY BROTHER IN JAIL!” She yells. “There has to be another way to fix this! What kind of a brother are you?” She looked at him with a disgusted look.

“Why am I the bad one? Are you calling me a sinner? Compared to what he did, I did nothing.” Tae’s sister started to cry knowing that there’s no other way. Tae brought his hand to her face and wiped the falling tear. He looked at her, then her brother. He got up and hugged you.

“I’ll do it, I’ll say I did it.” You pushed him off.

“No! I’m not letting you go to jail! Tae please! I finally realize what I’ve been missing, and that’s you! Please, I don’t want you to go.” Tae puts his hands on your face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” He kissed you on the forehead and then walked out that door. You tried to run after him, but his sister kept you back. It was like he disappeared into the darkness. It felt like you would never see him again.

4 years later

You heard unlocking of the door. Once it opened, you jumped up from the couch and ran to Tae. He closed the door and held you in a tight embrace.

“Good to see you too (y/n)-” you smash your lips onto his. He was surprised at first, but then kissed you back.

You look up into his eyes, “I had to wait 4 years for that, you know how much pain I was in waiting for you?” You chuckle. You were crying tears of joy from the sight of him.

“I’m sorry. Maybe we can start this whole thing over? This whole friendship?” He asked. You jumped up and wrapped your legs around his waist.

“I think it’s a little too late for that.” You giggle and kiss him again.

“I guess so.” He kisses you back and walked you up the stairs.

[invisibleogre]

Pt. 1 - Singapore to Singapore

What have I been through in my life? Something that I’ve been reflecting on given my recent free time and which I want to put down for future deliberation.

Went to Australia when I was in kindergarten. Grew up with white kids a year older than me. Small and asthmatic at the time. Got picked on for being Chinese amongst a sea of white kids, carrying the Singapore accent into Australia did not help. Girls in the class did not approve and stepped in when they could, I got invited to the parties which the other boys weren’t invited to and treated like their little brother who happened to be in the same year. Probably because they felt bad for the little Chinese boy. Probably did a lot to save my sanity.

Crippling shyness probably started around here, it was so bad that I couldn’t order food from hawker centres without experiencing minor panic attacks. I’m not sure where it started but a burning need to be better, stronger and never bullied again started somewhere here... along with an anger that I’ve worked hard the rest of my life to temper. More on that later. Had a close brush with death when my grandfather (dad’s side) passed away. I don’t remember much from the time but, as the eldest son of the eldest son, I distinctly remember having to walk around a coffin wearing a scratchy linen headdress in a Taoist ceremony. I spent the entire time terrified of looking into the coffin and that my dead grandfather would reach out and grab me. Probably the first time that I saw what death looked like and I don’t think it’s ever gone away. I lived with a fear of death that lasted until well into my early thirties... used to have night terrors about it. I don’t think I fear it any more because I’m tired enough to welcome the nothingness that I expect.

Came back to Singapore, shyness and smallness didn’t change. Had a traumatic time getting used to Singapore school but made the transition. Got constantly made fun of because my weird Aussie accent. Still lived with asthma but started learning to handle it by getting more physically active. Made friends with the nerds in an all boys school as usual and did well. Joined St. John’s Ambulance Brigade to learn to save lives within an organisation that worked with military discipline - a modern day Knight Hospitaller. And I’ve only just realised how much my personality was already shaped from back then... I still want to heal as many as I can in the ways I can. The uniformed group aspect of it also made it easier for me to make friends and built a sense of community for a child who found it hard to reach out.

Went to Taiwan and jumped into American school there, again one year ahead of my physical age. Being quiet, shy, younger and sounding very Singaporean did me no favours with the other kids. This time, I was older, had been through some degree of training through St John’s and knew better. Used that experience to pull together with the other nerds to form groups of friends. My best friends during that time were the president of the AV Club and the head of the Library Club. But Library Club and I picked up martial arts together, him xing yi chuan and me shaolin wushu. This time, when being bullied, I knew how to fight back. And I had to more than once... once even resulting in a visit to the nurse’s office by and subsequent suspension of the attempted bully. This was also when I found the berserker rage in me. The strongest incident saw four kids and an adult struggling to hold me down when I saw a bully take a swing at my brother. My world literally turned red. That was really scary, knowing that there was a dragon living in me which could come roaring out. And the stronger I get, the more I trained to defend myself, the more I could hurt someone else. Since that day, I have worked hard to control and dissipate my anger in ways that do not hurt others... and I’ve succeeded in never hitting a person in anger again. Upside was that as I got stronger and faster, I got better at sports. Won a couple of tennis trophies, was asked to join the baseball team because I had a wicked pitch (didn’t join though) and won junior golf competitions. This time also saw me have my closest brush with death ever. A janitor in the locker room had a heart attack and I jumped in to try to give CPR... St John’s training put to use. It may have been my imagination but I always thought that I could feel his body go cold beneath my hands even though I couldn’t have been working for more than a minute or so... the time it took for a teacher to rush in. The janitor didn’t make it. During this time, also learned to love learning. Not so much studying. The American school style of teaching really resonated with my type of curiosity. Also, never had a girlfriend the whole time even though others did. I was again the best friend/younger brother to the girls who liked hanging with the nerds... and I was perfectly content with that.

Came back to Singapore into the Singapore system. Had another traumatic time getting back in, cramming for entrance examinations. Made it though and went back to the same all boys school. But this time, came in with fire in my belly and crazy in my head. Sounded American and got made fun of. Generally took that okay but made it damn clear that nobody could shove me without consequence. Also started rebelling by doing the minimum in school. Always made it by the skin of my teeth both at O and A levels... consistent practice where I would mess up the preliminary examinations and pull it back on the actual exams. Started drinking and partying around 18/19... that was when I walked into the world of vodka in brown paper bags and casual smoking. Also that’s when I first started dating. Kinda crazy huh? Made it through to virtually the end of high school without a girlfriend. Explains why I’m really not the catch and release sort of guy as well I guess... it was always Star Trek over Baywatch. And I was also always too busy doing other things - trained for the national junior team here for a while then gave it up to pull my grades up.

Went into the army as part of a scholar intake because I’d applied for several scholarships. Got offered one to read law locally... did not take it. Wasn’t worth the bond. Army was interesting... realised 9 months in that I would never be an officer because of my dad’s older brother - who had been incarcerated multiple times for various offences. This made me a security risk. Took massive injuries to my back, knee and hip during training that saw me relegated to being a clerk. So I cruised the rest of my service. I’m still slightly bitter about that time but dealing with the dicks in service helped me grow a relatively thick skin... but also made me determined to own those fuckers after we got out.

Got into Brown to read economics but ended up staying in Singapore to read law. Parents didn’t want me to go away... cost concerns I guess. I didn’t understand then but more so now. Spent a year reading law in Singapore and hating it. Flipped out at them when my brother got to go Australia to study because he didn’t do well enough to go to university in Singapore. I’m not proud of it now but it got me into Bristol to read law. Thinking about it... I’m really not proud of it now. I’m lucky that my parents could afford it and should be grateful for that. Something to take away again.

Long post, so UK and after come separately.