#all the websites bill this as a secret spot but let me tell you something

[windandwater]

Tokyo, Japan: Meiji Jingu Inner Garden Bonsai & Red Azaleas

[jaeminlore]

Sugarplum | Yuta

summary: sugar, spice, and a man named yuta

words: 2.5k+

category: baker!yuta, baker!reader, rivals au, yuta thinks calling the reader “sugarplum”  is the only way to flirt, reader just wants to keep their business afloat

The smell of gingerbread wafts through the kitchen of your bakery. You can hear the customers in the front, chatting idly as they eat their cupcakes. 

“Y/n!” One of your employees, Jungwoo, runs into the bakery. “It happened.”

“What did?” You ask, pushing your hair out of your face.

“That new bakery across the street? It’s opening early,” Jungwoo says, angrily tying his apron around his thin waist. “We’ve got competition.”

You curse. “It wasn’t supposed to open until February. After the holiday rush. Now we’re going to get only half of our usual income.”

Jungwoo pouts. He begins piping icing onto the cupcakes that have just finished cooling. “You don’t know that for sure. This new bakery could be a total flop.”

“It already has more followers than us on Instagram,” you say. “I don’t know what the owner has been doing to get so much traffic, but I know there’s gonna be a line down that street.”

You groan, slipping into your chair. “We’re gonna be bankrupt before the year is over.”

“Don’t give up yet.” Jungwoo slips a tray towards the front, where Jaemin is manning the register. 

“It’s hard when we’re so far in debt,” you say. “My only hope was this holiday rush getting us through until our tax returns. And even then it was a reach.”

Jungwoo rolls out some fondant. “Y/n... have you considered-“

“Selling the bakery?” You groan. “Yeah. But my grandfather left it to me. There’s heritage here, and I don’t want someone who isn’t part of the family running a family business.”

“But you’re stressed,” Jungwoo says. “Even if you just co-owned with a new person, it would be better than this.”

“No one is going to invest in a falling business.” You grab some cutters and begin to press shapes into the fondant. The shapes of Santa and little elves seem to mock you. “You should probably start applying to other bakeries.”

Jungwoo sighs at your overdramatic words. “Fine.”

-

Yuta puts out some macarons, flavored with cherry and plum extract. The cream cheese frosting in the middle is his secret recipe. “I think we’re ready, Sicheng.”

His best friend peaks through the closed shutters. “There’s already a line.”

“Chenle!” Yuta calls for the younger boy who hid somewhere in the back to play mobile Fortnite. “Go flip out open sign, please. Sicheng, lift the shutters. I’ll man the counter and sales while the two of you keep up the tables..?” he suggests.

“Got it!” Chenle skips to the door and flips the sign. He turns the lock and yanks the door open. “Come in!” he announces.

“Welcome to the Nutcracker Bakery!” Yuta announces to the very first customer: a young girl with purple-colored braids. “What can I get for you?”

She orders some red velvet cake. The next customer orders apple cider cupcakes. Basil tarts, raspberry scones, hazelnut biscottis, and toffee cookies are all sold out first.

Yuta keeps up with the influx of customers as quickly as he can. Sometimes there’s even a break, where Yuta can check on Sicheng and Chenle, who have been keeping the dishes clean and the coffee warm. Closing time is three in the afternoon, mostly because Yuta doesn’t have enough resource for full-time hours. It’s two fifty-five when you walk in, wearing a plain apron. There’s a smudge of frosting across your cheek, and reading the name embroidered across the front of your apron, Yuta gathers that you’re from the bakery across the street.

He feels bad that he’s opened his bakery straight across from yours. Really. But it was the only lot he could afford, and it was the only one that would be visible to the main street of the town. Besides, he’s visited your bakery and checked out your goods. His bakery is nothing like yours. He has more sophisticated palettes of flavor, while your bakery focuses on cakes and cupcakes for parties and occasions.

“Hey, Neighbor,” he smiles, cocking his head to the side. “What can I get you?”

You narrow your eyes at him and cross your arms over your chest. “Every small business on this street is supposed to visit new shops and show support. Even if they’re a bakery that rivals my own.”

“Well,” Yuta leans over the counter and wipes the blue frosting off of your cheek, “You’re the first to come, so I suppose that says something about integrity.”

“Or the busyness of the season,” you deadpan, but there’s color on your cheeks.

Yuta looks over your shoulder and notices that your bakery looks nearly abandoned. There’s a worker sweeping the front sidewalk, and another wiping down windows. He hums. “Or that.”

“Anyway,” you hand him a five dollar bill. “Can I get a sugarplum macaron?”

“For this?” Yuta holds up the bill, “you can have two, Sugarplum.”

He winks at you, then he grabs two macarons with a pair of tongs and sets them in a little brown paper bag. 

“My name is Y/n,” you say, accepting the bag. “Thanks. Try not to take all my customers, okay?”

“I can’t promise anything,” Yuta teases.

He sees something like worry flash in your eyes just before you switch to a smile. “Right. Goodbye, then.”

“Happy Holidays!” He calls to your retreating form.

“They seem nice,” Sicheng says from his spot in one of the booths.

“I thought you were asleep,” Yuta replies without denying.

-

“Hey, Sugarplum,” Yuta greets your frantic figure, weaving through customers. 

You press your palms onto the counter. “Do you have a bag of flour we could use? I have to knead this dough A-S-A-P before it gets stiff.”

Yuta wants to tell you that you look rather cute when your flustered. But instead, he opens the swinging door in the counter, “Head in the back and ask Chenle. He’s our official flour dealer.”

Yuta likes the way you roll your eyes when he winks at you. 

You’re all professional, weaving into his kitchen and exiting with a glass measuring full of white powder. “Thanks, Yuta. Bye.”

“Bye, Sugarplum.”

-

“I don’t think he remembers my name,” you say to Ten, your best friend and a regular customer. He sits at the counter, eating a cupcake. He’s been spying on the competition for you, and so far he’s told you with all the candor in the world that you’re going to go bankrupt if Yuta keeps making macarons. 

“Nah, he does.” Ten’s lips are blue from the airbrush icing. 

“How do you know?” 

“I asked him,” Ten shrugs. He studies the fondant ornament atop his cupcake. 

“You what?” You whip your dish towel at Ten’s chest, ignoring the weird look you get from Jungwoo. 

“I asked him what he thought about the bakery,” Ten says casually. He’s got a sprinkle on his lip, and it bothers you when he doesn’t wipe it off. 

“Wipe your mouth,” you say. “And why would you ask him about us?”

“I thought you could use some help,” Ten says with a shrug. He wipes his sleeve across his mouth.

“I don’t need help,” you grit out. “And I don’t need my competition thinking I do.”

“He thinks your marketing technique is wrong.” Ten says, ignoring you. “You’re advertising as a proper bakery, but you only sell cupcakes and cakes. Which is fine, except you also sell coffee. It confuses people who come in to get a breakfast bagel or whatever.”

You deflate. Not because Yuta’s advice was mean, but because it’s true.

No one on this street wants four-tiered cakes in the morning. And sure, cupcakes sell great around the holidays, but daily traffic has always been pretty low.

“I’m good at cakes, Ten.” You say. “I’m good at icing and piping and making figurines out of fondant; I’m not– I’m not good at pastries.”

“You don’t have to be. I don’t think that’s what Yuta was saying,” Ten says. “I think he’s saying that the way you advertise your shop makes people think you are.“

You hum. Across the street, Yuta is outside handing out samples of his new meringue. “Alright, so I’ll switch up the way I advertise.”

-

Yuta comes in later that week. It’s two weeks until Christmas, and you’re working on cake orders in the back when Jungwoo lets him.

“Hey, Sugarplum!” He sits on your desk and hands you a Tupperware bowl. “I brought you a new recipe I’m trying out.”

They’re more macaroons, but these are chocolate and orange flavored. Your skepticism flies out of the door at the first bite, and you think Yuta has some of the best senses for flavor palettes. “This is so good.”

Yuta grins. “Thanks. By the way, one of my customers asked me if I did macaron cakes. You know, where the decoration is a bunch of macarons?”

“I’m familiar,” you say. “But you don’t make cakes, do you?”

“No, so I told them to come over here. I thought maybe you could bake the cake, and I could make the macarons. We’ll split the cost, and the collaboration will look good on our websites. We can share costumers.” Yuta says it so naturally, as if the two of you aren’t simply business neighbors. Though maybe you’re more, considering how many times the two of you visit each other.

“That sounds interesting...” you say.

“And I hope I’m not crossing a line here,” Yuta says lowly, “but I know you’re struggling. If we sold these, you’d get sixty percent, since you’re making the actual cake. And I have more customers, so those two factors combined should help you out, right?”

You peak at your order for the pop-up Santa village down the street. “Should we talk about this over milk and cookies?”

Yuta helps you deliver the cupcakes to whoever manages the village, and then the two of you are free to walk around and admire how the Christmas lights have lit up an entire forest pathway. 

“Here, Sugarplum,” Yuta takes off his scarf and wraps it around your neck. Then, with a slight tug, he pulls you closer to him. “Warmer?” 

“Just a bit,” you squeak, trying to ignore his cheeky smile.

“You know, I really admire your shop.” Yuta swings his hand beside yours, close enough for your pinkies to brush against each other every now and again.

You try to ignore the fuzzy feeling his words and touch give you. “Thank you. I can’t deny that yours is amazing. It’s added a bit of culture to our boring street, I think.”

Yuta laughs. It’s the first time you’ve heard it, and the sound feels a bit like a warm hug. “I’m flattered,” he says, bumping his shoulder against yours. 

-

With a week before Christmas, hours and Yuta’s collaboration has done extremely well. It’s well enough that the two of you are discussing keeping it as a permanent menu item.

Since you’ve changed your marketing strategy, and collaborated with Yuta, your sales have increased. It’s amazing, and you owe it all to your new friend.

You really like Yuta. He’s kind, and has always tried his best to help you improve. He takes instruction well, especially when you teach him how different customers on the street tend to act.

He’s handsome. With his copper-colored hair always in some sort of updo (braids are your favorite), you can clearly see his face. His eyes are always open and bright, on the edge of laughter and merriment. And you have to forgive yourself for staring so much at his lips. Truly, they’re good lips, all pink and plush.

You kind of want to kiss Yuta.

And when you tell Ten, he pretends to be surprised. “Oh. Wow. You mean the man you’ve been hanging out with every day and sharing recipes with means more to you than just a friend? Shocking.”

You take Ten’s cupcake away until he apologizes.

-

“What’s up, Sugarplum?” Yuta leans over the counter, watching your every move. He’s just closed up for the evening, and you’re here again like clockwork, coming to show him around town or simply walk him home.

“The phrase is ‘What’s up, Buttercup?’” you correct him. 

Yuta is sure you’re just messing with him by the way your eyes light up. There’s another streak of frosting on your chin, and Yuta quickly swipes at it. “Yeah, but you’re my Sugarplum, so I changed it.”

You’re flustered; he can tell. These moments make him happy; when he can pretend he has the same affect on you that you do on him. “Am I a fairy then?” you ask, accepting the sugarplum macaron Yuta kept back for you.

The two of you lock up the shop and walk out towards Yuta’s apartment building. “I still think I should be the one walking you home.”

“Yeah, but I know the streets better than you. Plus, I don’t get off until 9.” You wrap your arm around his as casually as ever and Yuta wishes he could hold your hand.

Maybe he can. “Can I hold your hand?”

You slot your fingers between his, and Yuta tries to stifle the warmth that spread across his chest.

-

It’s Christmas Eve, and you’re closing shop early so that you don’t miss the Home Alone marathon you’re roommate is starting soon.

Yuta waits for you outside your door. “Hey, Sugarplum.”

“Are you ever going to call me by my real name?” You ask, slipping your hand into his. 

“Only if you insist on it,” Yuta says. “By the way, are you sure your roommate is cool with me crashing your marathon?”

You brush his worries away and pull him closer to you. “You’re fine. I’m pretty sure she’s used to you coming around by now.”

Yuta likes the way the streetlights flow across your face. It’s a different type of beautiful, he thinks. This is all natural, the place between reality and dreams. This is where Yuta gets to see you in this moment, and he is the only one.

He has never felt more thankful.

“Why’d you stop?” You pout. “Is there something on my face?”

“No, no,” Yuta assures you. “It’s just— You look really beautiful right now.”

“Oh.”

“I also kind of want to kiss you.”

“Oh.”

Yuta leans in first. He cups your face and rubs his thumb alongside your cheek. “I’ve been wanting to do this for ages.”

“What’s stopping y—?” You don’t get the question out, because Yuta kisses you then.

And Yuta has always been the teasing type. Yet now, he’s tactical; careful in his movements as he slowly moves his lips against yours. He pressed up against you, one arm now around your waist, keeping you from falling back.

You would fall back, because Yuta is leaning in, and kissing you so sweetly that it makes your head feel dizzy. You move back to take a breath. “Yuta, I really like you.”

“I would hope so,” Yuta grins against your lips, pulling you against him once more, “because otherwise this would be a bit awkward. Don’t you think, Sugarplum?”

[timetoresurface]

secrets (5) / BBH

Y/N x CEO BAEKHYUN

final 5k words

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4 // PART 5

Hopping from one job to another, you really wanted to keep your position at Banking and Finance. If you would have to describe your perfect work environment, it definitely wouldn’t be at that stupid finance magazine that had the worst coffee machine in history. But hey, it did pay the bills, and that’s what everyone does, right? A perfect job doesn’t exist, right? A perfect life doesn’t exist, right? Only in cheap romantic comedies was life perfect, and you certainly weren’t in any. At least the last time you checked.

“Have you ever seen the movie ‘Confessions of a Shopaholic’?” Chanyeol asked you during your second meeting that week. You dropped your pen and simply nodded your head for him to continue. ”Well, that’ where I’ve got my inspiration from.” His voice sounded uncertain, almost childlike.

“What do you mean?” You asked him softly. You had grown a soft spot for Chanyeol over the last couple of days. He was polite, funny, and a wonderful gentleman. He knew exactly what to say and how to make you feel good. Not in the way that Baekhyun made you feel, but he was kind enough to distract you for a while.

“At first glance, you’re just a pretty girl, but you actually know your stuff.” He simply stated, not daring to look into your eyes. He did just call you beautiful. That’s kind of embarrassing.

“Most people don’t dare to look behind the beautiful girl part. So, thank you for pushing through.” You thanked him, showing him your biggest smile.

“It wasn’t that hard.” He chuckled lowly, and you felt like you were going to melt into a puddle onto the floor.

“So, what about the movie?” You asked him, changing back the subject before the conversation got too awkward for you to handle.

"They had the lead have this column about banking stuff in easy terms. We’re not going to do it like that, but that’s what inspired me.” He explained, and you couldn’t help but find him cute. His big doe eyes were endearing, and you couldn’t look away. He might dress in fancy suits and is actually a big shot guy, but he was still human. He even showed his insecurities and weird thought processes.

“So, do you like watching romantic comedies?” You teased him softly while touching his arm gently. He looked a bit taken aback, but he let it happen nonetheless. Suddenly the door of the meeting room was forcefully pushed open, revealing a fuming Baekhyun.

“Oh, hello, Baekhyun! Are you checking up on our progress?” Chanyeol smiled at him. The two of them were more friends than colleagues you had figured out while working with Chanyeol. He could never stop talking about how great Baekhyun was, and what kind of crazy stories they got themself into. You did love Chanyeol’s anecdotes about Baekhyun, but you would rather hear them from the man himself. Which would be demanding as you were ignoring his presence.

“It doesn’t seem like you two are doing very much.” He stated firmly, and Chanyeol straightened his back. He had also once told you that when Baekhyun was pissed, you should watch yourself.

“We’re actually almost finished, mister Byun.” You told him dryly while removing your hand from Chanyeol's arm. Baekhyun noticed your retreating hand, and his eyes hardened.

“Show me what you’ve got.” He demanded while seating himself opposite you. He didn't even acknowledge Chanyeol as his eyes were too busy scanning you. His eyes never left your face though, he seemed to be looking for something, but you had no clue what that could be.

“We will present our idea next Tuesday as we promised.” You told him in your most professional voice. Surprise flashed through his eyes, but he quickly composed himself.

“Maybe I can help.”

“We’re presenting our project for you to agree. Wouldn’t it be against protocol if you helped us?” You tried to reason with him. Chanyeol didn’t know what was happening between the two of you but didn’t do anything to stop it. He seemed to enjoy the show you were giving him.

“There are a lot of things against protocol, but that has never stopped you.” His voice dropped lower, and you felt your knees go weaker and weaker. When he looked at you, it was as if every ounce of breath was taken from your lungs. You had a crush on Baekhyun, and your body wasn’t trying to hide it anymore. A crush is nothing more than a lust for someone, right? But still, he is always there on your mind. Whenever you see him, that’s it, you’ll keep thinking about him for the entire day.

“Likewise, isn’t that how you created this company?” Your voice stumbled over the first word, but Baekhyun seemed unfazed. He didn’t seem to be as affected by you, as you were affected by him.

“Seems like we both did our research.” He tilted his head and stared you up and down. His eyes weren’t shy anymore. We were quickly taken out of our trance when Chanyeol’s phone started ringing.

“Excuse me.” He stuttered while walking out of the room with his phone pressed to his ear.

“So…” Baekhyun said, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen over you.

“So…” you repeated him, looking at your hands. You didn’t want to look into his eyes when you were alone with him. You were scared you would crumble.

“How have you been?” He asked you casually as if you guys were old friends trying to reconnect.

“I’m not doing this.” You thundered while getting up from your chair. At that moment, Chanyeol decided to enter the meeting room again, and he looked puzzled, to say the least.

“What?” Baekhyun and Chanyeol said simultaneously.

“Chanyeol, I think we're done for today, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye.” You quickly bowed and made your way out of the hell hole. You grabbed your things from your desk and went straight home. You tried so hard to not be affected by Baekhyun, but your mind and body were not in sync.

You were casually doing your work when Chanyeol surprised you at your desk. He had taken off his tie and suit jacket. He had also rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and he looked like a snack. Your colleagues eyed you suspiciously while pretending to do some work. Why did your colleagues even care about these handsome young men? Yes, Chanyeol and Baekhyun were attractive, but they were just too high up to even pretend you got a chance with one of them. You learned the hard way.

When one of them entered your floor, everyone seemed to go in acting mode. Like Chanyeol would even notice them, he had already made it perfectly clear to you that you were the only reason he was spending so much time here. Now that you think of it, Chanyeol had been really interested in you. Asking where you would go out for a drink, or where you’d like to eat. It was adorable that he appreciated your opinion for work-related matters, but also personal issues. It did make you feel a little warm inside.

“Hi, Y/N.” He beamed at you, and you couldn’t stop thinking about a happy puppy who was always excited about everything and anything.

“Hey, Chanyeol.” You returned his greeting with a big smile. Whenever Chanyeol was near, you just couldn’t stop smiling. He had that effect on people, and you’d like to follow the masses. 

“Can I ask you something?” His cheeks turned a little red, but it was a good look on him. It made him more approachable and even more adorable.

“Of course you can. For you everything.” You told him while taking off your reading glasses. He visibly swallowed before talking again. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was nervous. 

“That’s nice to hear. I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner after work?” He mumbled softly. You had to pay attention really hard to understand what he was even saying. Just as your colleagues, who leaned more to your side to understand what he was asking.

“Oh?” Was all you could mutter.

“Nothing too serious because I don’t want to talk about work. I just don’t really know a lot of people in this area, and it would be nice to not dine alone.” He quickly explained, but you just smiled at him.

“I would love to show you around. When do you finish work?”

“When you’re finished.” He confessed, and you laughed. 

“I still have some work to do, but I can be done in an hour.” You told him.

“It’s a date.” He happily exclaimed, but his enthusiasm quickly disappeared after seeing your face. “Not really a date, but you know what I mean.”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you in an hour.” You told him while putting your glasses back on your face. Chanyeol practically skipped out of the office, leaving you smiling to yourself. You tried to contain your excitement before your colleagues would swarm your desk with questions.

The hour passed quickly. Luckily for Chanyeol, you didn’t take your work too seriously. The hour was filled with checking a report and scrolling through your horoscope website until you found the one you liked. 

“I’m leaving everyone.” You announced while grabbing your coat. Some colleagues hummed as a response, being too busy with their work. Luckily for your company, some people did take their jobs seriously.

When you made your way down to the entrance of your building, Chanyeol wasn’t there yet. The old security man was still working, so you made your way over to him.

“Long time no see.” You announced your presence, and he glanced up from the book he was reading.

“You must be really busy. I’ve heard you’re working on something special.” He put down his book to talk to you. If that’s not love, you don’t know what love is. Putting down a book could mean a marriage proposal in your world. You would say yes if the old security man asked you. It was a shame he was happily married, and that his wife was the kindest person you had ever met.

“I can’t really tell you, but yeah.” You said proudly while hanging over his desk like a little too excited kid.

“I’m really proud of you.”

“Thank you so much. How’s the book?” You asked him changing the subject.

“Boring.” Both of you laughed at his confession. Why were you even mad at him a couple of days ago? Your head really worked in strange ways sometimes. 

“If I don’t forget, I’ll bring you one of my favourites next week.” You happily told him, but he frowned.

“I appreciate the gesture as I know you’ll probably forget. I’m still waiting for your famous apple pie.” He joked with you, and you blushed. Why did you always forget everything? And why did you tell him you could bake? The last time you had baked something you’d almost set your apartment on fire. You really needed someone who could teach you basic household chores.

“If I don’t forget, I’ll also bring you some homemade apple pie.” You quickly lied to him. Supermarkets sold homemade apple pies too. 

“Y/N!” Chanyeol yelled before making his way over to you. “I hope you didn’t have to wait too long.”

“I almost wanted to leave, luckily for you, my favourite guy kept me company.” You teased Chanyeol, and he almost believed you wanted to leave. His eyes practically fell out of his head. Overacting was a good look on him. You started to think everything was a good look at him.

“Thank you so much for your sacrifice, sir.” Chanyeol joked while bowing.

“Nothing I can not handle. She can be sweet when she wants to be.”

“You never know how you’re going to find her.” Chanyeol agreed, and you rolled your eyes.

“Keeps the job exciting.” Both him and Chanyeol laughed loudly at the remark. Can people stop talking about you as if you weren’t there, that would be great? Thank you.

“Enough about me. Let’s go Chanyeol.” You waved at your friend and grabbed Chanyeol by the arm. 

“Where do you want to go?” He asked you while exiting the office building together. The sun was still shining, which made you really happy. 

“I always go to the same bar.” You explained to him. Baekhyun hadn’t really cared where you were going.

“Which is…?” Chanyeol tried again. 

“A secret.” You told him with your finger over your lips. 

“I don’t really like secrets,” Chanyeol stated, and you had to container your disappointment. Who didn’t like secrets? Everyone has secrets.

“You don’t have any secrets?” You asked him softly.

“No, I’m an open book. Do you have any?” It’s not like it is a bad thing to not have secrets, but you were a tiny little bit disappointed. Maybe he needed a sip of alcohol before he got honest with you.

“I collect secrets.” You joked with him, but it seemed to go right through him.

“How do you even collect secrets.” He asked you seriously, and you sighed. Maybe you could only converse with him about work-related stuff. 

“I scream them into a jar before sealing the lid.”

“Are you kidding?” He asked you uncertain. 

“Of course not.”

“Strange.” He ended the conversation. 

“A little bit, yeah.” You whispered under your breath before opening the door of your favourite bar. Maybe you should’ve gone to another as this place reminded you solely of Baekhyun. How conversation never went dull, and how his lips were a perfect fit on yours. You tried to shake the feeling. 

“What do you want to order?” Chanyeol asked after you were seated at the bar. You liked the spot better you had chosen when you’re with Baekhyun, but you couldn’t exactly tell Chanyeol that. 

“I only drink the signature cocktails. They’re the best.” You told him happily, never taking a look at the menu. You knew their cocktail list by heart.

“I don’t really like cocktails,” Chanyeol remarked while scanning the menu intently. 

“They have a lot of other options too.” You mumbled softly.

“Which one would you like? I’ll order us something.” Chanyeol asked you suddenly.

“I’d like this one.” You told him, showing him your favourite cocktail with your finger. You had to move a lot closer to him to do so, and it didn’t feel right. 

The conversation didn’t flow as you would have expected. And it’s not that Chanyeol wasn’t good company. He was a terrific company, but you just didn’t feel the part. You never really believed in that kind of stuff, but after your encounter with Baekhyun, you might be a believer now. 

“What are you thinking about?” Chanyeol asked you after a couple minutes of silence. 

“Nothing.” You told him off. 

“Is that nothing called Baekhyun?” He asked you waiting for your response. 

“Why would I be thinking about Baekhyun?” You scoffed, trying to hide your surprise. Could he read your thoughts? 

“He seems to be interested in you, and you seem to be annoyed by everything he says and does.” He explains to you, and you couldn’t look him in the eyes. Were you that obvious?

“If he annoys me, why would I be thinking about him outside of work?”

“Love and hate are practically the same things.” He reasoned with you. His face showed a beautiful smile, and you hated yourself for leading on such a wonderful man. 

“I only believe in hate at first sight. Love is something people made up because they weren’t satisfied with their lives.

“Wasn’t it hate at first sight between the two of you?” He asked you jokingly, but you couldn’t laugh. He was right, actually. And you really hated it when people understood something before you.

“Stop reasoning with me.” You told him.

“I really had high hopes for tonight.” He changed the subject again.

“Why’s that?” You asked him while playing with the straw in your drink. 

“Because I like you.” He confessed suddenly.

“Was it love at first sight for you?” You jokingly asked him, but he shook his head in disbelief at your words. 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He laughed softly. 

“I’m sorry.” You apologize.

“Don’t be. Don’t be sorry for being you. I like that about you. That you’re unapologetically you.”

“That’s so cliché of you to say.”

“I do watch romantic movies.” He proudly stated after taking a sip from his drink.

“And you let their stories guide your life.” You commented after also taking a sip from your fruity cocktail.

“I’ve known Baekhyun for a while now, but I’ve never seen him like he is now,” Chanyeol said seriously again. He could really switch from serious to jokingly in a second. It was confusing.

“And what is so different?” You asked him interested. You were tired. You didn’t really want to hate Baekhyun anymore. 

“He seems excited,” Chanyeol stated. 

“Excited?” You repeated him. Why would Baekhyun suddenly seem excited? What changed? 

“When I told him I was having dinner with you tonight, he came alive. He was asking where and when exactly, and not that Baekhyun is a bad friend, but he is never interested in my dating life. At least not like that.” Chanyeol began explaining his reasoning. He thought he had it all figured out. 

“…Also, your little exchange in the meeting room made me suspicious.” He continued his monologue, and you could only listen to his words. Baekhyun came alive when he discovered you went out to eat with Chanyeol. Baekhyun knew you were somewhere right now having fun with someone else. How did that even me you look?

“… It seems you do collect secrets.” He ended, and you half smiled at him. It was a lot to take in. 

“I told you.” You ended the conversation. Both of you said goodbye after the awkward confession/ analyzation of Chanyeol. You needed some time alone to figure things out.

The next couple of days went remotely smooth. You had gotten your hands onto Baekhyun’s schedule, so you knew when and where he was at all times. It was a life saviour. It was the only thing keeping you sane. You had finally taken his shirt back to the office. You didn’t want to keep it, as it held too many memories for you. But you also didn’t want to throw it away as it seemed to be a costly dress shirt. You and Jennie made a plan where you would just leave it in his office when you knew he would be out.

Today was going to be the day. It was finally Friday, and he had lunch plans with some big shot guy you didn’t remember the name of. But he seemed to be necessary , and Baekhyun would never skip that meeting. It was a solid plan because everyone would leave your office around lunchtime to get something to eat. You didn’t need to explain why you had a man’s shirt in your hands, and you didn’t need to tell why you were going to the top floor.

You quietly made your way up to Baekhyun’s office, working your hardest to not look suspicious. Once you closed his office door behind you, you could finally breath again. He wasn’t there, and somehow after all your hard work in avoiding him, you felt a little sad. You patted his shirt after you placed it on his desk. This was it. This is how it ends. 

“We had a good time.” You whispered to the lifeless shirt. 

“We did have a good time, didn’t we?” A voice behind you surprised you. You turned around and saw Baekhyun closing his office door. He wore a pastel coloured suit that complimented his natural skin colour, and you felt your cheeks redden. 

“I’m sorry mister Byun. I was just returning something that was yours.” You explained yourself softly. He didn’t say anything while walking over to his desk, standing right next to you.

“Thank you.” He finally said after looking at the shirt on his desk. It was freshly washed, and neatly folded. “Maybe you should keep it.” He shrugged while holding his shirt out for you to take.

“What?” You stuttered, not being able to control yourself around the handsome man. Why would he even give you his shirt? It didn’t even smell like him anymore, not that you checked.

“You did look good in my shirt. I still think about that moment when you entered the meeting room in my shirt with your cheeks flushed red.” A soft smile spread over his face, but his eyes darkened. If he continued this duality of his, you would get a headache. There was just no deciphering the man. 

“You did rip my shirt, and left me all alone in your room. What else was I supposed to do?” You asked him sarcastically, trying to keep your voice low.

“I really wanted to stay though.” He moved a little bit closer to you, but you backed up against his desk.

“Let’s not talk about it anymore.” You firmly stated while standing up. You didn’t look him in the eyes.

“You haven’t even given me a chance to talk about it.” His hand got hold of your wrist, but you quickly shrugged him off.

“What’s done is done, mister Byun. It is no good to dwell on the past.” You explained to him cooly.

“Is it this easy for you to let us go?” His voice grew angry, but you kept your cold facade. 

“Us? There is no us, mister Byun.” You corrected him.

“Please call me Baekhyun.” He pleaded.

“What do you want from me, Baekhyun?” You yelled at him, you couldn’t hide the frustration anymore. You couldn’t contain the anger you had for the man standing in front of you.

“I just want you.” He confessed quietly, and a part of you wanted his words to be true, but you couldn’t believe him.

“You made it perfectly clear that you can’t have me.” You took a step back, but he was quick to follow.

“I never made myself clear, you simply assumed.” He corrected you, and you glared at him. He couldn’t blame all of this on you.

“Seeing your wife acting all happy was enough proof.”

“Do you like me?” His voice could barely be heard, he was pleading you. His eyes were searching for yours, but you were trying to take a step back from Baekhyun. In a little over a week, he had made you obsessed with him. You wanted to know everything about him. You wanted to know his most deeply hidden secrets, but he just couldn’t give you what you wanted. He would always leave a part of himself invisible, that’s the kind of man Baekhyun was. You wanted a pure love without complications, but Baekhyun screamed troubles from miles away. Maybe it was best to end it before it could actually start becoming troublesome.

“That doesn’t matter.” You mumbled softly.

“It does! Do you like me Y/N?” He raised his voice while his hands landed on your shoulders. He was trying to make you look at him, but you refused.

“Why?” His hands found their way to your chin, and they demanded you to look up at him. You lost your internal battle the moment your eyes connected. His dark orbs, filled with passion, were enough to make you weak in the knees. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes were pleading you to stay.

“Because I have liked you ever since the first moment I laid my eyes on you. Ever since the moment you spilt your drunken secrets, you had me captivated. You’re like a drug, Y/N, and I can’t seem to get enough. I can’t stand seeing you flirt with Chanyeol when it should be me. I told you that I’m selfish, I want you all to myself. I want to spend the rest of my life with you even, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you!” Baekhyun started. There was no stopping him now. He looked determined to make you stay.

“I ache when I see you smile. I want it to be directed toward me. For me. Because of me. I want to bring you joy. I want to be the source of those lit-up eyes.” His voice grew softer when he ended his confession.

“That’s nice Baekhyun, but last time I checked you were still happily married." Tears started to form in your eyes, and you couldn’t act like you were fine anymore. Baekhyun saw your tears and tried to move them away with his fingers, but it only resulted in you crying more. The soft side he had shown you that was solely dedicated to you, was too much for you to handle.

“Make me choose.” He whispered with his hands still covering your cheeks.

“I want you to decide for yourself. I don't want to ruin your marriage.”

“The marriage was already ruined before you came along.”

“Exactly. Why would you leave her now? You could’ve left earlier. The option was always there. Why now?” You asked him desperately while the tears kept falling down.

“It's not as easy as it seems.” He silently confessed. He had already thrown this words into your direction.

“You keep saying that. I will make the decision for you. Let's stop this game that we’re playing. Let’s just end whatever this is.” You told him while fighting through your tears. He let go of your face, and you saw it as a sign to leave. You quickly turned around and marched out of his office.

That’s why you were avoiding him. That’s why you wanted to hate him in your head. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, and you don’t know how he has gotten so comfortable in your head. And you hate the fact that he can mess up your mind so easily. To be honest, you’re afraid of love. You’re scared of feeling that someone keeps sticking to your heart, making you wonder at night if he had feelings for you too. Baekhyun had feelings for you, but he still broke your heart. You know that pain, where you give your heart and someone decides he doesn’t need it. Baekhyun needed it, and he wanted it, but it was just not possible. And if it’s possible, that’s even worse.

And here you are alone, heartbroken, depressed as fuck, and no way out. How could you not remember his shiny smile and his flawless beauty? How could you ever forget his teary eyes when he confessed his love for you? His little grey's anatomy moment where he wanted you to make him choose.

“Y/N!” Baekhyun yelled after you, but you quickened your pace. “Please wait.” He finally caught up with you, and grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Don’t.” You told him while tears were falling from your eyes. You had no control over your body in this moment.

“Don’t leave me. Not before we try to turn this into something.” A single tear left his eye, and you softly brushed his tear away with your thumb.

“What if nothing is there?” Your hand rested on his cheek, and he leaned into your touch. Some people were entering the office again as lunch time was almost over, but you didn’t care. All you cared for was Baekhyun in this moment.

“I would risk it because if you’d let me, I could make you happy.” He kissed the inside of your hand while his eyes remained on yours. The act was so innocent yet the fire inside you started to burn. You wanted more. You needed more of Baekhyun.

“I don’t care about your money, Baekhyun.” Your voice barely a whisper. You wanted your words to be heard by Baekhyun only.

“Let me buy you a drink tonight? Let me buy you dinner? Give me one date?” He started pleading again, but this time you couldn’t say no to him. 

“Where’s your wife?” You asked him.

“She only shows up when she needs money. She already left.” The explanation made no sense, but you didn’t care. She was gone, and that was all you need to know now.

“Okay.” You stated confidently. If your heart was meant to be broken, it was best to have it broken by Baekhyun. The only one who made you feel things. The only man who could turn your insides into mush, and make your cheeks permanently flushed.

“Okay?” He asked your surprised. He couldn’t believe your words, and you couldn’t really believe to yourself.

“I’m just as surprised as you are. Let’s try this once, and only one time.” You told him firmly.

“You won’t regret it.” He told you enthusiastically. 

“You better sweep me off my feet.” You joked with half a smile covering your face, but Baekhyun’s smile reached his ears. He quickly enveloped you in a hug where he lifted you off your feet. “Please put me down, Baekhyun. I didn’t really mean it that literally.” You laughed when he returned you safely on the ground, but he didn’t let go of you yet. His arms stayed draped around you while his eyes were searching for yours. 

“I like this.” He mumbled softly before kissing your cheek. He wanted to kiss your lips, but you quickly maneuvered your way out of his grip.

“No kissing until you confess to me like mister Darcy would confess.” You told him while taking his hand into yours. You motioned for him to follow you to the elevator. Maybe you should find a more discreet spot to confess.

“I already confessed to you like mister Darcy would do. He would be very proud.” He joked with you while his fingers were drawing small circles onto your hand, making your body instantly relax. All you needed was Baekhyun to make the biggest thunders in your heart go away. He told you that you were like a drug to him, but he was really your drug.

“You didn’t tell me that I bewitched you body and soul.” You pouted slightly, making him chuckle lowly. That wonderful sound you could listen to for days and days.

“I said you were like a drug, isn’t that the same sentiment?” He tried to reason with you, but by now he should’ve known better than to reason with you.

“I’m sorry, I don’t make the rules, mister Byun.” You laughed at him, and you could see the love in his eyes. Maybe love was a bit too strong, but you could see the fondness he had for you in his eyes. That was enough for now.

“What have I gotten myself into?” He jokingly asked the ceiling, and you quickly stomped him in the ribs. You could get used to this. You could get used to this side of Baekhyun. You didn’t know what the future would hold, but as you said before; it’s enough for now. And who knows what kind of secrets you could make with Baekhyun. You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t a little bit excited. 

[lunadensmidnightprowl]

Let Trouble Lie - CH 2

𝕚 𝐃Ø𝔫'ⓣ   ςＡ𝐫€   𝐖𝕙αⓉ   ЎσǗ   Ŝᗩㄚ  ᗩภⓨ𝕄ｏ𝕣є   𝕋Ｈ𝐈s  𝒾Ｓ  爪Ў  𝐋ᶤ𝔽𝕖

✣●✣

My name is Mikaela, Mikaela Misjinx.  And yes, if you've figured it out by now, I am also Thinaire.  It sounds cool right?  Being able to turn invisible at the drop of a hat?  Well, it's not.  I'm cursed.

Maybe it would make more sense if I start from the beginning...

My family was small, just me, my mother, and my father, living on the outskirts of the city, doing anything we could to survive.  Sure, things were pretty bad now that I reflect on it, but it was happy.  I was 7 years old when the incident happened, a day were I was just grumpy and angry with everything, recently ticked off because it started to feel like my parents were smothering me.  Taking a walk by myself, I met a creepy old man coming out of woods, asking what I wanted the most, and what did I tell him?  I wished that I could become invisible.

That man was gone by the time I turned back and it seemed like the encounter never happened, so I went on back to where my family was camping for the night.  Only when I got there, calling out to my parents, they didn't respond.  Inside our little shelter lay their bodies, as if someone had just sucked their very souls from them.  "Maybe it's all a joke?" I had thought.  Begging and pleading for them to get up and talk to me, they never did because there was no pulse, they were dead.

At that moment I was so distraught that I hoped I would vanish right there, and I did.  I felt that something was different before I saw it.  Raising my hand to wave in front of my face, I saw nothing there but felt the air shift.  The rest of my body was the same, sightless but still retaining feeling.  I scuffled my feet, trying to raise dust and move the dirt, it worked, I was only invisible it seemed.

That was not what I meant!  I didn't actually want to be invisible!  Just for my parents to lay off the extra attention and let me live the most of my life.  At that moment, I wished hard to be seen again, that I wouldn't be invisible anymore.  That same weird feeling happened again, when I opened my eyes I was back to being visible.

"This is trippy," my mind said.  Once more I wished to be invisible, not even bothering to close my eyes this time as I watched myself fade away.  On and off I went, flipping like a lightswitch as I went between being seen and not.  It was all too weird, too specific, something like this didn't just happen, there was always a cause.

For awhile I thought, trying to figure out how I had gained such an ability not long after my parents had died.  What drew my attention was my encounter with that weird old man, he had asked what I wished for, then not much later it had happened.  But it wasn't really lucky that it did, there was a consequence, the death of two people had resulted from that wish.  It all clicked together.  When I had made it, my parents had become some sort of a sacrifice for the ability, it wasn't a free wish, it was more of a curse brought onto myself.

I had to live with the knowledge that I had killed my parents, though unintentionally so I wasn't all to blame, if anything it had been that man.  The curse hung over me, sobering me up so I could prepare to take care of myself.

For the next several years of my life after that one day when I was that 7 year old girl, I resulted to stealing just to stay alive.  Robbing places during akuma attacks when they started happening frequently brought in enough income to get me a more permanent shelter and food enough to live.  I never took more than what I needed and just a little extra to keep for longer stretches between attacks, trying to keep things as painless as possible for the store owners.

Lenny, or as I had called him when I was younger, Mr. Money Man was my pawn shop guy, never questioning how I acquired things and just handed over a reasonable amount of money for whatever I brought.  He knew I was Thinaire, but never sold me out, he knew what I was going through and decided to not give me anymore trouble.  Lenny was the closest thing to being my family.

Now having Ladybug and Chat Noir on my trail was not good, but I had to keep going.  If I didn't pilfer when I got the opportunity, things would go downhill fast for me.  I didn't bring in enough to buy a phone, or any other device, so I sometimes used the public computers in the library to check for news, especially when it came to me.

Apparently the hero duo had made an announcement over the website, the Ladyblog, that they were working on something else besides fighting the akumas.  They said that there was a thief, some kind of burglar, that went by the name of Thinaire and was seen only during akuma attacks.  If anyone knew anything about Thinaire, motive, location, anything at all, were advised to set up a meeting with the bug and cat through the Ladyblog.

There were many comments on that announcement, most of them were theories and rumors about Thinaire, some simply outlandish.  One said they was working for Hawk Moth based on their appearances, another said they were positive that Thinaire lived in the sewers.

I huffed at all of them, not one was remotely true in the slightest.

✣●✣

"Ya better be careful hun," Lenny murmured to me when it was just us left in the pawn shop, "If ya not, dem heroes are gonna catch ya."

"Believe me, I'm trying," I muttered back, heaving the rest of the load of stolen jewelry from the recent akuma onto the counter.

"Start trying harder, dat one little mistake gotcha name all over da net.  People are and will be scouting for ya all da time during attacks," Lenny held up one of the bracelets, eyeing it with his little magnifying glass.  "Well ain't this one just a beaut, surprised they made it so easy for ya to get it."

I rolled my eyes, "None of it's easy to get these days."

He shook his head, "Miky, ya just got to power through all dis media stuff, lay low and people'll forgetta boutchu.  Maybe lay off da next attack?"

Pressing my hands flat against the glass countertop I leaned forward, almost growling, "I can't damn well do that, now can I?  You of all people should know that."

"It was just a suggestion," Lenny said, inspecting the next piece, "Keep going out when people are hunting you is risky is what I'm saying.

Sighing, I leaned up against the countertop, occasionally looking at the items on display under the glass.  "I'll take my chances.  Pretty much the least I can do after that incident."

The man nodded in silent understanding, not wanting the emotional outlash if he mentioned anything specific about that incident.  He just went about his business in silence, moving quickly so I could go home.

"Here ya are," he slid the stack of bills across the counter to me, putting away the jewelry, "Take care of ya self Mikaela.  No doubt I'll be seeing ya soon."

"Thanks Lenny," I said, a small smile on my face, "You probably will."  With the money in the backpack hanging from my shoulders, I stepped out of the pawn shop into the cool night air, walking down the sidewalk back to my small place.

✣●✣

There's only so much I can afford with what I do, therefore my apartment was really small, on the edge of a somewhat good neighborhood and a somewhat dingy one.  You had to be careful in the area at night, always alert for someone intent on causing harm, but I didn't worry.  I knew I was light on my feet and evasive, able to escape almost anybody's clutches if it came to it.

I went up the steps at the front of the apartment building and down the hall to the left of the lobby.  Tarnished metal letters and numbers for apartment 2D were nailed to the door above the peephole, the plain white door hosting several scuff marks.  Putting my key in the lock, I opened the door and walked into the room with green threadbare carpet, being greeted by my cat.

The building had no rules against pets, the owners didn't seem to care as long as the rent was paid on time, so I had adopted the stray I found a year ago.  It was a ginger she cat with ice blue eyes, I had named her Clover, hoping she would some luck to my name.  Clover was always there for me when I needed her, it seemed like she had a sixth sense for it, becoming the fluffy purring machine that really helped.

Most of my days were just me and Clover, sometimes we went outside when the sun was shining, but most of the time we stayed inside, trying not to be bored to death.  That plethora of free time did give me time to train my cat, making sure she knew what she should do in certain situations.  If I told her to go home, she came back to wait in a hidden spot near the apartment until I came back.

Then there were times when Clover just stayed home and I went outside by myself, when attacks happened, the akumas could be dangerous and I didn't want to get her mixed up in that if I didn't have to.  Once the heroes started coming after me, the ginger cat stayed home at every attack, I just couldn't worry about her when I was trying to get away from them.  Now that citizens were looking out for me too, I couldn't have them connect Mikaela and Thinaire through Clover either.

But avoiding people for the most part was the most effective at keeping my identity secret, I wasn't interested in the public, and for the most part the public wasn't interested in me.  Like Lenny said, each passing day without an appearance of Thinaire lowered the interest in the character, people not being on as high of an alert.  Whether or not that was happening, an akuma attack in the future was inevitable.

[artificialqueens]

No Strings Attached, Part 2 (Willaska, Bitney) - Albatross, Veronica

AN: New life, new university, new friends…what more could Alaska ask for? Following the end of her relationship with Jinkx, Alaska has decided to pack up and move to a new college…on the other side of the country. Nothing like a bit of space to get over a break up, right? As she settles in for her new life, Alaska must navigate her new surroundings and of course, her new roommates with some very strong personalities of their own. A collab with the amazing @veronicasanders.

It was just before 9 when Alaska finally managed to roll herself out of bed and stumble towards the kitchen. She might’ve slept longer if it hadn’t been for the most annoying bird chirping outside her window and the tantalizing scent of coffee tempting her into leaving her nice, warm blankets. She didn’t even pause at the bathroom first, just made her way straight into the kitchen in search of something to help her feel a little more awake and friendly.

Courtney was the first to notice her, sending a bright, beaming smile her way as she buttered a small stack of toast. “Good morning!” she greeted, “Are you feeling any better?”

A nod was all Alaska could think to give right now. Her sleep-addled mind was still struggling to make proper words.

“Want some smoothie?” Courtney offered as Alaska pulled out a seat at the kitchen’s island.

Bianca was quick to spin away from her pan of sizzling eggs in order to cut in with, “No one wants your gross smoothie!” Then zeroing in on Alaska, she warned, “Beware, Alaska. I saw her put dates in that thing.”

“Shut up!” Courtney laughed, “Dates make it sweet.”

“You know what else would make it sweet? Sugar.”

“Yes, cupcake?” Courtney simpered, fluttering her lashes.

God, this is disgusting, Alaska thought, rubbing away the sleep from her eyes. I stumbled into a fucking Rom-com.

“Is there coffee?” she inquired tiredly, “I thought I smelled coffee.”

“Yeah, help yourself.” Bianca gestured to a French press, then asked, “Do you want some eggs?”

Shaking her head politely, she replied, “No thanks,” and reached over to help herself to the steamy coffee.

With a nod, Bianca scraped two healthy portions onto the awaiting plates and sat down at the island with the others. She pushed one of the servings in front of Courtney.

“Thank you,” she chirped, passing Bianca some toast and licking the butter knife clean in the process.

“That’s disgusting,” Bianca said with an amused chuckle. 

Courtney giggled along, offering her a little shrug and a flutter of lashes, “I like to lick things.”

“Where’s Willam? Still asleep?” Alaska had definitely pegged her as the type to stay in bed all day. But at the moment, she would have welcomed anyone else in the room to distract from the sickeningly obvious flirting going on.

“No, she’s at the gym. Gotta keep it tight for her clients,” Courtney said, then when both Bianca and Alaska’s heads snapped up, realized that she’d probably made a serious faux pas, eyes widening. Trailing off, she mumbled, “Uh…I mean…”

“…‘Clients?’” Bianca repeated. Even Alaska felt herself snapping into a hyper-aware state as soon as she heard the word.

“Well…” Courtney trailed off with an uneasy smile.

“Courtney. Are we sharing an apartment with a hooker?!” Bianca pointed a fork at her.

“No!” she reassured her roommates, “No, not a hooker. She’s like…”

“Yeah?” Alaska found herself deeply curious, in spite of her usual desire to stay away from gossip.

“I’m not sure I should say. I mean, it’s not like a secret, but I just don’t feel like it’s my place to-“

“Well too late, bitch,” Bianca argued, “You brought it up. Now you have to tell us.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Courtney asserted. “She just like…video chats with guys and they buy her stuff.”

“So she’s a cam girl?” Bianca clarified, her tone sounding far from excited now.

Scratching the back of her head, Courtney replied with an unsure, “Um. Yeah?”

“Oh.”

Bianca shrugged and nonchalantly went back to her breakfast, but Alaska found her stomach twisting a bit. She didn’t really understand the intricacies of what Courtney described, but part of her worried about whether Willam was careful enough, safe enough. She shook her head slightly, taking a long sip of her coffee. Why was she fretting so much? Who was she, Willam’s mother? And then another thought, immediately shoved down before it had a chance to take root: Does she have a website?

Nope. She was not going to think about that. It was none of her business, she told herself. Any curiosity was simply because she never met a cam girl before.

And she left it as that, tuning into whatever Courtney and Bianca decided to discuss now.

When Willam returned from the gym, Courtney ran to the door to confess her slip up. “I’m so sorry, Bill,” she pouted. “I didn’t mean to spill, but it just came out. Are you mad?”

“Nah. I don’t give a fuck.” Willam flopped down on the sofa, skimpy workout clothes sticking to her, hair piled atop her head in a messy bun.

Alaska’s lips curled slightly into a disgusted frown. Who doesn’t shower immediately after working out? And now she was sitting on the sofa, getting her sweat all over the shared furniture? Gross , Alaska thought, pulse quickening as a strange feeling crept into her chest.

Willam turned her head towards Alaska and gave her a sympathetic smile. “How you doin’, tiger? Feeling better today?”

“Mmhmm.” Alaska swallowed, feeling an uncomfortable heat creeping into her face.

“Awesome. Maybe you can come with us to the mall, then,” Willam added with a coy tilt of her head.

“Sure,” Alaska smiled at her, praying that the heat in her cheeks wasn’t visible to the others, hoping to deflect by adding drily, “Maybe you can shower first.”

“Ha! Well, look who’s out of her shell,” Willam laughed, standing up and whipping her top off, tossing Alaska a wink in the process. “I guess I’ll head to the shower, then.”

Alaska averted her eyes as Willam continued to shed her clothes, trying not to think about her perfectly toned body, how you could bounce a fucking quarter off her ass. Also how did she have no tan lines? Alaska cleared her throat and looked at the ceiling.

By the way Courtney didn’t even bat an eye, Alaska would be willing to guess that this was pretty normal behavior. Great. Just fucking great.

******

Willam was surprisingly happy with her roommate situation. Bianca was a bit of a bitch, but at least she was funny, and Alaska seemed pretty chill, a perfect counterbalance to Courtney’s boundless energy. They were both major improvements over last year’s wet blankets. Not to mention neither of them was particularly bad to look at. That was always a plus.

The mall closest to the campus was incredibly different than the ones Willam was used to on the East Coast. A big outdoor courtyard surrounded by flowers and cute, little shops, not to mention impressive department stores on either side. She breathed in, happy to be back in California, to feel the sunshine - warm without any oppressive humidity, imagining what her life might be someday. If she ever graduated from school. But that was a problem for another day, she decided.

It wasn’t long into her trip before Courtney spotted the See’s Candy and let out a giddy squeal, “Bill, come on, let’s get samples!”

Willam rolled her eyes as Courtney dragged towards the shop. She’d just spent 2 hours at the gym that morning! There was no way she was gonna blow that hard work on candy. Courtney, who had the metabolism of a hummingbird, never understood how disciplined she needed to be.

“My ex girlfriend was obsessed with that place. She never shut up about it,” Alaska sighed. Her heart had clenched the moment she recognized the sign and before she knew it, she was wistfully mentioning her ex. She’d been so open about it at her last school but now with all of her roommates’ eyes on her, she realized that perhaps this might not be such welcomed information.

Courtney had stopped dead in her tracks to round on Alaska with wide, curious eyes. Bianca had arched a brow at her, one of surprise, she hoped, and not judgement. But then there Willam. By the time Alaska’s gaze met hers, her cheeks were filling with a deep pink. Willam’s reaction was the most difficult to decipher. Her expression seemed blank at first but her eyes betrayed her. Willam’s focus was now solely zeroed in on Alaska, studying her, watching any reaction she might make. It left Alaska feeling anxious and uncertain.

But as she stood like a deer in headlights, Courtney broke out into a warm, toothy grin as she blurted out (quite loudly), “Don’t worry, Bianca’s gay too! And Willam’s bi!” before biting her lip self-consciously, realizing that everyone was now looking at her with varying levels of amusement and irritation.  

“Foot in Mouth Disease strikes again,” Willam sighed as she shook her head. “Anything else you want to share with the other mallgoers, Court? Maybe inform them of my ass waxing schedule?”

Hand on her hip, Bianca piled on with, “You wanna call my grandma, come out for me? I don’t think she knows yet.”

“I thought…” Courtney looked from Willam to Bianca, stammering out. “I mean, yesterday you said that you-I just thought it would be better if she knew…shit…”

Bianca broke first, taking pity on her with a cackling laugh and slipping an arm around Courtney’s shoulders. “She already knew, dollface,” she assured her, adding in a wink, “She’s seen us at the Gay Agenda meetings.”

“Ha ha,” Courtney retorted, rolling her eyes and folding her arms, but leaning against Bianca in the process.

“Well, I’d invite you, but I’m not sure you’re ready for the initiation ceremony…” Bianca teased. Alaska had just enough time to catch a hint of a smile curling at the edges of Courtney’s lips before she spun around and strolled off towards the candy shop with Bianca following close behind.

“And your grandma totally knows, by the way,” Willam called after her.

Bianca turned back with a smirk, flipping Willam off and holding the door. “You guys coming in?” she asked.

“Um…no thanks,” Alaska answered softly, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers. Any appetite she might have had suddenly left her and all she wanted was to sit down, if only for a moment.

Willam hesitated a moment, sparing a glance down to Alaska before replying, “You know, I’ll wait outside with Alaska. I shouldn’t eat sugar anyway.”

“Suit yourself,” Bianca muttered, letting the door swing shut behind her as a pleased grin settled on her lips.

Willam had to scoff. She recognized the signs already, even if Courtney was oblivious. “Poor Bianca. Really barking up the wrong tree there, eh?,” Willam said, turning to Alaska with a wicked grin. When the only reaction was a half-hearted chuckle, she asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just…” Alaska trailed off, sitting down quickly at one of the benches. She turned her face from the crowd up to the sky, expression blank and distant. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m still jet-lagged or something. It just feels weird.”

There was a burning at the corners of her eyes but a few blinks and it was gone. Her heart however felt heavy and dull.

Willam settled down next to her and watched her closely. She didn’t speak for a while, running things over in her mind and seemed to be considering her words carefully. Which, from what Alaska could tell, was slightly out of character.

“Weird how?” Willam finally asked, tilting her head to the side. Her voice was calm and inviting but not pressuring. It was nice actually.

Picking at her nails, Alaska shrugged before replying with an uncertain, “Um…I guess I just need a little time to adjust.” A sigh escaped her as she added in hopefully, “I’m sure it’ll be easier once classes start.”

“Well…” Willam searched for something comforting to say, coming up woefully short. “You know, uh…”

“It’s really fine,” Alaska cut in with an apologetic smile. “Sorry I’m being so pathetic, I didn’t mean to drag you down.”

“You’re not pathetic!” Willam exclaimed. “I mean…maybe a little.”

A surprised laugh escaped from Alaska’s chest, immediately making Willam feel pleased with herself.

“I can see your potential though,” she continued. “So…I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks.” Alaska leaned back, pulling off her sunglasses. “I guess it’s mostly because-” she suddenly stopped abruptly, sitting up straight, as Courtney and Bianca burst from the candy store.

“What do you guys wanna do for lunch?” Courtney chirped, skipping over. “There’s that awesome bakery over by the movie theatre. They have tons of specials.”

“You’re still hungry?” Bianca laughed in amazement, “You just ate 3 pounds of chocolate!”

Waving them aside, Willam said, “You go ahead, we’ll catch up.”

Courtney looked from Willam to Alaska, head tilting, asking in concern, “Are you okay? Are you sick? Do you want to go home?”

“She’s fine,” Willam cut in, feeling oddly protective. “She’s just telling me about a recurring fantasy she’s having…of strangling you in your sleep.”

Bianca barked out a laugh. “Who hasn’t had that one!”

“I know, very relatable,” Willam said, and Courtney blew a raspberry.

“Fuck you all, cunts!” She turned on her heel and began walking in the opposite direction, dragging Bianca behind her.

Once they were far enough out of range, Willam turned back to Alaska, who was shaking her head with a smirk.

“You’re a bully,” Alaska accused, no bite to her tone.

“Am not!”

Alaska raised an eyebrow.

“Courtney’s impossible to bully,” Willam reasoned, “She thinks everything is hilarious…And anyway, I was bullied enough growing up, so now it’s my turn.” Willam finished decisively, sitting back.

Alaska seemed shocked by this news. Incredulous, she asked, “You were bullied? For what? And who would dare?”

“Well…maybe I made jokes about myself before anyone else had the chance.” Willam stated, crossing her arms and legs tightly. She glanced at Alaska from the corner of her eye and admitted quietly, “I was really fat.”

“Is that all?” Alaska raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, being fat sucks. Fat and loud. I doubt you’d understand, Prom Queen.” She was starting to get agitated but something compelled her not to cut the conversation off just yet. And soon enough she was rewarded with a loud, obnoxious laugh from Alaska.

“That is…so very wrong.”

Willam shrugged her shoulders as best she could, muttering, “Come on, you’re sweet and…I mean look at you. You must have been popular.”

Alaska twisted a lock of hair in her fingers, a slight blush coloring her cheeks as she looked to the ground. “Actually, I was the gay weirdo in a class of 45 people.”  

“Yikes. Really?”

“Yeah. So…you know, when I first got to college, it was like, this giant relief. But then…” she trailed off. Willam understood where she was going.

“Listen,” she said abruptly,  “I’m not gonna go all Oprah on you and ask a million questions. That’s Courtney’s thing.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” A smile tugged at the corners of Alaska’s mouth.

“But if you do want to talk, I do have ears.”

“Thanks.” After a pause, Alaska looked up into Willam’s questioning face and asked, “…you mean now?”

Willam gave a casual wave of her hand, one Alaska assumed was giving her the approval to proceed with bitching about her ex. The trouble was, where to even begin?

“Well, I…” Alaska started, then trailed off to bite her lip as she thought things through.

“You don’t have to, bro. It’s okay.”

“No, I know,” Alaska said. “It’s just that it’s all…a little jumbled. I don’t know. Like, I met Jinkx at orientation. Literally the first day.”

“Jinkx? That’s a name?”

“Do you really think that the two of us should be judging someone’s name? Besides, for her it was just a nickname, unlike us.”

“Fair point. Go on…” Willam laughed.

“So we like…we hooked up that first day, and then just…did everything together. And for a while, it was perfect. We cared about each other so much, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I could just relax and be myself. It was this awesome little baby lesbian bubble. I forgot all about high school, the homophobic little shits I grew up with…”

“Sounds nice,” Willam chuckled, giving her a lopsided smile.

“Yeah, it was. At first. And then like, things got totally intense. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. It was just like, there were so many feelings, all the time , especially after we moved in together the second year. We were always fighting and crying and like…we just realized, there was just no recovering, as much as we loved each other. We weren’t coming back from it.” 

Alaska paused for a moment, picking at her nails again. Willam was tempted to reach over, if only to stop her from destroying her nail beds, but ultimately restrained herself. Instead, her own fingers tapped against her knee as she waited for Alaska to collect herself and continue.

The air between them was loaded but after a minute of searching for the right words, Alaska resumed her story, “And then after awhile, I realized that I didn’t even have my own life. My own anything. I didn’t have any friends except our friends. So I just…I guess, found it easier to cut my losses and never go back there then to deal with it.”

Willam gave her another half smile, then asked, “Do you regret it? Coming here, I mean.”

“Um…no. Maybe. I don’t know yet,” Alaska admitted. “Ask me in a few months.”

“Will do.”

“Anyway…” Alaska sighed. “Sorry about that. And thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“Careful, I might take you up on that,” Alaska warned.

“Good,” Willam said decisively.

Alaska looked down, a smile pressed between her lips. She felt better.

It still hurt but in a new way. It was still raw and emotional but it just didn’t seem as endless as it had before. She couldn’t really explain it, just knew that she liked this change.

“Wanna go find the other whores?” Willam asked softly.

“Sure…in a few minutes,” Alaska replied, staring back up at the sky.

Willam nodded, silently and awkwardly patting Alaska on the shoulder and then leaning her head back to stare up into the same cloudless space.

******

“Fucking Christ, where are they?” Willam wondered, looking around the cafe for what felt like the 18th time.

“I dunno…” Alaska drawled out. Anxiously drumming her fingers against her thigh, she asked “Are you sure this is the place Courtney meant?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She marched back outside, spotting Courtney and Bianca strolling at a leisurely pace through the courtyard. “Hey! What the fuck?”

Courtney waved happily, oblivious to Willam’s annoyance, still chatting away with Bianca, and Willam scoffed. She placed her hands on her hips, tapping her foot impatiently.

“Sorry about that, back there…” Alaska said as soon as Courtney was within earshot.

In response, Courtney just gave her a warm smile and replied sincerely, “It’s fine. I hope you’re okay.” She reached out and squeezed Alaska’s hand, and thankfully didn’t ask any more questions. A small pang of guilt made Alaska wish that she hadn’t spent so much energy judging her in the beginning…or any of her roommates for that matter.

“Did you at least have some fun?” Alaska questioned.

“Yeah,” Courtney’s smile brightened as she glanced over at Bianca. “B made an…interesting purchase.”

Bianca gave her a wicked smirk and held a finger to her lips. Although mildly curious, Alaska decided not to pry. After all, Courtney didn’t try to force any explanation out of Alaska, so it was only fair she returned the favor.

“I’m sure I don’t even want to know,” Willam said, shaking her head.

“Come on, let’s go get some food,” Alaska suggested in a joyful giggle.

******

Once they’d put in their orders, Alaska followed Willam outside to choose a table, mildly amused at how picky she actually was. It had to be in the sun, but not too sunny, with a view of the fountain but not the parking lot. Once she was finally satisfied, Willam plopped herself into one of the cushioned wicker chairs decisively.

“Are you sure this table meets all of your requirements, your highness?” Bianca asked, watching with an air of restlessness as Willam made herself comfortable.

“I know what I like,” Willam commented with a shrug, sipping her iced tea calmly.

“Don’t days like this just make you happy to be alive?” asked Courtney, settling down beside Willam with a contented sigh.

“Alright, Miss America,” Bianca said with an eye roll.

Courtney stuck out her tongue, then added, “I did actually win a pageant, once.”

“We know, we know, Miss Tater Tot-” Willam said, before Courtney interrupted her with a shrieking giggle.

“No, Miss Tiny Tot! I was 5. I won a car.”

“What the fuck is a 5 year old supposed to do with a car?” Bianca nearly yelled in disbelief.

“I would love to meet Miss Tater Tot,” Alaska mused. A lazy smile appeared on her lips as she added in, “She sounds delicious.”

“And crispy,” Bianca agreed.

“Eh, I’m off carbs,” said Willam.

Courtney rested her face in her hands, looking around at all of the girls with a hopeful, dreamy smile on her face. She took a deep breath, then before she could speak, Willam cut her off.

“Oh no,” she groaned, looking at Courtney with dread in her eyes.

“What?”

“I know that fucking look. You’re about to get all…Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants on us, aren’t you?” Willam accused.

“No! I was just gonna say-”

“Something lame and cheesy about best friends forever?” she mocked.

Courtney crossed her arms and countered, “-that I’m glad we’re all getting to know each other…and I have a really good feeling about this year.” She looked at Willam pointedly. “Was that acceptable, boss?”

“…barely. You’re on thin ice.” Willam teased, snatching Courtney’s lemonade to take a sip.

Courtney’s face scrunched up into a pout, and Alaska decided to come to her defense. After all, it was a beautiful day and these girls were going to be her roommates for the year, so she ought to at least make an effort. And as funny as the constant shade might be, she appreciated Courtney’s attempt at sincerity. Especially in this group, where she knew that she’d most likely get mocked for it.

“I think it was great, Courtney.” She raised her cup. “Here’s to the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.”

“More like the Golden Girls,” Bianca said drily, and Alaska squealed happily. She absolutely adored that comparison more than words could describe.

“Speak for yourself, you old cunt,” Willam laughed.

“Omigod, I love that show,” Alaska cut in, barely containing her glee.  

“What show?” asked Courtney, confused.

“Golden Girls!”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Courtney shook her head, still puzzled.

Alaska tried to keep her mouth from gaping open as she leaned back in her chair. An excuse to watch her favorite TV show, with someone who’s never witnessed the magic before? This had suddenly turned into the best day in a long time. Already thoughts of how to create the perfect viewing party were running wild through her head.

“Well, I know what we’re doing tonight,” she declared with a happy, decisive smile.

“Is it even streaming anywhere?” Bianca wondered.

“Doesn’t matter. I have all 7 seasons on DVD,” Alaska proclaimed, adding a tongue pop for emphasis.

“We don’t have a DVD player…” Willam pretended to look disappointed. Of all the things she wanted to do tonight, a Golden Girls marathon was certainly not one of them.

“We’re at a mall. It’s happening. Also we need to buy cheesecake.”

Courtney clasped her hands to her chest and asked, “Can we all get in our jammies and make popcorn and have a real slumber party?”

“Yes!” Alaska answered, pointing at her.

The pair shared an enthusiastic grin with one another, already feeling their excitement building up to the point of pure joy. “Dear god,” Bianca muttered, looking horrified as she glanced from one beaming girl to the other.

Willam leaned in towards Bianca and said in a loud stage whisper, “It’s not too late to kill them both, you know.”

Bianca laughed and toasted her, but Alaska merely leaned her head on Courtney’s shoulder and sighed happily. Maybe this would be a good year after all.

*******

The first two weeks of classes sped by without incident. It all felt like a blissful daze for Willam, aside from the unfortunate interruptions of homework, that is. But it was still early in the semester and the expectations weren’t too high yet. She could go out and have fun without worrying about some paper or assignment looming over her head…at least for now. So in the meantime, she was dividing her extra time between her roommates, her social life, and, of course her, her side job.

She had a good balance going, she thought.

Tonight however was reserved just for her roommates, complete with plans to veg out in front of the TV, eat takeout (using up one of the rare cheat meals she allowed herself), and watch some horrible B-list movies or maybe just start a new series on Netflix. Either way, it all sounded wonderfully relaxing. The perfect way to close out the week.

They were in the midst of chatting about classes and eating dinner when Alaska’s phone began to buzz. Her previously giddy expression quickly morphed into one of apprehension. Willam’s attention was immediately on her.

She had an idea, even without looking at the phone, as to who could possibly warrant such a change in Alaska’s mood. While Courtney and Bianca chatted away, oblivious to the world for the time being, Willam gave Alaska a small nudge and asked softly, “Jinkx?”

“Um, yeah,” came the quiet confirmation. Alaska was looking at the screen with an air of distrust, “No idea why she’s calling.”

“Pick it up,” Willam suggested with a shrug. “Find out.”

Alaska gave a murmur of discontent, clearly unsure of herself or what she ought to do.

In the end, she let the buzzing go on for another three rounds before snatching the phone up and answering it with a rushed, “Hey, sorry, was just eating. What’s up?”

Her voice was quiet and withdrawn from the start. As Jinkx spoke, Alaska began chewing the interior of her lip, listening intently to whatever was being said. Already Willam was having second thoughts about encouraging her to accept the call.

“Um, yeah, just…Hold on. I’m gonna go into another room,” Alaska replied into the phone, speeding off to her bedroom without even another glance at her roommates.

Yeah, Willam thought to herself, this was a bad idea.

But there was nothing to do now aside from waiting for Alaska to finish her call. All she hoped was that she wouldn’t be too upset when she came back out. But something about the twisting in the pit of Willam’s stomach told her that’d be a long shot. Just look at how dejected Alaska had been at the mall with just the thought of Jinkx. Never mind actually talking to her.

Willam was prepared to offer some consolation once Alaska reemerged and kept a cautious eye on her closed door. She expected Alaska to come out after a few minutes or for the low chattering to stop but every time there was a lull in the noise filtering from Alaska’s bedroom, within a minute it would just start back up again. It left Willam feeling curious and a bit anxious.

Even after 20 minutes and their dinners finished, Alaska still had not come back out. By now Bianca and Courtney had noticed her absence and asked Willam about it.

“Got a call from her ex. Went in there to talk to her.” Her voice sounded weird to her ears. There was some kind of tone to it that she didn’t recognize…bitterness? Not quite right but close.

Courtney stared at the closed door for a few moments, almost as if she too were trying to will Alaska into reappearing. But as Bianca cleaned up the dishes and set them in the sink, it became apparent that Alaska was not coming out anytime soon.

“Think she’s okay in there?” Courtney asked in concern.

“She’s a big girl, she can handle herself,” Bianca reminded her. A short burst of laughter echoed from the bedroom. Definitely not the sound of someone having a horrible conversation. “Seems like she’d doing just fine.”

With that, Bianca unanimously decided that they were going to continue on with their girls’ night. Alaska could join in whenever she was finished, she figured. Courtney was all too eager to help Bianca pick out what to watch, arguing passionately about the merits of whatever horribly depressing documentary she suggested. Bianca kept up the debate, ultimately winning as she had already claimed the remote, and settling down on the couch with a triumphant grin. Courtney pouted of course, but only 10 minutes in and she was lazily leaning against Bianca and watching whatever program with her in contented silence.

Both let their attention become consumed by the show but try as she might, Willam just couldn’t get into it like they were. She told herself it was just because of the consistent drone of Alaska’s muffled conversation and fits of laughter that kept distracting her. It was hard to pay attention when there was some kind of irritating background noise, right?

Hours went by with Willam feeling even more restless than she could remember. She made frequent trips to the kitchen, using any excuse she could think of to just get out of her seat and move. All this resulted in her drinking a massive amount of water and wine. Eventually, she found herself needing to use the bathroom but as she passed by a certain bedroom door, she discovered she was able to hear Alaska’s conversation almost perfectly.

“Yeah, it’s been…it was weird coming out here. I wanted a change, you know? Just to get away from everything.”

There was a pause as Jinkx replied with something.

“No, I like it out here, I really do…Yeah…It’s nice. You’d like it, too, I think.”

Alaska’s voice was contemplative and sentimental. She meant the words, Willam could tell, but there was more to it that she wasn’t saying. Willam wondered what until Alaska continued on with, “I miss you, too. All of you, but you…I miss being able to see you, you know?”

A long, muffled response from Jinkx. One Willam ached to hear.

“Right. No, I get that, really…Just-through a screen isn’t really the same, is it?”

What? Were they facetiming now?

Ugh, whatever, Willam decided, storming into the bathroom.

She was done eavesdropping. She was going to join Bianca and Courtney for Girls’ Night, even if some others weren’t, and she was going to have a good time…even if it killed her.

******

“Good talk?” Willam asked once Alaska finally re-emerged from the bedroom and settled in on the empty space on the couch.

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a pleased, blissful smile, “Really good.”

Willam nodded and left the conversation at that. To anyone else in the room it might have looked like she was intensely focused on the drama playing out on the screen but in truth her mind felt a million miles away. Countless thoughts and questions raced through her mind. Most of them centered around wondering just what the hell came out of Alaska and Jinkx’s conversation.

It sounded almost like Alaska was getting ready to invite her out here but she wouldn’t…right?

It was literally across the country and both of them have schoolwork to consider. There’s just no way Alaska would ask her to come all the way out to California. But…she wasn’t thinking of going back either, was she?

The thought of that had Willam feeling conflicted and peevish. She knew she was working herself into a bad mood over probably nothing but she just couldn’t stop herself from overthinking. She actually kind of liked having Alaska as a roommate- Bianca, too- and didn’t want that to change. It was already so comfortable and easy…why would she want to mess that up? She and Jinkx already broke up once, why go through it a second time?

As Willam’s thoughts began to run wild down that path, she had to remind herself that she hadn’t heard Alaska say that she is or even wants to get back together with Jinkx…so she shouldn’t worry about it, right? It wasn’t even any of her business.

But even that reminder couldn’t shake the burning questions she still had about the call. In the end, Willam spent most of the Girls’ Night in a mulish silence. Courtney and Alaska tried to pull her out of it but Willam was not so easily convinced, so they left her alone…for the most part.

As the quartet cleaned up for the night, Alaska pulled Willam aside to ask, “Hey, you alright? You haven’t really said much tonight.”

“Not that you were here to notice,” Willam muttered.

Alaska cocked her head to the side, as if confused, then suddenly it hit her. “Oh,” she murmured guilty, “Yeah, we were talking for a while, weren’t we?” Willam rolled her eyes. “Sorry, we just…had a lot to catch up on. I promise, next Girls Night, I’m all yours.”

Despite herself, Willam perked up at that thought. “‘Next’?” she repeated, a teasing smirk beginning to appear on her lips.

Nudging Willam’s side with her elbow, Alaska beamed back, “Yes, ‘next’. We are going to keep having these for the rest of the year, right?”

“Yeah,” Willam agreed. Suddenly she felt a good bit lighter. “Until I find some guy to fuck. Then you bitches are on your own.”

Alaska’s laugh was loud and braying, enough that Courtney and Bianca turned around to see what was so funny. Neither Willam or Alaska was willing to enlighten them, something about it made them feel disinclined to share. Though each knew it was a hollow threat, neither commented on the fact and let the conversation drop there. Going to bed that night, Willam had to admit, although there were some things she really needed to work out, and soon, she was still pretty grateful for the roommates she got this year. Her only hope was that things would stay this good, at least until the end of spring semester.

[fakeyellow]

I love angst. Based on an anon prompt, this is a story where MC gets ill. 

“I put my symptoms in WebMD and it says I have leukemia.”

Lily laughed, “Girl, you know WebMD always says you have cancer even if you only have a cold. You cough once and WebMD’s like you’re gonna die in ten seconds.”

“What’s WebMD?” Jax asked, a confused look on his face.

“It’s a website where you put in your symptoms and they tell you what’s probably wrong with you,” Celia replied, smiling at Lily’s words although there still remained a slight worry in her eyes.

“Hmm, you know, I have been feeling a bit tired lately, maybe I’ll try it out,” Jax mused, rubbing his stubble thoughtfully.

“Jax. You’re a vampire,” Lily reminded him, her face scrunched up in disbelief.

“Yeah, well, you never know,” Jax defended himself even as his neck flushed in embarrassment and Lily could only laugh at him.

“Perhaps you should go to the hospital if you’re worried. I’m sure it’ll be just a small cold like Lily said but it’s best to check,” Adrian smoothly interrupted.

“Will you come with me? I don’t like hospitals,” Celia turned to Kamilah with an earnest look reminiscent of a puppy’s.

“Of course,” Kamilah responded, and although she looked like her usual, unruffled self, there was just the slightest bit of concern in her eyes. After all, Kamilah had been there with her the entire week, had noticed how Celia was more tired than usual, had noticed how Celia had lost weight, her hip bones jutting out from her skin.

And strangely, it was that concern in an otherwise unmoveable woman that grounded Celia, rather than further worry her. No matter what, Kamilah lov- well, she had strong feelings for her and that was all she needed.

Besides, Lily was probably right. She probably just had a cold or infection or something.

—-

“I’m sorry but we found that you have acute myeloid leukemia...”

Celia walked about the dark streets of New York, moving as if in a daze.  

“But that’s what WebMD said,” Celia dumbly said, unable to comprehend what her doctor was telling her. 

“It’s not often accurate but I’m afraid it was in this case. Now, what this means is…”

The rest of the doctor’s words had blended into an unintelligible noise and now she was here, in the busy streets, not knowing what to do. Was she supposed to cry? Was she supposed to fall to the ground, wailing that she still had too much of her life yet to live? Was she supposed to lash out in anger at the world that had dropped this atomic bomb on her, at her body that had betrayed her? 

But Celia just felt… nothing. There was an empty numbness in her threatening to consume her, a hollow hole in place of where her heart was supposed to be.  

Without a real destination in mind, Celia just kept walking and walking until she found herself in Kamilah’s apartment, welcomed by that familiar scent of lilies and cinnamon. Her exhausted legs dropped her onto the side of Kamilah’s plush bed, and she just sat there, unable to do anything else.

There was no real sense of time passing in the heavily curtained room with its constant, warm temperature, but eventually, there was the sound of the front door opening. Kamilah briskly stepped into her room, her momentary pause the only sign of her surprise. 

“I went to your apartment but you weren’t there. What did the doctor say?” Kamilah asked casually as she took her blazer off and placed it in her closet.

When there was no response from the still woman, Kamilah went over and joined her on the bed.

“Celia?”

And it was this gentle call of her name, each syllable said with such tender affection, that finally caused her numb façade to shatter into pieces all around them.  

Great, heavy sobs ripped out of her chest and she turned blindly into Kamilah’s warm embrace, the woman’s arms immediately wrapping around her trembling shoulders.

When at last her tears stopped, Celia slowly lifted her head from Kamilah’s chest, looking embarrassed at the wet spot she left behind.

“Wow, that’s gross. I’m sorry I ruined your silk blouse.”

“Think nothing of it. Are you okay?” The Egyptian woman asked, concern written on her ageless face. 

“Yeah, the doctor said it was a virus. I think I was just really worried about it even though I tried to pretend I wasn’t,” Celia admitted, wiping the wet tears from her cheeks with a shaky smile.

The vampire’s eyes narrowed but she did not further press the matter.

“Well, shall we celebrate your clean bill of health?” Kamilah asked with a devious smirk, and when they fell back into the bed together, she noticed the uncharacteristically desperate, almost ferocious passion in Celia’s actions. 

Celia was hiding something from her.

—-

Celia collapsed onto her bed, too tired to be affected by the strong disinfectant smell pervading the apartment. 

The first week after her diagnosis, she’d visited the hospital more times than she’d ever been in her life, undergoing countless tests and even spending a few days in the ICU after she had caught a cold that had quickly gone downhill.

Although she had tried to maintain a double life, spending her days in the hospital and her nights in the world of vampires and corporate finance as Adrian’s chief assistant, it had quickly become too much for her. After falling asleep at her desk multiple times, Adrian had kindly told her to take a few days off to rest and she had all too eagerly accepted. 

But when her first chemotherapy appointment had been scheduled, Celia knew she’d need an excuse that would somehow give her several weeks away from everyone to recover. She had filed for a leave of absence, telling everyone that she needed to go take care of her grandmother who had suddenly fallen ill and praying that Lily would trust her enough to not mention that her grandmother had died two years ago 

Momentarily taken aback, Lily had quickly recovered and wished Grandma Lucia well, before texting Celia later that night that she would be waiting for an explanation. Everyone had accepted her lie without a hint of doubt but Kamilah. 

Celia had successfully avoided Kamilah until that moment, citing her work and her busy schedule as an excuse. For the first time, Celia had been grateful she’d never officially moved into Kamilah’s apartment because there would have been no hiding her secret in such close proximity. 

Her heart had ached at the sight of the beautiful woman she loved, but Celia had forced herself to keep a distance between them, hurriedly running to her car when it looked like Kamilah wanted her to stay back after the others left. 

Part of her had wanted Kamilah to run after her, stopping her, and forcing her to give up what she had been hiding so she could finally be with her again, and part of her continued to want that. But the larger part of her that loved her refused to break Kamilah’s heart, even as she felt unfairly hurt when Kamilah didn’t follow. 

That had been just yesterday, today filled with her first round of chemo. And while she had felt fine at the hospital and her anti-nausea meds seemed to be working, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion had crashed into her. 

It was only after she’d promised her doctor that she had someone to care for her and keep her apartment sterile that she’d been allowed to return to her home after the treatment. Because even though she was alone, Celia needed the comfort of her apartment. Thankfully, it was small enough that it hadn’t taken her much time in the morning to disinfect everything. 

And though her bed was not nearly as soft as Kamilah’s was, Celia found herself falling asleep with no troubles at all. 

—-

She didn’t know what time it was when she woke up, but all she knew was that her meds had failed and she needed to vomit. 

In the dark, she nearly tripped over herself in her frantic run to the bathroom, collapsing onto her knees when she finally reached the toilet. Without a second’s wait, Celia found herself heaving the measly contents of her stomach, hands tightly gripping the white porcelain. It was some time after her vomiting had been replaced by dry heaving that she finally noticed the cool hand on her neck, holding back her hair. 

She closed her eyes, feeling absolutely wretched, and rested her forehead onto the bowl of the toilet without care, when her eyes flew open. She jerked her head to the side only to gaze straight into bottomless, brown eyes, and she recoiled in horror at the implication.

“You can’t be touching me,” Celia gasped, her back pressed up against the bathtub after her attempt to get away. 

Kamilah stared back at her, a flicker of hurt appearing on her face before an unreadable look replaced it. 

Celia struggled to get up, placing a trembling hand on the bathtub for support, and in a flash, Kamilah was right in front of her, ready to support her. But Celia flinched from her touch and Kamilah finally let her arms fall limply to her side, forcing herself to only watch as Celia dragged herself out of the bathroom and into her bed.

Even as a storm of emotions raged in her chest, Celia’s fatigue proved to be the victor and she promptly fell asleep. 

—-

When Celia awoke, a sour taste was in her mouth but she felt infinitely better than she had the last night. The nausea had gone and-

The memories of the night before came back to her and she sat straight up, only to wince at the sudden rush of blood to her head. And Kamilah was right there, sitting at the edge of her bed, looking like she had been watching Celia the entire night even though the clock on the wall told Celia it was noon (a time Kamilah should have been sleeping). 

Her mouth was pressed together in a straight line as if to prevent the worry from escaping and without a word, she gestured to the glass of water on the bedside table. 

Celia hesitated for a second, and Kamilah said, “I didn’t touch it.”

Feeling guilty, Celia gave her a grateful nod and quickly drank the water down, relishing its refreshing taste. There was silence and a fraught tension in the room once the glass was empty, Celia’s eyes determinedly fixed on the glass and Kamilah’s eyes determinedly fixed on Celia. 

“You’ve been hiding something from me.”

Celia felt her throat dry and she wished that the empty glass in her hand was full again. She opened her mouth and closed it and opened it again before deciding she owed Kamilah the truth. She had already seen her last night; Kamilah would find out even without her telling the truth. And so, with a shaky exhale, Celia said,

“When I went to the doctor’s, they told me I have leukemia.”

The silence that followed was the worst Celia had ever experienced; she would have traded this silence for their previously tense silence over and over again.

Kamilah’s hand clenched into a tight fist, veins straining against her taut, tan skin and she suddenly looked every two thousand plus years of her age.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Kamilah said in a deceptively calm voice, “I’m hurt you decided to keep this from me, but that’s not important right now. Why didn’t you tell anyone? Lily, Adrian, and Jax, you should have told someone even if if you didn’t tell me! Why would you go through this alone?”

Celia ignored the second half of Kamilah’s questions, tearily responding, “I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

Tears spilled over at the vulnerability she could see in Kamilah’s eyes, the vulnerability she had caused.

“I thought I could just go through the treatments by myself and once I was okay again, I could tell you so you wouldn’t have to be worried. I-I didn’t want to burden you. And I didn’t want to get hurt either,” Celia admitted.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore, not now that I’m sick. Not when you have thousands of years in front of you to be with anyone you choose,” she desperately rambled, needing Kamilah to know why she had lied to her, needing Kamilah to stop looking so heartbroken. 

“I love you so much but I’m just so scared,” Celia finally whimpered.

For one terrible second, Celia was sure that Kamilah was going to walk away from her forever but then Kamilah fiercely embraced her, somehow causing all of her fears to disappear.

“I love you Celia. I’m sorry I haven’t said it before and made you doubt my feelings for you but I love you and you’re going to be okay. It’s all going to be okay.” 

“I promise.”

—-

A/N: I actually had a friend in high school who diagnosed herself with leukemia using WebMD before she went to the doctor’s and got an official diagnosis. 

When you get chemo, your immune system is basically gone/severely compromised so you have to be really careful about germs, which is why MC kept telling Kamilah that she can’t touch her. 

MC didn’t tell Kamiah because she didn’t want Kamilah to worry about her and also they were together but their relationship was never officially defined so MC was scared and also MC just got diagnosed with cancer, she’s scared out of her mind, she’s not thinking properly. 

I’m definitely going to have a second part to this although I’m not sure how long it’ll be. It’ll probably be on the shorter side. 

[buckybabybaby]

Mr Hollywood (Chapter 1)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it. But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

A/n: I started writing this in September 2017 so it's long over due being posted. I've only written one series so far, and that was nearly two years ago so I may be out of practice, but this is a story that’s been floating around in my head for years so... I really hope people like it! I think I'll aim to post every weekend, and by putting this out today I'm hoping I force myself to write more.

Proof read by way of a text-speech device.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 1959

Warnings: None for now!

Mr Hollywood Masterlist

Main Masterlist. 

*****

Mr Barnes, of Wild Fields Primary School, looks exactly like one of those teachers that pop up in viral tweets because they are just too attractive not to be shared with the world, but as a Year One teaching assistant, the children he helps are far too young to be affected by his appearance. But then there are their parents.

You have spent many a school play, summer fête, and open evening watching them watching him, and wondering how it is that he appears so calm in the face of such obvious flirting. The effort some of the single mums and dads, as well as a few of the very married ones, make with their appearances when they think he might be at an event is laughable.

Or at least it would be funny if it wasn't so embarrassing.

Bucky first arrived four years ago, and as an American in a sleepy English village, he had caused quite the stir. During the first few weeks his every move was watched by the residents like a new exhibit at the zoo, and that was partly how you had become friends, after feeling the need to defend him against one particularly rude busybody who made a comment about his suitability to teach at the school.

The grateful smile he sent your way melted your heart and the two of you have be inseparable ever since.

Now, with three weeks to go until the summer holidays there's a buzz around the school, but this Monday afternoon your class have been remarkably calm, flipping through their books during 'reading time' in near silence as you sit at your desk trying not to bite your nails. The second hand on the clock at the front of the schoolroom appears to be slowing down the longer you stare at it, but you can't concentrate on your lesson planning when you don't know what is wrong with Bucky.

He's been weird all day and you need to find out why. Playground duty at mid-morning break meant you hadn't had a chance to speak to him then, and he wasn't anywhere obvious at lunch, so you've had to just watch through the small window separating your classroom with the one he was working in today as he pulled at his hair harder than usual. Even without confronting him you can tell something is up, and you hope to catch him before he leaves at the end of the day.

The last bell finally rings, and you usher your pupils out as quick as you can without looking desperate, excusing them from putting their chairs tidy under their desks because you can see Bucky doing the same. You don't like the idea of him going home in the state he seems to be in without talking to someone.

When the last stragglers eventually wish you farewell you hurry out too and walk briskly along the corridor to the other Year One classroom, dimly aware there may be other children still inside who you don't want to break the 'no running' rule in front of. As the lights are switched off you assume the room is deserted, so you're about to rush off to the staff room in the hope of intercepting him when a shadow near the window catches your eye.

Opening the door, you slip in quietly. “Bucky?” He doesn't move, only making a noise in response, a low hum that does nothing to reassure you. “Are you okay?”

That question seems to shake him out of his haze. He tilts his head to look back at you, then nods towards the table he's sitting on, a silent invitation to join him. You do, searching his face for an answer when he turns towards you.

“I feel sick.”

Okay, so he's ill. That makes sense, as you know how hard it is to try and work when you're not feeling one hundred per cent, and he does look pale.

“Do you want me to take you home? I can make you some soup if-”

“Not that sort of sick,” He interrupts. “Nervous sick.”

“Oh.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“It's a secret.”

“Okay?”

“I, er,” He takes a deep breath. “You know that teaching, or assisting at teaching, wasn't ever something I really wanted to do. I just fell in to it, sort of. But it's not that I don't enjoy it! I love it, most days, and sometimes I think I could do this for the rest of my life and be okay with it. It's just that it is always going to feel like a substitute for what I really want to do, and... I'm not explaining my self very well am I?”

You shake your head with a small laugh. “You are rambling a bit, are you sure you're not ill?”

“Nah, I'm just a bit dazed. I got a call back. A big one.”

Your eyebrows raise as he says that. A call back? You were aware that with his degree in theatre he always wanted to pursue work in TV or film, but when his twin brother was transferred over to a specialist rehabilitation hospital in the UK, he had to abandon that dream and move here to care for him.

As soon as Dayton had recovered he encouraged him to get back to what he loved, and from going to open auditions Bucky had landed a few roles in adverts, mainly for the radio, but he's been very quiet on that front recently.

You haven't said anything, still trying to understand how he managed to keep this from you. “Here, this might help explain.” He hands you his phone, open on an email which you scan quickly. And again. Then once more, taking time to read every word carefully and process the potentially life changing information it contained.

You look back at him, mirroring his wide-eyed expression. “Stark? Stark Pictures?” He nods. “And they need to see you again? When did you go before, what is this?”

“Last weekend when I went to London.” He swallows. “It's not a commercial this time.”

“I can see that. Gosh Bucky, does this say what I think it does?” You don't give him a chance to reply before you bombard him with more questions, “What TV show is it? Who would you play? It says here it's a screen test for chemistry, so it's more than just a simple call back isn't it? Bucky, why didn't you tell me any of this?”

“I didn't think anything would come of it,” He says, staring out of the window and choosing not to answer your other queries. “And it doesn't matter anyway 'cos I'm not going.”

“What?” You whip around to face him, astonished. “What do you mean you're not going?”

“Look at where it is Y/N,” He whispers. “I can't afford flights back to America, especially at the moment.”

Silence follows as you think about the frankly pathetic wage an assistant teacher gets. With his rent, bills and the train fare to visit his brothers new home he was basically living pay check to pay check.

“Can't they pay for you?” You say eventually.

“I don't want to ask.”

You sigh, knowing how proud Bucky can be, how he'd rather struggle than ask for help. He's been like that his entire life, according to Dayton, and you can almost hear his exasperated voice scolding him. For Dayton's sanity, and for the sake of Bucky's future, you do the only thing you can.

Hopping off the table and pulling out your own phone you hold it up against his. “Okay, so you need to be there for the afternoon of the seventh. Which means,” You pause to scroll down the website, “With time differences...”

Bucky approaches you slowly, eyeing your phone. “Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Booking your flights. Hope you don't mind economy?” Ignoring his squeak of protest, you dodge out of his reach as you continue to type. “You won't need any hold luggage will you?”

“Y/N, please, stop,” He tries again, succeeding in grabbing your phone this time but you snatch it back just as quick, walking backwards away from him as he whines. “I can't ask you too do this.”

“You didn't ask, I'm offering. Now what's your passport number?”

“Y/N, I'm not going to let you do this.”

Stopping in front of him you meet his eye, silently daring him to refuse. “No best friend of mine is going to miss a screen test at Stark Pictures, when the role is yours in everything but name. Not over a few hundred measly pounds. Okay? Passport number.”

Realising you've adopted your 'teacher voice' to reason with him, you clear your throat, not wanting him to feel belittled. You know it must be hard for him to accept help. He's still standing there looking pained, so you try one last time. “Please Bucky, this is your dream, don't let your pride get in the way. Plus, you'll be able to pay me back ten times in a month.”

That last part seems to work. His frown disappears and he pulls you into his arms while you're still typing, crushed against his chest as he laughs through tears.

“Twenty times,” He promises into your hair, and you completely believe he would.

****

Bucky's flight home landed half an hour ago but there's still no sign of him. The couple of days before he left on Friday flew by, then the weekend seemed to drag as you awaited his return, and now you can't sit still as you stare down Heathrow's arrivals gate, wondering if you should have made him a 'welcome back!' sign like the family next to you.

He doesn't actually know you're here to meet him, and you're hoping he hasn't managed to slip past you in the crowds as the announcement warning against leaving baggage unattended plays for the umpteenth time.

A group of university students sporting Dodgers caps pass by and you stand in anticipation. On spotting Bucky walking through the doors you begin to move in his direction, shouting at him across the hall louder than you intended, but the attention of others doesn't bother you as his tired smile morphs in to a full grin in realisation. You speed up your pace to close the distance between the two of you until he's dropping his holdall, reaching out for you and lifting you off your feet to spin you around.

“You didn't say you were coming!” His excitement is for more than your surprise presence, you can tell, and that's almost enough evidence of how this trip went. Before he'd gone out, one of the producers had emailed him to say they were okay with him working his notice and staying until the summer holidays started, and from that you had interpreted that they were pretty certain he was going to be the one they cast, but you still need to hear him say it.

“Never mind that,” You pull away to watch his face. “Well? Did you get it?”

“No, sweetheart, I'm this happy because I didn't.”

You roll your eyes as he smirks at you, but you know what he is actually saying and he holds you tighter as you offer your congratulations, so pleased for him you could burst.

He sets you down and you smooth out his jumper, beaming up at him. “Come on then Mr Hollywood, two more weeks of term, better make them count.”

Bucky laughs at that and lets you lead him towards the train station to go home, or at least home for the next few weeks, until he starts his new life in Los Angeles and everything changes.

*****

Chapter 2

[slusheeduck]

Geeking IN: How Online Fans Are the Future of Media and Media Marketing

           Once dismissed as socially inept nerds, fans are taking the lead as this generation’s most successful creators. While there has always been the odd story of fans who end up taking the helm of favorite TV shows or adapting their favorite work into a movie, many new faces in the entertainment industry are using their knowledge from years of participating in online communities to market to the global internet audience, as well as keeping their own fandoms somewhat in line.

           Recent years have seen a boom in the acceptance of “fandom,” that is, a community of fans. Comic conventions have gone from a punchline to mega-events that require a lottery just to get in, there are countless articles on sites like Buzzfeed about “How wrecked were you during the Game of Thrones finale?” and “Seven ways to tell you’re a Cumberbitch.” Even something once as obscure as “fanfiction” has practically become a household term.

So how did we get to this point? Where in the scope of the past decade has it become acceptable to “geek out”? The main answer to this is, naturally, the internet. When the world wide web was still the great unknown to the general public, many fans saw it as a way to gather, creating their own websites or posting their fanwork on sites like Livejournal and DeviantArt. As the internet became more and more accessible, so too did joining in the fun of fandom. That leads us to today: now, many fans who have more or less grown up in these online spaces and seen the shifts in fan communities and interaction, are coming of age and producing their own content with a keen sense of how these communities work.

Perhaps the most public example of this comes in the form of best-seller book Fifty Shades of Grey. Regardless of what your opinion on the raunchy romance is, London-based author E.L. James has been completely upfront with the fact that it began as a Twilight fanfiction. While it is already rare for a fanfiction writer to “make it big,” much less into a novel that has sold over 100 million copies worldwide[1] and spawned a movie series and sex toy line, it’s even rarer for them to actually admit that it began as a fanfic. And yet James has no qualms mentioning it.

“Well, it all started way back in the day when I saw ‘Twilight,’ the film, and I loved those books — I could not put [them] down, absolutely avidly read the books,” E.L. James said in an interview on “Katie,” Katie Couric’s talk show. “This switch was flipped. I had to write — started writing, wrote a novel, then I discovered fan fiction…[I] wrote about Edward and Bella and then decided to write about Christian and Anastasia. I took the fan [fiction], and a friend of mine re-wrote it and I thought — if he could do it, so could I, and now I am here.”[2]

James even goes so far as to put this backstory up on her personal website. Regardless of individual opinions of the book, her success and openness about her past in writing has opened up a new wave of potential writers (and agents) who can see their fanfiction transforming into original works.

In addition to Fifty Shades and other books such as Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell, the once heavily maligned group of fanfiction writers are shaping up to be the popular, original novelists of the next ten years rather than merely running fan magazines or writing something for a company-approved spin-off novel.

However, while the internet is just beginning to be seen as a source for new talent, it’s more importantly become a place to take seriously when it comes to marketing. Many fans who grew up in the age of internet fandoms have a keen sense of the international aspect of the web; it’s now nothing special to discuss the latest Star Wars movie with someone in Bangladesh from your home in Seattle with a dissenter from Norway. As a result of this global recognition, they are able to market their work for the internet community at large rather than simply the demographic of a set area.

With entertainment and media becoming more and more global rather than regional, this is an invaluable skill to have. It’s not enough to appeal to a target audience, but to instead be ready to market it, however indirectly, to the world. One of the most notable, recent examples of this comes from the show “Gravity Falls,” created by Alex Hirsch. While intended for an American audience of 8-12 year olds, “Gravity Falls” has reached worldwide audiences—its series finale, aired earlier this month, clocked in 2.9 million views in the US alone, and the series as a whole has become number one in total views on record for a children’s show[3]. While the show itself was enjoyable to fans, what gave it the extra punch into worldwide success comes from its use of “easter eggs” (special nods to previous episodes as well as other shows) and secret codes hidden in the show.

“I’ve always been a fan of shows that gave little hints to regular watchers, and I wanted to do the same thing with Gravity Falls,” Hirsch said. “But I never expected [the fans] to go so far with it! So I made things harder, and within an hour, they would find the answers to what I’d hidden.”

This mutual understanding of the fans wanting to find things and the creator wanting fans to work hard made it possible for fans to connect even more with Gravity Falls, as well as helped to create a tighter community. With these interactive elements, online communities began to form around the show, and soon enough people from all over the world were discussing and, more importantly, watching the show.

As if this wasn’t enough, Hirsch took his involvement with fan communities a step farther. He has done two Ask Me Anything (AMA) sessions on the message board site, Reddit: one as himself and another surprise visit as the main antagonist of Gravity Falls, Bill Cipher. Both of these AMAs gave more dedicated viewers a deeper look into the world of Gravity Falls as well as behind the scenes information straight from the source. Additionally, Hirsh regularly held contests related to “Gravity Falls” on Twitter, offering prizes of personalized messages from the characters (of whom he voices four of the mains) and often displaying all entries on his page, ushering in a sense of community with the creator of the show himself.

As lines begin to blur between social media and entertainment media, online fans are becoming a more crucial demographic than ever to reach out to. And as their numbers increase, more and more communities can spot the difference between pandering and “hype”. As we can see, fame can pop up merely because of involvement with a fandom or because of deliberate marketing based on understanding the current “fandom” market. An example of this comes from game developing newcomer Toby Fox, whose game UNDERTALE became an overnight success. Before UNDERTALE, he was very active in a few different online fandoms. In an interview with The Existential Gamer, he discusses the importance of the Nintendo game Earthbound in his past, because he “was part of an Earthbound fan community and it was a cornerstone of my life.”[4]  In addition to being in the Earthbound community, Fox was well-known in the fandom for the webcomic “Homestuck,” going so far as to have his music included in the series. With the knowledge of fandom mentality and what people look for in independent media, he was able to successfully fund a Kickstarter and produce the game, which itself is full of online and fandom in-jokes, endearing it to those “in the know”. And, given the fact that it’s sold over 1.2 million copies[5] and won “Best PC game” from both IGN and Destructoid—two prominent gaming magazines/sites—as well as numerous other awards during the 2015 gaming award season, the amount of those “in the know” is much more than most would assume.

With the acceptance of fandoms and sheer amount of people participating in these types of fan communities, it’s more important than ever for businesses and entertainment networks to begin studying the trends of these demographics and seeing fans as potential employees as well. The latter particularly seems to be the direction entertainment-focused businesses should consider; not only are fans notoriously creative and attentive to detail, but they know precisely what online audiences will be looking for in way of content as well as advertising. And, as was shown by “Gravity Falls”, a show with a savvy team can create a feeling of community with the fans of their product, letting them know that yes, they’re also fans! They understand the frustration of waiting through hiatuses and know what kind of in-jokes to make for those who look for deeper meaning in their media.

I would say that now, we’re living in the time of the super-fan, and that should be something that is embraced in media circles, from a marketing and hiring standpoint. The more media legitimizes their super-fans, particularly the large number of those online, the more they can begin a symbiotic relationship to gain both views and profits.

 [1] http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/feb/27/fifty-shades-of-grey-book-100m-sales

[2] http://www.examiner.com/article/e-l-james-discusses-twilight-influence-fifty-shades-of-grey

[3] http://variety.com/2016/tv/news/gravity-falls-series-finale-disney-xd-ratings-records-1201711939/

[4] http://existentialgamer.com/interview-toby-fox-undertale

[5] http://steamspy.com/app/391540

[thegreatwhiteferret]

Pretty Baby

Summary: Bill really wants to see his boyfriend Stan bent over in lingerie and a skirt.

A/N: I don’t even know. Thot Stan is an amazing thing. They are college age, no relation to the actors, so bite me.

*NSFW under the cut*

Stanley Uris could not believe that he was fucking doing this right now. This couldn’t be his fucking life.

Two weeks ago on the brink of a mind shattering climax brought on by his boyfriend’s super skilled fingers, Bill had leaned in and huskily whispered in his ear that his dirty fantasy was seeing Stan bent over, ass up, wearing a pretty skirt, makeup, lingerie, and tights, just to get absolutely ruined when Bill’s own cum stripped them. The desperation dripping from Bill’s voice, coupled with the idea that Stan himself could inspire such passion in his boy, made him cum so hard on the spot that he nearly blacked out. He had passed it off at first, just something Bill had said in the spur of the moment, until he went to borrow his boyfriend’s laptop and opened it to find the browser full of tabs from some Trashy.com and Victoria’s Secret. Stan was taken aback, it stung, he looked at the pictures of models, perfectly molded breasts and curved hips. Stan thought about his own body; flat chested, straight boyish hips, pale, and scrawny. Hair still comprised of corkscrew curls. Of all of his friends, Stan had been the one whose body had decided not to develop. He was only an inch or two taller than Eddie for crying out loud. He was still frozen in contemplation in front of the computer screen when Bill opened the door to the dorm room. Bill went into full panic mode when he saw what Stan had open on his laptop, swearing up and down that he had cleared his browser history. He moved forward cautiously to the curly haired man. “B-ba-baby.” He uttered carefully reaching to place a hand on Stan’s shoulder. When he got no reaction, he moved to talk again, “S-Stan it’s n-n-not what it l-looks l-like.” He stuttered out, nerves high. “Is this what you want?” Stan snapped out of his frozen state, “Is this what you want now, Bill? You don’t want me anymore? You don’t find me attractive...I mean why would you when...I’m nothing compared to them...” Stan’s voice broke, tears were filling his vision, he’d loved Bill, only wanted Bill for as long as he could remember. No other human could ever compare for him, but obviously Bill didn’t feel the same way. “Stan.” Bill said, hints of pain and embarrassment in his voice, Stan took it as pity. Prepared himself for whatever blow was about to come next, Bill was going to leave him for sure. “I...I...I don’t want t-them. I w-was l-looking at w-what they w-were wearing f-for you.” He pushed out, stumbling over his words. He was waiting for Stan to strike out at him, to yell, this was a weird request in all honesty. Bill knew it wasn’t normal. “What are you talking about?” Stan asked confused. His boyfriend’s words making no sense at all. Why would Bill be looking at half naked pictures for him? “Uhm...w-well...I kind of like to picture you wearing pretty lingerie and stuff.” Bill rushed out quickly, before his stutter had a chance to interject. “What?” Stand blanched, “Does this have anything to do with what you mentioned in bed the other night?” Bill nodded, ducking his head in embarrassment. Stan tried to comprehend this and let out a bit of a sigh of relief, “That’s what this is, baby? Your kinky self wants me to dress up all pretty for you? Want to run your hands up my stocking thighs under my skirt?” The other boy choked on his breath and let out an involuntary groan. Hearing his love describe his fantasy was almost too much for him. Stan took his boyfriend’s moan as the response he needed. “Well hell, Bill. Then that’s all you had to say. I thought you were going to leave me for some bimbo with big tits.” “N-no. Of course n-not. I l-love you, Stanley. Only y-you.” Bill said sincerely leaning forward and pressing his lips to Stan’s in a reassuring kiss, hoping to convey all of his feelings. Stan pulled away before Bill could really have his way with him, and pulled a groan from him. “Well Billy, let’s take a look at what you like Baby and pick something for me to rock your world in.” Bill almost cried out at the words.

True to the shipping description on the website, “Guaranteed Delivery in 5-7 Business Days”, Stan found the box waiting for him in the dorm office when he came back from his Economics class. He thanked his lucky stars that his longtime friends and dorm mates Richie, Eddie, Mike, and Ben had decided to go to some crap music festival and blown off their Friday classes. Stan was all for making his boy happy, but he wasn’t sure that he would be able to mentally calm down enough and get in the mental space to do this if there was even a possibility of one of them walking in. He sat staring at the box that sat on the table in the common room of their dorm suite, somewhat afraid to open it. He knew that Bill would be back from class in two hours, and he needed to bite the bullet and get ready. He moved to the wall and picked up the phone, resting the receiver between his shoulder and ear, quickly dialing a number and praying that they would pick up. “Hello?” Came the response and Stan could have kissed her in his excitement. “Bev! Oh thank goodness!” He nearly screamed into the mouthpiece and he could imagine Bev wincing holding the phone away from her. “Hey Stan the Man,” she responded using his old nickname, she always was good for a dose of nostalgia, “what’s up? I thought all of you were going to that blazefest that Richie found out about.” “Eww no. Anything that Richie thinks is a good time, I’ll pass on.” Stan responded, before chiding himself to get back on track, “Bev, I called because I need your help...” “What could you possibly need my help with?” She replied surprised, it wasn’t everyday that Stanley Uris asked for helped, it would be more common to see a dog walking on its hind legs. “I...I...you have to promise not to tell the others. Bill would kill me...” this had piqued Bev’s interest, she and Bill had shared a few brief months of puppy love, most of which was what could be considered long distance when she moved to Portland with her aunt. They had wound up moving back the following summer, her aunt claiming that relocating would be easier than having to listen to Bev cry over missing her friends, her Losers. The Losers Club bond was tight as ever, but her feelings for Bill were strictly platonic, plus she was really waiting for his dumbass to realize that he had feelings for his best friend, none other than Stan Uris. That took until winter break of their sophomore year when Stan finally just grabbed the taller boy by his collar and pulled him down into a kiss, tired of waiting for him to get his head out of his ass and make a move. “I’ll be over in 15.” she said, no explanation needed. No one blindly supported the two of them more than Bev. Stan hung up the phone and tapped his fingers on the table, still looking at the offending box. Bev lived in the female dorm on the other side of campus, try as they did the campus housing department would not allow her to room with them. No co-ed rooming was allowed on campus. It was a small price to pay for being able to keep the club together in one place though.

“Fucking Hell, Marsh. Stop laughing.” Bev was rolling, literally rolling with laughter across the floor. Stan had only just finished his explanation of why he needed help when she collapsed. Stan tapped the toe of his sneaker against the floor a few times, arms crossed and cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Alright, I’m sorry,” Bev laughed, pulling herself together, “I’m so sorry, Stan. Let’s get you ready. You’re so sweet for taking your boyfriend’s desires into consideration and stepping outside of your comfort zone.” Her face was still red and slight tear streaks from her mascara were visible, but she was completely sincere as she moved to find scissors to open the box. Stan sat silently and waited for more snarky responses as she pulled items out of the box, but Beverly only gasped at how gorgeous the items in the box were. She pulled out a baby blue satin bra, the top of the cups trimmed with matching blue lace. Next out of the box came the matching panties, garter belt, and white thigh high stockings with pure white lace at the top.  Bev turned to look at Stan gawking. “This is all gorgeous. You are going to look amazing, Bill is going to lose his shit!” She exclaimed. Laying all of the items out on the table, tapping her cheek with her fingertips as thoughts began to swirl in her mind. “You really think that it will look nice? Even on me?” Stan wondered out loud. Bev gave him a look of disbelief, but kept the obligatory eye roll to herself. “Oh Stanny Boy, you don’t give yourself anywhere near enough credit. You need to be confident and own it. You hold all the power here.” Stan didn’t look convinced, but she moved on, “Soooo, do we have anything else to work with? Shoes? Make up? Hair accessories? What about the skirt?” Stan blushed, surprised that anything was still embarrassing him at this point, but disappeared into his room and returned with a bag from Target.

Stan had gasped as he took in his new appearance in the mirror. It hadn’t taken Bev very long to get him all together. He stood a bit wobbly on three inch silver satin Mary Jane pumps, the delicate ankle strap the only thing keeping him at all stable. His legs were sheathed in the white nylons, lace bands stretching around his thighs where they attached to his garter belt. He had added a simple yet flirty mini skirt, it was a pale mint. Bill had mentioned once that he liked the color, Stan just never thought that he would use that knowledge for this exact purpose. He had stolen one of Bill’s white button down shirts and left the buttons undone, Bev had carefully tied it so it would show off a bit of his waist and his pretty blue bra. She had worked wonders with the bit of makeup that he had bought as well. His skin looked flawless and seemed to glow, just the right amount of rosey accent on his cheeks. She had somehow made his eyes look way bigger and brighter with shimmery eyeshadow, mascara, and black eyeliner flicked out into a perfect cat eye. Stan’s lips were a glossy pale pink with a hint of shimmer. His hair was the finishing touch, Bev had twisted a few tendrils backs and away from his face using a touch of gel and secured them with sparkly barrettes, she fluffed the rest of his hair out to add a bit more volume. He couldn’t believe it. He looked...pretty. He looked stunning if he did say so himself, he wished he could look like this all the time. He finally understood the allure that Bill saw in Stan dressing like this, because he did too. He hugged Bev goodbye and thanked her a million times, promising to give her details the following day, and leaned against the armrest of the couch. Bill would be home any minute. Stanley Uris could not believe that he was fucking doing this right now. This couldn’t be his fucking life.

Bill was pissed. Like next level pissed. His stupid Medieval Lit professor didn’t do jack shit, and certainly didn’t actually read Bill’s carefully researched and well thought out paper before slapping an ugly ass “C” on it. Bill Denbrough didn’t get “C”s, hell he freaked out if he got too many “B”s. He worked hard because he loved the content and knew that he needed a high GPA if he had any hope of actually getting a job with a damn English degree.

He half considered heading over to the health center and taking his frustration out on a punching bag, but he would rather just have Stan wrap his arms around him and tell him that everything was going to be alright. With Stan his anger always managed to dissipate, no one could take care of him the way his boy did.

Bill took the stairs to the fifth floor to help rid himself of some frustration, he was of course one of those freaks who thoroughly enjoyed exercising and used it to relieve tension, Mike was the only other Loser who agreed that this was acceptable, everyone else thought they were both bat shit crazy. Bill reached the fifth floor and headed down the corridor to where their dorm suite was located. They were on the very end, Bill frequently wondered if they just knew that the boys were going to be loud when they submitted their application for housing, and stuck them in the last suite on the top floor, blocked off by cinder block to try to keep them from disturbing other residents.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his key, slotting it into the hole and gently pushing the door open when it unlocked. He closed the door and swung his backpack off his shoulders before he finally looked up.

Stan was sitting on the arm of the couch, legs spread slightly and chest pushed out, glossed lips pouting. Bill’s eyes shoot from the heels, to the baby blue bra, to the skirt, and holy shit Stan was wearing Bill’s shirt. Jesus, Bill had never seen anything so Goddamned beautiful and sexy in his whole life.

“Mmm baby, I thought you were never going to come home, I thought I was going to have to take care of myself and start on my own.” Stan moaned out with a smirk.

Bill nearly came in his pants right then and there.

Stan could feel his confidence blooming even further, his boyfriend looked like he was in pain from the amount of pleasure he was in, and Stan hadn’t even touched him yet. He strutted up to the other boy, smirk never leaving his mouth. Bill was shaking with anticipation, Stan reached up to whisper in Bill’s ear, thankful that the heels did some of the work for him because his boyfriend was well over six feet and Stan was lucky to be considered five foot seven most days.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, you want that right, Billy? Want me to make you lose your damn mind with pleasure?” Stan whispered seductively, he had no idea that this side of him existed, but he liked it. Bill whined out in response, unable to form words. Stan pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and stepped back, turning to head to their bedroom, making sure to sway his hips as he went. He mentally fist bumped when he heard Bill behind him racing to keep up.

Bill closed the door behind him, and then was immediately slammed back against it by Stan. He didn’t even have time to steel his nerves before Stan was sinking to his knees in front of him, he made quick work of unfastening Bill’s belt and jeans, pulling them down his legs so Bill could kick out of them and toe off his sneakers. His boyfriend played with the waistband of his boxers, but made no move to actually take them off, just ran his hand up Bill’s stomach over his subtly defined abs. Bill moved to strip off his shirt, tossing it onto the growing pile of his clothing. Stan bounced back up onto his feet and stepped back taking a look at his boy.

Bill stood absurdly wearing just his boxers and his striped tube socks, a blush spreading from his cheeks down his chest. He was so damn hot, but Stan wasn’t giving in that easily. He was going to make Bill work for it.

“Bed. Now.” Bill scrambled to comply, he sat on the end of the bed waiting for Stan’s next order.

“G-g-god St-stan, you l-look so f-fucking perfect, b-baby. So fuc-fucking pretty.” Bill stumbled out, he couldn’t take it anymore, his pretty baby was driving him nuts.

“Only for you, babe. Only for your eyes.” Stan said while moving to sit in Bill’s lap, he ground down lightly and felt that Bill was already rock hard and ready to go. Bill grabbed Stan’s hips to still him, he was going to come embarrassingly fast if the smaller boy kept it up. “Tell me what you want, you can have whatever you want, but you’re going to have to say it.” Stan teased.

“S-sh-shit. W-want you t-to suck m-me off.” Bill groaned, “W-want those p-pretty glossed lips around m-my c-cock.” Stan hummed, letting Bill know to continue, “T-then I want to r-rip those p-pretty panties off of y-you, and eat y-you out u-until you are c-crying with antici-pation, and then I’m g-going to p-p-pound that t-tight ass of y-y-ours until y-ou screm a-and c-cum and then I’m going t-to pull out and c-cum all over th-that pretty f-face.” Stan groaned, he wanted all of that so bad. So so bad.

He pushed Bill back so he was lying down, and nudged him to move further up the bed. Stan knelt between Bill’s legs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down. Bill hissed as his cock sprung free from its confines and the cool air hit it. He was painfully hard now, Stan could see that. He knelt forward and allowed his breath to ghost over the head, Bill’s dick twitched and pre cum leaked from his slit. Stan couldn’t stop himself from looking Bill dead in the eye and licking his lips.

He loved the teasing, but he leaned down and licked a stripe up the side of his cock, Bill’s moans becoming his soundtrack, cheering him on to continue. He slipped the head in his mouth and sucked, Bill cried out in pleasure, and Stan without skipping a beat began to take him all the way down. He swallowed around his dick, willing his gag reflex to stay away. When he needed to take a breath he began sliding his mouth up and down, alternating between nose resting in Bill’s well kept happy trail and tongue swirling around the tip.

Bill could feel his stomach tightening. He knew what would happen next, if Stan didn’t stop. He pushed on Stan’s shoulder, urging the boy to pull off, but Stand just looked him dead in the eye and kept up with his torturous suction. “B-baby p-please, I’m g-gonna cum.” He warned again, plea falling on deaf ears. Bill couldn’t hold on anymore he shouted out and he realeased his loud down his boyfriend’s throat. Stan kitten licked his head, making sure he got every single drop from Bill.

Bill sat up and pulled Stan into a filthy kiss, tasting himself on Stan’s tongue. They made out lazily for a few minutes, Bill softly palming Stan under his skirt through his silky panties. He could feel a wet spot forming on the fabric, Stan getting more and more desperate. He reached around, rubbing his hand over Stan’s plump ass and then lifting his hand to slap it. Stan let out a surprised squeak, but arched his back out more so Bill could do it again.

“H-hands and kn-knees now, L-little S-slut.” Bill said, taking control. Stan was running the show, but hot damn did he love it when Bill got impatient and took control, so he scrambled onto his hands and knees, presenting his ass to his boy for the taking. “G-good boy.” Bill praised, running his hands up and down his ass, he pulled down the blue satin, revealing Stan’s milky mounds. Bill could see a small reddening where his hand had made contact with with the smaller man’s ass. He couldn’t help himself, he rested his hand against the mark before lifting it and adding to the redness, he did this until he could see the definitive print of his hand mark his boy’s ass and Stan was writhing in pleasure underneath him. “Y-you like that, d-don’t you s-slut?”

“Y-y-es! Holy shit, yes!” Stan screamed, he wanted Bill in him, wanted Bill to get on with it now. “Fuck my ass with your tongue, baby. Open me up for that big cock of yours, I want you to pound be into the fucking mattress.” Bill smirked at his boyfriend’s desperation, enjoying the momentary role reversal.

Bill got to work, he pressed light kisses down Stan’s spine, watching as the other boy falls apart more. He spread his cheeks and looked at Stan’s perfect puckered pink hole. Watched it twitch as an invitation, just waiting for Bill to devour it. He licked a stripe over it, keeping his tongue flat as he repeated the motion. Stan was crying out, lost in pleasure. Bill took the opportunity and works the tip of his tongue into his hole, stretching the opening slightly until he could full on fuck into his boyfriend’s sweet asshole with his tongue. He did so with reckless abandon, jaw aching, and Stan falling to his elbows, unable to hold his own weight.

“T-ta-take off the shirt, i w-want to s-see t-that pretty b-bra.” Bill requested before reaching his hand around to Stan’s front, collecting some precum from the weeping head and using it to slowly jerk Stan off teasingly. Stan complied with Bill’s instruction but was clearly waiting for Bill to do even more, but that’s not how Bill plays. He wanted the other boy to beg.

“Please!” Stan cried out, he wanted to cum so bad, but also wanted to feel all of Bill inside of him even more. Wanted to be stretched open on his boyfriend's huge cock, wanted to feel the shocks of Bill pounding into his prostate over and over again like only he could.

“P-please, what?” Bill asked, playing coy, moving his mouth away from Stan’s hole, but keeping his hand working on his dick. He was already reaching for the bottle of lube, that Stan had left on the side table.

“Please...please...gah...please fuck me, want you inside of me Baby, need to feel you.” Stan babbled and Bill finally gives in to his requests. He removed his hand, and moved to coat his own cock with lube, he quickly coated three of his fingers as well. Stan was already loose from the assault of Bill’s tongue, so it took no time to scissor two fingers into his hot hole and then slip a third in. “I’m ready, Bill I’m fucking ready, get your fingers out of my ass and stick that big and thick penis of yours up my ass...” Stan whined, but was cut off when Bill pushed in to the hilt with no warning. He cried out at how full he felt.

Bill pounded into him, just like he asked for. He looked at his beautiful boyfriend, his blue satin bra contrasting against the pale skin of his back, skirt hiked up around his hips so that Bill could take his ass and use it, and those damn stockings on his legs, Bill was buying him so many more of those.

Stan’s ass was warm and tight, no matter how many times they have done this, Bill was always mesmerized by how his boyfriend feels. If he could only do one thing for the rest of his life, he could honestly say that it would be fucking, Stan. He could feel that Stan was getting close, sharp gasps and moans leaving him. He angled his hips and felt Stan seize as he hit his prostate, and smiled to himself before pounding harder into that spot with every thrust.

He pulled Stan up so he was on his knees, back leaning into Bill’s chest. His hand pulled down one of the cups of Stan’s bra, tweaking his nipple as he continuing his ruthless thrusting. Stan was crying, begging Bill to let him cum. Bill obliged, he wrapped his hand around Stan’s dick and in three strokes, Stan was screaming and Bill could feel Stan’s dick pulsing as warm cum flooded over his fingers. He held his hand out for Stan, and he licked his own cum up, swirling his tongue around Bill’s fingers to get it all. Bill thrusted lightly one more time, before motioning for Stan to turn around.

Stan did one better, he got off of the bed and sunk to his knees, tilting his head back slightly. Bill began jerking himself mercilessly, pulling himself closer and closer to the edge, aching to paint his boy with his cum. Show him just how much he was his.

“Come on, you can do it.” Stan urged him on, “Cum on my face, Daddy.” Bill fucking lost it when Stan called him that, he came harder than he could ever remember doing before, his huge load landed all over Stan’s face and chest. He sat heaving for a moment, coming back to himself when he heard Stan.

“Shit baby, that really got you, huh? You like being called Daddy, don’t you? That’s so hot.” Stan whispered in his ear, pulling him in for a soft and slow kiss. “But fuck, I don’t know how I’m going to get the stains out of my bra…” He pouted.

“I-i’ll buy you a-another one. A-an-anything you w-want, just s-say the w-word.” Bill stuttered, out of breath. He pulled a few tissues out of the dispenser and began wiping his cum off of Stan.

“Ooooooh, Sugar Daddy William Denbrough, I could definitely get used to that.” Stan giggled.

Bill pulled Stan up from the floor and towards their bathroom. This was not a clean up job that could be accomplished with just tissues. Bill started the shower, adjusting it to Stan’s preferred temperature, because he was amazing like that. Stan stripped himself out of all of his pretty clothes. Bill had him sit on the counter, carefully unbuckling his shoes and letting them drop to the floor, before rolling the stockings down Stan’s thighs. Stan reached up to remove his sparkly barrettes and leaves them on the counter. Bill helped him step in the shower, and began to lather shampoo into his curls, making sure to get all of the gel out.

Stan felt so loved and cared for. How could he have ever gotten so lucky to find someone like Bill? Someone who worshiped him and made him feel so pretty?

Stan couldn’t believe it. This couldn’t be his fucking life.

[kingfallshistoricallibrary-blog]

Episode Nine - Jack in the Box Jesus

Mayor: Ladies and gentlemen, I promise you that while it is a terrible inconvenience that our modern electronics are out, this is not the end of the world. It could be a refreshing change of pace! Instead of reading on your tablet go down to the King Falls library and check out the real thing! And instead of texting your BFF go enjoy some pancake puppies at Rose’s and have a face-to-face chat.This isn’t as bad as it seems and it could be a blessing in disguise. [intro] Sammy: Good morning guys and dolls, you’re listening to King Falls AM Ben: That’s 660 on the radio dial. Sammy: and this is day 13 of what has been dubbed the King Falls electrolocaust. Ben: This has easily been the hardest two weeks of my professional career. Sammy: It has been tough, but Ben and I want to thank you and everyone out there listening for the continuing support of the show. Ben: We got another doozy of a show for you tonight King Falls. During our two we’ll be interviewing Maria Chandler, manager of the King Falls Apple store, and speaking about the effects that shut down this (?) business. Sammy: MMYAs well as fielding your calls and talking about whatever’s clever this evening. Ben: I miss computers, Sammy. I miss the schedule, our automated systems, my alarm clock. I’ve went through three the legal pads in two weeks! Sammy: I know, buddy. Ben: I would literally watch channel 13 if given the chance. Sammy: Wow. That’s saying a lot. Ben: I need my life back. Sammy: King Falls, how are you taking the modern electronic shut down of 2015? Are you refreshed? Reliving the mid-90s? Or are you falling apart like our dear Ben Arnold? Ben: I’d listen to boy bands to have a working smartphone. I’d wear, puka shell necklaces and sell my pod collection if you give me five minutes with my email. Sammy: Look on the bright side, Ben. You’re spending all your free time down the library, and I haven’t called you out on it, Ben: That’s calling me out on it. Sammy: Well, and you know it’s nice hearing the birds tweeting instead of @ king falls a.m., I’m not saying I don’t miss it but I’m enjoying this a little bit. Ben: It’s tearing up my heart when I’m with you

Sammy: The references are not gonna bring back your goods. Ben: Dammit Sammy, let’s just take a call from our jury-rigged phone system. Sammy: You’re live with Sammy and Ben. Cynthia: Yeah, I wanna talk about the outages. Sammy: Cynthia Higgenbaum ladies and gents. How are you doing during this electronic crisis? Cynthia: I feel the warm embrace of the chastity belt that’s been placed on society. I’m relieved, de-stressed, marvelous. Ben: Whoa, that’s, that’s a heck of a change. Cynthia: What are you trying to say, Ben? Sammy: It’s just usually- you’ve been a little.. pessimistic in the past. Cynthia: Oh, I still have problems; I’m full up with issues. But right now, I don’t have to worry about what websites my husband is pursuing, what brain-dead TV my kids are watching, I’m at peace. It’s just me and my harlequin novels. Plus with Jesus back in all- Ben: 50 shades of Cynthia Cynthia: Don’t be filthy Ben Arnold! I know your mother! Sammy: I’m sorry Cynthia, did you just say that Jesus is back? Cynthia: Have you guys not heard the news? Ben Is she talking about Jesus Jesus? Cynthia: There’s only one. Sammy: Well, I think Mexico would disagree but please tell us why you think Jesus is- Cynthia: I don’t think Sammy I know! Earlier this evening, he was spotted glowing and speaking in tongues at Jack In The Box. Ben: The one off Main Street or Red Oak Avenue? Cynthia: Ew, nobody does to Red Oak. Sammy: Jack In The Box Jesus. Cynthia: Oh, hell no! I will not participate in that blasphemy. You’re gonna get smited- Sammy: Oh, I mean, I wasn’t- I’m sorry, I’m not meaning to- Cynthia: Tell it to Satan, In hell, Sammy! [hangs up] Ben: Woah, this is big. Sammy: If you or someone you know has had a sighting of Jack In The Box Jesus please give us a call. 424-279-3858 Ben: You’re on King Falls AM. Troy: Now I know what you’re thinking: how could the second coming of God’s only son happen and ol’ Troy here didn’t clue you in. Ben: Not what I was thinking. Sammy: What do you know Troy? Troy: Well I got a suspicious persons call out at ol’ Jack in the Box around 9, So I hit the lights and cruised over to see what the fuss was about. And lo and behold, back by the dumpster with a mess of people looking on, there he was. Sammy: Now are you really telling us that you saw, or, you believe you saw the son of God and the King of Kings banging outside the Jack In The Box? Troy: Well, he was a man, somebody’s son no doubt. Bearded, good looking, if you are into that sort of thing. He had a robe on- Ben: We can solve this right now. Was he white or was he black? Troy: He was more of a greenish color. Like a glow really. Sammy: The man had an aura around him. Troy: It was shinier than the damn Fukushima foxhound fellas. Like I felt a need to put on the old aviators, but I didn’t want to be cliché. Sammy: Alright, Troy. So, work with us here you’re in the back of the Jack In The Box, there’s a uh, Jesus type guy. Troy: Just-a-ramblin’ on. Ben: Speaking in tongues? Troy: Speaking in something. The last time I heard gibberish like that was comin’ from the back of my Chevy with Shell Snider’s daughter. Sammy: So what happened next? Troy: Well a group of lucky-loos had descended as I said and since it was only me, there was no perimeter set up yet. So I started ta approach this glowing Christ and somebody, Roy Higgens if you gotta know, hollered out ‘it’s Jesus!’ and the whole parking lot just went bonkers! Ben: Well, did you speak to the guy? Troy: Damn skippy. I told Roy that this was official police biz, And he shouldn’t be squawking around like a little baby. Ben: No, Jack in the box Jesus. Troy: Oh, well no. I turned around and he was gone. Split right off into the woods I suspect. Sammy: Did you follow him? Troy: Sammy, so you’re telling me that you’d follow a 6 foot tall and glowing perp into the woods? Sammy: Point taken. Ben: So any other sightings? Troy: Well, not as of yet. But there were so many people they could have had a revival in that parkin’ lot. So I’m guessin’ that’s how word spread so quickly. And without internet too? That’s pretty damn impressive. Sammy: Is there an APB out or anything? Troy: For what, dilly-dallying around with a jumbo jack? He wasn’t doin nothin bad, just acting a fool, Lord forgive me, where he shouldn’t have been. Ben: And glowing. Troy: That’s right. Sammy: Well, please let us know if get any more info on this Troy, we’d appreciate it. Troy: You bet, I’ll be sure to keep you boys in the listen and the public informed. But if you should happen to stumble upon Jesus, do not approach, bother or pester. Just call up ol’ deputy Troy. [hangs up] Ben: ..or your local church. Sammy: Deputy Troy ladies and gents. Now we’re just going to take a quick break and hear from one of our new sponsors: Carl’s Candy. Ben: Yeah I don- I don’t think we should play this Sammy: What? Ads pay the bills remember? Ben: Folks, as a work around with all the tech issues, I went out and recorded a few spots of some of our sponsors, new and old. Emphasis on old after this one. Sammy: Ok so the audio is bad. Ben: You could say that. Sammy: This company’s paid up, they’re scheduled in one of your many notebooks let’s do this. We’ll be right back folks. [ad] Carl: Do you know why they call it a blow pop? I sure do. And if you come on down to Creepy Carl’s Candy, I’ll fill ya up! I mean in, it’ll be our little secret. A sweet tooth is a terrible thing to waste, come find a new sugar daddy to butter your fingers at Creepy Carl’s! Come in and grab a sack of Carl’s Boston baked beans while you’re at it. Oops, one fell in my pocket. Free if you can find it. Every child’s welcome at Creepy Carl’s, big mouths, small mouths, white mouths and brown mouths. We’re equal opportunity! And just because they shut down the ol’ brick and mortar doesn’t mean you can’t buy it from my van. Be sure to ask your parent’s permission first, kids. Creepy Carl’s Candy, where the suckers don’t suck themselves. [Police sirens] Troy: Carl, turn off your ignition. You are too close to the school zone. Carl: I gotta go, catch ya later

??: The mic! [End] Sammy: Never again. Ben: I tried to tell you. Sammy: I know. Let’s never speak about this. Ben: I need a shower. Sammy: Moving forward, we were just talking about a sighting that happened a few hours ago around the 9 o’clock hour just off main street. It seems quite a few people believe that we may be experiencing a religious phenomenon. Perhaps the second coming of– Ben: Don’t call it a comeback, I’ve been here for years! Sammy: Right, let’s go to the phone lines. Ben: That was good though right? Sammy: It was good. Good evening, you are live on King Falls AM. Reverend: Ask and you shall receive. King Falls-uh. It is the good Reverend Xavier “Right with God-uh” Hawthorne. Ben: Reverend Hawthorne? Are you back in town? Reverend: The one and only, and we are turnin’ the wagons around as we speak. And we’re heading back to my flock. How’re y’all feelin’ tonight, King Falls? I said How are you, feelin’! Sammy: We’re feeling alright. REVEREND HAWTHORN   Praise God-uh! Hallelujah! Now a little birdie, just chirp’n on my shoulder, told me there was a sighting. A vision. Dare I say it, eyeballs were laid on our Lord and Saviour at a burger joint in our fair city. Sammy: Yeah, about 9 o’clock here. Reverend: Could it be-uh, that our 5 week revival worked. Could it be-uh that our prayers have been brought forth the lamb of God-uh. Can I get an amen! Ben: Reverend Hawthorne w- Reverend: Amen! This miracle-uh, this sight from our God-uh, perched on a mountain of sanctity, says that he is ready to lead-uh, his most highly favored congregation back to the promised land. Have me some organ Deacon Reggie [organ music begins playing in the background] Sammy: Do you think Reggie has to wheel that thing around just in case? Ben: This is getting good. Reverend: Play it dirty brother. We are going home-uh. Take us back to Calvary, take us BACK-uh! Samuel, Benjamin may I ask you gentlemen if you have a relationship-uh with the Author of the eternal salvation; are you saved? Sammy: I’m- Reverend: The let me tell y’all, because if you aren’t-uh, I’m coming back to town, one weekend only, the Xavier “Right with God-uh” Hawthorne Experience will be wheelin’ back into King Falls Fairgrounds this very night-uh. We are hoping to get one-on-one with the Risen Christ and start preparing for Kingdom Come. But just like old Xavier, you gotta come on down-uh so we can get you turnt up with God-uh. [hangs up] Sammy: Xavier? Hello? Ben: He’s, gone. Sammy. Sammy: Well, you heard it here first folks Xavier Hawthorn’s Travelling Roadshow is coming back to town. Will Jack In The Box Jesus make his stage debut? Ben: Jesus. Sammy: Literally. Ben: Do you think we can get an interview? Would it be Mr. Christ? Or- Sammy: Something tells me that there is something more to the story than what we’ve heard so far, Ben. Ben: I get that, but this is King Falls, Sammy. Sammy: What a perfect place to make a return, a rinky-dink town with no internet. Ben: Line -dammit, there’s only one line. Uh, you’re on with Sammy and Ben. Archie: Good evenin’ fellas! Sammy: Is thi- Archie: It’s Archie Simmons! Ben: Hey Archie, how’s Princess Von Barktooth? Archie: Well, I do have news concerning the princess, and I just want to possibly recant some info from our previous call a few weeks back. Sammy: About the werewolves? Archie: Correct. Sammy: Wow, I mean you sounded pretty convinced that you saw a werewolf. Archie: And now I’m saying that maybe I was misinformed. Sammy: I think you should probably tell Troy and the Sheriff’s Office, Archie. Archie: You silly sally, Troy’s already on his way over now Ben: Why the change of heart Archie? Archie: Well, new information has come to light boys, I mean with the Divine One making his triumphant, let’s be honest, dramatic return to King Falls.

Sammy: You’re talking about the glowing man at the Jack In The Box? Archie: Let’s be real here, it’s the J-Man, of course a heavenly carpenter would pick King Falls. So many projects to keep busy with. Sammy: Uh-huh. Archie: Plus with the princess and this new information, we have to believe this. Ben: You keep saying that, what’s going on with the princess Archie? Archie: She’s in a delicate condition. Sammy: Oh, well of course. I mean she’s been through a lot. Archie: No Sammy, I mean that she is with child. Children. Puppies? There’s a bun in the $2400 oven boys! Sammy: Wait, she’s pregnant? From the werewolf attack? Archie: Well, that’s the thing, while I believed in my heart of hearts that the hillbilly beast from the trailer park had gotten to the princess, I think.. Ben: What, what do you think Archie? Archie: I mean it was dark, I know it was a full moon but I was scared and recently awakened, sleep in my eyes etc. and so on. Sammy: You don’t think it was the werewolves. Archie: I’m thinking with this new evidence and the fact that I saw a long-haired bearded man in the biblical act, yeah I think there’s a chance it could have been [whispering] the man upstairs. Ben: Upstairs from whom? Archie: Mankind! Come on Ben get with the preacher. Sammy: He’s saying that because there’s been a holy sighting tonight, which we should all be a little bit doubtful of, then maybe it wasn’t the werewolves, but the Alpha and the Omega. Ben: No! NO WA- That’s too much, Archie. You saw the werewolf. He looked you in the eye and howled at the moon. Archie: I don’t know what kind of weird things Jesus is into. Ben: No way. This is ludicrous. Archie: You just wait and see Ben. Princess may have lost her Westminster dream, all part of God’s plan. Ben: We’ve got to go Archie [laughs] you’re crossing a line that we cannot cross at King Falls AM. Archie: Judge not, lest ye be judged boys. Kardashians 3:16 or a Psalm or something. I think Troy’s coming around the bend anyways boys, laters! [Hangs up] Sammy: You know when I walk in the door every night I say to myself, ‘Nothing’s going to surprise me tonight’ And more times than not, I am just dead wrong. Ben: Let’s give the phone a rest for a moment, Sammy the record player is just begging to be used.

Sammy: Not a bad idea Ben. [notification sound] Ben: What? Oh my phone! [many notifications] Oh it’s back baby! Sammy: Me too! What’s going on? Ben: What’s up! Oh my God, I could literally kiss the apparition of Steve Jobs. Sammy: Hey, I’ve got a text here, unknown number. Ben: Ok, what does it say? Sammy: I know why this happened, I know how to stop it, we need to talk Ben: What? Sammy: No, that’s what the text said. Ben: You don’t think this has anything to do with.. Thank you, Jesus. [credit music plays]

[tamboradventure]

The Life of a Travel Writer with David Farley

Updated: 8/24/20 | August 24th, 2020

When I started in the travel industry, one writer came up often in conversation: David Farley. He was a rock-star writer who taught at NYU and Columbia, wrote for AFAR, National Geographic, the New York Times, and many other publications. I always wondered who this guy was. He was almost mythical. He was never at any events.

But, one day, he turned up and, over the years, we became good friends. His writing tips and advice have helped me immensely, and his impressive résumé and keen sense of story are why I partnered with him on this website’s travel writing course.

Unlike me, David is a more traditional magazine/freelance/newspaper writer. He’s not a blogger. And. today I thought interview David about his life as a travel writer.

Nomadic Matt: Tell everyone about yourself! David Farley: A few interesting facts about me: My weight at birth was 8 lbs., 6 oz. I grew up in the Los Angeles suburbs. I was in a rock band in high school; we played late-night gigs at Hollywood clubs, and we weren’t very good. I travel a lot, but I have no interest in counting the number of countries I’ve been to.

I’ve lived in San Francisco, Paris, Prague, Berlin, and Rome, but I currently live in New York City.

How did you get into travel writing? The usual way: by accident. I was in graduate school and my girlfriend at the time, a writer, proofread one of my 40-page research papers — I think it was on the exciting topic of the House Un-American Activities Committee in the 1950s — and afterward she said, “You know, don’t take this the wrong way, but your writing was better than I expected.”

She encouraged me to write stuff other than boring history papers. I heeded her call.

One of the first stories that got published was about a pig killing I attended in a village on the Czech-Austrian border. After that, enough of the stories got published, mostly in travel publications, that by default I became a “travel writer.”

I ended up breaking into Condé Nast Traveler, working my way all the way up to the features section, as well as the New York Times. Eventually, I wrote a book that Penguin published. Then I expanded my field of interest to food and now I often combine food and travel.

Having done this for about two decades, one thing I’ve learned is that the “expectations of success” is really just a myth in our minds. I always thought, for example, that once I write for the New York Times I’ll have “made it.” Then it happened and didn’t really feel like I had done so.

Maybe when I write a feature for a big travel magazine? Nope.

Maybe a book published by one of the biggest publishing houses in the world? Not really.

The point is: just keep striving in the direction of success and forget about various plateaus you want to get to. I think it’s a much healthier way to go.

Do you have any favorite experiences/destinations that you’ve been able to write about? I’d long been wanting to go to Hanoi to investigate, report on, and write about the origins of pho. I finally convinced the New York Times to let me do it in February. It was amazing and delicious.

But then, as we all know, the pandemic decided to swirl its way around the world, and, as a result, most travel stories—including this one—are rotting away on editors’ hard drives for the time being.

I’ve been really lucky to convince editors to let me delve deep into some things that I’m fascinated with and/or love such as spending two weeks hanging out with the guys who cremate bodies on the banks of the Ganges River in Varanasi to see what I could learn about life and death.

I got to spend a month volunteering in a refugee camp in Greece and write a dispatch about it.

I went cycling across southern Bosnia with four great friends following a bike trail that was carved out of an erstwhile train track.

I got drunk on vodka with old Ukrainian ladies in their homes in the Exclusion Zone in Chernobyl.

And I hiked across a swath of Kenya with my uncle, sister, and brother and law for a good cause: we raised thousands of dollars for an AIDS orphanage there and also got to spend a few days with the children.

I could go on and on — which is precisely what makes this a rewarding profession.

What are some of the biggest illusions people have about travel writing? That you can peel off a feature story for a travel magazine just like that [snaps fingers]. It takes so much work for each story to get to the type of experiences we end up writing about — a lot of phone calls and emails to set up interviews and to get your foot in the door some places.

When a magazine is paying you to go to a place so you can come back with an interesting story, you have to do a lot of behind-the-scenes work to ensure that you’re going to have a good story. It rarely just happens on its own.

Travel stories are essentially a fake or altered reality, filtered through the writer and based on how much reporting she or he did on the spot, as well as her or his past experiences and knowledge about life and the world.

How has the industry changed in recent years? Is it still possible for new writers to break into the industry? Very much. In the last few years, we’ve seen an industry-wide push to be more inclusive of female and BIPOC writers, which is a great thing. The publishing industry – magazines, newspapers, books – is always ready to accept great, new writers.

The key is that you, as a writer, need to learn how the industry works first.

So, how do people even go about breaking into the industry? In the decade or so I taught travel writing at NYU and Columbia University, the students of mine that went on to write for the New York Times, National Geographic, and other publications were not necessarily the most talented in the class; they were the most driven. They really wanted it.

And that made all the difference.

What that means is they put enough energy into this endeavor to learn how the game is played: how to write a pitch, how to find an editor’s email address, how to improve your writing, learning the nuts and bolts of writing, and expertly knowing the market that’s out there for travel articles (i.e. learning the types of stories that various publications publish).

It seems there are fewer paying publications these days and it’s harder to find work. How does that affect new writers? What can new writers do to stand out? I realize this is a hard one, but living abroad is really helpful. You end up with so much material for personal essays and you gain a knowledge of the region that allows you to become something of an authority on the area. It gives you a leg up on other people who are pitching stories about that place.

That said, you don’t have to go far to write about travel. You can write about the place where you live.

After all, people travel there, right? You can write everything from magazine and newspaper travel section pieces to personal essays, all about where you’re currently residing.

How do you think COVID-19 will affect the industry? There’s no doubt that the pandemic has put a hold on travel writing a bit. People are still writing about travel but it’s mostly been pandemic-related stories. That said, no one knows what the future holds. Which in a perverse way–not just about the travel writing industry but in the bigger picture as well–makes life and reality kind of interesting too.

And while many people are losing their jobs and magazines are folding, I have a feeling the industry will bounce back. It just might not be over night. Which is why it’s a perfect time to build up those writing chops. You can also shift your focus for the time being to writing about local places and about other niches (food, tech, lifestyle) based on your expertise and interest.

What can new writers do now to improve their writing? Read. A lot. And don’t just read, but read like a writer.

Deconstruct the piece in your mind as you’re reading.

Pay attention to how the writer has structured her or his piece, how they opened it and concluded it and so on. Also, read books on good writing.

This really helped me a lot when I was first starting out.

For most of us, talking to strangers is not easy. Plus, our moms told us not to do so. But the best travel stories are those that are most reported. So the more we talk to people, the more likely other opportunities arise and the more material you have to work with. It makes the writing of the story so much easier.

Sometimes you’ll be right in the middle of a situation and think: this would make a great opening to my story. My good friend Spud Hilton, former travel editor at the San Francisco Chronicle, says that the dirty secret to good travel writing is that bad experiences make the best stories. This is true, but please don’t put yourself in a bad situation just for your writing. You can write a great piece without having to get your wallet stolen or losing your passport.

What books do you suggest new travel writers read? There are a few books out there on how to be a travel writer, but they’re all embarrassingly abysmal. For me, I write William Zinsser’s “On Writing Well” and James B. Stewart’s “Follow the Story” when I was first starting out and they were very helpful.

For a memoir or personal essay, Anne Lamott’s “Bird by Bird” is excellent.

For great travel books, it depends on what your interests are. For history-laden travel, anything by Tony Perrottet and David Grann are incredible; for humor, David Sedaris, A.A. Gill, Bill Bryson, and J. Maarten Troost; for just straight-up great writing, Joan Didion, Susan Orlean, and Jan Morris.

I highly recommend reading your way through the series of annual Best American Travel Writing anthologies.

Where do you find inspiration for your articles? What motivates you? I get my motivation and inspiration from unlikely sources. I think about the creative masters and wonder how I can tap into their genius.

What did Austrian painter Egon Schiele see when he looked at a subject and then the canvas?

How did Prince put out an album a year from 1981 to 1989, each one a masterpiece and each one cutting-edge and like nothing anyone else at the time was doing?

Is there a way to apply this creativity to travel writing?

I’m not saying I’m on par with these geniuses — far from it — but if I could somehow even slightly be inspired by their creativity, I’d be better off for it.

More specifically for the articles that I end up writing, a lot of it just falls into my lap. The key, though, is recognizing it’s a story. A friend will casually mention some weird facts about a place in the world and it’s our job to take that fact and ask yourself: is there a story there?

What’s the most difficult part about being a travel writer?  The rejection. You really have to get used to it and just accept that it’s part of your life. It’s really easy to take it seriously and let it get you down. I know — I have done this.

You just have to brush it off and move on, get back on that literary bike, and keep trying until someone finally says yes. Be tenacious.

Writing is a craft. You don’t have to be born with a natural talent for it. You just need a strong desire to become better at it. And, by taking writing classes, reading books about it, talking to people about it, etc. you will become a better writer.

If you could go back in time and tell young David one thing about writing, what would it be?  I would have taken more classes to both keep learning — one should never stop learning about writing — and to force myself to write when perhaps I didn’t want to.

I think we can all learn from each other, and so putting yourself in that kind of instructive environment is helpful. I took one writing class — a nonfiction writing course at UC Berkeley — and it was super helpful.

***

If you’re looking to improve your writing or just start as a travel writer, David and I teach a very detailed and robust travel writing course. Through video lectures, personalized feedback, and examples of edited and deconstructed stories, you’ll get the course David taught at NYU and Columbia – without the college price.

Additionally, David will be doing a FREE webinar this Thursday, August 27th on travel writing as part of our Nomadic Network series of free events.

For more from David, check out his book, An Irreverent Curiosity or visit his blog, Trip Out.

Book Your Trip: Logistical Tips and Tricks

Book Your Flight Find a cheap flight by using Skyscanner or Momondo. They are my two favorite search engines, because they search websites and airlines around the globe so you always know no stone is being left unturned.

Book Your Accommodation You can book your hostel with Hostelworld as they have the largest inventory. If you want to stay somewhere other than a hostel, use Booking.com, as they consistently return the cheapest rates for guesthouses and hotels.

Don’t Forget Travel Insurance Travel insurance will protect you against illness, injury, theft, and cancellations. It’s comprehensive protection in case anything goes wrong. I never go on a trip without it, as I’ve had to use it many times in the past. I’ve been using World Nomads for ten years. My favorite companies that offer the best service and value are:

World Nomads (for everyone below 70)

Insure My Trip (for those 70 and over)

Medjet (for additional repatriation coverage)

Looking for the best companies to save money with? Check out my resource page for the best companies to use when you travel! I list all those I use — and they’ll save you time and money too!

The post The Life of a Travel Writer with David Farley appeared first on Nomadic Matt's Travel Site.

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[lovelyirony]

Criminals AU

@tonystarktogo lmao hey sorry but I love this AU??? i won’t do it the justice it deserves, but here’s my interpretation of it: 

Tony’s only consolation in life was the fact that not one boy, but three boys wanted to date him. Otherwise, his life was shitty as ever. Stane Industries sucked. The only reason he was in it was because the technology was slightly better than the other competing brand, and Hammer outright refused to hire him. (Something about Starks and Hammers always being rivals. What a dick.) The pay was awful, and Obie pretended like Tony was still a little kid. He wasn’t, and he knew exactly what Obadiah was doing. The only problem was, no one believed Tony when he told them that Obadiah Stane was doing dirty deals. So he kept quiet about it, occasionally checking in with the FBI office about it. the stupid officers didn’t think that he was telling the truth. He didn’t have enough evidence. 

So crime was forgotten about for a while when he first met Steve. Steve was working as a barista at a coffee shop, and had yelled at a customer for trying to grab a lady’s ass. Steve didn’t look more than 105 pounds, but he packed a voice and speeches that seemed to be written on the spot. (His friend Sam said that his valedictorian speech was so beautiful that their hardass principal (who had an eyepatch how fucking cool is that) smiled. 

Steve, it turns out, had two other boyfriends: Bucky and T’Challa. At first, this caused a lot of Bad Complications that Generally Did Not Go Well for Everyone. But Tony doesn’t focus on that because eventually things worked out and now he’s with the whole crew now! He loves it (them). 

The thing that Tony does not know is the fact that Bucky, T’Challa, and Steve are really criminals. Yeah, Bucky has a lot of tattoos and chops onions better than anyone else Tony knows, but he’s also killed over a dozen men and women and also has no remorse for a Thing That Happened in Russia. (With love.) Steve is great at art and has a couple pieces that sold at the last art fair, and he also can talk for hours about how great Hedy Lamarr is, (without her we wouldn’t have Wi-Fi! Fun fact) but Steve forges everything for a living. He can forge the Queen of England’s signature. T’Challa, while baking the best damned chocolate cake Tony has ever had and always talks science with Tony when Bruce can’t hang, is a cat burglar. Fact of the matter is, he could and would steal the Statue of Liberty. But Tony doesn’t know all this. 

And honestly??? they would kind of like to keep it that way. Their beautiful boyfriend, who has the mind the likes that no one has seen since Obadiah locked it away, who makes fun of Rembrandt and Einstein and refers to Madame Curie as if he personally knows her, cannot know that his boyfriends are internationally wanted for crimes that aren’t really crimes so much as vigilante justice. 

What makes things worse is the fact that Tony has the most dangerous friends. He made friends with one of the top FBI agents, Pepper Potts. She’s had the best record for four years straight. Tony says that she likes tequila and knitting, adn that’s all he said. T’Challa nearly fainted when he saw the woman in the apartment, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, discussing the merits of wine from California versus wine from Italy. 

And then, they met Rhodey. Even if they didn’t know his history, the man would be terrifying. He already threatened each of them, and he doesn’t even know that they’re, you know, criminals. Steve ended up researching him, and he’s a man that has no existence. Absolutely none. Even Bucky has a little bit of a trail. Rhodey? Nope. There’s no proof he was ever alive. 

Of course, there’s also Bruce Banner. He’s a shy IT consultant, and they thought he would be the normal friend. He is not. Bruce has...anger issues. To get those out, he joined an underground fight club and is known as “Hulk.” He also has a thing for hacking secret government websites, not that Tony knows about that. But the others do. 

Finally, Natasha. She’s scary in the fact that she shows almost no emotion, she’s a PI with one of the best reputations, and she knows everything. Even the criminal thing. That’s mainly because a.) Steve sucks at hiding things and b.) Steve sucks at undercover. (Bucky and T’Challa are trying, goddammit.) 

It’s a lot to take in, a lot to hide. Tony cannot know that they’re trying to take down his boss, because Tony has this weird habit of going “I owe everyone everything because of some self-sacrificial reason.” He’s worse than Bucky in that regard. But they like him, and they’ll do anything to make sure that Stane is put down. 

This includes date night going nearly terribly because they catch sight of Obadiah Stane at their restaurant and are frantically trying to get him to not see them. In the end, T’Challa bumps into him, grabs his keycard for Stane Industries, and they pay the bill. 

After they wish Tony goodnight, they have a break-in. The security is honestly one of the worst in the world, and the only reason that they’re still standing is because Tony works until three in the morning sometimes to keep them out. It’s tiring, stressful, and he’s great at it. But he doesn’t get paid overtime. 

“Move over,” Steve hisses at Bucky. “I’m the one with the small fingers, let me type.” 

“You also have shit vision even with your glasses or contacts, so no,” Bucky says right back. 

“I love both of you, but neither of you know how to type using the homerow method,” T’Challa answers simply. “I’ll do it.” 

And then the light flicks on. 

“Hey boys,” Tony answers simply. Their mouths are open. “What, thought I wouldn’t catch on that you’re trying to hack into Stane Industries and ruin his reputation?” 

“Let us?” Steve asks. “I could write about thirty-six pages on why your boss sucks, sorry babe, but--” 

“I know that,” Tony says with an eyeroll. “But I have something planned. Tomorrow is the party he throws every year with his executives. It’s kind of one of those things where people at home can see how weirdly expensive things are and how much money rich people waste. I’m planning on the presentation being every single crime he’s committed in a four-year window. You in?” 

“From when you said ‘I know that,’ I was already in. How did you figure us out?” T’Challa asks. 

“No offense, but you guys suck at hiding it. Even you, Bucky.” The man with the tattoos pouts. “I have a friend who works for the FBI and has some of her best friends in the CIA. Rhodey shouldn’t even exist, Natasha has ties to the Russian mob and knows everything about everyone, and Bruce...he can break bones and security networks. Safe to assume you guys are a piece of cake.” They smile. 

“You’ll be a great addition,” Bucky adds. 

“We’ve never had a computer genius before,” T’Challa prompts. 

“We’ll see,” Tony says. “For now, I need to get a suit. I want to look great while Obadiah Stane is dying on the podium from horror.” 

[junker-town]

Super Bowl commercials, ranked

Screenshot: Cheetos

You’ll cry, you’ll laugh, you’ll yawn.

The Super Bowl is here, which means we have the most-watched TV program of the year. With all those viewers comes an exorbitant advertising cost, up to a record $5.6 million for a 30-second ad.

Spending all that money brings with it a ton of eyeballs, and brands try to make it worth it with their most ambitious spots. This year’s Super Bowl commercials run the gamut, from tear-jerkingly sweet to face-punchingly infuriating. Here’s a look at the most memorable — good, bad, and in between.

The home runs, best of the best

Loretta (Google)

Several of the commercials on Super Bowl Sunday have an A-list cast, with our most recognized stars trying to get us to buy something. But sometimes, the most simple approach can be beautiful.

I first saw this commercial as a pre-roll ad before a different YouTube video. It was so beautifully haunting that I couldn’t bring myself to click “skip ad” once the obligatory five seconds lapsed. Each piano key strike was foreboding, but I couldn’t click away from this poor old man, simultaneously attempting to fend off memory loss and trying to remember his dead wife. A valiant fight against the ravages of time but one we are all destined to lose.

Because I use humor — or “humor” if you prefer — to cope while processing actual human emotion, the main thing going through my mind as tears streamed down my face was that Google should have titled this commercial “Get Back Loretta,” but probably didn’t want to pay exorbitant license fees for Beatles music.

The very Good Dog (WeatherTech)

This ad is tearjerking in a different, more uplifting way. This is a commercial for WeatherTech, but not really about their company at all. WeatherTech CEO David MacNeil used his 30-second spot to thank the University of Wisconsin School of Veterinary Medicine for saving his dog Scout, who suffered from cancer of the blood cell walls. The commercial promotes a WeatherTech website for donations to help the school, and if that isn’t uplifting enough just look at this sweet, beautiful dog:

Photo: WeatherTech on YouTube

Groundhog Day (Jeep)

It just feels good to see Phil Connors and Ned Ryerson again, and both look 27 years older. There was no The Irishman-style CGI de-aging here. The added weight of all those years make the dread on Connors’ (Bill Murray’s) face that much more real, when he wakes up at the beginning of the commercial. But his day becomes less hellish once he spots a new Jeep, then proceeds to steal along with Punxsutawney Phil for a joy ride.

This is only the second Super Bowl to fall on February 2, so perfect timing to resurrect the classic film. The other Groundhog Day Super Bowl was in 2014, when a defense with Richard Sherman obliterated one of the most dynamic offenses the NFL has ever seen. Hmmm.

Getting the message across

Katie Sowers (Microsoft)

This is a longer version of an ad that has been running throughout the NFL playoffs, expanded for the Super Bowl — a national introduction to Katie Sowers, the offensive assistant coach for the 49ers, and her road to coaching. Sowers is the first female coach and the first openly gay coach in Super Bowl history.

“People tell me that people aren’t ready to have a woman lead, but these guys have been learning from women their whole lives. Moms, grandmas, teachers. We have all these assumptions about what women do, and what men do,” Sowers says. “I’m not trying to be the best female coach. I’m trying to be the best coach.”

The message is as clear as it is inspirational. Solid work all around.

The Secret Kicker

This features an anonymous placekicker nailing a field goal, but once the helmet comes off to reveal it was Carli Lloyd (joined in the commercial by her USWNT teammate Crystal Dunn), the crowd is at first shocked, then applauds her successful kick. The slogan “Let’s kick inequality” is strong, and it dawned on me — of all the commercials, this has maybe the best chance of coming true. Lloyd clearly has the leg, nailing a 55-yarder during an Eagles' practice in the 2019 preseason. It’s not that farfetched that a soccer star could eventually make it in the NFL. Or maybe once Lloyd is done with soccer she can shift to basketball instead.

Make Space for Women (Olay)

This has the best tagline from any of these commercials — “When we make space for women, we make space for everyone” — and the ad features a real astronaut (Nicole Stott) among the all-female cast. The empowering commercial also touts a #MakeSpaceForWomen hashtag, with Olay donating up to $500,000 to Girls Who Code.

Bizarre, but good

Rick & Morty (Pringles)

I love the manic energy here. Though this is an ad for Pringles, it might as well be a commercial for "Rick & Morty." If the show is anything close to this chaotic, I’m in.

An SNL skit, but funnier

Sam Elliott reciting "Old Town Road" (Doritos)

The regular commercial was fine, featuring a dance-off between Lil Nas X and Sam Elliott, plus haunting mustache CGI work. But for me, the better ad is the one above.

Hearing Sam Elliott read the phone book would be a treat, but hearing him act out lyrics to Old Town Road by Lil Nas X is a delight. The way the others in the bar react to Elliott’s character makes it clear he’s a man to be respected. I can’t help but wonder if this is simply world building, creating a backstory to the character of Wade Garrett so we can finally get that Road House prequel we’ve been clamoring for for decades.

Smaht Pahk (Hyundai)

In theory, this ad should not work as well as it does. The three lead actors — Chris Evans, Rachel Dratch, and John Krasinski — are all from the area, so it adds some authenticity to their exaggerated Boston accents. The commitment to the bit is very strong (I counted 15 times the word park — or rather “pahk” — was used), and that’s what sells it for me. The only better use for a Boston accent in a commercial would have been if Chipotle bought time to apologize for child labah violations.

Plus, this kind of car commercial is a welcome reprieve from the usual type we get during football season, with folks buying giant-bow-adorned cars for their spouse.

Can’t Touch This (Cheetos popcorn)

You had me at M.C. Hammer. That could have been the entire commercial — it basically was, with the main character getting out of various tasks because of the orange Cheetos dust on his fingers — and I would have been fine. But what sold it for me was after the trust fall, the poor guy who fell to the ground, not caught by the orange-fingered culprit, expertly delivers, “Why?” I don’t know why it made me laugh, but it did.

I can’t unsee this

The Shining remake (Mountain Dew Zero Sugar)

Had Bryan Cranston retired after Malcom in the Middle he still would have been revered for playing one of the most memorable and hilarious television dads in history. But Breaking Bad will lead his obituary, and for good reason. Cranston is a wonderfully gifted actor, and his channeling Jack Nicholson in a remake of The Shining for this commercial — the slogan is “as good as the original, maybe better?” — is quite good. But I will not be able to shake this image out of my head for some time:

Screenshot: Mountain Dew on YouTube

The Doppelgänger

This isn’t a commercial at all, but rather a tweeted tease from Honda before the game. I couldn’t help but notice the Helpful Honda guy looks a hell of a lot like Brutus.

Photo: Honda on Twitter

Photo by Justin Casterline/Getty Images

Snoozefest

Typical Americans (Budweiser)

I appreciate the sarcastic irony of the ad, using footage of good deeds and various accomplishments, with bonus points for using USWNT Instagram stories from the post-World Cup celebration (but they should have found a way to work in “You’re welcome for this content, bitch!”). But still, this commercial falls flat. It’s probably the best of the boring subgroup here for at least having the decency to avoid jamming some shitty Lee Greenwood song into our ears.

Sonic the Hedgehog

This is a combination commercial and trailer for the upcoming "Sonic" movie, but is probably the most sports-relevant of the ads so far. Michael Thomas of the Saints, Christian McCaffrey of the Panthers, Olympic sprinter Allyson Felix, and NASCAR driver Kyle Busch are known for speed in their respective sports, but all sing the praises of the movie's main character, Sonic the Hedgehog. The inclusion of said athletes does nothing to save this commercial from being boring, however.

By the way, I hope there eventually is a sequel to this "Sonic" movie, just so it can have the tagline “The Sega Continues.”

Jimmy Works It Out (Michelob Ultra)

There are a ton of people who find Jimmy Fallon funny, so this is probably fine for them. This has everything a Super Bowl commercial is supposed to have: elaborate production, cameos from athletes and stars. But I can’t shake the fact that Jimmy Fallon tries too hard; the payoff just isn’t there for me. Maybe I still see him as the guy who laughed through every "SNL" sketch he was ever in.

Ostensibly this is an ad for Michelob Ultra, but it might as well be vanilla beer to match the bland Fallon.

Please, God, go away

Gabe Gabriel is my mortal enemy. He is unavoidable on Super Bowl Sunday, so stay safe out there everybody.

[awriterincrime]

Just A Click Away - Peter Parker x Reader

Prompt : Reader has to choose between her sweet online friend and her cute blind date. (not my gif)

 Warnings : nada 

 Word count : 2.7k 

 A/N : Italics = messages 

I kinda miss writing Peter Parker stuff, so i decided to post this. I might write some more, so if you want something, ask me here. If i get some i like, ill write.

Read my other shit : I Have To Keep You Safe : Part 1 Part 2  Part 3

It had all started a few months back, you meeting Peter. It was by chance really, a bit of dumb luck. You had joined this dumb website your friends had told you about. It was a way for teenagers to meet other kid near them and make friends. Most people used the site inappropriately, for sexting or something crazy, but you were just bored. 

 You had talked to a few guys, a girl here and there and they were all the same. The guys usually started out with “send a pic (;” and you would automatically close the chat. A few tried to start an actual conversation, but you knew their true intentions. You were close to giving up as a whole, and spending your time elsewhere, until you met Peter. 

 Peter was in the same spot as you, he just wanted to talk to people, make new friends. He had more time to himself than before, considering his new secret as Spider-Man, and wanted someone he could talk to, without having to worry about being called up to go to the movies while he was stopping a robbery.

 The two of you were matched up by the site, stating you had similar interests. The conversation had a rocky start, Peter still being nervous to meet someone who couldn’t even see him. Eventually, the conversation began to flow, you both sharing your love for computers, Star Wars, and a liking for your neighborhood vigilante, Spider-Man. 

 The conversations became more consistent, talking to each other almost every day. You both had agreed to keep your names anonymous, and often just referred to each other as ‘internet friend’. You two never ran out of things to talk about, and overtime, you felt as if you were developing feelings for your internet friend. You only knew his username and had never seen his face, but it felt like you had known him forever. 

 @(y/n/u/n) : You truly think that Spiderman and Captian America are evenly matched? 

 @spdy93 : It’s possible ! Spiderman is pretty strong 

 @(y/n/u/n) : You act like you and Spiderman are best friends 

 @spdy93 : maybe we are (; 

 @(y/n/u/n) : In your dreams ya nerd :p 

 “You’re still talking to that guy, (Y/N)?” Your friend asked, looking over your shoulder as you messaged your internet friend about some parts of your day.

 “Yeah, why?” You asked ironically, not really caring about your friends opinion either way. Your friends thought your online relationship was strange, especially to be going on this long. 

 “It’s just weird. You should being going on real dates, not talking to some guy whose name you don’t even know.” Your friend snapped back.

 “Fine, get me a date then.” You snickered sarcastically. 

 “Really? Great! I’ve got just the guy!” Your friend squealed, picking up her phone and running of to make plans for your Friday. 

 “Ah crap,” You sighed to yourself, following behind her, hoping for the best.  

Friday night came sooner than you had hoped. You were sat inside a smelly cab, on your way to a blind date with some guy named Peter. He was your friend’s cousin and she thought the two of you would be “oh so perfect” for each other. She refused to tell you anything about him, so you were going in completely blind. 

 You reached the restaurant, stepping out of the cab and handy the driver a $10 dollar bill, letting him keep the change.  You stood awkwardly at the front door, suddenly nervous to go inside. You didn’t even know what this guy looked like, what if you sat down at the wrong table and made a fool of yourself? What if he saw you, got embarrassed and ditched before you could even say hi? 

Before your nerves completely consumed you, you felt a small buzz in your pocket, a message from your internet friend. 

 @spdy93 : I was forced to go outside today, so I’ll have to talk to you later 

 You smiled lightly as his sarcastic message, replying back about your own worries. 

 @(y/n/u/n) : Same here, going on a blind date, haha. 

 @spdy93 : Oh really? Good luck. He’s a lucky guy. (or she idk) 

 You chuckled a bit, shoving your phone back into your pocket, feeling somewhat comforted by his words. Taking a deep breath, you made way into the restaurant. It was a pretty calm and romantic atmosphere, a little more mature than the burger joints that you were used to. You gazed around at all the happy couples lost deeply in each others eyes, and the other couples who seemed to be deeply lost in their phones. 

 You felt slightly uncomfortable standing at the front door like a lost puppy. The tables were mostly full, and you had no idea what your date even looked like. 

“Um, (Y/N)?” You heard a soft shout from the opposite side of the room. You turned to see a boy about your age standing at a table, waving his hand to you. You quickly made your way to the table, not wanting to cause a scene in the restaurant. 

 “Sorry for shouting.” He started out, rubbing the back of his neck. “You looked a bit lost, and I wasn’t sure if you were my date or not, since this is a blind date. I accidentally yelled at two other ladies before you got here.” You laughed, taking your seat across from Peter. “That’s ok. Blind dates are always hard.” 

 After a few minutes, the date was going perfectly. Peter was funny, sweet, and just an all-around great guy. You both agreed that the restaurant wasn’t truly your style, and you were more comfortable getting an ice cream cone. You two ditched the restaurant, and crossed the street, grabbing two ice cream cones and walking the New York streets together.

 “I had a really great time Peter. If I’m being honest, I wasn’t really looking forward to a blind date, but it was really fun.” 

 “Yeah me neither, this isn’t really my style, but I’m glad it was with you.” Peter smiled. You could feel your cheeks burning, gushing at how sweet Peter was. 

Time flew by with him, and before you knew it, you had walked all the way back to your neighborhood. “Would it, um, be too forward to ask to see you again sometime?” Peter mumbled, staring down at his shoes. 

 “No, it wouldn’t.“ You smiled beamed, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. “I would love to see you again.”

 “Really?! I mean, that’s great! That’s, um, awesome, yeah.” Peter tried his best to contain his excitement. You giggled softly, making Peter smile.

You wished Peter a final goodbye, closing the front door behind you as he walked out into the night. You leaned your back against the door, sighing in relief that your date had actually been fun. 

 After Peter left, you jumped into your bed, pulling out your phone immediately to text your friend. It was funny, you really did enjoy the date, but for lots of it, you were thinking about your internet friend. 

 You thought he and Peter were such alike, they possibly could be friends. It was like seeing your internet friend in person for the first time. How much you wondered what he looked like and what his name was, but you were afraid of being too forward and possibly creepy.

 @(y/n/u/n) : best date ever ! 

 @spdy93 : haha, you had fun? 

@(y/n/u/n) : yeah, he was a lot like you c:

 @spdy93 : so he was ridiculously handsome and charming ? (; 

 @(y/n/u/n) : actually he was more of a nerdy know-it-all (: 

 @spdy93 : ouch :/ 

 You laughed to yourself, shaking your head as the two of you continued to talk until you fell asleep. 

 A few weeks later, you and Peter had your second date, and another one after that, and another after that. You had so much with fun, and you could slowly feel yourself falling for him. But in the back of your mind, you kept thinking about your friend. 

 It felt strange for some reason, like you were leading Peter on. Here was this guy that you just met but had such a strong pull to you , and one you’ve never met, but felt like you’ve known forever. You could see you and Peter becoming more serious in the future and you wanted to make sure that you knew what you wanted. Peter or your mystery guy. 

 @spdy93 : hey what’s up? 

 @(y/n/u/n) : I want to meet you. 

 @spdy93 : what? 

 @(y/n/u/n) : I want to meet you. in person. We’ve been talking for months, and I don’t even know your real name. I think it’s a good idea.  

@spdy93 : oh 

 @(y/n/u/n) : Do you not want to…? 

 @spdy93 : I do! I do! I just got caught off guard, y’know? I would love to meet you. (: 

 Those words tugged at your heart, a jittery feeling flowing through your whole body. Moments like this is what made you cautious Small things like mentioning love, or saying that he thought something you said was cute made you feel like you were flying. 

 The day had come. You were going to meet him. 

 You had decided to meet around noon that Saturday. You had given him the address to a coffee shop nearby, and told him to meet you there. He agreed and told you he would be wearing a green Zelda shirt, so you would recognize him. You told him you would be wearing a gold owl necklace, hoping this would make your meeting somewhat easier. 

 You got there 15 minutes early, too anxious to even wait.You had barely gotten any sleep that night, tossing and turning, wondering what would happen. Was he tall? Short? Did he have a lisp, or a large wart on the side of his face? Would it even matter? Would it be worth it? 

 You found your thoughts slowly drifting to Peter, and wondering if what you were doing was right. Here you had this sweet guy, who was practically perfect, yet you were still thinking about another. They were so similar, yet why couldn’t you choose? 

 Your nerves were starting to get the better of you. It was 12:05 and no sign of a green Zelda shirt. The front door had a small bell on it and would ring every time the door would open. That soft sound had become the bane of your existence, turning your head wildly to the front door, hoping to see a green shirt, and run into someone’s arms.

 It felt as if hours had passed by, and still no green Zelda shirt. You were starting to give up hope and your anxiety was eating you alive. What if he didn’t really want to meet you? What if he saw you and left? Was this a mistake? What if he’s actually a 40 year old man? You were biting at your nails now in anticipation, more nervous than ever before. So focused on your new thoughts, you barely noticed the loud crash at the front door. 

 You turned to see two people laying together on the floor, both in a certain amount of pain. They seemed to had crashed into each other and now coffee was spilled all over the floor and each other. 

 "I’m so sorry!” The boy cried out to the waiter next to him. “I was in a hurry, I’m looking for someone and I’m late.” He began to ramble on, but the waiter just brushed him off and made his way to the back to change clothes. You sighed in relief that all the excitement was over, but then realized there was something familiar about that voice. 

 “Peter?” You said to yourself as you watched the boy attempt to stand up, obviously out of breath. He hadn’t even noticed you yet, panting to himself as he anxiously searched around the room. 

 “Peter! What are you doing here?” 

 “(Y/N)!” He spoke breathlessly. “Wh-what are you doing here? I-’m supposed to be meeting a friend here. I just, I don’t know where she is.” 

She. Your heart fell. He was meeting another girl. Why you were upset, you didn’t know. You and Peter weren’t exclusive, just a few dates, and you were here to meet another guy yourself. 

 “Oh, so what’s her name?” You asked shyly. Peter chuckled to himself shyly, looking down at his shoes. 

“This is gonna sound crazy, but I don’t know. I’m meeting her for the first time. 

“Oh, so a blind date?” 

 “Not exactly. It’s more of a -wait, can I see your necklace?” 

 “Um, sure, I guess.” You were confused, why would he be interested in your necklace at all? He slowly moved in closer to you, gently lifting the gold necklace that rested carefully across your collarbone. 

“I-is that an owl?” 

 "Yes, why?” You chuckled slightly, still confused as to why he was so curious. 

At that moment, your eyes trailed down his coffee stained shirt to see the bright green and gold Zelda logo sprawled across his chest. 

 "You.“ You both muttered softly to each other, now staring into each other’s eyes. It was Peter all along. He was the one you had been talking to. He was the one you were falling in love with, in more ways than one. It was always him.

"This is, wow.” Peter exclaimed with a smile. 

“Did you know?” You shook your head vigorously. 

“Not at all. I just really wanted to meet you. I can’t believe this is happening." 

"Maybe we should sit down.” Peter suggested, and you nodded, sitting across from the brunette at the small coffee table. 

he two of you went on to talk for hours about anything and everything that came to mind. You both felt so stupid for not asking each others names, and if once thinking that maybe it was them all along.

 As you spoke to Peter, you felt your heart swell with every word he spoke. The way he lit up when he would talk just made you flutter. You two has been talking for hours now, and decided to take it outside in the park. You walked side by side quietly, making small comments every few minutes, but mostly just taking in each other’s presence. 

 "This is quite a story.“ Peter remarked, breaking the comfortable silence between you two. 

 "You can say that again.” You giggled softly. Peter had stopped walking, and was now standing in front of you, looking nervous again. 

 "I want to ask you something.“ He started. 

 "Anything.” With his eyes closed, he took in a deep breath, and then began to speak very quickly. 

“I know that we’ve only known each other for a short time, but I feel like I’ve known you for a long time especially since we’ve been friends for so many months without even knowing it and I just think that you’re really cool, inside and out. And I really like both of you, I mean there is only one of you, but I mean internet you and real life you and I know we’ve only been on a few dates but I really wanna kiss you and call you my girlfriend, but if you’re not ok with that then we can stay friends, and I’m totally cool with that too but-” Peter continued to ramble on nervously as you laughed to yourself at the boy. 

 You smiled at his frantic state, leaning up on your toes, and placing your lips carefully onto his. He froze for a second, then leaned into you, carefully kissing you back and falling into a quick rhythm. A rush of fireworks and lust filled inside of you, a euphoria like never before. You felt his hand grip tightly at your waist as you placed your arms around his neck. It all felt so natural with him, two bodies moving in sync with each other, meant to be. He felt so soft and with every touch you felt more alive than ever. 

 When you slowly pulled away, Peter was still frozen, attempting to gather his thoughts. “I’ll take that as a yes?” He joked. 

 "Of course, Peter.“ You smiled, wrapping your arms comfortably around him as you hugged tightly, smiling with complete bliss. 

 Who knew that love could be just one click away.

[fortnitegovr9668-blog]

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[zipgrowth]

This Teacher Makes Financial Literacy Personal for Students

Jacqueline Prester was a self-proclaimed hustler in middle school. Mowing lawns, babysitting—she took the initiative to earn her own money. But she was also a responsible moneymaker, using the envelope system to budget every cent before she knew it was an actual budgeting strategy. Back then, her friends rolled their eyes when she tried to share her financial savvy.

Fast forward two decades and Prester is a popular business and technology teacher at Mansfield High School in Massachusetts, working to give students real-life financial skills. Only this time her audience is keen to learn. (Her Personal Finance classes always reach their 28 student capacity.)

Students are learning about personal finance, but not just because that's the name of the class. They're making it personal.

Prester’s passion is infectious, and the content she chooses—like Pathway To Financial Success created by Discovery Education and Discover—immerses students in authentic lessons with videos, interactive modules and real-world connections.

Pathway To Financial Success Video: Being Financially Responsible

EdSurge caught up with Prester to find out how she packs her classes with willing learners and to uncover her secret to finding compelling financial literacy content. She also shared how and why she helped pass a new Massachusetts bill focused on financial literacy.

EdSurge: Your classes are very popular. What makes them so engaging for students?

Jacqueline Prester: One of my strengths is that I bring the outside world into my classroom. If I can't connect what students are learning to the outside world, they don’t understand, or they forget about it. But if I can help them connect with what we’re learning, they remember it.

Give us an example of how you do that.

Beefing up the connection to outside the classroom was part of the reason I decided to try the Pathway To Financial Success program.

The program has an element called Family Connections, where we ask students to talk with family members about checking credit reports, saving money and even choosing an insurance plan.

For years, I've been advocating that financial literacy be a requirement in our schools.

For example, we talked about jobs versus careers in class. For the Family Connection activity, students asked their parents or guardians what their first job was and how they transitioned from a job to a career. Hearing about that process is a learning experience for students. When they come back to class it leads to some great conversations.

Students are learning about personal finance, but not just because that's the name of the class. They're making it personal.

You’ve been teaching this course for years. Why did you feel you needed new curriculum?

Jacqueline Prester

I’m constantly updating my curriculum. And I like that Pathway to Financial Success is a unit-based curriculum, so it’s very flexible kind of like plug-and-play. There are interactive classroom activities, videos, e-learning modules and curated resources. And everything I need is in one spot. Established teachers can pull what they need from it. Someone establishing a new course could use the whole curriculum.

For example, I love that there is a mobile banking unit because I felt I was lacking in that area. It's such a transitional topic right now. Students need to know how to deposit checks on their phone. They also need to understand online banking, mobile banking and alternative payment systems like Venmo. They must be aware of all of the options and the potential pitfalls. With something like Venmo, money transfers can easily become a social activity. Peers share transactions and use emojis and humor to describe why money is changing hands—I don't want students to get caught up in the social aspect. The unit covered all that information and had an interactive activity comparing banking institutions.

April is National Financial Literacy Month

Follow Prester and her students on social media (use hashtag #hornetschat) throughout April as they share their favorite personal finance advice.

Plus, this program does a great job covering the Council for Economic Education standards for teaching financial literacy. Students are learning about and mastering concepts like credit, banking, loans—all the major topics that are expected for students taking a course like mine.

Why is it so important for schools to teach financial literacy?

Everybody is going to have money at some point in the future. I tell my students—whether they're going to have 50 dollars or a million—I want them to be able to get everything they want out of that sum of money.

It benefits everybody if people are self-sufficient and able to support themselves. This is why, for years, I've been advocating that financial literacy be a requirement in our schools.

Looking for creative new ways to teach financial self-sufficiency? Take advantage of an abundance of interactive digital tools from TGR EDU: Explore to make paying for college just a matter of dollars and sense.

Can you tell us more about that? You advocated for a bill related to teaching financial literacy in schools, and it was recently passed into law.

Financial literacy is something that no one can take away from them.

Obviously, I'm a huge advocate of teaching financial literacy in schools. I speak about it quite a bit because students aren’t necessarily getting a financial education at home, so they need to get it at school. They need to get it early, and it needs to be reinforced year after year.

For my part in working on this bill, I contacted every single elected official in Massachusetts multiple times. I met with educators, people from the nonprofit world, from banking, to discuss what's going on. It's gone through a lot of iterations, and although it’s not a requirement for schools to teach financial literacy, it’s a step forward.

The bill outlines financial literacy standards that cover credit, understanding loans, paying for college and so forth. And it stipulates that classes be taught by a qualified teacher in business, math, history or technology. It also gives the Department of Education the authority to hire experts to evaluate and make recommendations for curriculum.

What kinds of learning results are you seeing from your students?

Fun and FREE #FinLit tools for everyone:

Goal-setting app and website: SitckK

Financial identity quiz: S.A.M.

Podcast: Money Smart

They learn so much. Let me brag about them a little bit.

There's a company called W!se that offers a financial literacy certification exam. I don't teach to the exam. I don't even mention it to students. But I offer it at the end of the semester if they’d like to take it. This past semester, 14 students took it, and 10 passed. It's great because they can put it on a résumé and talk about it on their college applications. Financial literacy is something that no one can take away from them.

What’s next for Prester?

Prester is excited to bring new content to her classes from TGR EDU: Explore. This program—from TGR Foundation, A Tiger Woods Charity and Discovery Education—offers a wealth of resources designed to get students and their families thinking about college readiness. Perhaps more important, with digital lessons focused on college access, digital explorations geared towards the financial aid process and training videos aimed at boosting financial awareness among college applicants, these resources help students and families learn how they can afford to pay for college.

This Teacher Makes Financial Literacy Personal for Students published first on https://medium.com/@GetNewDLBusiness