#also another thing that i forgot to talk bout-- i had some scrapped ideas for it too. like how their arms were meant to be

[aria0fgold]

tags by @wish-upon-the-universe

Oh god, okay-- I was thinking of doing this in tags but I'm pretty sure it'd be too long for that so here it'd be instead. So basically, my initial plans for the design was the star face, middle pair of hands, the tree trunk body, the hollow stomach, and the three halos with star beaded veils. The star face is self-explanatory in a way, for the middle pair of hands though, it was first meant to be in a form of praying, like how people clasps their hands together when wishing upon a shooting star. But then I thought about The Country, and how in a way, it's within the palm of The Universe's hands. So I changed it to them clasping their hands together loosely, I had to look at the mirror to figure out the anatomy of it and noticed that the back of my hands form a star shape, which resulted in that look! The star is meant to symbolize the wish that hid The Country, with The Universe protectively holding it close to their heart. I wanted it to also be a nod to that scene with the red star, where the star that turned red and formed cracks is the same one on The Universe's hands.

For the tree trunk body, I initially added that because of the many mentions of burnt sugar throughout the story, so like, plant! (Also the instances of Euphrasie saying that there's something rotting). But then while drawing it I also thought it'd be a nice way to symbolize a "world tree" in isat (like how myths have world trees!) and a nod to the Favour Tree. For the hollow stomach, it was a nod to the many mentions of Siffrin feeling hungry throughout the whole game despite having eaten Bonnie's snack, and the star in it is a nod to "You feel a tug on your stomach," with the star symbolizing Wish Craft. For the three halos, it initially didn't look like that at first, it was meant to intersect each other with stars dangling from it. But I decided to change that among a lot of other things which is what I'll be talking bout next!

The other two pair of hands wasn't actually part of my initial design! But I was looking at my first draft and thought: "Not creature enough..." and gave them one more pair (which is the bottom pair) but after I added that one, I realized that I practically had 2/3 of the rock paper scissors sign so I added another to symbolize the "paper" sign! (Basically... I added the bottom pair as just to show a star formation with it for the hollow stomach so as to not block the star floating in it). And well, it is The Universe so it'd make sense they have symbolism in regards to the main power system of the universe! The tree trunk body had changes too, it was meant to swirl one way instead of being split in two like that but then I the star shape at the bottom made it difficult for me to pull that off so I decided to roll with it and give them stars there too! The halos had the biggest change though, at first I wanted three intersecting ones, but then decided on only one large one but zooming out on it makes the top look a little empty so I gave them two more there.

The halos were also supposed to have a fully beaded veil of stars but while doing that, found it difficult to tell which is the front and which is the back with the angle I chose. Basically my initial plan for it to be a fully beaded veil is to make the top part seem like the leaves of a willow tree. Scrapped that idea though and decided to just make the front beaded, and instead of randomly putting beads on it, chose to put constellations instead (the beads at the very end had a last minute change before I went to do the colouring in that I discovered the song Sirius' Heart and wanted to add morse code for "I love you" on it). The morse code repeats twice (one both ends, with the middle just having stars). When I was thinking of what to put on the back, I decided on a "cloth" to act as a "scroll." It's meant to symbolize the scripts in which those with that belief follow as a nod to "The Universe leads, we follow."

But while doing the lines for it (figuring out how to draw it as flowing with the cursed angle I chose), I was hit with the idea of making it look like a person's face. It was meant to be like-- those silhouette tests about "What do you see first? A face or a vase?" thing but because of the angle-- it's always the angle-- it was harder to pull off so I decided to change the lower part of it to a butterfly as a nod to the sayings about butterfly effect and that a butterfly's wings can cause a hurricane. It was also hard to pull off a butterfly shape on it too cuz the angle-- ...it made it look like a mermaid's tail in several past attempts... So yeah! That's basically how my thought process went with designing The Universe!

Finally done with my version of The Universe's design!

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

PLAY SMART

Che “Taza” Romero x Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: Another crazy idea. I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @arveeee ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Adjusting the green shirt to your chest, you go out of the clubhouse followed by Creeper drinking a coffee on a cardboard cup. You’re walking faster with your gaze on the front, directly to the car scrapping. It supposed that you should start in one hour, but if you arrive earlier, you can also leave earlier. You don’t want to see Taza after what happened last day, when his ex-wife came to the workshop because her car was having problems with the engine. She talked you as if you were a servant, or something like that, so you couldn't shut up and spoke to her in a sarcastic tone that she didn't like. Of course, she told Taza. At first, you didn’t care, until you saw how they said goodbye, with so much love and affection. Gilly told you that they have been married for almost fifteen years and that she was back to town indefinitely. It was like a shoot straight to your heart.

You aren’t nothing, but for the last months there has been a flirt environment installed between both, always pulling and loosening. But with his ex-wife in Santo Padre and by the way she had of touching him constantly, you know that what you wanted so bad it’s not going to happen. So you’re trying to not match with him. And that hurts. The only thing you can do it’s work and go home. No Mayans parties, no more nights at the clubhouse and no more rides back home on Taza’s bike. You can’t fight with a woman who knows him since ever and who was married with him for too many years. You didn’t know that something like that could happen, he didn’t talk you about her and it seems like it was a surprise for him too.

“Dammit, mama, you look like shet’”. Angel’s confused voice pushes you back to reality, making you shake your head for an instant.

“I didn’t sleep last night”. You shrug your shoulders and arms.

Messed bump, eye bags, no makeup and the shoelaces untied. You sigh after having a look of yourself, leaning down to tie them. The sun seems to disappear, raising your gaze surprised till you find your boss’ eyes, crossing his arms over his chest covered by leather. You swallow quietly, licking your inner lip before continuing with your task. 

“Everything ok?” You ask playing fool, hiding your nervous voice for a while.

“I don’ know, everything ok?”

“Yea’, I just… start earlier ‘cause I need to go to Santa Madre”.

“Sure. Why you didn’t come to the ranch last night?”

“Last night? What hap— Oh! Oh!”

Taza raises both eyebrows, while you still playing the innocent one palming your forehead.

“Shit, I forgot the Mayan dinner...” Clicking your tongue, you snort heavy.

“Let me tell you something, (Y/N)”. Facing you with hardly two inches between both, he leans above your ear provoking you some chills. “Soy un perro muy viejo, para que un cachorro me intente engañar”. (I'm a very old dog, and a puppy can't lie to me”.

“I forgot it”. You insist. “I was tired and I fell asleep on the sofa”.

“Look at your face”. The man says without changing his position. “Not everything is what it seems”.

“Ok, boss. I get it”. 

Taza doesn't say anything else, hitting his shoulder against yours to pass you away. Rubbing it you turn to the oldest rolling your eyes. Creeper and Angel are staring at you, trying to understand what is happening, but you don't wanna talk about it. Work and go home, that's all you want. The Reyes, putting an arm on your shoulders, shake his head disappointed 'cause he's starting to know what's going on having all the clues on the table.

Going upstairs to the office, you hug Chuckie as soon as you see him, asking for the hours signature quadrant. Your turn is already finished and completed and you also have the afternoon free, so you could rest the time you didn't last night thinking about the things that it's not going to happen, driving you crazy. Leaving the car scrapping' shirt in your hanger, you grab the helmet next to your bag, ready to leave. 

And she's there again. You can see her from the top of the stairs, hugging your boss and kissing his cheek as you used to do it. You're going downstairs slow, concentrated on not looking like you're jealous. Yes, you two were nothing, but you feel some kind of things that you would like not to feel right now. Taking off your phone of the pocket, you dissemble when he catches you looking at them, walking towards your motorbike to put the helmet on. 

“Wait a second”. You hear some meters away, while your sitting on your bike. “Eh, (Y/N)!”

You want to make that you didn't listen his call, but it would be too evident, so Taza waits for you to reversing and stop again. 

“I'm sorry for the hit”.

“Yeah, it was rude”.

“Are you hurry?”

“Yeah, a little”.

“When will you back at home, ah?”

“I don't kn... Why it feels like I'm talking to my father?”

“Because you're so fuckin' annoyin'”.

“Great, thanks. Another bullshit, Taza?”

“You know what? Fuck off”.

“Yeah, pretty one”. Rolling your eyes, containing the tears in them, you turn the engine to run away from the front yard.

Bishop texted you about four pm to tell you that Yuma and Stockton charters were coming to Santo Padre by night, so they're having a party and he needs you along with EZ to attend the bar. That's precisely what you were avoiding to do, be at the clubhouse more time than necessary. But guessing that you should work just for two or three hours accompanied doesn't seems a big trouble to deal with. So you're in.

Driving you car, 'cause it's gonna be easy to come back home after the party, you reach the car scrapping parking there so your Camaro will be safe in case that anyone decided to start a friendly fight. They usually do, for no reason. Last time, your motorbike suffered the consequences, even if they took care of the fixed. Walking betwixt a lot of crap mountains, your steps go straight to the green main door with mayans symbols finding the crowded yard. Stockton are already there, mixed with the Santo Padre' ones. EZ whistles you, claiming for your attention with that charming smile he always have on his face. You greet the guys raising your chin for a second, whilst going close to the prospect.

“Take the Jose Cuervo in the warehouse, I'm on my way for beers”.

“Okay”. You nod then, turning to the right and guiding your legs to the huge metallic structure by a side of the clubhouse. 

Grabbing the trolley at the entrance, you walk towards the end of the warehouse to leave it there, so you can place five boxes on it. Bishop calls to the door, even if it's opened asking you for come in without words. He walks in, closing it and resting his body against a shelving.

“You ok, kid?”

“Yea', just a bad night, prez”. You nod showing a soft and fleeting smile, presing the low rod of the trolley leaning to you and putting im by the two wheels.

“You didn' came to the dinner”.

“I'm sorry, I forgot it”.

“Did you?”

Leaving a sigh on air, you don't know what to say, pursing your lips as you place your gaze in nowhere.

“I saw you… kinda arguing with Taza this morning. Twice”.

“I—”.

“You know you can talk to me, rai'?” He sounds serious, crossing his arms.

“I just… made some illusions. The kind that fuck you down, when you realize that they're… just that. Illusions”.

“I know what you're talkin'bout. Play smart, kid. You're not stupid”.

Might be the best advice someone could give you, and you know you should. But sometimes, you can't simply do it. After leaving you there, you continue your walk to the clubhouse, going upstairs carefully with the tequila boxes. Opening the door with a push of your back, EZ notices you ready to help you. When everything is placed, the prospect offers you a shirt with the Mayans logo to change it for yours. Like somekind of uniform.

Once you're wearing it, you walk outside to receive the Yuma charter, hugging Canche as soon as he sees you.

“What's up, chamaca?”

“Not much, just another party working, not enjoying”.

“When you finish, make a place fo' me in your busy schedule. I need some help with my bike”. He says placing a hand on your shoulders, so you can follow him to his men to greet them too.

“Sure! I'll let you know when I'm done”.

A car coming calls your attention, turning under Canche's grip, to find the owner.

“What the hell…? Isn't that Taza's ex-wife?”

“Yep”.

“What she doin'ere?” The president asks you confused.

“Don' know. Ask her ex-husband”. You answer with a singing voice and both eyebrows raised.

“That bitch fucked him up”.

“Did she…?”

“Yea', I heard something 'bout a one-night-stand with a Vato. Oscar told us”.

“But they seems so close”.

“Taza is a good man, you know him”.

“Yea'...”

Pursing your lips at the man, you shrugs before start with your tasks of serve beers and tequila shot for everyone there, with EZ help. You can't help but thinking about that woman who came from nowhere with some kind of clear intentions, and now you're understanding was what Bishop trying to tell you. “Play smart”. So you will. Grabbing the coldest beers and putting them on a tray, you carry them to the first picnic table outside, where the main members of your charter are sitting. Leaving there, one for each one, you sit close to the Padrino who puts an arm around your waist.

“You look good in that shirt, kid”. He says proud, having a look from top to down. Since you started to work there, he has been the most gentle man on earth with you and it's something to be thankful for. “How's your week goin'? Didn' see you last night”.

“Tired week, need to rest, padrino”.

“You look like. Are they treating you good, or taking advantage that you're so helpful, ah?”

“To be that ‘helpful’ you have to show some respect first”. You hear that irritating feminine voice behind your back, before she appears in front of your eyes with a hand on Taza's left shoulder.

“Take off that Vato's dick of your mouth, before talking about my kid”. Padrino's voice is calm and peaceful, surprising you about it, and creating an uncomfortable silence on the table. 

You're fucking done. Done in a good mood, 'cause well, no one piss off padrino's kid. Palming his back, you get up of your seat to grab the tray and go back to work, as soon as Oscar claims your attention to ask for some beers. At least, now you know what happened, even if you're trying to figure what's she doing here. Not for you, but for Taza. Because she doesn't deserve someone like him, not after what she did. Double disloyalty. And that's screwing you more than you thought.

Even if it's something that it's in your head all the time, you make sure that doesn't influence in your work, letting it for later. And when you're already finished with it, leaving EZ with the rest, you go straight to Canche. As soon as you're done with him too, you can be close to Taza to make it up to him because of your paranoia. And so you do, sharing the same table with a beer in your hand. You don't know why his ex-wife continue there, but you don't care. Not anymore. Sitting in front of him, again by padrino's side and Bishop at the other, you try to get in the conversation. Easy task 'cause they're talking about a travel coming soon, and they need your help to check the motorcycles before leaving.

“Okay, I can do it tomorrow evening. Just leave me the keys at the office”. You say then supporting both forearms on the table, nodding for a while. “So, gas, oil and pressure… Yeah, it's fast to do'et”.

“Can you check my bike's direction? I think it's a little bit turned to the left”. Taza says then, and you know that's only a excuse to talk with you. Like, right now.

“Is it?” You hesitate, raising an eyebrow before having a sip of your drink, getting up of your bench.

“Yea', and the brake is a little hard. I think EZ squeezed too much”. He's getting up too, letting go the uncomfortable grip of his ex-wife.

“Okay, let's see”.

He walks next to you, offering you the keys so you can turn on his bike. Pressing softly the gas, to do the same with the brake. It's not. But seems like he wants to leave the yard, at least, for some minutes.

“I have the tools in my car”. You say then, turning of the engine to push the handlebar so you can make it moves. 

Going down the alley, with the Vicepresidente behind your back smoking a cigar, you reach the Camaro. You don't have any tools on it, but you really want to hear what he wants to tell you. So you simply leave the motorbike parked, next to your car, and resting your body sitting on it giving him the keys.

“She asked me to stay at the ranch”. He says then, keeping them inside one of his pockets. Sounds like you should reply something, but you'll not. It's his house, not yours. “I don' know what she doin'ere. But I don' even care”.

“Good for you, Taza”. You shrug with pursed lips.

“Let's be clear, kid. We're nothing”.

“Okay, I'm done with this bullshit”. You laugh loud getting up from his bike, and shaking your hands, trying to hide the bitterness and looking for the control remote of your car.

“Listen, listen”. Catching you by your left wrist, he stops your moves.

“It's fuckin' okay, Taza. You don' have to give me any explanation. I'm not your... fuckin' wife, nor your fuckin' girl. I get it. But let me tell you something. It's fucking grievous seeing a woman how fucked you up with a fuckin' Vato, trying to get back what she lost. And you, let her doin'et. You deserve good things, and you should love and respect yourself a little more”.

“Well, than'ya' for your kindly words. But I'm not letting her doin' nothen'. And I also talk her 'bout you”.

“Seems like she doesn' give a f— You did what?” Narrowing your eyes and letting you go, you cross your arms on the chest.

“We're nothing, but I would like to be something”. He clarifies you. “I asked her to leave and just came to pay what we fixed in her car. She stayed for a beer”.

“Yes, close of his ex-husband”.

“Focus on the fact I wan'to be with you, and not with her. Think about'e”.

Taza leaves you there, alone, carrying his bike when seems like you don't know what to reply at this words. Sitting on the hood of your car and lighting a cigar between your lips, you have a long smoke that rips your throat and also your tongue. You're somewhat jealous, you can't help but trying to see the point of playing smart to mark somekind of territory without looking like he's a piece of meat. But with that kind of women, it's all you can do. 

Putting well your shirt on, after throwing away the cigar, you walk towards the front yard with hands in your pockets. Some ideas are dancing in your head, trying to choose the best way to deal with it. But when you see her, sitting again by his side, and trying to hug him… Good lord, you can't help but losing your modals and your gentle mood. 

“Che, take me home”. You just say, stopping in front of the crew.

“Haven't you a car, ah?” She asks raising her chin somewhat proudly, grabbing the Vice's arm between hers.

“Haven't you a Vato's dick to suck, instead of annoying everyone around you?”

God, those words come from the depths of your soul. Making the guys chuckle as she gets up full of rage.

“Watch your mouth, niña. You don' know who I am”. Pointing your chest with a finger once and again.

“Yea', looks like I don' give a shit that I don' even know your name”. You face her, not afraid. “Southern border is close, come back to your hole, whore. You don' have anything to do here”.

“Did you ju��”.

“Shit, yes, I did”. You roll your eyes, being fast enough to avoid the slap straight to your face.

El padrino takes you back, as Bishop and Angel go to her before she can try it again.

“You heard her, go back to southern border”. Taza says placing himself between both, turning then to hold your forearm and leave the front yard.

You don't say anything into your way to his motorbike, putting on the helmet as he turns it on. Grabbing his waist with your hands, he runs out of the clubhouse. You know he's mad. You can feel the tension on his body, driving the road he knows by heart to your house, taking his time as he looks like he's thoughtful.

When he stations the bike in front of your house, so you can jump off of it, you keep his gaze.

“'You gonna leave?” You ask him a little bit nervous, taking off the helmet to supporting it against your abdomen.

“'Don' know. What you want?”

Hesitating for a second, you take a step closer placing a hand on his nape, to press your lips on his. It's the first time you two kiss, after some weeks wanting it. He pulls you away, thinking that you screwed it up, until you see him getting up to leave behind his back the motorbike. Cupping your cheeks on his huge hands, Taza kisses you again. Tangling your fingers in the flannel shirt to push him closer, your lips move alone on his. It's better than you could imagine, tasting the tequila in his saliva and beer in yours. A perfect mix. 

“So, are you gonna stay?” You almost beg between short and dearly kisses, finding yourself walking to your house, giving your back at it.

“Fuck, yes, baby”. He nods lifting you up, so you can surround his body with your legs.

[screensirenfic]

Black Leather - Chapter 27

“If that little shit says code fucking red one more time; I swear I’m gonna—“

“Woah, woah, woah; Lo! Cool your jets.” Soothes Steve, though at this rate I’d settle at punching him unconscious.

If it wasn’t enough that I spent a weeks worth of pay checks on diced beef, because despite having a wallet that cost more than my entire wardrobe, someone forgot to bring his allowance; I now was having to deal with all the joys of working with a twelve year old boy.

Sorry; thirteen, as he keeps reminding me.

Thank god Eleven was a girl!

But at least we had some semblance of a plan now; Steve’s BMW parked in the woods at the start of our carnivorous crumb trail that would eventually lead to the junkyard.

Steve popped the trunk of his car; rubber gloves already on hands, because of course; the pretty boy couldn’t get his hands bloody.

The scent of blood and death was strong within; the result of nearly ten pounds worth of prized sirloin chopped in buckets, because according to the little shit; his ex-pet was a fussy eater.

Steve did the honours; hauling out two heaping buckets of meat which were already beginning to smell thanks to the heat of the car.

“Jesus, Lola; do we really need this much meat? He asked; his nose wrinkled in disgust.

Apparently I’d forgotten that a pampered trust fund teen like Steve probably never even had to wash dishes; let alone do any meal prep with raw meat.

“Shut up and unload the trunk.” I ordered; not willing to take any of his crap.

It had been his damn idea to put his faith in the wild imaginations of a thirteen year old, not mine.

I would’ve been more than happy to stay at Charlie’s and finish fixing Marty’s truck, then go out with Bil—

Shit! I’d almost forgot!

Billy would be coming to pick me up in a couple of hours, and I was currently about to start traipsing through mulch and animal shit, spreading the contents of a corpse with Steve and some weird kid.

Of all the fucking excuses I could be giving him; this one really took the whole damn pie!

Even if I did manage to make it back in time; he’d never believe me.

Not even when I stunk like a butchers shop and felt half as dead.

Steve was gonna fucking owe me for this—

“Lo; you still with me?” Steve asked; breaking through my mental rant to try and play the reasonable friend, and I wanted to fucking read him out, because I’d lost out on a good damn night for this and maybe even lost my chance at being with Billy for good; but fuck, Steve didn’t know that.

And I couldn’t blame him; not really.

“Nothing. Just forgot if I’d left the stove on.” I replied; the absurdity of that statement going straight over Steve’s pretty head as he pulled his rucksack out of the boot, alongside several cans of gasoline, unknowingly kindly donated by Charlie’s auto repairs.

Steve pulled out his nailbat; a post-apocalyptic beast of a thing that actually had belonged to Jonathan, before it was valiantly commandeered by Steve in the demogorgon attack last year.

Now it seemed the enigmatically named nailbat man was to make a reappearance; all for the sake of avenging some dumb kid’s cat and a half eaten candy bar.

I, however, liked to keep things more practical; having made time to stop home during our little errand to pick up a most vital supply.

I pulled out my dad’s sawn off shotgun from the trunk; making sure this baby was loaded with the finest buckshot, before cocking it.

Steve can wave round that little tennis racket as much as he liked; meanwhile I’d blow this bitch to smithereens with pure homegrown American lead.

Steve looked at it with a mixture of apprehension and awe, still not comfortable with me bringing a loaded weapon, despite me having learnt how to shoot before I could even drive.

He’d get over it.

Fuck; he might even be thankful once we bring this overgrown slug down without even breaking a sweat.

I let him slam the trunk closed, and by the sounds of it, E.T. was finally done phoning home; Dustin pushing down that ridiculous antenna at last, before the Venusians tried to contact us on it.

“You gonna actually help any time today kid, or is your plan just to play operator whilst we do the real work?” I queried; picking up the first of the heavy metal buckets in front of me.

“Alright, alright; hold your fucking horses. I’m coming.” The kid placated, and maybe I should’ve said something about the language, but then again; I wasn’t exactly a saint, and I wasn’t the kid’s mother, so why the fuck should I care?

Instead, I stood back as he picked up the lightest of the buckets, leaving the heaviest for Steve, but you know what; let him.

It was Steve’s damn sympathies that got us into this mess; so let’s see him feel so sympathetic when he’s done spreading meat for the next two hours.

———————————————————

So maybe playing pied piper to a B movie creature feature wasn’t as mind numbingly boring as I’d thought it would be.

I mean; the company was decent, me and Steve wasting the time away by playing twenty one questions and talking with the kid.

Think of it as community service; us near adults taking the time out from our busy lives to give back to the younger generation.

Of course; I’d also forgotten how blatantly dumb boys of the younger generation could be.

“All right; so let me get this straight...” Drawled the voice of Steve as he trailed behind keeping pace with the kid; after refusing to keep step with me.

It’s not my fault; really. He’d dropped a question on cannibalism on me, and I’d rose to the challenge beautifully; managing to both freak him out and educate him in one answer; a finer achievement than any teacher at Hawkins High had ever managed.

“You kept something dangerous in order to impress a girl... who you just met?” Steve asked with such incredulousness, you’d almost forget this is the same kid who took up football in freshman year just to impress Kathy Williams; an absolute disaster which ended with him getting tackled by a senior quarterback and him spending two weeks in Hawkins Med with a broken arm.

Still got that date with Kathy though.

“Alright; that’s grossly oversimplifying things...” The kid objected, because pigheaded stupidity was a primarily male trait with symptoms that included complete denial when it came to pursuing the fairer sex.

“I mean; why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?” Steve asked; the question perfectly rational, but clearly absurd in the eyes of a thirteen year old.

“An interdimensional slug?! Because it’s awesome!” Dustin exclaimed, and I swear the nerd levels here were sweeping off the chart.

“Lola; would you like it if I showed you a slug?” Steve called ahead to me, finally breaking his selective silence to ask an actual female about their kind.

Still; didn’t mean I was gonna give him all the answers.

“I’m not going anywhere near you or your slug, Steve.” I retorted; still not managing to contain a chuckle. Yes; that was an innuendo, and Steve was probably rolling his eyes right now, but fuck; if I didn’t like winding him up.

“Well; even if she thought it was cool, which she didn’t... I... I just... I don’t know.” Steve reasoned with a sigh, forgoing all attempts to get me on side, because I was a petty bitch and still wasn’t quite over when he asked me about bra size.

“I just feel like you’re trying way too hard, man.” Steve confessed, chucking down another handful of meat with resigned indignation.

“Well; not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright...” Dustin griped, and I could barely contain my laughter, because was I the only one who fucking remembered?!

“Perfect?!” I scoffed; the word half hidden in a bout of laughter. “You should’ve seen him in the eighth grade! He looked like the fourth Beegee!” I exclaimed with thunderous laughter, because it was true; goddamnit!

Steve’s hair had been so goddamn hilarious, and just remembering it now brought back flashbacks of the Snow Ball; memories of crisp white suits straight out of Saturday Night Fever, and a much younger Steve Harrington busting a move on the dance floor like a barely pubescent John Travolta.

Steve didn’t find it funny, shooting me daggers that clearly said “shut the hell up”, despite the fact his embarrassment would only rile me up further.

“Anyway; it’s not about the hair...” He returned his attention to Dustin, clearly understanding that giving me evils was getting him nowhere.

“The key with girls is just... acting like you don’t care.” Steve bestowed his worldly piece of wisdom, and I could barely keep myself from rolling my eyes.

Yeah; because of course the girls liked Steve because he acted like a total douche, and not because they thought he was dumber than a sack of dirt and didn’t know any better.

The hair was a bonus though.

“Even if you do?” The kid asked innocently; and it was hard to believe that all twelve year olds took advice so easily.

“Yeah; exactly. It drives them nuts.” Steve said; and I had to stop them there.

This kid was no Steve Harrington and would probably end up dying alone if he followed Steve’s example.

Fuck; Steve might end up dying alone with a shovel to the back of the head if he kept pissing me off like this.

“Or he could just tell this girl how he actually feels, rather than acting all emotionally constipated about it; Steve...” I interrupted; offering an realistically sound piece of advice, which might end up with the girl actually liking the kid, rather than mistaking him for the douche of the century; who was clearly already walking among us.

“Don’t listen to her...” Steve dismissed my advice with a wave of the hand, and this time, I really did roll my eyes.

“Why? Because I’m a girl?” I countered smartly; as if sound logic ever meant more to Steve than macho grand standing.

“No; because you’re a psychopath...” Steve replies, tossing a handful of meat at me, as if I was a mischievous bitch that could be fended off with a scrap of food.

“Hey!” I exclaimed; nimbly leaping out of the line of fire before I could amass another interesting stain on my jacket.

“You know; I liked you better with your headphones on, Blondie...” Steve drawled; his attention fully averted from counsel giving, to our usually programmed showing of me and Steve acting like complete jackasses around each other.

“And I liked you better in Wham!; George...” I retorted; knowing how much Steve hated the smarmy pop band, despite Nancy’s insistence that they were gorgeous.

“Why don’t you come back here...” Steve began to bluster; picking up another handful of bloody meat with a mischievous smile on his face, but it was too late.

I was quicker than him, already dancing away further along the track, before slipping on my headphones; because despite being a slippery bitch, I was a good girl and sometimes decided to appease our noble king; if only for an easy time.

I hit play on my Walkman; happy to hear the starting notes of Heart Of Glass chiming into my ear canals.

I turned it up loud and proud to sing along; resolved that if Steve and the kid wanted boy time, they could have it, but I would be as much of a nuisance as possible.

“Once I had a love and it was a gas

Soon found out he had a heart of glass

Seemed like the real thing, only to find

Much of mistrust; love’s gone behind.”

[pkmntrainergreyze]

The Emo School (Chapter 1)

Previous Next

Chapter 1: An Emo Box of Misery with Pastel Pink Ecstasy

I used to think anyone doing anything weird was weird. Now I know that it is the people that call others weird that are weird.

-Paul McCartney

09/12/01

Finishing up my plate, well, I couldn’t lie about a few scraps of mixed vegetables on it, the boys decided it’ll be fun to move out of the uncomfortable chairs. I couldn’t escape or not recoil from Ryan’s glares. I know what’s up with him, and the dirty look he’s giving is giving me the creeps. He makes me shiver down my spine and I swear one glare from this long legged man makes me want to stop everything I do- heck, if he was some soldier I’d be doing push-ups right now. (oh hallelujah he isn’t)

“Geez, I just couldn’t finish eating carrots right now Ryro. Is that so big of a problem?” He scoffed before lending me his hoodie. As weird as it sounds I need his dang cologne, it smells pretty darn good, but as much as possible I wouldn’t smell the hoodie in front of him and would rather wear it since it’s d*mn cold for me recently. He seemed to crunch the paper bag once he stared at the floor, as if some cockroach crawled nearby under the shade of the table.

Wait, is there?

“…Ryan, is there-”

“Yes, you spilt my milk in my f*cking man purse B-den”

Oh crap

“Congratulations”

He gave me the Tyrone tone of voice. The same blank yet forcefully enthusiastic voice you hear from the man that often wears a business outfit and a tie.

Where’s the escape Trainer button when you need it?

His face… I couldn’t see it under his brushed locks of hair. I’m not sure whether to look or not to look, either way it’ll probably just result to a really bad, salty ending. Sounds like something you see on Walmart eh? Bittersweet I guess? I am not so sure.

Oh F- the bell rang. It’s really torturous to hear it every single day of the week, especially the inescapable Mondays we have here at school, technically, everybody’s school.

Dallon grabbed his bag and left quickly, even faster than Spencer was when he ran over a advert pole drunk, remind to tell you that story sometime, just not today. Dallon’s a pretty straight guy, he’s like this dad who would be so overprotective of his children- or his students in the real world perspective, but when you think of the other side of that trait, he’s making fucking Dad jokes that my own Dad wouldn’t say. My Dad probably has a better sense of humor than Dallon- Dadlon, whatever.

And honestly speaking, he’s probably trying to avoid making any conversation with us, since we’re kind of talking sweet sweet cocaine.

Ahh yes, I’m about to walk back to the same tracks juniors walk to. I’ll probably receive about ten hearty smiles on my way there. Bet you ten bucks.

Alright, I finally forced my feet to walk and leave the table. Reaching for the end of the cafeteria…

Mrs Jackson smiled. One- wait, that doesn’t count as a junior? She looks nasty tho? Fine, stop judging my poor taste alright?

Passing by Ms Fletcher- okay, one. Her small smile is cleary not that visible. She’s the same child writing poems and speech-y crap for the principal to get quote on quote “extra credit” when in reality she’s serving weeks of detention, constant, but hey, she plays the best d*mn pranks in this school, okay, maybe third bestest.

I still played the “Place-posters-with-Pete’s-phone-number-with-the-tag-’call single males now!’” Prank

Walking around Spencer… Taking a glanc- two.

Oh, I forgot…. Whatever, Spencer looks like a kindergarten anyways so either way no points for me.

Spencer waltzed back to 9AM1 aww.

With how much students doesn’t rush to class after the bell rings, it wouldn’t let me reach that sweet sweet bar of full-on-smiles. Fine, future students, I owe you all ten bucks… only if you’re admit to our holy sacred school though.

Ha! I sound like Principal Wentz.

Profit-oriented mindset over one hundred babe.

I just entered the horrifying classroom of 8AM3. Welcome back to the real world my friends. As soon as I pretty much had my presence in the room students came to class. I heard a lot of talk ‘bout me being the coolest, chillest, most laid-back teacher here in the Junior buildings so I guess I have no competition or complaints.

I can already see the small group of students which I have known to be quite shy. They have my music class after Patrick’s theory crap that I don’t really pay that much attention to.

Mr Flowers just nodded along the conversation he’s having while Mr Bowie kept talking about this junior that idolizes him despite walking down outside the halls of my class. They sure have forgotten that I’m not closing the Godd*mn door before the class have their attendance.

My habitual scoff just came by so casually that students think of it as some form of comic relief. I don’t really know how to explain to these lil demons that it’s an attitude problem.

To think that Patrick’s just on my class, 8AM3, right now, teaching them how Do and Re sounds good together makes me feel better on how I’m actually giving the world- 9AM1 rather, a favor for consuming their time studying with my existence. That’s a joke, Patrick’s probably having fun right now.

Well, it looks like it’s about time.

I looked out the window in the similar fashion the students did as well.

Tick tock tick tock.

“What time is it?” Oh god, that voice crack though. I can hear the punks in this class snickering at it.

“Just struck nine” There goes my sunshine haired buddy cham pal.

“Is the cat at home?”

“He’s about to dine”

It’s Josh, this happened yesterday as well, and the day before. He’s teaching that “cat and mouse” game with the students; this time it’s 8AM2, not 8AM1.

Did I already explained to you why I call classes by numbers?

Well, because the real names sucks. No kidding, it’s so overused.

Who would name their classroom “Grade Eight Morning Glory?”, seriously? I want my class to be “Grade Eight Mary Jane”

Has that kind of ring to it, amiright?

Up until now I wonder why on earth Patrick and Frank likes their class names. I mean- those names are decades old. “Grade Ten Patience” seems plain, don’t tell Frank that.

“Sir do we have an assessment today?” Molly asked from the back with her hand stretched higher than Tyler’s current mood. I nodded as they all groaned. Laughing out of- well, sadism I guess? I had the projector connected to the PC and had it on freeze.

There the students saw my desktop wallpaper of a class picture me and the 8AM3 informally had, plus Patrick, Dallon and Spencer. Spencer truthfully looked out of place in this picture, it looks like he had a date with Aubrey Hepburn. Meanwhile Dallon stood there like he’s telling everyone his birthday is today- but he doesn’t have to lie that it’s on May 4th and that he just turned seven. Patrick’s just there, signature fedora on and a small peace sign.

Let’s not forget my entire class though. We have Frank Gioia and Eva in the front with Frank’s hands on her waist as her eyeliner-ed eyes shone against the color black. The Fro power and his friend glasses just stood there with awkward check poses that seems to go back somewhere deep and hidden in the past. Melanie and Ashley just stood there with no expression, except for the other student beside them, which is Jon, who’s doing the same peace sign Patrick’s been keeping up. The rest is can be explained stereotypical-ly; the emo, the shy artist, the jock, it’s just a fun variety to look at.

“Is that cous’?” I saw him pointing at the one with a black hoodie from the corner of my eye.

“Yep, that’s definitely your cousin Adam”

“They all look happy as heck”

“Sir can we take this sort of picture later?”

Another batch of noise.

Anyways, before my brain shuts down to “teaching mode” looks like I have to get back to this thinking normally crap later. Honestly the author just got no idea how American schools work so let her skip this part dotdootdoot. (let’s just say rep-emo isn’t an American Author (badum tsk))

●———————–●

Finally; the end of the day. Organizing my stuff after drinking my cold caffeine that was left in the canteen at break, I finally had my temporary freedom I shall redeem before my world domination.

Speaking about possible world domination if either me or Patrick does it we’ll both have things planned out but procrastinate later on.

Blowing my students a playful kiss when the bell rang I waltz to the exit first, even so I can still hear their laughs and joyful cheers.

Then I saw something- rather, someone I wish I could just avoid for the week.

Christian Tyler Joseph

My feet practically swooshed and I’m pretty sure my sole—and also my soul—said “nope, not today”. I swear, I’m an atheist but I prayed at that very moment. You know that tense feeling those cliché video game main character does when he or she feels the villain’s presence or just something freaky in the ceiling happens? If you’re thinking you are imaging those overused gulp noises that’s actually real, very real.

Yeah, feeling it.

“Oy! Brendo-”

“I’ll pay my debt later Troye!” Thank God I cut him off before he diss me in front of the students.

“For the last time Fivehead it’s Tyler!”

I know. Dude, we’ve been working together for years now and yet you seem dense about it, maybe that’s just because I always act stupid, don’t let that fool you, I am stupid.

Honestly, that poor guy is so easy to tease. If it wasn’t for my distracting use of ’T’-names I would have had a small—small as Tyler could get—fight. I heard a huff from behind my back that obviously came from Tyler himself, yes, I’m stubborn.

●———————–●

A sigh sadly escaped my lips as I flipped to peak into my students’ Assessment grades.

From Ashbridge to Zoroa; all were sorts of disappointment. Even those who got perfect seems fake to me. If Ryan didn’t left me to go somewhere with Spencer he would have said the grades are as fake as diamonds that looks like broken glass.

I’m so unhappy right now. Never thought I’d use that word.

That all changed when I heard the door slid and also a student did the same but in a more humane manner.

          Enter Ashley the student.

She’s that special student who’s quite popular, inside and outside school grounds. She’s literally a celebrity. She seems to get away each time she dyes her hair unlike another student of mine that goes by the name “crybaby”.

Guess who’s her advisor?

Yeah, that’s obviously me, anyone who said “Dallon” deserves a spank… or a slap, that’s just kinky.

“Hey there Mister Urie”

“Hello to you too Ashley, what’s up?”

Unlike other schools, we’re all practically informal here; teachers and students are pretty much close buds that we don’t even have some guidance counselor, I don’t know if that is a flaw or not… I guess Meagan is a counselor, but that’s just Pete’s wife. Going back to Ashley she’s the only girl in my class—well aside from Melanie—that calls me Mister Urie all the time, but that’s probably due to respect, which is quite neat unlike some students.

“I have milk and cookies here, Melanie wanted to give this out and um… She also asked me to give you this note…”

Yeah, that’s Melanie, no one exactly trusts her, except for Tyler and Hal- I mean Ashley I guess.

“Cool, just place it one of the chairs thanks”

She nodded- before I rudely interrupted when the thought rushed back deep inside my skull.

“Wait, what’s written?”

“Umm… It says; Do you like my cookies? They’re made just for you, a little bit of sugar and… lots of poison too” She seems to hesitate on reading it and I have no doubts on why she is.

Honestly, this is one of those times I wish I could pacify her.

I couldn’t blame her actions, she’s been through a lot- like, a whole looot, as edgy as the book written by Pete when he was young (we fortunately got to read it in his office, don’t tell anyone) she has been kidnapped, rough family, drugged and other things I wouldn’t go deeper.

She’s pretty odd, but really a pretty nice person at the same time. It’s like the half dyes of her hair. She, Frank, Eva, Jon, Mikey, Ray and Richie would talk to me all day and I feel comfortable with them.

I honestly like crazy people like her. She doesn’t mind me doing crappy things and she empathize with me, it’s nice to have someone like that ya know?

Hallelujah, I have such great students and yet I’m a sh*tty teacher. I wonder what type of cookies are in there-

F*ck, that pink pastel box looks creepy as Teletub-

I need some breather.

“Hey Ashley can you pass me the coc-”

Oh wait f*ck

She doesn’t know that yet

Oh god that sounds wrong. No I’m not gay shut up… What are you talking about me and Ryan are just friends. No, not even Dallon, shut up. Denial what the- okay I’m done talking to y'all, I’ll tell you about my past with Ryan later, m'kay? Yes I’ll talk about Dallon later too but now you f*cks are just distracting me.

Anyways, she doesn’t know I do cocaine.

“Uhh… what?”

Sh*t, you guys make me sound so bad. Thinking about it, I am the only one to blame if she did knew.

Think Brendon! Think!

WHY AM I IMAGINING SCENES FROM HANGOVER RIGHT NOW?! IT’S STILL 2001.

“Pass me the…. baby powder from the back of the second row shelf thanks”

“Okay… what does it look like there’s a bunch of jars here Mister Urie!” Yelling a bit for me to hear, I felt a drop of sweat coming from my distracting forehead.

“Uhh…. It’s in one of those straight shoote- I mean flower designs in it”

She raised a small glass tube with some flower designs in it. She raised her eyebrow a bit like it’s already questioning me.

I mean, why would someone smoldering with appeal like me would buy flowers? I had enough with people questioning my sexuality so I’m not having that again.

“This one?” She held the love roses tube and shook it. I hope she didn’t suspect me for anything if so then I hope that I ain’t kissing Pete’s *ss for this. Thank past me for buying filtered one and not the transparent, but that’s too early for me to say so.

“Yeah, bring it here. Thanks” She threw it to me and I caught it, fortunately.

“Why would you have it in a flower case?”

Haha…

“I have no containers left, is all”

She nodded once more “I’m pretty sure Principal Wentz would allow ya to use one of the containers in the science room, I mean you’re close to Mister Iero as well right?”

Haha… riiight. I’m pretty sure Mister Wentz or Iero wouldn’t

“Yeah, thanks for the idea and the cookies, tell Melanie the same”

“Yeah, you’re welcome Mister Urie”

●———————–●

“BRENDON!”

That’s Dallon, once more in all his glory. He never seems to stay calm after his week of teaching in this school. His hair looks like his wife quiffed it- whatever people call that hairstyle, maybe I should say hair mess.

“What?” As you can tell, I’m tired as well so long and goodnight Dal, I need some shut eye. This is the same man who almost fell asleep while teaching the opium war, quite surprising that he can be this tense.

“YOU CAN’T DO DRUGS IF THEY CAUGHT YOU YOU’RE IN BIG TROUBLE-”

“SHH!”

Yeah! I would be if you continued yelling.

“Shut up Dallon” I closed the door behind me only to here Dallon handling the doorknob back open.

“Brendon, it’s not healthy”

What is he gonna say? Cardiac arrest? Lung problems? Yeah, I know the side effect don’t worry about it, stimulation has always been a part of me even though I try so hard to deny it. I try to stop each time though so I don’t have to hear this right now.

(Author just searched the side effects of cocaine so this may not be exact, author is not a doctor, author’s life sucks)

“Uhuh”

“No I’m serious! My friend used to do drugs as well and he-”

Oh no. I’m having this talk again am I?

Rolling my eyes back to a distant land called “Nopeland”. I could only hear incoherent sounds of a failed attempt to get me to change my decisions in life. I only found the polychromatic color that matches the walls once more when my eyes landed back to my table.

Smirk.

Grab.

Flick.

“W-cou-hat the h-heck Brendon that’s childish eew is that baby powder or powdered milk? Disgusting”

Nah, that’s coke, have fun cleaning your uniform for tomorrow morning kiddo.

And then- with just one swish and flick- I magically landed back to happy land. Maybe it’s the side effect of cocaine, may or may not be but whatever, I’d like to think that it is for the moment. It’s nice to see someone’s first encounter with coke, if I were to be Van Gogh I’d be painting this view of Dadlon trying to remove the white stains from his crotch right now.

Looks like I have something to write on my Journal huh?

Let’s be real though dear hopefully-future-students; my dairy is a lot more cooler than the Diary Of A Wimpy kid? No? Yeah you’re right, my life sucks. If this were a subject you all would have had all my assessments perfect even on your first day.

I don’t know whether you should take that as a compliment or that states you’re slowly becoming trash- well no, technically all you little eyes are my treasure so don’t go living in the dumps.

“Brendon please help me remove this stuff”

“No thanks”

“Beeeebooo”

“Not this again Dallon”

This is some sick technique in which Dallon uses the nickname “Beebo” to get me to do something. No, I’m not telling you “why Beebo?”.

Fine.

It all started when me and Patrick were teaching the seniors for a bit since Andy couldn’t come due to a winter storm at his place. We were at Patrick’s small enthusiastic explanation about a simple concept when someone boldly called me “Beebo” and it just stucked.

Groaning in the same manner the students of 9AM1 from earlier, I grabbed my handerchief and started rubbing the surface of his sweater that he probably bought last week.

“I hate you”

“Love you too Beebs, now continue helping me will you?”

Geez, I do have a lot to write down today.

Oh crap, he didn’t bought this last week; it says “Grade 10 Hibiscus” so it’s most probably hand made for him from his last advisory class. He got this last Christmas. Crap, I ruined his greatest gift. I am so sorry Dallon. Best not to tell this and the Ashley incident to anyone.

●———————–●

My eyes wondered about when I saw the box Ashley left in the corner.

That pink box…

I swear, I don’t have any idea on what to do with these cookies, they actually smell and look delicious. I guess I’ll never know huh?

“Hey Mister Urie is Richie’s detention over? He asked me to go shopping in Hot Topic today that’s why I’m asking” The next person to ever slide in after class today is Frank Gioia. The emotional kid who doesn’t seem to mind what everyone thinks, he’s a cool dude I swear.

“Oh, he’d be up by no-”

About the box….

As bright as the ideas Gerard drew in his sketchpad (which is full of strange looking people by the way, especially that all white violin girl), my eyes fluttered at the sudden thought that occured.

“Hey Frank?”

“Yeah?” He tilted his head to peak in a bit more. He doesn’t seem to be fazed at the fact I avoided answering his question.

“Want some cookies?”

Silence.

He stared at me for a bit, then back to the box I was supposedly reaching out for him to taste. His eyebrow raised at the sight of it.

“Isn’t that Melanie’s?”

Oh, he knew, that was some fail.

Lie or not to lie?

Nah, lying is pretty much fun if you’re a girl.

“Yeah, Melanie gave it to me earlier”

“Yeah saw it too”

Then another batch of awkward silence followed as we stared at each other, eyes locked with such confusion present on both sides.

“Sure… I’ll take one”

He came closer and took a bite of the chocolate chipped cookies from the forsaken box. He seems delighted somehow.

Well.

Looks like I have a new box to place my ecstasy.

●———————–●

I bumped into Ryan earlier.

He gave me this blank look before leaving me in the halls. He seemed to be carrying another paper bag; two packs of cheese whiz I presume. He didn’t seem to mind me whenever I snoop into his bags, although this time was an exception.

       ⏭️The theater in Brendon’s mind⏮️

Ryan: *looking at his paper bag*

Fab Brendon: What’s that *about to reach into the bag*

Ryan: *Slaps hand*

Ryan: Y o u  a r e  n o t  m y  f r i e n d

Exit Ryan.

⏯️

Trust me, give him a few more days and the two of us we’ll be okay, he wouldn’t exchange our friendship over cheese whiz….

I wonder if he thinks the same about me and Frank Sinatra, if so tell him I’d choose the latter.

●———————–●

On my way home I saw Ray and Mikey talking about Gerard and his small sketchpad they saw behind the bush in which he probably left it.

“How did it end up there in the first place?” They looked as confused as I am, Ray just raised his lips a bit higher to look like he’s pensive for an answer.

“He’s Mister Way after all, he can get like this, right Moikey?”

“Mikey Ray, It’s Mikey. Yes, he does act as irresponsible at times”

Sometimes I wonder if that face shows sadness, disappointment, anger or just plain nothing. It’s a pokerface no one could ever break, not even that time Joe played around with Frank’s chemistry set, I mean, mixing Mountain Dew and chunks of Doritos was funny and all, and Gerard’s reporting skills on that scene made the class laugh even more.

I sure do love this school’s innocent scenes.

Wait I’m going too far, back to Mikey.

“Anyways, do you know where your brother is at the moment?”

He shook his head in reply but Ray nodded it with excitement.

“Yeah he said he’s going to binge watch Star Wars in the cinema”

Mikey’s face dropped a bit before going back to normal. That action probably meant sadness… right?

“He forgot to drive me back home, whatever I’ll just walk”

“I’ll come with you don’t worry, we’re practically neighbors”

“no we’re not”

“shush”

I know that I laughed at that small conversation but I still feel the small strange vibe Mikey’s been radiating, unlike Gerard he would have punched me in the face if he was at the scene and tell me to “stay the *beep* away from my sketchpad!”

Was that beep necessary?

“Do you want me to call Gerard?”

“No, it’s okay Mister Urie”

I shrugged as he denied my random act of kindness, ouch.

“Whatever kiddos, get home safely okay?” “Yes Mister Urie” “Oh, and bring your brother’s sketchpad, he doesn’t want it in my hands”

Mikey raised an eyebrow “Don’t you wanna see what’s inside?”

I mean, it could be anything edge-shock-y so I wouldn’t dare open it.

“N-nah, rather not”

Mikey just nodded and fetched for the sketchpad in my hands.

Then I walked back home, just like they did.

God, I’m stopping drugs. Things like this are more stimulating…. and stressful

[autumn-elwood]

Ricky the Vampire

Summary: Ricky has been alone in his house for a long time so it's hardly surprising when he goes to drastic measures to cure his loneliness. What is surprising is how well his stupid and illegal plan works out.

For those of you who were hoping for a scary story, sorry. This is a really fluffy piece.

Also available on: Blogger

First off, I plead insanity. And loneliness. I plead insanity and loneliness. That is the only way I can really justify the stupid- very illegal- crime I just committed. Okay, wait. I should probably explain who I am since you’re all wondering ‘who the hell are you and what did you do?’

My name is Ricky Galvez and I am an eighty-year-old vampire. Practically a baby in vampirical age and I have no friends. Kinda hard to make friends when you look like you’re twelve and you can hardly go outside or you’ll develop a rash. Well to be fair, I was allergic to the sun even before I became a vampire but still.

And when I say I have no friends, I mean I have any real-life friends. I have plenty of online friends but I don’t have any friends I can touch. I miss hugs.

Admittedly, since the magical world isn’t exactly a secret in this decade I could just reveal I’m a vampire but people get put off by the twelve-year-old appearance.

So a couple weeks back when I was staring at my book collection bemoaning my isolation and slurping a blood IV bag, I got the most brilliant idea of getting someone to come to my house. Internet friends were quickly scrapped because my online friends think I’m twenty and I think I’ve made it clear why that wouldn’t work out. I felt myself about to fall into another bout of depression before my eyes landed across the books “Demon Summoning” and “101 Safe Demons to Summon”. Um… Ricky, why do you have those books?

I don’t know and I honestly wish I had questioned that more before I went all out and summoned a fucking demon, an act that has been illegal for five centuries in the magical and normal communities since the last demon MASSACRE. “Ricky, you dumb-ass,” you must be screaming. “Why did you do that?!”

Because I am insane and lonely, and insane and lonely people do extremely stupid things.

Some of you more optimistic fools are probably thinking, “It couldn’t be that bad, after all, you summoned a demon from “101 Safe Demons to Summon”. WRONG! No demon is a safe demon. Demons are infinitely old and infinitely unpredictable. Even the most amicable of demons have been known to raze a few cities.

After skimming “Demon Summoning” and selecting demon #82 from “101 Safe Demons to Summon”, the demon of souls, I began to draw my circle. The demon of souls is a demon who rarely gets summoned and hardly anything is known about them. I thought it was sad they didn’t get summoned often. I thought they might be lonely because if I was incredibly old demon bound to the shadow realm who saw my fellow demons being summoned on a regular basis, I would be lonely too.

To summon the demon of souls is simple. Place a pomegranate in the center of the circle and chant:

“In umbra ab, Universo Regno resurgemus daemonium animarum tenetur ad me ipsum.”

The candles I put around the circle grew four feet bathing my bedroom in reds and oranges casting dark shadows along my walls. The ground shook and wood split as my floor cracked. Spector like projections rose from the floor, their ghastly shrieks permeating and saturating the air with fear and pain. I clung to my bedpost in terror and unfortunately, pissed myself (Note to self: Don’t summon demons on a full bladder). A hand reached up from the crack and slammed itself on the wooden floor in front of it, clawing at it, and pulled the rest of its body up from the hole.

I couldn’t see it yet but I began to scream. A deep unnatural voice boomed from the floor.

“The mortal, Richard Galvez, why have thou summoned me!”

I opened my eyes, startled that I had noticed I had closed them and beheld the demon I had foolishly summoned. The demon’s appearance perplexed me. It was that of a late teen in a tweed suit. Their vessel appeared to be that of an Asian male but in my stupefied state, I could not recall the specific branch. When I regained my mental facilities, I guessed Japanese but my ability to guess ethnicity has always been spotty at best so don’t trust my judgment.

“I wanted to hang out,” I squeaked out, cursing my prepubescent vocal cords.

The demon blinked in bewilderment. Then they blinked again. They looked awfully confused.

“You wanted to… hang out?” they said slowly.

“Yes,” I replied timidly.

The demon’s face shifted to one of annoyance.

“You idiot,” the demon scolded. “You can’t just summon demons because you’re lonely. How stupid are you? If you had messed up, you could have been eaten or had your body reduced to its atoms! And why would you choose a demon of souls to summon? Do you even know what a demon of souls is? You shouldn’t summon things if you don’t know what they are!”

“What is a demon of souls?” I asked meekly.

The demon glared. “Don’t interrupt me. I’m not finished yet.”

“But–”

“Shh!”

The demon looked about five seconds away from slapping me. I shut my trap.

“You would think at your age, you would have learned to think things through better but you’re still as thick as your average teenage mortal. And look at your room, it’s a mess.”

“Well, some of it is your fault.”

The demon made an agitated zip gesture at me.

“I was not referring to that, brat. I was talking about the rest of it. Your laundry is piled a mile high and you have food growing eyeballs in here. Also, do you ever dust? It’s so stuffy in here. And about the crack in the floor, that’s your fault. You forgot the stability ring.”

I ducked my head in shame. I couldn’t believe I was being chastised by a demon about things I should have known to do. I’m eighty-years-old. I should know not to summon demons. I should know to dust. I should Know to do my laundry. I should know to throw away my food. I am so irresponsible.

“You’re right. You are so irresponsible.”

Oh shit. Had I said that out loud?

“No, you did not. It’s written plainly on your face.”

“Um… I’m sorry, demon of souls.”

The demon grinned flatly. “I’m sorry’s not going to cut it, Richard. I think you need to learn some consequences.”

The demon snapped their fingers and went up in a poof of black smoke. I coughed and waved my hand through the air. When the mist cleared, a small five-year-old boy in suspenders stood where the teenager had been yelling at me.

“What?” I said in confusion.

“I’m going to teach you some responsibility,” the boy-demon replied.

“Um… what?”

The little demon snorted. “Congratulations, for the foreseeable future, I’m your new little brother. You have to enroll me in school, take me to school, feed me and go to school yourself. After you take a placement test, I’ll age your body up.”

“You can do that? Wait, you want me to take care of you and go outside? I have a sun allergy.”

“I can fix that.”

“I can’t take care of you, I–”

The demon exited the circle and stalked up to me like a lion would stalk towards its prey.

“Stop acting like you have a choice. You’re learning responsibility. That’s your punishment for being such an ignoramus. Also, be prepared to get to know the cops because bodies are going to drop.”

“You’re going to kill people,” I shrieked hysterically, my voice cracking on ‘people’.

“No,” the demon rolled his eyes. “My presence agitates people and causes people’s murderous thoughts to amplify in order to collect souls. It’s less active in hospitals since people are already dying but you can’t really just leave me in a hospital all the time.”

“Can you turn it off?” I pleaded, having no desire to see a corpse.

“Sadly, no,” the demon said, not sounding the least bit sad but their eyes looked guilty.

I had nothing to say to that so I changed the subject.

“So, what’s your name?”

“It is impossible for your mortal vocal cords to replicate so I will have to think of something else,” the demon responded, putting their tiny fist under their chin. “Well, I  would have to think up another name anyway. My real name isn’t exactly a mortal name.”

I sat down on the bed and stared at the demon as they paced the room. I didn’t understand the demon’s reasoning for the punishment they had selected but I was afraid that the next time I protested they would set me on fire or throw me into a pocket dimension to be torture. Observing their pacing for a while longer, I wondered if I should offer them a chair or a glass of water. All that shouting must have been exhausting. I shook my head. Why was I thinking these things? An attachment spell?

“Elliot.”

I hummed. Elliot wasn’t exactly the most popular name right now, not that I remember it being exceedingly popular back when I was actually twelve.

“You seem skeptical. I think the name works well. After all, you’re named Richard but go by Ricky and siblings often give each other nicknames. I could go by Ellie for short.”

I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing. The infinitely old demon who could probably rip out my soul without moving a muscle, wanted me to call them Ellie. Okay. I could deal with that. There was literally nothing that could make this situation weirder than it already was.

“Yeah. That works.”

The demon nodded stiffly and materialized a packet for me.

“Here’s your placement test. We’ll get you sorted before we do my registration forms. Hopefully, you do well enough to be listed as an emergency contact,” shooting me a smirk at the last part. It felt like a challenge like an “I dare you to mess up”. I didn’t want to know what they would do if I failed to meet their expectations.

Taking that bogus placement test was a nightmare. I know I understood most of it but there was a lot that just went way over my head. Fuck landing a grade that would put at me reasonable place to be eighteen. I only hoped that I got enough right to land high school because there was no way I was going to be stuck in middle school again. Watching the demon grade the damn thing was, even more, nerve-inducing. There is something truly frightening about a five-year-old going over your test making displeased noises every now and then, especially when you knew that this five-year-old was a mercurial demon.

After an hour, the demon-boy looked up at me. They picked up and straightened the papers in that strange solemn way only authority figures can replicate.

“All right, let’s get started. Your Reading and Comprehension is post-high school. Your History is okay but overall unremarkable. You did well in your chosen foreign language, Spanish. Nowhere near bilingual but well enough to fulfill the two-year minimum requirement. Your Sciences could use improvement and your math and algebra is shit.

“I’d put you at junior year of high school to freshmen in college. Although if you want to do the college route we’d have to do some tutoring in math and algebra I think senior in high school would be the best due to your placement test and it’s reasonable for most seniors to be eighteen. With you being eighteen you could legally have custody of me.”

“Um… How does that work since Elliot Galvez doesn’t legally exist?”

They patted me on the knee.

“Leave that to me, Ricky.”

Unsurprisingly, that did not make me feel any more confident. Guess I’d better add forgery to my criminal record because no court on Earth is going to try the demon how actually did the forgery. Additionally, the child-demon’s partialness to vagueness didn’t make me feel any better either.

“Fine. I suppose senior will work but what am I supposed to say when people inevitably ask why I have custody of you instead of our parents.”

“We’re half-brothers. Your father left when you were twelve and Mom died when I was born. My father was a one-night-stand so he’s not in the picture and there’s no name listed for father on my birth certificate. We have been living with our grandfather until he died of cancer this summer. You’ve been homeschooled your whole life but after taking custody of me, you decided to enroll me in public school and yourself in the local high school.”

“That’s sad,” I said without any inflection in my voice after he finished explaining our tragic backstory to me.

“Not as much as my original idea. I had thought of having our imaginary parents murdered during a home invasion but I thought this was better,” they shrugged carelessly.

I gaped at them completely aghast. I hoped they wouldn’t say anything like that at school. I had a vision of child services sweeping the house and shuddered. The demon chuckled awkwardly like they were embarrassed although I doubt they were.

“Okay. Let’s get your body aged up,” they put their hand on my shoulder. “A duodenum octo mortalium incerta. Solis, nocere puer iste amplius.”

I gasped. My body felt like it was burning. I felt dizzy and weak. I could feel my bones shatter and reassemble themselves. I choked up two of my baby teeth I had never lost, blood dripping out of my mouth like when your body forms too much saliva. Most of it landed on my jeans while the rest dried to my feverish body. I could fill my skin stretch as my bones grew rapidly and how it broke in some areas causing more of my blood to exit my body. I was screaming but it was a note so high my vocal cords couldn’t hit it. My heart pounded against my chest like I was having a heart attack. At one point I threw up, my acidic bile searing my throat and splattering against my floor, mixing with my hemoglobin. When I landed on the ground during the convulsions, I barely avoided landing in my crimson sick. I felt like I was dying. The pain made me feel like I had been suffering through this for hours. At a later point, Elliot kindly informed me the whole transformation had taken place in a matter of three minutes.

For the first time since meeting the demon, they looked scared. Their eyes looked glassy and they had their arms wrapped around their waist like they didn’t want to look at their hands. I don’t think they realized how much growing like that would hurt me.

“Are you okay?” Elliot cried, panic evident in their voice.

“I’m–” I flinched at the sound of my deeper voice. “Fine, Ellie. It’s okay. It didn’t hurt that much.”

The last part was a total lie but seeing the demon so scared was unnerving. Elliot shook their whole body like they were forcing themselves to calm down.

“I should have given you some other clothes before casting the spell,” they remarked absently.

I lowered my eyes to my clothing. They were all ripped up and I was suddenly aware of my boxers digging painfully into my hips. I stood up to strip and almost landed in my vomit as I got vertigo from standing up. I felt so clumsy and awkward with my new long legs.

I glanced at one of my mirrors and was shocked at my appearance. Gone were the chubby cheeks and scrawny shoulders. I looked like a man. I didn’t feel like a man. I still felt like the small twelve-year-old I had been stuck as for sixty-eight-years. I could already feel all the door frames I was going to run into.

I felt a tap on my knee. I looked down at Elliot.

“You can go online and if you find anything you like, I’ll magic it up in your size,” they threw something at me, which I barely caught. “That’s our debit card. It’s mostly for groceries but you can buy anything with it as long as it’s reasonable. It works in all ATMs if you need cash.

I nodded blankly.

“I’ll find you some clothes for you too.”

Elliot looked surprised but didn’t comment.

It did not take long for me to discover I was absolutely shit at filling out paperwork. I won’t bore you with the details but kindergarten registration forms are a bitch when you have no idea what you’re doing. Thank god, Elliot filled out mine. Also, back-to-school shopping is horrible. I bought all the stuff on the recommendation lists and then some, and I still feel terribly ill-prepared.

And then, I also wasn’t sure if I was supposed to make Elliot’s lunch or not. There was a form for free and reduced lunch but I had no clue how to fill it out or if we’d even qualify with our access to Elliot’s freaky debit card. Elliot’s a demon and probably very independent but this whole exercise is supposed to be a lesson in responsibility for me. In most of the sitcoms I’ve had the misfortune to watch, the mom makes the kids lunch but there’s no mom in this scenario. Am I expected to act as Elliot’s dad, mom, and brother? I’m not ready to be a parent!

“What’s with the panicked look on your face?”

I let out a high pitched shriek.

“Panicked? I have no panicked look on my face. Hi, Elliot. How are you?” I stuttered.

They gave me a puzzled expression like they didn’t believe me. Understandable, I wouldn’t have believed me.

“Humans typically take their dinner around 17:00, correct?”

17:00? What did he mean by–?

“Dinner! I forgot dinner! People need to eat,” I stumbled towards the bedroom door and past Elliot.

What should I make? Did I have enough ingredients? I presumably should not serve blood. Elliot’s vessel is doubtlessly human in needs. Mac n Cheese? Spaghetti? Soup?!

Accursed agony. I had tripped down the stairs. I forced myself up, thankful my accelerated healing had taken care of my broken bones and careened towards the kitchen. I slammed open the cabinets expecting meager supplies but was astonished to find the cupboard fully stocked.

“Where the fuck–”

“I bought groceries online earlier.”

I squawked again, startled by Elliot’s sudden appearance.

“Jesus Christ, Ellie. Don’t sneak up on me like that. You just stole twenty years off my life.”

They blinked up at me angelically.

“I thought humans avoided using profanity in front of young children,” they teased.

“Typically, yes but I don’t think I could ever accomplish censoring my language especially when I know you’re not actually five.”

They hummed neutrally but didn’t voice any approval and disappointment.

After checking over our bountiful supplies, I decided to make some vegetable soup with grilled cheese. I burnt the grilled cheese and I had somehow managed to put a hole in the bread. Elliot seemed to enjoy it anyway but I don’t think they have much experience with human food to provide a reliable critique.

At first, I was quite terrible at this big brother gig but as the school year drew closer I began to get the hang of it. I repainted one of the guest rooms and bought new sheets for Elliot. I did a significant amount of cleaning and rearranging in order to make the house livable again. I fixed a laundry schedule and repaired my floor. I disposed of all the garbage in the house. That took forever. I’m so proud of myself and Elliot seemed to approve.

And then the dreaded first day came. I walked Elliot to school extra early, at 7:15, so we wouldn’t be late and so I could meet their new teacher, Ms. Rita.

“Hello! Welcome to room three! My name’s Ms. Rita. Now who’s this sweet little boy,” she sang.

“Well, this is Elliot. I know it’s weird but he’ll be in both the morning and afternoon classes because there’s no one to pick him up.”

She blinked rapidly, seemingly perplexed by my explanation.

“Okie Dokie but I’m sure you could have worked something out with the After School Program instead of enrolling him in both classes.”

After School Program?

“I wasn’t aware that was an option,” I confessed.

Ms. Rita smiled at me sweetly. It felt like a “you poor idiot” smile.

“That’s okay, honey. Elliot can be my little teacher’s aide in the afternoon,” she crouched down to Elliot’s level. “How does that sound, Elliot?”

“Delightful,” they smiled politely at her.

For some reason, she gawked at Elliot’s reply. I wasn’t sure why until I remembered kindergartners do not usually use phrases like delightful. I glanced at my watch and cringed.

“I really should be going, Ellie, Ms. Rita. Ellie, do you have everything you need?”

“Yes.”

“And your lunch?”

They nodded.

“I'll pick you up after school. Have fun.”

Hesitantly, I kissed Elliot’s forehead. He beamed at me and waved good-bye. I felt a tug at my heartstrings and a feeling of fear in my gut. I briefly wondered who I was scared for. Myself? Elliot? Ms. Rita and her classes?

High School was weird to put it simply. I knew no one and somehow they all knew I was new. How they could possibly notice one new face in hundreds astounded me. Students in all my classes kept coming up to me and asking me questions. How old are you? Elliot’s voice echoed in my ears. Eighteen, I answered. Why did you transfer here? I didn't. I was homeschooled before, I replied. Why? I don't know. I've been homeschooled my whole life, I lied. Do you have any siblings? One, Elliot. He's five. Cue awe’s from the girls. I felt like an animal in the zoo.

The syllabuses we received seemed promising and I was really excited. It all whirled by so fast and I was soon walking back to the elementary school. Ms. Rita and Elliot were waiting for me by the gate. Elliot ran up to me, bouncing all the way. He looked happy to see me. I wondered if he was genuinely happy or faking it.

“Hey, Ellie. How was your day?”

“Great! I made three new friends in the morning class; Maria, Chris, and Alex. They're super duper nice. They've been friends since preschool and they invited me to join their soccer game when they saw I was all alone,” Elliot babbled. “I didn't make any friends in the afternoon classes yet. Ms. Rita says I will soon. They're just confused why I'm a teacher's aide and don't know how to approach me.”

My heart clenched. The demon most likely knee the afternoon class was jealous of him. I wondered if he cared, if he felt hurt by their resentment or if he even liked his new friends. Was he using them as a part of the act, or did he genuinely enjoy the children's company? I felt despicable thinking it because I liked Elliot a lot and I hoped he cared for me too and not out of necessity.

Our walk home was, unfortunately, eventful. Elliot and I had decided to have a race home and Elliot tripped over a body. Neither of us dared to move for approximately ten seconds.

“I should have expected this,” Elliot muttered resigned.

I didn't know how to feel. We had just found a body. Elliot was lying on top of it. I felt numb. I picked Elliot up and deposited him next to me. I grabbed my cell phone and punched in 9-1-1.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” the operator asked flatly.

“I… We found a dead body on… William St. It appears to be a woman.”

“A body, on Williams?” the operator questioned, sounding more awake.

“Yes.”

“Sir, please stay there. May I have your name and any of your companions’ names?”

“Richard Galvez and my little brother, Elliot. Elliot tripped over the body.”

The dispatcher made an annoyed sound.

“I'll be sure to let forensics know. We'll need to take samples from your brother to separate your brothers DNA from any of potential DNA left behind by the killer if it turns out to be a murder.”

Less than ten minutes later, the cops arrived on scene. They had some kind looking younger cop interview Elliot while I got the third degree. It took them an hour to track down the dead woman’s identity. June Clark, a businesswoman from out of state and registered lycanthropic. I heard one of the cops mutter about a possible hate crime. A few of them who recognized that I was a vampire scowled at me suspiciously. I hate Hollywood for festering that stupid myth that vampires and werewolves hate each other. One of the cops looked like he wanted to drag me to the station and book me but the inspector sent us on our way and thanked us for providing information.

I was asked to hand over my number in case they had any more questions at a later point. I internally groaned, knowing in a couple of weeks, I would know most, if not all, of their names.

Next time a body dropped around Elliot, I wasn’t there. I got a call from the elementary school during my lunch hour explaining I needed to come pick Elliot up. One of the janitors had taken a misstep on the roof and had landed in a bloody heap in front of Elliot and his friends. The school helpfully informed me of a good therapist and that school was canceled for the rest of the day so the police could conduct an investigation. I ran to my school’s attendance office so fast I practically left a dust cloud in my wake. I must have said something about the incident because the office lady looked completely distributed. She literally threw the note at me.

“Get going, boy!” she urged me.

I easily complied, racing to the elementary school like there was a psycho with a stake on my ass. When I got there, most of the children were gone. Elliot stood over by the group of three he had introduced to me earlier in the week. Maria was crying into Chris’s shirt while Chris was trying to stifle his own tears. Alex sat on the ground rocking slowly back and forth like a pendulum, staring off at something only he could see. I assumed it must have been the janitor’s corpse. Heaven knows Mrs. Clark still keeps me up with only the apathetic moon to keep me company. Her empty eyes staring into me, dry blood masking her right. Her face left contorted in a scream.

Elliot stood behind them, murmuring softly. His words appeared slow and hesitant like he didn’t know what to say and I knew he didn’t. His poor attempts to comfort me after the first corpse lingers in my mind. He had told me there was no need to be sad because I hadn’t known her, that her soul had moved on safely and she was resting before being put back in the reincarnation cycle. I observed him for a long time before gathering my thoughts into words and even then I felt my explanation lacking.

“I’m not upset she’s dead. I’m upset someone decided to play god, that someone thought they had the right to steal her away from her life, her family, and her dreams. That, someone, believed she had done something to deserve death. No one deserves to die, Elliot. No one,” I finally articulated.

He was struck speechless by my statement and walked away with a pensive expression.

Back to the present, Elliot put his hand on Alex’s shoulder and began to rub circles on it. Alex did not respond. Over by the steps, Ms. Rita was hunched over with her head in her hands. I walked over to her and sat down.

“I don’t understand how this happened,” she whispered.

“I don’t think anyone could find an explanation for how or why this happened. It just happened and we can’t fix it no matter how much we want to.”

She looked up at me, her make-up smeared and eyes red. Dry tear stains were prominent on her cheeks.

“The kids shouldn’t have had to see that,” she cried.

“No one should have to see that,” I breathed subdued.

She let out a short sob. I wanted to sob too. I was as good at comfort as Elliot, that is to say, not at all.

“It’s not your fault and kids bounce back fast. Most of them will forget about this in a couple of weeks.”

“And will Elliot be a part of the most? The body almost landed right on top of him. He was almost crushed, he could have died.”

“This is hardly the first body Ellie has seen.”

“WHAT?!” she whisper-yelled at me, stunned.

“He was the one who found Grandpa,” I fibbed. “And a couple of weeks ago he tripped over a body when we were on our way home.”

“Oh my god,” Ms. Rita gasped.

I nodded, as I often do when I have no idea what to say.

“But there was so much blood,” she fretted.

The poor woman. I doubt any amount of blood could phase Elliot but I still felt the desire to placate her concerns.

“I keep blood IVs in our fridge for my condition,” I gestured at my teeth. “And I drink the bags in front of him. He’s well desensitized to blood.”

“You’re a vampire!” she exclaimed in surprise. Then she flushed like she had something rude, which in some ways it was rude but I didn’t mind. “I’m sorry. I just never noticed… um… is Elliot one too?”

I shook my head.

“He’s human. A bit psychic though,” I lied.

“He can see the future?”

“No, not as far as I know. He can make stuff float and other stuff. Neither of us knows the full extent of it. He only started showing signs of it a couple weeks before Gramps passed.”

We sat peacefully in the silence for a few minutes, only broken by the upset noises from the children.

“I should take Ellie home. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” she said, determination springing into her eyes.

“Children, how about we all go inside and color for a while until your folks get here?” she shouted, forcing any of her feelings from before out of her mind in order to present a strong front for the little ones to cling to.

I admired Ms. Rita for that. I know I could never push my emotions down like that.

It was a struggle to get Elliot to leave Alex but I did it. I felt like the worst human being on Earth but I did it. I thought Elliot was going to send me to the shadow realm when I dragged him away. Seeing him like this made me feel guilty for ever doubting the sincerity of his friendship with the kids. He would obviously protect those kids like a mama bear would her cubs. Excuse me for being cliched, but I pitied the poor son of a bitch who attempt to upset one of them, let alone all three of them.

It was at that point I seriously began to consider if Elliot saw me as a good brother. Guardian? I tried my best but I didn’t know how well I succeeded. I couldn’t help but ask myself whether or not Elliot would leave when he declared my punishment complete. I didn’t want him to leave. The house had been so quiet before, so lonely and although Elliot was often soft-spoken, everything felt oddly better, more alive, with someone else’s breathing.

With Elliot in the house, there was more laughter, more energy. I wanted him to stay even if I had to put up with bodies dropping whenever we leave the house. I wanted to be his big brother despite him being unbelievably older than me. I wanted to see him smile and grow. I wanted to praise him for every good grade and encourage him through every bad grade. I wanted to see him go on dates and be happy. I wanted to be there for him and be his friend.

“What happens when I pass your test,” I questioned that evening at the dinner table.

Elliot paused mid-bite of my shitty casserole, which he seemed to enjoy for some unexplainable reason.

“I guess I would go back to the shadow realm,” Ellie muttered wistfully.

My grip tightened on my fork, steeling myself for rejection.

“Could you stay?”

Elliot’s fork clattered on his plate and he looked at me in shock.

“You’d like me to stay,” he blurted out, incredulously.

“Yes,” I answered without reluctance. “I would love it if you could stay.”

“Thanks. I would really like that,” he smiled at me, a small nervous smile that made me feel like I had done something amazing like save a life.

I didn’t save a life but I think I just changed his for the better. I hope he knew he had changed mine in the same way.

I hope you all enjoyed the Halloween Special. I may choose to expand on this story at a later date so, be on the lookout for that. I hope you guys enjoy the new blog set up. Don't forget to follow or subscribe (whichever damn on it is) for regular updates. Ask box is open for prompts :)