#also should be noted I’m not okay with him using the r-slur and think it was not okay but he did apologize and take it down and after

[bleue-flora]

@its-hitoshi I hope it’s okay to make a post answering your question, I figured perhaps you might not be the only one wondering so might as well just put it out there for anyone not in the loop. :) I would also like to say I really appreciate you asking, as it has previously not been concretely confirmed and I think it’s important to respect ccs and their privacy by not assuming, diagnosing, or spreading around false information about any mental illness, disorders or sexual orientation...etc. I stand firm on the fact that it’s none of our business unless they choose to share it.

Anyways, the answer is that this week Dream in multiple posts including his stream and reply to his original offensive tweet (and maybe somewhere else too) has confirmed that he is in fact autistic.

This of course came out because in the past he saw others being defended for using the r-slur against him because of their autism, so he felt that it was okay for him to post a meme with it too. Obviously, not everyone agrees with that and he has since apologized and (despite his I’d say reasonable frustration at the double standard that’s it’s okay if an autistic person calls him every slur in the book including the r-slur but - how dare he do so), he has come to realize that it was out of line period, standing by his previous statement of not using the word in any context. Think of that what you will. And I know you only asked about the autism, but given the tweet and clip where he says it are directly related to this offensive tweet, I wanted you to have to some context before placing judgment or being confused incase you didn’t already know about what has been going on.

[sparxwrites]

The Asshole-Of-The-Internet AU

sparx god. dsmp has internet and comms are iPhones and tommy gets banned from dsmp Twitter so he has to anonpost on dsmp 4chan

hoodie RKJGHRKGHKJGHERHGJHRHGH TOMMY ON 4CHAN OH NO

sparx …………oh no now I have “what if asshole-end-of-the-internet dsmp au” 4chan kiwifarms whatever else

hoodie they try to radicalize him but it doesnt work bc he literally is in exile

sparx SCREAMING okay but au where dream runs 4chan. Wilbur stars as null who fucks up 4chan and then makes kiwifarms when he gets run off the site. tommy is the normie they’re both desperately trying to recruit. Schlatt runs rise of kings or whatever tf the pick-up artist site is called

hoodie OH MY GOD YES

sparx this is perhaps the worst thing ever I have had in my head and I do not say that lightly

hoodie its SO fucking funny tho tommy in the reddit dms with wilbur who is trying so so hard to get him to join his site but tommy just keeps asking how many bitches wilbur gets from kiwifarms and wilbur has to say 'niki left me bc i made the site'

sparx SFAHDJFKGKGLSGSHDKGHRKRL niki left Wilbur and went to found ovarit which i think is like. the radfem site heghghgh

hoodieRJKHRJGHGH wilbur radicalised niki

sparx his dick was so shit it radicalised niki………….. George on 4chan but he just fuckinf sucks at being nasty and keeps messaging dream like “there r people being racist on here :/“

hoodie george on 4chan telling ppl to stop saying slurs

sparx YEAH YEAH u see my vision

hoodie george: idk this is kind of mean :/  dream, typing out smth incredibly evil: its just the internet it doesnt matter

sparx dream has to pretend occasionally he has morals for the sake of the bussy which he still has yet to get him and quackity are moots on some incel website

hoodie hes in it for the long game RJHGH quackity is on an incel website bc sapnap and karl left him

sparx he watches Schlatt’s webinars on negging

hoodie REJGHRJHHG quackity: takes notes so he can use it to win back sapnap quackity is literally the only gay person in a sea of pathetic straight men who are threats to society

sparx diversity win! this homosexual is a pathetic man who’s a threat to society <3 techno bc he is a chad only has a Snapchat that he uses to post gym thirst trap gains pics

hoodie RGJHJGRHGH sapnap is also a chad who only has snapchat he and techno have each other added so they can compare gains quackity hate screenshots all of their posts and jerks off to them in the private of his sad sad studio apartment

sparx HRGHRJGJGKD YES Karl makes Twitter threads so long u gotta use that unroll app for them and refuses to add image descriptions tho george keeps begging him

hoodie RHGERJHGHG why is george the most moral person in this au im crying hes just a normal guy trying to do the right thing

sparx Tubbo runs a parody account of a major political figure, except he’s actually very smart and has a lot of good ideas and the political figure is very stupid and so a) many people think tubbo’s account is actually the real one and news outlets regularly report his tweets as tho they’re fact, and b) he realises slowly that the guy he’s parodying is actually copying his ideas

hoodie ERJGHEGHERJGHKJERHGJGHERJHGJHGERJGHJGHRJGHRGH THATS....OH MY GOD wait what if the political figure is like Eret or smth

sparx Tommy: tubbo they banned me from 4chan :(  Tubbo, typing under his “@scrotus” account: wait a second Tommy I’m trying to influence international trade policy with China

hoodie KJERGHEKJGHJRGHGHRJGRHJGH clingyduo in this au goes so fucking hard also dream violating the rules of his own site to ban tommy is SO funny tommy has to go back to reddit

sparx I do also love the exile implication that it’s possible to get banned from 4chan YEAH

hoodie dream just wants tommy's cringe ass off of 4chan tubbo should honestly be banned from twitter but at this point everyone is convinced hes really eret and eret's actual account gets banned for impersonating a public figure

sparx hrbrhfhfr YEAH eret does not attempt to get unbanned bc at this point he desperately needs tubbo to keep his ratings up

hoodie tubbo is really the only thing keeping the public opinion of him up tubbo is the last bastion of hope for his reelection tommy literally is barely aware of all of this hes too wrapped up in whatever tf is happening with wilbur and dream ranboo has a tumblr

sparx ranboo has a tumblr and has no idea tf is going on out there

hoodie eryn used to have a prank youtube but he went too far and got permabanned JHRGHRJHG ranboo is safe....

sparx he's busy reblogging fanart of the founders of 4chan and kiwifarms kissing

hoodie KJRFHEJKGHJGHRJGH dream considers doxxing ranboo for this crime bc ranboo is the one drawing that fanart

sparx YES YES YES

hoodie wilbur on the other hand turns the fanart into his mousepad and sends pictures of it to dream

sparx tommy: ranboo why are you drawing rpf of my brother  ranboo: wait these are real people  ranboo: ............................wait your brother founded kiwifarms?????

hoodie tommy: yeah  ranboo: ......................tommy im sorry but this has to go in your callout post  tommy: youre making a callout post about me?  ranboo: i have one in my drafts just in case : ( sorry : ( i have one for all of my mutuals

sparx aLJSDKJFHERJGKHERKJGEFKJGHE OFC HE DOES

hoodie this is all said by a guy who has been drawing fanart of kiwifarms founder kissing 4chan founder....hypocrite

sparx the joke’s on ranboo, tubbo has files on all his friends with their addresses phone numbers known aliases known associates family members birthdays social security numbers and photos of the outside of their house

hoodie TJGHERHJGHJERHGHRGHJGEGHHGG tubbo is prepared to drop these if any of them ever cross him even wilbur wont fuck with tubbo and wilbur also has the full doxes on everyone...expect for dream this is part of why dream is wilbur's arch enemy sorry this is the best au of all time

sparx this is a absolutely the best au of all time wilbur is obsessed with getting dream's dox

hoodie wilbur: tommy im not going to help you do your homework, im trying to dox dream

sparx he's like. tommy. tommy i gotta get dream's dox. there's only ONE way to do this.  tommy: stalk hi-  wilbur: seduce him  tommy: ...............aight i'm out

hoodie RKJHGJHH tommy: have fun you fucking freak wilbur: oh i will, i will : ) tommy:

sparx tubbo, absently, scrolling twitter: do you want me to make homosexual sex illegal? i could probably do that  ranboo: my fanfic is coming true?!  tommy: ..................................what the fuck is wrong with both of you

hoodie tommy: why is everyone i know a wrongun??????  ranboo: im not a wrongun...am i?  tommy: you draw fucking art of my brother making out with dream ofc youre a wrongun!!!! tubbo: im going to outlaw rollerskates

sparx DSKJFSHHKGJ tubbo's just casually running a country

hoodie tubbo is basically the president at this point shockingly a positive thing when we compare it to dsmp canon that was not so positive for tubbo karl makes a thread about how tubbo isnt actually the real president but tubbo just responds saying 'yeah im a parody account' and literally no one believes him

sparx everyone's like, oh, our eret, so witty! so funny! look how down and hip with the kids he is

hoodie RGJGHRJGH

hoodie also im watching a schlatt video rn and honestly schlatt needs to be in this au more i think he should be the third person trying and failing to radicalise tommy

sparx OKAY BUT THIS AU IMPLIES SCHLATT MANAGES TO LIKE. TAKE KIWIFARMS FROM WILBUR front page news that's like "I'M THE EMPEROR NOW BITCH"

hoodie HE SHOULD ERKJGHJRHGHGHG he fucking stages a coup

sparx jannies lockout

hoodie RJKGRJGHGH wilbur is literally flipping things in the other room HIS GLORIOUS SITE....HIS KIWIFARMS.... his unfinished symphony

sparx UNFINISHED SYMPHONY OF KIWIFARMS

hoodie JRHGH schlatt perma bans wilbur and tommy's accounts and also doxxes wilbur then hes like 'if i find out any of the users here are female im banning them too' this is how wilbur and niki eventually end up teaming up bc he convinces her that schlatt is the true evil

sparx HOWLING HE WOULD

hoodie 'this is a manly site for men ONLY'

sparx niki: wilbur i will work with you if you publicly record a video saying ur dick is tiny and ur head game sucks  wilbur: ........... :( ok

hoodie wilbur: anything to get my site back.............

sparx ranboo: so that new video from wilbur..... uhh. anyone else think it was kinda....... 😳 tommy: ranboo. my brother. i am going to kill you.

hoodie tommy: ranboo you have one last chance to apologize or i will end your life right here and now  ranboo: sorry for being gay 😔 tommy: not sorry enough!!!!!!

sparx SORRY FOR BEING GAY im gonna shit

hoodie RJGHGGHGH ranboo is sorry for being gay for your brother, tommy

sparx hmmmm who have we forgotten in this au

hoodie hmmmmm tina fundy fundy is a scorned kiwifarms mod who thought he was wilbur's fav

sparx JSHDFKJDFHG fundy: i was your SON wilbur  wilbur: fundy. you're 19. i am 21.  fundy: your SON

hoodie fundy: you ABANDONED ME  wilbur: i was literally kicked off of my own site

sparx fundy: i'm gonna kill myself now  wilbur: lmao. -wait NO DON'T

hoodie TJKGHRGHRGJH wilbur: wait bro are you joking?  wilbur three days later: i think he actually did it  fundy, not dead: taught him a lesson lol

sparx skdjfjsdkjghdfkjghdfkj

hoodie this au is a blessing

sparx it's Something!!!!

[dorkylittleweirdo]

the lesbian himbo solidarity post

okay so. basically this dude named max was in my anatomy class and we sat next to each other for the whole year so we had No Choice but to vibe

~

so he’s a Large football jock and i’m smol. we were both seniors tho and there were only three seniors in that class so we bonded over that. so he looks,, really scary tbh. like. ya know. the Exact type of person who would bully you and call you slurs. so i was like “oh god oh god oh god” every class bc i was like “this is it, this is the day i Die by his hand”

~

the first time we really vibed was when i came from culinary one friday bc i had culinary right before anatomy. and i had Cookies. a lot of them. and i had them in a little brown paper bag sitting right in the corner of my desk just bc like why not. cue max rolling up to class, throwing his stuff down and coming up Right Next To Me and Intensely eyeing the bag before going “hey jc, whatcha got there”. and i went “...cookies from my culinary class” and he just “👀👀” so i go “do you,, do you want one?”.  g r a b s  the bag while yelling “HELL YEAH” and really excitedly just eats a cookie and i just go “you can,, you can just take the bag if you want”. he obviously took the bag. we were Bros from that day on

~

i was Notorious for being the Class Nerd bc i loved anatomy and i had over 100% in the class. he was Not as into anatomy and just wanted to vibe and i feel that bc i had a class like that too, so i just gave him my notes and warm up answers to copy bc i’m Like That. we had like,, a system in place, so he would tell jokes or just say random shit and i’d kinda laugh and vibe while taking notes

~

one time i was kinda tired and staring off into space and he rolled up to class and goes “jcccc why are you saaaad :((” and i was like “i,, i’m not???” and he was like super confident that i was Going Through It and was like “you can’t lie to me, i already saw that sad face” i’m like “you mean my Normal Face???”. but so while i was taking notes that day, he leaned over and drew a lil happy face on my packet, so i looked over and smiled at him. aND NOT EVEN A MINUTE LATER, he leans back over and turns it into a dick. and i go “b r o  i gotta turn this shit in i’m gonna get in trouble?????” and he Panicked on my behalf, Stood Up in his seat,  Y E L L S  to the teacher “SIR, I DREW A  M A L E  G E N I T A L I A  ON JC’S NOTES, IT’S NOT HER FAULT”. teacher just Looks over at us, blinks, goes back to his lecture. my face is Red, max turns to me,  w i n k s, and goes “i gochu”

~

so my group Abandoned Me one day for a lab bc neither of them were there and i rolled up to the teacher like “k i’ll be Stabbing A Brain alone today” and my teacher’s like “but??? you need to Poke A Brain With A Group” and i go “but i have None Friends and my group mates aren’t here”. so max heard this whole interaction go down and is like “jc i Cannot Believe, you’re gonna group with us”. drags me over to some other people who sit near us that i anxiously vibe with, who had apparently been struggling to stab the labels into the brain for like seven minutes before i rolled up. max goes “okay guys jc’s in our group”. everyone’s hype. i labeled it, filled out the sheet, let everyone copy it, and all of us vibed for like half an hour

~

he was struggling to label to bones in the body for our warm up. two minutes in he goes “damn i know like,, four of these. jc how many do you know”, looks over at my worksheet, his eyes pop out of his damn skull. “JC ARE YOU FUCKIN SERIOUS”. holds up my worksheet that’s completely filled out, points aggressively at it while looking at our teacher, “ARE YOU SEEIN THIS SHIT???”

~

straight up asked if i was a mom one time bc he said i give off “mom vibes”. his response to me not wanting kids was “really??? i want like six”. appreciated me saying “oh, well i want a career” a little too much bc he couldn’t stop laughing

~

a regular occurrence was me finishing a worksheet really fast and standing to turn it in, then max going “sit your ass back down, i needa see that” followed by “bro i appreciate you actually letting me copy your shit but Please write neater”. his handwriting was worse than mine and he could read my writing but he likes to Complain

~

another Regular Occurrence was me finishing a test in about five minutes followed by him yelling “JC ARE YOU  F U C K I N G  KIDDING ME”

~

i’d bring food from culinary a lot and he’d just go “👀” and i would just give it to him and he’d be so excited and go “jc you’re the best” while proceeding to shove a cupcake down his face or whatever else it was i brought while  M O A N I N G

~

he asked me one time why i’m so nervous around him, and he was probably expecting me to say some shit like “oh nooo i’m not i’m just Shy tm” but i Instantly responded with “bc you look like you’re gonna call me a slur in the 7/11″ and he was so genuinely upset and he goes “noooo jc D: i’m not a baseball boy” and i Died

~

some dude smacked him on the back of his head and he goes “OW MY-” looks at me, “hey jc, what’s the back of the head called again?” and i go “the occipital” and he’s like “great, thanks”, turns around again to the other dude, “MY  O C C I P I T A L”

~

“jc have you ever been depressed” “max i have depression” “sick, you should listen to this band”

~

he slowly tried to put something on my desk and i was still adjusting to “okay not everyone is gonna hit me” and thought he was trying to do like a fistbump or something. and he goes “oh no i wasn’t-” and i’m like “oKaY yEaH iT’S fiNe”, he puts whatever lil eraser on my desk then goes “NO NO, GIVE ME SOME JC” and fistbumped me but it still Haunts Me bc he Was Not Trying To Do That

~

“i’m gonna go as a cop for halloween” “...okay max” “all i have to do is wear a wifebeater shirt” “i-” “because. because ya know. cops beat their wives”

~

asked what kind of music i listen to once, and i went “uh,, it depends” he goes “what are you listening to now??” aND I HAD TO GO “um,, bruises and bitemarks” and he screeched bc whatever he was expecting from the shy quiet girl who sits next to him, it was Not That

~

so i wasn’t sure how to like,, come out but i have a bunch of gay pins on my backpack so i didn’t know if he knew or not. but then one time he just starts asking the people around him if they would kiss/date someone of the same gender. so i go “i mean,, yeah” and he goes “wait really” and i was Scared tm bc oh god here it comes. i go “yeah” he goes “full gay or like bi” and i was like “full,, full gay. i’m a lesbian” and he’s like “BROOOO THAT’S SICK :D” and he was so genuinely excited that i like girls

~

ever since he found out that i’m a lesbian, he would move his desk reeeeaaally close to mine to show me pictures of girls and be like “hey hey what do you think of her”, trying to invite me to parties so he could set me up with someone, attempting to be my wingman

~

he constantly shoved one of his earbuds into my ear so i could bop to his music with him. set his phone on my desk a few times so i could choose something and i go “oh no, i have garbage taste in music” and he goes “well i don’t, that’s why you’re choosing from my playlist” and i just Sat there like “wow okay but also that’s valid”. he shockingly had a few songs on there that i listen to, so we vibed to those. he listened to my playlists a couple times and he’d be like “most of these are either depressing, horny, or gay, and that sums you up pretty well” and i was Offended but he’s right

~

“hey jc, what’s the bone that sounds like my name” “...maxilla???” “fuck yeah, there’s a bone named after me”

~

asked me if i ever had a girlfriend before and i was like “n o  :((((” and he’s like “on god bro, you gonna get you some pussy”

~

every time he’d see me out of class, he point at me and wave really aggressively and be like “HI JC :D” and i’d kinda wave back really shyly while watching him tell whoever he was with that we were bros. after a couple times, i asked him next class why he waved at me and he’s like “why wouldn’t i??” and i go “um. bc you’re pretty popular and well liked and nobody knows i exist and i’m pretty uncool????” and he deadass is like “J C  NOO YOU’RE REALLY COOL WYM PEOPLE LIKE YOU” and that’s how i found out that people actually knew me bc a bunch of the football guys i talked to in anatomy would point me out when they saw me bc they liked vibing with me so that was A Time. made sense why random people would like,, nod at me while walking by

~

i brought cookies for my teachers and friends on valentine’s day and i gave max a couple and i was like “hey i’m giving these to all my friends so like here” and he just “jc you consider us friends???” and i thought he was gonna laugh at me and i just went “ah,,, yeah” and he was So Excited

[swiss-cheeze]

Sex With A Ghost || Spencer Reid

Requested: YES/NO

Gender: none, they/them.

Summary: Spencer finds a new taste in music when a song you nor him normally like starts playing on the plane home, how does the rest of the time go with Spencer's new music taste?

Warnings: takes place after season 12 (only includes Spencer grading papers), Spencer is a part time professor/teacher but still with the FBI when needed, this doesn't go along with the canon of season 12 besides being a teacher, mentions of sex but only in song format.

Songs used:

Banana Brain - Die Antwoord

Bad Reputation - Joan Jett

Rebel Girl - Bikini Kill

Sex With A Ghost - Teddy Hyde

-------

Seventeen children had been kidnapped within five days. That was unusual in itself with the statistics let alone the fact that seventeen kids had officially been taken. 45 hours later and many many empty coffee cups, each and every child had been found and taken back to their rightful places in their parents arms.

“I can't believe it” Luke huffed as he placed his bag in the overhead carrier and slumped into the seats, “seventeen children,” he shook his head as the others started to settle as well.

“How does anyone even just...have that…” you shook your head at the fantasy the unsub, or in this case unsubs, had had: Emily Klemintine and Charlie Milesfield where teachers that each suffered a type of psychotic break that resulted in them kidnapping the kids from the adult students they once had. Emily, Charlie and their previous class (the now adult students) had been in a school shooting, no one had been hurt but it was traumatising for everyone whereas Emily and Charlie had refused therapy and treatment resulting in them wanting to recreate the scene. Garcia had made the break in the case when she looked into the backgrounds of the children, found their parents had been in the classes for the shooting and put two in two together.

“Don't think about it,” Spencer breathed as he kissed your head. You had seemed to go on autopilot and only now realised that everyone had officially sat down and started buckling up; Luke and Matt sat on the couch at the wall going through their files, J.J sat alone at the back on the plane staring out the window (claiming she needed some space) while yourself, Tara, Emily and Spencer sat in the four seats facing each other.

“We got them all back,” Emily said as she looked at you, “that’s all that matters,” she gave a tightlipped smile to you before going to her files. Tara stayed silent and immediately went to close her eyes and get comfortable for the fly home.

“Are you doing okay?” Spencer asked you softly as he nudged you to gain your attention.

“Yeah, yeah i'll be okay,” you smiled before taking out your phone and headphones and motioning to Spencer if he wanted one. Spencer gratefully took an earbud and placed it in his ear before settling back and allowing you to choose one of your playlists before putting your phone on the table, placing the earbud in your ear and leaning against Spencer. It felt like an instant but only took two songs or so before you finally fell asleep against Spencer, the man felt you slump against his side in slumber and let a smile grace his face as you were finally able to settle and not let your mind wander.

Banana brains, you're the apple of my eye

Stay with me tonight

'Cause I'm having the best time of my life

The lyrics Spencer heard confused him; you never listened to music like this, not that he knew of at least. The song continued, the techno and the rapping caught Spencer offguard but he didn't find himself displeased with it and in fact actually enjoyed what he was listening to, he thought for a moment whether or not he should move to see the title of the song and the artists but if he moved there was a 76% chance you would wake up. Instead, the Doctor memorised the lyrics and made a mental note to look up the song and artists later.

------

Spencer was enjoying his time as a professor and was of course sad to find the semester ending which meant his time would come to an end with his students. Racing against time was something Spencer was used to and knew that every second counted, so when he found himself reading all 46 students 5 page assignments with only an hour left before their grades had to go up; he was a little stressed. You smiled softly as you saw Spencer with his head down, eyes flying and pencil scribbling but faltered slightly when you saw the earbuds in his ears; Spencer did not normally like to listen to music through headphones of any kind because they’re too ‘invasive’ and ‘they’re too loud and close to my ears (Y/n), plus they can make you deaf depending on how loud your music is. Records? Stereos? No such thing’ as he put it. You placed a few files down on Spencers desk before kissing his head, at the same time of you kissing his head Spencer had reached out to his phone, pressed the home button for the lock screen to pop up (showing the fuzzy selfie you took when a seagull swooped you for your chips); and sure enough he had 45 minutes until the grades needed to be put in.

But that’s not what caught your eye.

Spencer Walter Reid is listening to Bad Reputation by Joan Jett, and by the looks of it, it’s on repeat.

“You okay?” Spencer's voice brought you out of your mind spiel as you looked down to see him looking up at you, one earphone was dangling on the desk while the other was still in his ear.

“You're uh...you’re listening to Bad Reputation?” you moreso questioned, Spencer went red at your observation.

“Yeah i uh...when we were listening to music on the jet last friday you fell asleep and Banana Brain came on-”

“By Die Antwoord?” you gapped, he wasn't meant to find, or hear, that.

“Yeah,” Spencer grinned at the memory, “I liked the song a lot and went through your Spotify list, found a few i liked and made my own playlist,” as soon as the words left his mouth Spencer almost paled and became wide eyed, “i hope that's okay! I didn't mean to mess your stuff up-” he started rambling.

“Spence,” you placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder to stop him and grinned, “we’ve been married for two years, and together for seven,” Spencers shoulders untensed as the realisation crossed his face.

“Right,” you smiled.

“I can give you some song recommendations later on when we have time if you want?” you questioned, “broaden you music horizons past classical beethoven, Bach and Tchaikovsky,” Spencer smiled giddily.

“I'd really like that (Y/N),” you kissed Spencer's head again as confirmation before walking off.

“Might want to be quick with those grades doctor you've only got forty minutes left,” you called out over your shoulder, Spencer of course also realised this, shoved the earphone back in his ear and got back to work while you started to think of every song you could and started making a list for Spencer.

-------

Throughout the next few days you sent Spencer emails, text and sticky notes containing songs and artists that he would then listen to before sending back an email, text or sticky note saying something akin to ‘i liked ___’ or, ‘not a fan of ___ but i love ___’ and such. It was a good system, and in return Spencer recommended you classical songs to help you concentrate on work, it worked sometimes and other times it really didn't.

-

You offered to make the trek to the chinese takeout place around the corner from your shared apartment, it only took you 20 minutes to get your food which you preordered and to walk back, but in that time Spencer was able to find out how to connect your bluetooth speakers to his phone.

“Rebel girl, rebel girl!” while walking up the stairs you could hear the song playing and innocently thought it was one of your young adult neighbors, “rebel girl you are the queen of my world!” As you got closer to the door you realised the song was in fact coming from your apartment, yours and Spencer's apartment, “rebel girl, rebel girl!” you couldn't help yourself but laugh as you unlocked the door and opened it, “I think I wanna take you home, I wanna try on your clothes, uh” you watched Spencer glide into the room on his mismatched socks across the wood floors, using a hairbrush as a microphone and hip thrusting the air on ‘uh’.

“I see-”

“AHHHHHHH” Spencer screamed. High pitched with a voice break, the hairbrush flying behind him and hitting the wall with a loud THUNK. You couldn't help the burst of laughter coming from you as you clutched your stomach and rushed to put the white plastic bag down before you dropped it, “I didn't expect you back so soon!” Spencer exclaimed as he cleared his throat, a red hue covering his now hot and embarrassed body.

“I didn't expect you to be dancing around to Rebel Girl with a hairbrush and hip thrusting in the air!” you collapsed onto the couch.

“It's a good song! And was a part of the 1990 Riot Grrrl movement!” Spencer defended, slurring his R’s as the title gave it, “if i can support a feminist movement i will, you know that,” Spencer again defended himself as he moved into the kitchen to get utensils before coming back and sitting down with you on the couch, your laughter had started to die down, you brought out the plastic tubs with your meals as Spencer moved for the remote to put on a movie through your shared netflix. You pressed the ‘off’ button on the bluetooth speaker that sat on the coffee table in front of you before Spencer finalised on a movie.

“Twilight?” you questioned quickly when hearing the infamous ‘id never given much thought to how i could die’. Spencer grinned as he opened his tub.

“I have found that i have a very weird fascination with a certain vampire in this movie called-”

“Edward? You’re team Edward really?” you cut Spencer off, he simply looked at you with a mix of confusion and humor.

“No actually, Jasper is his name,” Spencer grinned, he knew that was your favorite character from the franchise.

“No way!” you exclaimed quickly with a growing grin.

“Yes way,”

“There’s super good music in this franchise too i'll tell you,” Spencer hummed to acknowledge what you said and gave you a look of ‘i'll look it up later then’ before you cuddled into Spencer's side and started eating your meals.

-------

A few weeks had passed since Spencer first started changing his music taste and making new playlists on your shared spotify, and no one on your team seemed to notice. When Spencer walked past Luke and Tara with headphones in they only smiled, this also happened again with Emily and J.J. but this time Spencer placed a few files onto Emily's desk while the girls were talking and walked out without saying anything. Of course Spencer never normally does this but his team hadn't seemed to notice the white earbuds that always hung on the outside of his suits or shirts and connected into his pocket.

“Oh my god they have a ‘sing and get your table a free set of drinks!’” Emily exclaimed as she looked to the sign; the whole team had the day off and all decided to go to a bar, a bar with a karaoke machine. Luke, Penelope, Spencer and yourself were happily buzzed and excited, Matt was nursing his ‘one and only’ vodka while Emily, Tara and J.J. each had wine and shots and were progressively getting drunker. Rossi had wanted a night in rather than one out.

“Who’s gonna sing!” Tara exclaimed.

“ALVEZ SHOULD!” Penelope gasped out loudly.

“No way sweetness!” Luke quickly shut down her idea, “not while drunk i don't,”

“Oh my god,” J.J. said as an idea popped into her head, “Spence you should sing!” Everyone laughed when the words left J.J. 's mouth but Spencer seemed to contemplate her idea.

“You’re not, are you?” you questioned with a grin, “you were singing Umbrella by Rihanna the other week in the shower and it sounded like a dying goose!” you giggled, Spencer grinned at the memory as he swayed a bit while sitting still.

“Do you guys want to know the difference between sober me and slightly drunk me?” Spencer suddenly asked causing the whole team to dial into what he was saying, he brought the team in closer with a wave of her fingers before saying, “sober me wouldn’t do this”

“Oh my god,” Penelope gasped as Spencer got up and walked to the karaoke machine as the team looked on amazed and baffled.

“No, no he’s not,” Luke said with a grin as Spencer picked up the microphone, “oh my god he is!” the music started and Spencer started singing; and fuck was he good. You knew the start of the song, how it sounded and how it was meant to go but what you didn't expect was Spencer to ace every aspect of the song, including the roughness and emotion behind it; that was until he got to the chorus.

“I'm having sex with a ghost!” Spencer sounded exactly like the song, the only difference was Spencer's voice was an octave or two higher, and that's it, “'cause they know I'm alone” he changed the lyrics while looking at you, “they’re a freak in the sheets, play it cool” you remembered dancing to this song in the kitchen one night while working on dinner, doing an interpretive dance, “I'm sleeping with a…” Spencers voice faded out as he grabbed the microphone and made his way to you; everyone in the bar was staring, “sex with a ghost, 'cause you know I'm alone” Spencer sat in your lap as he draped his arm around the back of your neck and your arms wrapped around his waist, everyone looked on intrigued and your team looked shocked, “you’re a freak in the sheets, play it cool” Spencer went back to the stage to finish the song.

“Holy shit,” Matt said as claps came from around the bar as well as whooping and Spencer made his way back to the table with a shit-eating grin.

“Reid!” Emily exclaimed as she punched the man's shoulder slightly.

“Didn't know you had it in you!” Luke said with a large grin as Spencer sat down and quickly took a mouthful of a drink. A server came over with a notepad at the ready.

“As someone from your table sang and we do have a sign saying you get a free drink, what would everyone like?” the bored woman asked, she wasn't very pleased to be working but she was still doing her job. The team placed their orders and the woman walked off, the label of her name tag catching your eye. ‘Quill’ was her name.

“That was a very good rendition of that song Spencer,” you said with a grin, your husband gave you a sly smile.

“How do you even know that song Spence?” J.J. questioned as a server with a few drinks came around the table, each person of the respective drink thanking the server as they left to get the rest. Spencer jutted a finger in your direction as he took a sip of his drink, “(Y/N)?!” J.J. exclaimed, she looked so shocked.

“I don't just listen to musicals and disney music you know, i do have a very large array of taste,” you grinned into your drink (the rest had just been served) as the table gave you many emotional faces; shocked, speechless, amused, flabbergasted.

“You got Spencer to listen to music like that?” Garcia quickly interjected, you nodded.

“He heard a song on the plane once, we shared the headphones and I clocked out within five minutes while the playlist kept going. He heard something he liked and then started listening to my other playlists. I found him listening to Bad Reputation by Joan Jett and then started opening him up to other artists and songs,” you finished talking by downing the rest of your drink, slamming it on the table and beamed, “you DO NOT want to hear our sex playlist!” a collective groan rumbled through the team that almost vibrated the table as Spencer laughed.

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

Hi okay so I was hoping you could do a headcanon where Fred has a crush( or is dating) a hufflepuff ( or just a really sweet and caring person) and honestly just so much fluff

I gotchu

Fred with a hufflepuff reader

Warnings: Gets deep as hell my dudes

Note: Set in non voldy au

You were this little spark of a person

You were so sweet and outgoing that even Draco didn't hate your ass

Oh you were sarcastic as hell

But you were adorably sweet

Even the portraits knew you by your first name and they loved seeing you

However you never really interacted with people until they interacted with you

So Fred and George had only heard of you

But they never actually talked to you

Well actually, George had talked to you numerous amounts of times

See he actually reads

So he goes to the library for more than a nap (Fred, that definitely was directed at you)

So when you’re there George does talk to you. 

When George does talk to you his internal thoughts are “Oh. Oh Fred would love her.”

So he constantly brings him up to you. 

Finally one day Fred had enough of listening to George say “Dude, I’ve met your best friend” and he walked over to the Hufflepuff table and asked who the hell you were.

You rose your hand and then pointed. 

“You must be Fred!” You said. 

Fred nodded. “So you’re the girl everyone seems to know.” He said, sitting next to you.

“Indeed. George talks about you all the time.” You said.

“When do you and George talk?” Fred asked. 

“We see each other in the library alot, plus we have potions together.” You admitted. 

“Oh--” “Y/n, Draco’s done it again.” A girl whined. “Another fight? You’ve got to be fucking joking.” You sighed before getting up.

Fred out of curiosity followed you and saw students fighting.

Cedric and Draco to be exact. 

“I swear to God I’m going to beat your ass Malfoy--” 

“Both of you, stop” You said standing between them.

“Move out the way--” “Not until you give me a reason to let this continue.” You said calmly.

“He called a fucking first year by a slur again!” Cedric said. 

You turned to Draco who was glaring at him

“Draco. Side bar.” you said

You basically used psychology with Draco asking if it was “Internalized anger being used on others to get a result he wanted because he couldn’t do that himself” and Draco ended up having a mental breakdown because it got deep

Fred gaped and George walked over. 

“She use psychology again?” George asked.

“Yeah and it worked?” Fred said confused.

“Wait did you just say AGAIN!?”

So funny thing. 

This is a regular thing to do with you 

You knew people, you knew how to talk to them and you saw how their mind worked

There were very few people you didn’t understand but you were almost like a little psychologist in the making as you talked people through their emotions in a healthy way.

 If we’re being 100% honest here, you were the closest thing to a guidance councilor for students.

You understood people, you could understand their actions 

Fred began to notice you more, you were always with other students when he did, talking them through things. 

Then he caught wind of some strange bonding sleep over thing happening. 

He went to it just to figure out what the fuck it was

and it was really strange what you were doing

It was like a group therapy session with cookies and games.

“Fred? What brings you here?” you asked. 

“Wanted to know what was going on... And this is weird. Helpful clearly. But weird.” Fred said. 

“Mmm. Makes people closer and limits the real fighting amongst the students. Why do you think Draco’s here?” You asked. 

“Does Sprout know about this?” Fred asked. 

“She made the cookies and cocoa.” You said. 

“ARE THE HOUSE ELVES IN ON THIS TOO!?” Fred gaped. 

“And the portraits.” You nodded.

“What the fuck?”

So he sat through this and my god it got DEEP

Neville admitted that sometimes he felt alone and often pondered what would happen if he just disappeared

Harry (Yes he also came to this shindig) admitted that he honestly hated being recognized easily for accomplishments and honestly doesn’t like that people see him as just that

Draco added onto that saying he honest to God hated it when people said his last name rather than his first because it makes him feel like he’s constantly living in his father’s shadow

House elves were listening and making notes of the students who might need the extra support while occasionally chiming in with their own personal issues

Then it got to Fred and he just sat there baffled by the vulnerability of everyone else spewing their darkest secrets. 

“Fred? Want to say anything?” You asked

“Not... Particularly?” He said.

You nodded and talked people through things, validating all of them and making them feel safe

Lot of crying

A LOT of crying

“Y/n... Do you want to say anything?” Draco asked. 

You shook your head. “Nope I’m good. My life is good.” You shrugged. 

“Everyone has their problems no matter how big or small.” Neville quoted.

“Using my own words against me. Dick.” You teased making him smile. 

You sighed though and finally spoke 

“I feel the constant need to fix other people’s problems because I don’t want people to have to feel the same existential dread I do.” You admitted making Fred gape

“Wow... Y/n, are you okay?” Harry asked. 

“Yeah I’m okay. I just get depressed sometimes. It takes a lot of energy carrying some of the things that I do.” You admitted. 

“We’re all here for you... It’s literally the least you could so after helping us.” Neville said. 

You smiled and looked at the students who nodded and agreed. 

“Thanks guys.” You said. 

“I feel like we need to do something to cheer us up or something.” Hermione said. 

You looked over. “Hermione when did you come in?” you asked

“Like thirty minutes ago after Luna got finished.” Hermione admitted. 

“Have anything you need to talk about?” “Nope I’m good.” She said giving you a thumbs up.

“Mmm. Fred, you’re the master at cheering people up, what should we do?” You asked.

He rose a brow. “Uhm... Well shit uhhhh.” He paused for a moment thinking

“Stress bake?” A student suggested. 

“We did that last time” Another student said

“Ooh we could prank Filch’s office.” Someone said

Fred looked over at them 

“Mm... How many of us have any problems with Filch?” You asked. 

Nearly all hands went up.

“Yeesh.” You winced. 

“The only other teacher we don’t like is friggin’ Gilderoy.” 

“That’s Quirrell’s substitute right?” 

“Yeah he’s an ass.” Harry snorted.

“Yeah, he’s a narcissist.” You agreed.

“Oh I have an idea!” Fred gasped.

“Hmm?” You asked.

“Who wants to help me sneak hair dye into Gilderoy’s shampoo?” Fred asked. 

“I’m down.” You nodded. 

“Good luck!” Luna said as both of you left

You grabbed hair dye from a chest in the Gryffindor common room 

You ended up dying Lockhart’s hair blue because according to Fred he needed some “Ravenclaw pride”

You two were walking while Filch was on the other side of campus and talked

“So how often do you have these sleepovers?” Fred asked.

“Every Thursday night.” You said

“Wow.” Fred said.

“What?” you asked.

“Does it usually get that deep?” Fred asked.

“Oh yeah. But it helps because the house elves get to see who need extra support y’know. Like who needs cookies after exams, or who needs to hear ‘You’ve done a good job this week’” You said

“Smart.” Fred nodded. 

“Y’know Ron and George have come to this before.” You said

“Really?” Fred asked.

“Both of them said you always know how to make people smile.” You said with a smile

“Huh.” Fred nodded mindlessly

“They also said you could be a pain in the ass at times.” You added before walking into the common room.

“Did you do it?” Draco asked

“The trap has been set. Who wants to paint shit?” you asked

“Yes please!” 

So you all ended up painting and laughing with each other

Fred was beginning to understand why you were so loved by everyone

You all had fun that night and Fred was slowly beginning to actually like you

like... Like like you

Fred would smile and laugh with you when you sat with the Gryffindors

He was now going to the library 

He told you not to tell anyone he was there because “it would ruin my reputation” 

You would smile and laugh at that comment 

He did come to the Thursday meetings and usually acted as the comedy relief for the night

btw your prank on Lockhart worked

He screamed like a little girl

P R I C E L E S S

even Snape almost laughed at seeing that fucker walk around with blue hair.

Fred loved seeing that smile, hearing you laugh or hell watching you breathe was mesmerizing to him

You loved seeing him interact with the students and actually act as another therapist type person in the group

If someone in the group had continuous harassment from another student and talking to that student didn’t help, Fred would prank their ass

When you went to Hogsmeade it was a blast

You and Fred seemed to get closer and George was realizing “Oh... Oh they totally like each other”

You met Harry’s Mother who was there for something: LILY LOVES YOU.

SHE THINKS YOU ARE THE PERFECT CHILD

She asked you to look out for Harry because he does look up to you and you nearly cried that you became that good of a role model.

So you got cold at one point and of course Fred bundled you up in his scarf

He wrapped it around you himself and smiled at you

Your heart did a thing and you were like “Oh. Oh fuck I like this guy”

So you started acting a little weird around him

Ten times more jumpier that’s for sure

He said hi behind you in your ear once and you literally threw your book and it hit George

You nearly fell in the lake because he flirted with you

You almost smacked Snape by accident after Fred implied you were gorgeous 

During one of the Thursday meetings one of the others noticed you acting odd when Fred sat close to you.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Draco asked

“Yeah! I’m good, everything is alright here!” You squeaked out

Fred rose a brow and noticed you were bright red.

“Y/n, are you sure you look like you’re losing air or something.” Fred asked. 

“I’m okay--” 

Fred felt your forehead and noticed the redness get worse and it dawned on him what was going on

“Oh my God, YOU LIKE FRED!” Ron gasped

“Wha-- N-nooooo” You lied

“So you don’t?” Fred asked

“No I do-- Wait fuck!” you whined as you became a blushing mess

“I ship it” Cedric coughed out making Neville snort

“Shit shit shit shit shit-- this was not supposed to happen this way” You whined.

“Can we talk alone?” Fred asked.

 “Oh God.” You whined as he helped you up. 

You two went to the kitchens because you didn’t want Filch to find you.

“If you’re going to reject me please just say it now so I can promptly toss myself into the OVEN AND BURN” You begged

“I’m not rejecting you Princess.” He assured

“What?” “I’m saying I like you too.”

You gaped at him and pulled a stool to you before sitting.

“Are you good?” Fred asked. 

“Holy. Shit.” You gaped.

“So... Do you want to date--” “Yes.” You nodded enthusiastically

Fred chuckled and you blushed looking away before Fred extended his hand to you.  

“Shall we?” He asked.

You took his hand and he pressed a kiss to your hand making you nearly die 

“By the way I am totally kissing you later, just so you know.” Fred added 

You guys came back and the whole group was watching you two.

“Well?” Harry asked

Fred said nothing, pulling you to him and kissing you making the whole group go insane

You were a stuttering mess for the rest of the night

Fred was never seen away from you outside of his classes

He was always there with you, smiling and whispering sweet little things in your ear. 

You would smile and kiss his cheek, telling him that you were so glad he chose you

You totally stayed with him during the summer

Molly loved you 

fourth year started 

Remus was now having to be a substitute for Quirrell because his dumbass got sick again

Remus FUCKING LOVED YOU

You were so smart and so kind it was awesome as hell

You were lowkey his favorite student though

you all had more people coming to you on Thursdays and it began to get kind of crowded 

You went to Mcgonagall like “Can we just make this an official club or something that uses the Great hall at night”

To your surprise it went through and now on Thursday nights you slept in the Great Hall

You all would have a blast and plus you and Fred were ICONIC

You two were like the mom and dad of the group

Let someone talk shit

Let them

Fred would fuck their world up REAL QUICK if they didn’t listen to you

Now that Harry was able to go to Hogsmeade you got to meet his family when they met up with him

Lily was excited to see you again

Sirius LOVED you and Fred, Peter thought you were literally the greatest human who lived and James LOVED YOU TO PIECES

You absolutely loved them and actually spent Christmas with them 

The meetings got super fun at times

Deep

but fun

You absolutely adored everyone in the group and Dumbledore did notice a drop in students fighting both verbally and physically

Remus sometimes supervised the meetings and noticed you always listened to the problems

Occasionally you’d ask Remus if he had anything he needed to talk about

He always said no

You slowly began to put together that he was a werewolf though

it became crystal clear after he had to intervene during the boggarts lesson and you saw his boggart

You waited till it was just you and him and you asked how he was feeling 

He realized you knew and you assured him that you wouldn’t say anything

He admitted a lot to you to be honest

He told you how he was attacked as a child and he told you he was always terrified he’d hurt someone he loved

You became determined to help him or any student that might need it and uhm

Became an Animagus 

Mcgonagall registered you don’t worry

You could turn into a dog btw, you were like Sirius except your fur was white

Fred was surprised that his girlfriend was this wizarding BADASS

You literally became known as the “white wolf” and it was kind of epic

You actually did help Remus out occasionally

You were kind of sad when Remus left but you and Fred ended up staying with the Potters for the summer 

Remus was so excited to see his favorite person

Fun fact: because you could turn into a wolf the Marauders called you “Pup” and it was adorable 

Fred loved seeing you geek out over books with Remus 

In his head he just knew already you were the one

The triwizard tournament went down with Cedric being the champion for Hogwarts 

Cedric admitted to the group that he was TERRIFIED of this competition so you were all cheering him on

The other school did have a couple of students who checked out the group

The Durmstrang students were not a fan of emotions so not many of them stayed

The Beauxbatons however had a ton of students who did stay

That’s when the group discovered Fred also spoke French?

 According to Fred “There was a book, I was truly bored because Y/n wasn’t out of class yet and I wanted to know the hype over books”

To which Draco gaped and asked “So you learned FRENCH!?”

You teased him and said “Well shit, and you do that while I’m gone for like an hour, I wonder what would happen if I left you for a week” 

 he pulled you into his arms and said “DON’T YOU DARE”

You got really close to Fleur and Gabrielle especially though

You taught them how to speak better English and they taught you French

That fucking dance class came around and the group quickly discovered: YOU CANNOT DANCE

“It is not my fault my chicken legs have like zero coordination” you whined against Fred

“Wellllll technically--” “Shut it.”

Fred of course asked you to go to the Yule and your response was “Babe, I’m dating you, it’s implied that I was going with you but I appreciate the conformation” 

 You came downstairs that night and HOLY FUCK

Fred nearly dropped at the sight of you 

He actually almost cried actually

You kissed him and told him he looked handsome

He was whispering adorable compliments all night to you 

George and you danced at one point and he told you “Y’know, you and Fred might not be married but you are definitely like a sister to me”

You almost cried 

Fred gave you a promise ring later when you were alone and you nearly broke down crying because you truly loved this boy 

You two being inseparable after that

Cedric was fREAKING OUT later because of the last trial

you calming him down

You watching it with the last group

“Honestly this whole competition has just been the audience waiting except for the dragons... It’s quite boring.” Draco yawned

I mean... He wasn’t wrong

Cedric won 

You were so happy for him and he was super hyped that he won 

But he did something strange

He gave the money to Fred and George

“Cedric we can’t take this--” “I owe it to you guys, please just take the God damn check before I go all Hufflepuff on your ass”

You and Fred going to the Burrow for the summer and having the best time

You meeting Bill and him telling Fred “She’s the one for you man”

Charlie also meeting you and saying the exact same thing 

Fred sitting down and talking to his parents saying “Look. After graduation I’m proposing to Y/n, any objections?”

Arthur and Molly being COMPLETELY ON BOARD

Going to school and having a good last year 

The group having dance parties occasionally to get the feelings out

You did do a strangely cathartic exercise with them of taking cheap plates, writing your darkest secrets on them and then LAUNCHING IT AT THE WALLS

Everyone being kind of sad because you and Fred were leaving after this year and they weren’t ready for you to go 

Placing Neville and Luna as the next two to take over the group after you two graduated

Molly mailing you Christmas sweaters before you came for the Christmas break

You waking up on Christmas morning and sitting in front of the fireplace with Fred while he had his arm around you

Dancing in the snow with him just because you feel like it

Accidentally calling Molly mum and her hugging you telling you to just call her that from now on

Lot of crying when you finally did graduate

lot of it. 

You going back to the Burrow and Fred listening to you talk about how “The future’s in our hands now, we can literally do anything” and him doing something

He proposed

You cried

Said yes, but cried 

You and Fred got married that summer and the group all went

Ron told you he was glad to have you as an older sister and you SOBBED

Ginny told you the same thing-- you also cried at that

You helped the boys open the joke store and worked there until you completed a psychology degree

You became Hogwarts’ guidance councilor

Then you found out you were pregnant after nearly puking on a student

Fred coming to the school because he heard you got sick

Damn it, he was taking care of his wife

“Baby, are you okay!?” He asked. 

“Uhm... Yyeaahh about that” 

You told him

He cried

He was kissing your face and telling you that he was so happy

You have a daughter: Adelaide Molly Weasley 

She is a damn daddy’s girl that’s for sure

But my god does she love her uncle George 

Taglist: @amhyeah @newtaholic-staygold @bbeauttyybbx @fleurho

[slashingdisneypasta]

Freddy Krueger x Reader || Oneshot

Title: I can’t. I won’t. 

Notes: 

This has the potential to be series, with the other Slashers but for now its gonna stand alone ^^ 

Quote that inspired me to write this but didn’t make the cut( I love it and think it still deserves to be posted!): You know what I'm tired of?!

Telling myself not to be sad, or heartbroken, or just plain cracked because he wasn’t a good person. Because he deserved to die, because its better then way. Because that's all true.

I'm sick and tired of it. I loved him and this is killing me, pretending like I'm okay with this! Why cant I just s c r e a m?

Plot: The Slashers have all died, and are being held in hell as punishment for their crime son the mortal(And any other) plain, not that you know that part. The other Slasher’s S/O’s are able to mourn, because their were good things about them which were easy to slur into misunderstood. But you wont let yourself, because Freddy didn't deserve it. 

Heather comes to visit you. 

Warning: This is pure angst, so... 

~~~

I knock on the door and hold my breath. 

A moment passes before a voice calls that they’re coming and to hold tight. When the door opens, I let out the breath and feel... confused. Y/N brightens when she sees me and waives. “Hi, sorry, if you’re selling something- I’m broke, so you might want to find another house. Bye!~” Before she can close the door, I jump to action and manage to stop her and look bashful when she raises a skeptical eyebrow, wondering I’m sure, whether she’ll have to spray me with mace. 

“Sorry, I’m not a salesperson. I’m, uh, Edith Rose Sawyer.” 

She still looks confused. I guess, I can’t expect everyone to know who that is. Looking bashful, I explain. “I’m... Jed Sawyers, cousin.” 

That sparks recognition and Y/N immediately, reopens the door fully. Her face doesn't quite reveal anything, except apprehension. Of course, she cant really be blamed for that. Last time a killer, or killer adjacent, contacted her he was killed. “Oh, uh... what’s up?” 

“Can I come in?” 

“Uhh… “ She looks around and over her shoulder, then moves out of the way so I can come in and follow her to the kitchen, closing the door behind me. I sit down straight away at the kitchen table as she goes to get the kettle, and look around. This place is so... strangely in order, like her. I expected a little bit of mess, I mean... I was, when they were taken. Jed’s my cousin, one I’d only just met and I still felt the crushing weight of his loss. 

Now, I know for me, and for probably everyone else in the world, its hard to believe anyone would care for Freddy Krueger. But she did, and its like his loss hasn't made an impact on her at all. Its been a month. 

Curiously, waiting for the bomb to drop, I watch while she fills up the kettle and sets it back on the little electric stand, turning it to boil. Then she turns, and leans back on the bench, raising her eyebrows at me with a little smile. “So, what’s up? How have you been, uh... “ Quickly, her eyes change to reveal a deeper sadness momentarily, and I think for half a second that it might be for her, but she’s looking at me far too carefully. “I’m really sorry about Jedidiah. I didn’t meet him, but he’s your cousin right? I’m so sorry.” 

I shrug, not quite sure how to talk about it yet. “Thank you. I didn’t know him long, either but its been... “ I assess her outright. “Hard.” 

“I bet,” Her voice is strained but she doesn't mention my obvious hint. Instead, she quickly changes the subject. “How do you take your tea? And, pick a mug. They’re on the shelf over there.” 

Deeply, I sigh. She is not making this easy. “You know, that's why I came, actually. To see how you’re doing?? I had to get outta the house, and thought it would be worthwhile to find you, and uh, all the others to see how they’re doing.” 

Awkwardly, she turns around to the kettle and taps away on the bench with a finger, avoiding my face I think. “A phone call wasn't good enough?” She jokes. 

“Well, uh... “ I don't know to answer that, as heat covers my face in embarrassment. 

“Pretty impressive how you found me, too.” 

“Y/N, I just thought everyone was having a hard time, and-” 

"-How hard a time can you all be having?!" She speaks, literal vocal venom flying from her lips unapologetically, revealing her true fury. A second later, apologies spill from her lips with just as much sincerity and her eyes fill with remorse as he whips around and clasps her hands together, pleading. "Sorry, sorry, oh my God I'm sorry! That didn’t- I- I'm sorry. That was insensitive, of course they're having a hard time." She means it, I know. That's clear. But it’s also clear that theirs truth to her outburst, also. 

"No, tell me. What did you mean?" 

She settles into a halfway point between mad and remorseful, which despite her efforts is somehow crazier. "Just... that... how hard can it be, when you're allowed to mourn, hah?"

Horror scratches my heart at her words. "Allowed??"

"Yes, allowed." She snaps, setting down the kettle. "When your monster was a misunderstood misfit with abandonment issues and a teddy bear, you're allowed to be sad he's gone. And I get stuck pretending I'm okay, because he deserved it. I know he did, he did. He was a horrible person and it's better that he's dead."

"But... " 

"But I still fucking hurt. None of that changes the fact that a piece of me has been torn from my guts and my heart," Her voice finally falters, and I notice the tears in her eyes. But before I can’t even think about giving her a hug, or softening my face, she's mad again. "And smashed into grease and somehow I’m still standing, talking to you about it, without crying.” She sobers up a bit, all over the place in her emotions and how she presents them. She looks away from me, as she wipes the bottom of her eye with her thumb, and looks for wetness there. And finds none. “Although, admittedly. Its becoming hard.” 

“I... I’m so sorry that we made you feel like you couldn't mourn for him. Please, try, I-” 

“Thank you, but... “ She rolls her shoulders back, uncomfortable to the point of anxiety. She still wont look at me again. “Its mostly me, stopping myself. I’m afraid... “ Tears finally well in her eyes and she looks at me, right in the eyes. “I’m afraid, someone will see me crying over him, and think I’m excusing what he did. I... They’ll think I’m blind and idealistic. Pretending to myself that he’s misunderstood, or something... And I can’t let my feelings be wrote off like that. I’m not pathetic. I knew exactly what he was the whole time.”

My heart feels like its torn in two. On one side, she’s right. That is how people would view it and he doesn't deserve it, but on the other she does deserve to mourn. None of the Slashers were particularly good, which makes us all... hypocrites. I grit my teeth, in anger at myself and get up from my seat to stand with her. My eyes fill with concern. “Even so, you cant bottle it all up.” 

“Oh I have news for you then,” A nasty, defiant scowl contorts her features, showing exactly the willpower in her. It makes me mad.

“Y/N.” I snap, putting my hands on her arms to keep her from turning away, and I think for a moment that she’s going to rip me off of her, but she controls herself and instead just sets me with a blank look. She’s unsure what to feel. “I’m sure all the others would agree, you have to mourn. Maybe- Maybe no for what Freddy was in the end,” Physically, nearly violently, she flinches at hearing his name, on impact. Her head turning away from me to the bench and her eyes looks so coldly at it hell should freeze over. “But none of the Slashers were born evil!”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip, I’m afraid the skin will break under her frustration. “I-I know, I... know.” The last word comes out with all her frustration at what hurt him, and changed him. Still, she shakes her head. “But I cant... I can’t just... turn it off. I’m mad, and I’m sad, and I cant turn it off and I learnt that from him in the first place.” 

I nod, understanding. Oh, I understand. “Yeah... yeah, I know. But in some ways they all were made to be the way they were, it was out of their hands. So for now, I think we can allow him a moment, and a moment only,” I add quickly, dipping to look at her seriously, to both assure her and assure myself, because I sure as hell don’t want to mourn that bastard. But she has to, and maybe in a tiny way he does deserve a millisecond of thought. ”Of respect.”   

I watch as she thinks for a moment, then slips away from me and shakes her head, and sad smile on her lips. You can see that she wants, desperately to let that happen, but the little part of her that's afraid, and moral, blocks the way.

She crosses her arms and shrugs. “I won’ t.” 

~~~ SOMEWHERE IN HELL ~~~

“... Okay... I was upset before... “ Slowly, blue eyes flicker from the screen with Y/N on it and the look on her face. Enough to make even the most inhuman and cruel heart mad, even if only because its her. Freddy switches to looking at the man with the pins in his skull looking smugly at him, and the knives on his fingers itch. Hasn't anyone told this bitch that he’s the monster around here? “Now, I’m pissed.” 

I have to get back. 

[boyfriend-vernon]

s t u d y  b u d d i e s

g e n r e - s m u t

w a r n i n g s - h i g h s c h o o l  a u, v i r g i n  r e a d e r, u n p r o t e c t e d    s e x, e x p l i c i t  l a n g u a g e

o r i g i n a l  c o n t e n t - i did write this and the original that can be found on wattpad at the user ong_seunguwu

o r i g i n a l  i d o l - k w o n  j i y o n g

a u t h o r  n o t e -  i do not condone underaged or unprotected sex. by writing that they are seniors in highschool i am implying that they are 18 years of age. the reader is on the pill (mentioned briefly at the end). please do not engage in unprotected sex unless you are in a long term relationship with a trustworthy partner.  that being said please enjoy sex as much as you want with the use of aforementioned protection!

A paper ball hits you in the side of the cheek and you roll your eyes. Seriously? We are fucking seniors for crying out loud. You pick it up off of the desk with a sigh. As your economics teacher drones on and on about monopolies and societal revenue, you quickly and stealthily open up the wadded piece of paper.

"Pssssst Y/N,

I need your help studying! I know the test is tomorrow and I can't fail it! PLEASE!

-Call Me Mr Fuckin' G.O.D."

You roll your eyes, not at the request, but at how he signed the letter. You smooth out the paper and grab your pencil.

"Vernon,

 Of course, I'll help you study, but you'll owe me! And if I call you anything it'll be dipshit...

-You're Saviour."

You gently fold up the paper into a neat little square and hand it to your neighbour.

"Pass it to Vernon." You mouth at them. They nod and pass the message until Vernon is the one holding the note in his hands.

He opens the letter with little to no discretion, causing you to fight the urge to facepalm. He smiles happily to himself and rolls his eyes before grabbing his pencil to reply. A few minutes later the once again balled up piece of paper is laying on your desk again.

"Y/N calling someone older than you dipshit is disrespectful... Maybe you'll tutor me in the ways of economics and I'll tutor you in the ways of mannerisms. I'll walk home with you mkay?

xx- Vernon"

You bite back a light grin and when the teacher isn't looking, turn around and flip him off. He glares at you and you stifle a giggle.

Later that afternoon as the bell rings for the last time, signalling the end of the day, you walk through the crowded halls quickly. You finally make it to your locker. Unlocking it you shove the textbooks you don't need inside with a sigh. Shutting it allows you to finally see the goody boy leaning against the locker beside your own.

"Hey there pumpkin." He says cheekily.

You roll your eyes and turn towards the exit. You begin walking, with your backpack over your shoulders and Vernon beside you. Once outside of the large high school he links his hand with yours.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You ask him incredulously, a dark blush flowing over your cheeks.

"Shut up loser. I'm only holding your hand. You won't die." he replies slightly annoyed.  

"It's just weird! Since when do we hold hands?" You question.

"Hush, I just wanted to hold your hand, but if you're gonna whine about it then never mind." He says sounding embarrassed.

"N-no... It's fine. I was just surprised is all." Your blush grows darker.

By the time that the two of you reach your home, he is swinging your hands back and forth cutely and your chattering is nonstop. Once inside you both kick off your shoes and drop your bags by the door.

"Snack first?" You ask, making your way towards the kitchen. You two had been friends since you could barely walk and so this obviously wasn't his first time in your home. Before you could make it more than a few steps away he grabs your wrist and pulls you back. You yelp as you stumble back towards him. He chuckles and pins you up against the door.      

"Is everything okay down there Y/N?" A masculine voice calls out from upstairs, making both you and Vernon freeze.

"Sorry Mr. Y/L/N! I accidentally bumped into her and scared her!" he calls out.

"Hansol is that you? It's been a while!" The voice calls out again.

"Yes sir it has been a very long time," he begins shooting you a look that gave you chills, "Y/N invited me over to study for our big economics test tomorrow!"

"Oh that was a great idea on your part honey!" your father calls out to you this time.

"Yes sir, he is pretty good at the subject and I figured it would be v-very b-beneficial to m-me." You stutter out as Vernon licks up the side of your neck before beginning to suck on it.

"Well, I'll leave you two be! I have a big presentation tomorrow so I'll be up here in my office working on that! Knock if you need me!"

"Will do sir!." Vernon responds all the while looking at you with a smirk. You both here the door to your father's office close and you look at him incredulously.

"What are you doing?" You whisper sternly.

"You asked if I wanted a snack." He replies with a shrug looking you up and down hungrily, "I figured I'd help myself to what your parents made."

"Not only was that extremely cringe, it also isn’t on the fucking menu."

"When you tell me to stop I will, but for now..." He trails off as his mouth returns to your neck.

"Verns, s-seriously. My d-dad is l-literally right up the stairs." You say biting back moans.

"But your daddy is right here," he replies with a cocky smirk, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around him.

You protest in harsh whispers as he walks you to the kitchen and sits you down on the table.

"Oh hush Y/N.," he says darkly, spreading your legs.

You push down the hem of your skirt to cover your crotch. He chuckles before grabbing a fist full of your hair and pulling it back. It hurts a little, but it turns you on more. His hot breath fans over your ear.

"Y/N I'm going to count to three. You better have your skirt lifted up and your hands above your head by the time I'm finished counting. If you don't this will be a lot harder for you."

He lets go of your hair and squats down until he is eye level with your crotch. All the while counting slowly to three. His voice has never seemed so sexy to you. You proceed to lift your skirt and raise your hands obediently. He smirks up at you as he hooks his fingers into either side of your panties and gently moves them down your thighs, then down your calves, and onto the floor. You are looking down at him nervously, as he pulls your hips to the edge of the table, his mouth centimetres from your heat. He gently kisses your clit and you shudder. He smiles and proceeds to lick it. You gasp loudly and he looks up at you.

"Your father is upstairs." he reminds you before licking your clit once more.

You bite your bottom lip and drop your hands to his hair. After assaulting your clit numerous times he surprises you by dipping his tongue into your dripping hole. You open your mouth, but no sound comes out, just a face expressing extremely pleasure.

"You're so tight Y/N and this is just my tongue. I can only imagine what you'd feel like around my fingers... Or better yet my cock."

"I-I wouldn't mind finding out..."

He sticks his tongue back inside of you and hums lightly before pulling it out again to look up at you.

"You're still a virgin aren't you Y/N?"

You look away embarrassed by the obvious fact. He chuckles, "Let's change that."

You look at him wide-eyed as he stands up and unzips his pants quickly. You try to look everywhere but at his obvious erection.

"You're so wet I should be able to just slide in. I'll be gentle with you Y/N, don't worry." He looks at you, but this time you see a lot of love in his dark eyes, not cockiness.

You nod lightly, a dark blush painting your cheeks. He pulls down his boxers and you finally give up on trying not to look at his erection.

"My eyes are up here ya know?" He questions jokingly, cupping your chin in his hand and lifting your head. He stares deep into your eyes before kissing you lightly. You are the one who deepens the kiss, with a cross between passion and aggression. He raises his eyebrow in a shocked but doesn't protest. As your kiss continues to heat up, you feel his tip brush against your core and you moan into his mouth. He slowly pushes his tip into, while lifting you lightly off the table. He slowly pushes his entire length into you and you tear up. You bite his lip harshly. He groans both at the bite and how tight you are around him.

"F-fuck Y/N." he groans out quietly.

"P-please move Vernon," you mumble.

He nods, pulling out and pushing back in. With just the first thrust you are already weak. He is surprisingly vocal; whispering out profanity and a slur of compliments to you. Eventually, his thrusts get faster and his grip on your hips gets tighter. You begin to meet his upward thrusts with downward grinds and when he hits your spot you connect your lips with his harshly. This quieted your moans significantly.

"Vernon, I th-think I'm g-gonna... Ahh." you moan out and he smirks thrusting harder and faster.

"Do it baby girl. Cum around my dick." he groans into your ear.

Right after he says these words you do and he groans. He tries to hold his orgasm in, to let you ride out your high, but he can't hold it for long and cums. Some inside of you and some on your stomach. You are both panting and sweating. He chuckles and so do you.

"I never thought you'd be my first," you say in between heavy breaths.

He smiles widely, "Can I be your last too? And every time in between?"

"Are you asking me out you asshole?"

"Is that a yes loser?"

"Well, no shit! And you’re so lucky I’m on the pill," you say as he sets you back down on the table and he nods knowingly.

As you try to stand up, you stumble forward and he catches you.

"So, what you're saying is I have to carry your fat ass?"

"Shut the fuck up! You didn't have a problem holding me up just a few seconds ago!"

He laughs as he pulls his pants and underwear back up. He rolls his eyes and picks up your underwear from the floor and then you. He lugs you over his shoulder and you yelp.

"TO THE BATHROOM WE GO!" he calls out loudly.

"Did you kids say something?" Your father calls out from up the stairs.

You tense up and Vernon answers, "Sorry I yelled in victory. I won our little economics game review!"

"Oh okay! Well, congratulations!" your father calls out once more and then the door is heard closing once more.

"Nice save douche-bag."

"Don't make me drop your ass." he replies.

You both laugh as he carries you to the bathroom and helps you clean up.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

IT Chapter 2 - Thoughts (SPOILERS)

When the first IT movie came out two years ago, I went in knowing absolutely NOTHING about the book or story. I still have not read the book (I have maybe twenty pages of Jay Baruchel’s book left, and then I’ll be starting IT!), but both then and now, I’ve found that the first IT movie is one of my favourite horror films. Whilst the first one didn’t really scare me so much as just freak me the fuck out, I still thought it was well-made and enjoyable.

I hadn’t watched the original film for a long time - probably over a whole year since. When I saw that there was going to be a double bill of the first AND second film, I immediately jumped to get a ticket - I needed a refresher of the first film, and I was extremely PUMPED for the second film. 

As I’m writing this, I’ve just gotten back from the double bill and I wanted to get some thoughts down whilst they’re still fresh in my mind. This is NOT my proper, written-out review, more just me making notes that’ll help me write that review. I also wanted to write them down just in case someone wants to go in prepared, or if they’re on the fence about seeing the film and don’t mind spoilers. 

I am also NOT talking about the first film - I made a post on my old blog when I first watched “IT” in 2017, which I have dug up and can be found HERE. 

In case it’s not already obvious, THERE ARE SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT. MASSIVE SPOILERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ THE SPOILERS.

Anyway, let’s get on with it!

This is more of a cinema-complaint but my cinema still had the music that plays in the venue playing over the first thirty seconds so I missed ALL the audio in the first thirty seconds of the film. I DID see Beverly floating and the Losers Club talking, so I’m assuming it’s nothing I didn’t already know from the first film.

I like that it opens with cutbacks to the first film, it ties it nicely together and adds an extra reminder/refresher of what happened in the first film.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT THAT FUCKING OPENING ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW

So after the Losers Club, there’s a scene with this gay couple at a carnival, one of whom is called Adrian, and they firstly get verbal harassment from a gang of people, and then said gang starts following them.

OKAY LOOK THIS IS A WARNING, THERE IS A GAY BASHING IN THIS FILM. It really FUCKED me up, I’m going to be honest. I’m pretty sure it’s something that happens in the book, so maybe I don’t need to warn anyone, but I was unprepared to see it. 

So after they beat Adrian up, they toss him over a bridge while he’s unconscious and into the river below; his boyfriend goes running down to find him, and that’s when you see Pennywise.

At first I thought Pennywise was just super against gay bashing and was actually helping Adrian but NOPE, HE TAKES A GIANT FUCKING BITE OUT OF HIM, I NEARLY SCREAMED IN THE CINEMA

Also I definitely noticed how Adrian was asthmatic and needed an inhaler, as is Eddie. I’m not sure if that’s a sign but let’s assume so...

This is how it all starts again and Mike - who’s the only one still in Derry btw - has to call the rest of the club up because “oh shit he’s back again”. 

Can I just say that the casting for the adult Losers Club is FUCKING PHENOMENAL. ALL OF THEM.

James McAvoy as Bill? Jessica Chastain as Beverly? Bill Hader as Richie? Blessed casting, absolutely blessed.

As a writer, I laughed so hard at everyone hating Bill’s book endings. Literally EVERYONE shat on how he ended his books, even his own wife (who’s an actress, I think?) and it was so funny.

Poor Eddie went from a domineering mother to a domineering wife who I’m 99% sure is played by the same actress by the way. 

Probably should mention now that Eddie is one of my favourite members of the club in the first film, so that was kinda sad for me to see.

Oh God, Richie in this film is perfect. I love him. First time we see him, he’s vomiting after getting a phone call from Mike and then he has to go onstage to do stand-up. Throughout the whole film he is literal GOLD.

Ben really had a huge glow-up between movies, I mean DAMN BEN. Does that happen in the book? Ben going from the “fat kid” to “handsome and fit” or...?

Oh poor Bev...poor Bev indeed. She went from being abused by her creepy ass father to being in an abusive relationship with her husband. I sadly get the feeling that that kind of thing happens in real life - history repeats itself and all of that.

I’m 90% sure that Bev’s husband was going to r*pe her because he threw her down and started to take off his shirt, but she kicked him off her and fought back before too much happened.

Of course, Stan. I had a horrible feeling when I saw the trailers and saw that he was noticeably absent compared to the others. Also, when I started reading IT two years ago (I only got a few chapters in, I didn’t have much time so I kind of fell away before I got too into the book), THAT scene with Stan was one of the only chapters I got round to reading because it was right at the start. So I knew and I was dreading it.

Potentially triggering for people like myself who have been suicidal/are suicidal/self-harm; he runs himself a bath and then slits his wrists to kill himself (and succeeds). I mean, it’s not 13 Reasons Why level of explicit, you don’t SEE him do it properly, but it’s intercut with the moment Bill sliced his palm in the first film when they were all making the pact. So it’s PRETTY DAMN OBVIOUS what’s going on.

Throughout this whole film, I had no idea what was real and what wasn’t anymore. Some of the shit that happened was bizarre and I was like “...how is NO ONE NOTICING THAT”. 

As soon as I saw the words “cut” and “IT” come out of fortune cookies, I knew something was about to go down. Even more so when “Stanley” came out of one.

The humour in this film is a whole new level. Most of it is Bill Hader as Richie, but some of it is just in general (like one of them screaming “IT’S NOT REAL” whilst smashing a chair on a table in the Chinese restaurant, only for an employee to turn up and be like “da fuq”...long story).

I assumed that Henry Bowers had fallen straight to hell or died frankly. Oh boy was I wrong. Not surprised they put him in an asylum given that he murdered his own father tbh. 

PATRICK THE ZOMBIE

So is the Patrick zombie ACTUALLY driving Henry around, I’m curious because how the fuck would no one else notice a zombie driving around?!

“how do you not know material from you own show?!” - oh God, I am so weak

Pennywise kills this little girl called Vicky and I just KNEW. I just knew what that little bitch (Pennywise) was up to as soon as he started fake crying because “no one will be my friend because I look strange” or whatever. He saw that mark on the girl’s face and I fucking knew. 

“One...Two...” “...” “...” “...you’re supposed to say-” AND THEN HE TOOK A MASSIVE FUCKING BITE OUT OF HER FACE, I LITERALLY CRIED OUT I WAS SO FUCKING TERRIFIED

The scene where Mike drugs Bill to get him to “see” is...weird. Extremely weird. It was like being on hallucinogen drugs. Everything about it and IT is weird.

I’m confused as to when the timeline of them building the clubhouse and their individual experiences with IT take place in this film. Are the individual encounters (which I’ll talk about in a moment) supposed to have taken place in the time they were all apart? And the clubhouse, was that AFTER they fought IT? I’m so confused about when all of this was happening

So they all have to find these objects as offerings for this ritual to defeat IT and...that was a ride of several varieties.

We’ve all seen the Mrs Kersh teaser, right? The old lady? And how she suddenly wiggles around naked in the background for no apparent reason? That made a LOT of people laugh but, I mean, hats off to the actress for doing that, I’m 21 and I couldn’t even imagine having to do that.

Umm so yikes, Bev’s relationship with her father remains so creepy and abusive, like he blames her for her mother killing herself?? And then sprays her in her mom’s perfume and starts smelling her?? I needed to lie down on the sofa I was on, it had me so uncomfortable.

Um so Mrs Kersh turns into this GIANT FUCKING OLD LADY DEMON THING THAT’S NAKED AND I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO UNCOMFORTABLE IN MY LIFE

Pennywise painting his face and making those noises...yikes. fuckin yikes. I still love Bill Skarsgard.

OKAY LOOK RICHIE WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT RICHIE’S WHOLE STORYLINE SO IMMA DO THAT NOW

ABOUT RICHIE

So if I’m correct, and I think I am, Richie is gay? There’s a flashback when he heads to the arcade of Richie when he’s young and his hand lingers just a second too long on another boy’s at one point, and then he gets accused of being “weird”. Then it turns out the boy is Bowers’ cousin and Bowers shows up, starts accusing Richie of being a certain-gay-slur, and Richie runs outside.

Umm that bUILDER LUMBERJACK STATUE COMING TO LIFE WAS UNNECESSARY THANK YOU I’M GOING TO HAVE FUCKING NIGHTMARES ABOUT THAT FUCKING THING

So back to older Richie because this is all happening one-after-the-other here. Older Richie goes outside and he looks up at the Lumberjack statue, and there’s Pennywise with loads of balloons.

Pennywise starts accusing him of being too afraid to play games, but especially truth-or-dare, because then “everyone will know your secret”. 

My legit favourite thing is now Pennywise the clown floating down from on top of a statue singing “I KNOW YOUR SECRET, YOUR DIRTY LITTLE SECRET” and I refuse to feel guilty for it

It is so heavily implied that Richie’s secret is that he’s attracted to guys and I am here for the representation. I don’t know whether Richie is gay or bi or whatever, but shit I love it

I literally just wanted Richie to admit it so he could be proud and not afraid, like own it Richie. Own who you are, and then Pennywise can’t use it against you.

I’m literally going to rewatch this film JUST FOR RICHIE AND EDDIE’S ROMANCE

Anyway, end of me discussing Richie (for now)

I saw you Stephen King, in that shop with Bill’s bike :))

I wonder how other adults in Derry feel about seeing fully grown Bill screaming down a drain. It’s kind of sadly funny now that I consider it...

To be honest, I don’t remember what that little boy was called but Bill must have looked like a fucking weirdo just screaming and following that little boy around... (okay, I THINK the kid is called Dean so I’m going to just call him that)

To be fair to Bill, I also lie awake at night wondering “why Georgie??” That kid was far too adorable.

I always thought Ben was smart for some reason and so I was kinda surprised to see him in summer school (I’m English so we don’t have that here, but am I right in thinking that it’s where you go if you fail school or something? To get your grades up/retake tests?)

I was not convinced for a second that that shadow belonged to Beverly, and turns out I’m right. 

See, after seeing Bev’s head suddenly catch on fire, I’m glad I never started smoking (yes, I’m aware that’s Pennywise)

Poor Ben, having fake-Bev tell him that he’s fat/will die alone etc. It’s so sweet that he kept the page in his yearbook that she signed though, to remind himself that the REAL Beverly wouldn’t do that.

“Kiss me, fat boy” - AM I WRONG OR WAS THAT A LINE IN THE TIM CURRY VERSION BECAUSE I’M SURE IT’S NOT THE FIRST TIME A PENNYWISE HAS SAID THAT

That creepy ass pharmacist is still there?? AND his daughter?!

See, I’m confused...did Eddie’s mom REALLY get killed by the Leper or was that just a Pennywise trick to lure him in?

That Leper, guys...fuck me, it’s disgusting like it licks and vomits on Eddie?!

You know shit’s about to get real when characters go into fun-houses, especially the ones with a clown theme.

Okay, you know what, I was wrong when I thought that that little girl called Vicky had the most violent death - HOW ABOUT DEAN?? PENNYWISE RAMMING HIS HEAD AGAINST THE GLASS AND THEN FUCKING EATING HIM IN FRONT OF BILL WHILST BLOOD SPRAYS FUCKING EVERYWHERE

Ben: I’ve spoken to Richie, he’s going to stay -> Cut to: Richie, escaping and driving away very quickly

Hang on, how in the fuck did Eddie survive Bowers stabbing him in the cheek?! (Having said that, the Narrator in Fight Club survived blowing the whole of his cheek off so I can’t complain). 

For a moment I genuinely forgot about what happened to Henry Bowers after this but I’ve just remembered - he attacks the Losers Club again at the library and gets stabbed (I think?). All I know is that he definitely dies in that library.

I knew Mike’s parents had burnt to death and he’d been in the next room, but I didn’t realize that he’d been a toddler at the time?? Jesus, how is he not completely fucked up after that?!

No amount of money or anything could ever convince me to go into that fucking house on Neibolt Street frankly. 

I can’t remember why Richie decided to stay right now but he decides to stay and help out. My memory is BAD.

So they go into the house and so much horrific shit goes down that I literally was hiding behind the blanket I was using.

Less scary thing first: Ben having words carved into his stomach until Bev kicks some ass and destroys a mirror. Still freaked me out but not as much as the NEXT THING HOLY SHIT

So in the next room, the fridge opens and inside is young!Stan’s body - his head then falls off and rolls across the floor, starts speaking. When the Losers Club starts not believing it/being less afraid, Stan’s head...fuck fuck fuck

Stan’s head GROWS FUCKING LEGS AND IT BECOMES A SPIDER BUT WITH A HUMAN HEAD?! SO STAN’S HEAD IS THE BODY/FACE BUT IT HAS SPIDER LEGS AND I NEARLY BURST INTO TEARS BECAUSE I CAN HANDLE A LOT BUT FUCKIN SPIDERS IS NOT FUCKIN ONE OF THEM

I’M NOT KIDDING, THAT IS THE MOST TERRIFYING, HORRIFYING THING I HAVE EVER SEEN, AND I HAVE SEEN A LOT OF HORROR MOVIES

So they all end up going into the sewers, and going deeper after that, to do their ritual; freaky-boob-demon showed up and pulled Bev underwater, but beyond it being a quick jumpscare (that was admittedly scary), nothing happens since it goes down underwater and just see Eddie panicking but too afraid to go in after them himself.

Richie giving Eddie the pep talk was both sweet and hilarious. I admittedly laughed more than I should have done at the “you married a woman who weighs 400 pounds comment”. 

So, surprise surprise, the fucking dumbass ritual doesn’t work. For some reason Mike decides “hmm I won’t mention that this ritual failed before when it was last done, ho hum” and so everyone’s in the shit after that.

Pennywise turns into this gigantic crab-spider-thing and I don’t know how to feel about it. It’s honestly terrifying and unsettling, but I was half-expecting IT to turn into something like a massive spider or something horrific. I’m glad in a way he didn’t but still.

I should have mentioned this earlier but remember how in the first film, they decided that they’re safe so long as they stay together? YEAH, WELL, SECOND FILM SAYS LOL NOPE TO THAT AND THE CLUB KEEP SEPARATING, WHY DO YOU STRESS ME OUT LIKE THIS

The thing with Richie and Eddie and that Pomeranian was so cute? You know, until the dog fuCKING TURNED INTO A MONSTER THAT IS, “Not Scary At All” MY ASS PENNYWISE

Is IT able to be in seven different places at once? Because I wasn’t sure, but Pennywise seems to torment the kids/adults separately at the same time in BOTH films

So apparently Bill feels guilty because he “wasn’t sick” that day that Georgie went out into the rain and like...okay? That feels a bit shoehorned in but cool, alright then.

Bev ends up in that toilet cubicle with people trying to break in and like...gross? Her dad? And the pharmacist? Can go fuck themselves :))

So that toilet filled with blood pretty fast huh

Also Beverley really took her sweet ass time realizing that it was BEN who wrote that poem despite the fact she seemed to realize he was the one who did it AFTER he kissed her awake in the first film. However, I’ll maybe let it slide since apparently they forget things when they leave Derry, so...

Ben nearly drowns in dirt and Pennywise taunts him about dying alone, honestly same, I just know I’m going to die alone and unloved :))

Richie deciding “fuck it” and throwing rocks/screaming at Pennywise was so amazing...until the deadlights got him.

Eddie really sacrificed himself like that, huh :(

Poor Eddie was so happy because “oh my god I did it, I killed him, Richie wake up, look-!” - and then he got fucking stabbed. Gosh, I just LOVE it when my favourites DIE LIKE THAT STEPHEN KING -_-

So the deadlights are kind of just...balls of light? Or...?

So apparently calling Pennywise names like “clown” and putting him down is all it took to make him small enough to defeat, huh? They really shouted “clown” at him until he shrunk into a new-born-baby-sized-Pennywise

Also they crushed his heart and that was it. Cool, I guess. I don’t know what I was expecting but I don’t think what I got was it

So, um, while I’m here, let’s just take a moment to...

FUCKING NO WHY DID NO ONE FUCKING TELL ME THAT FUCKING EDDIE WAS GOING TO DIE

I WAS ROOTING FOR EDDIE EVERY SINCE HE SAID ABOUT GAZEBOS OKAY YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW ANGRY AND SAD I AM

I mean, he died like a hero, granted, but how fucking dare you-

You know what’s even MORE heartbreaking than Eddie dying? RICHIE’S REACTION.

Oh sure, the others are sad, but RICHIE IS FULL ON SOBBING AND NOT WANTING TO LET HIM GO, LIKE HE’S LITERALLY IN DENIAL AND HAS TO BE DRAGGED AWAY

RICHIE TAKES IT THE HARDEST AND MY HEART, IT FUCKING HURTS GUYS, IT REALLY DOES

Anyway, thank you Bill Hader for inventing acting for this film

Okay I’m sort of done

So no one is going to notice that dusty crackhouse building just crumbling completely then?

That moment where the remaining adult losers look at their reflection in a window, and they see themselves young - but it’s ALL of them young, even Stan and Eddie, and now I really am sad

Richie breaking down when they’re in the quarry to clean up...again, my heart hurts and it’s Richie’s fault

Towards the beginning of this film/most of the first film, I genuinely cared a bit about who Bev ended up with (well, more I was hoping it was Ben because he’s sweet and a good person) but by the time we got to Ben and Bev kissing after all the Bill-Bev-Ben triangle bullshit...meh. Cool, I guess. 

I am genuinely glad that the surviving losers seem to be living at least slightly better lives by the end of the film; Bill actually as an idea about what he’s writing for once; Bev is away from abusive fathers/husbands and with Ben on what looked like a VERY nice private yacht; I think Mike was going to see the world(?) after being cooped up in the library for so  long.

Richie...I don’t know if his ending was better than how he started to be honest. I think he said something about being proud at the end, so maybe that means he’s going to accept who he is? 

HE CARVED “R+E” into the bridge as a teen, and he re-cARVES IT AT THE END ARE YOU SERIOUS

Did Stan really think that by killing himself, it would prevent everyone from going back or...? Because he says in his letter that if it’s not ALL of them going back, then he’s assuming they’ll all die? Or something?

^If I’ve got that wrong (which I’m sure I have) please excuse me, it was 1am by the time the film finished and I was recovering from being terrified and I was tired

Obviously Bill Skarsgard was amazing as Pennywise, I just wanted to save that until last because wOW. He really put his all into the character, and I personally think he did a fantastic job with it.

So overall, I enjoyed IT Chapter 2. Was it as good as the first? Ehh...kind of hard to say. I was more scared shitless this time around but it was mostly jump-scares. It was definitely creepier/darker/bloodier. Having said that, there were moments where I was like “what the actual fck” or a bit lost, like Mike drugging Bill? I also noticed that a LOT of people in the cinema were laughing towards the end when it was the comedic parts but rather the scary ones - whether that’s just “some people laugh when nervous/anxious” or they genuinely thought it was hilarious, I’m not sure. This film is also nearly 3 hours long, which...is a while. For me, it wasn’t too bad because I’ve done LOTR marathons at home using the extended editions, so under 3 hours is kind of something I’m used to, but it does kind of drag a bit. At the beginning there was a lot of time building up characters, which I get, but also was slightly unnecessary at times. The CGI was sort of a mixed bag for me. I feel like the CGI on Pennywise throughout was overall improved, but there were moments like an eyeball rolling across the table or something where I thought it looked fake as hell.

But all of that aside, I really enjoyed the film. I think I’d go back again just to see Bill Hader as Richie, to be honest, and for Richie’s whole storyline. For me personally, that was the best non-horror element of the film.As I said, I have not read the book YET, but it’s the very next one on my list - chances are I’ll be starting it tonight or tomorrow!

[seeaddywrite]

overcome by shame, can i ever change?

part 1/6: five times Alex stopped Michael from doing something stupid, & one time Michael returned the favor. 

warnings: for this part -- grief, allusions to depression, unhappy ending (for the moment), alcohol abuse. michael isn’t in a good place & it shows.

part II will be up tomorrow! you can also read/follow on AO3, if you prefer.

The first time Alex stops him from going too far, Michael’s standing over a bleeding redneck in the middle of the Wild Pony, fist raised to land the blow that would cross the line between ‘drunk and disorderly’ and ‘assault.’ It’s a line he’s usually careful to avoid — he’s accepted his role as the town drunk and has no problem throwing a few punches when they’re well-deserved, but Michael has never wanted to end up in a cell for longer than one night.

But less than a week after he’d watched the prison holding his mother explode less than twenty yards in front of him, Michael’s no longer thinking about the consequences of his actions. He’s stuck in that moment, watching it happen over and over, and even the two full bottles of acetone-laced whiskey he’s consumed aren’t enough to end the cycle. Instead, he’s just light-headed as the grief, the guilt, he’s been trying so desperately to suppress begins to morph in his chest. Maybe he would’ve been able to handle it, or at least leave town before he lost his mind, if someone hadn’t bumped into him, splashing a wave of Max’s favorite beer all over the back of his unwashed t-shirt.

Unwanted images flood Michael’s mind, brought on by sense memory he hadn’t even realized existed. Max, shooting beer cans out of the sky with a backwards baseball cap and a wide grin. Max, sitting across from Michael at one of the stupid high school parties Isobel dragged them to, that same beer in his curled fingers, only half-consumed because Max had always been afraid of what would happen if he got too drunk to control himself in public. Max, sitting at the firepit in front of Michael’s trailer, a pyramid of beer cans to one side of his chair and the perpetual tension in his shoulders absent for once as he and Michael stared silently up at the stars, both asking questions the universe refused to answer.

Michael blinks rapidly, determinedly ignoring the sting in his eyes, and gives up on trying to hold himself in check. The surrender is all the impetus Michael’s grief needs to change completely, and the moment he regains his balance, he whirls on the man behind him, ignoring the slurred apologies to shove him, hard. He’s conscious of eyes on him — bystanders and bartenders alike. Maria is by the door, and vaguely, Michael hears her calling his name, telling him to cool off, but her voice just adds to the maelstrom raging inside him. He’s been using Maria, looking to her for distraction and something easy, when everything else in his life is fraught with pain and complication, but it’s not working anymore, and the guilt of knowing that he’s going to hurt her only adds to the weight he labors beneath.

“Man, what the fuck is your problem?” Michael’s victim demands, hitching up his worn Wranglers and squaring his shoulders in challenge. “I said I was sorry!” 

Words are beyond Michael now, and even if he could find them, he wouldn’t waste one on this man. He simply lashes out, kicking the man’s knees out from under him hard enough that his skull strikes the wood floor with an echoing thud. The alcohol makes it hard to maintain his own balance after the sudden movement, but his misdirected fury has burned off the worst of the buzz, and Michael keeps his footing. He lunges again, blind in his determination to make someone else hurt as much as he does in that moment, and his opponent gets to his feet just in time to save his nose from being broken by the heel of Michael’s shoe. He bellows in outrage and lands a punch of his own. Pain sparks along Michael’s cheek, but it’s barely noticeable in comparison to the invisible, gaping wound in his chest and doesn’t slow him down in the slightest. 

His arm draws back, muscles taught, fingers clenched. There’s a voice in the back of his head that sounds painfully like Max’s lectures every time he entered the Sheriff’s office to find Michael waiting for him in a cell. You’re better than this, Michael. One of these days I’m not going to be able to stop you from being sent to a real jail — and we both know you don’t belong there.

Max was right, to an extent. He isn’t here to stop Michael from being sent anywhere now … but any question of whether Michael belonged in a prison died with the mother he failed to save. Prison is the least of what he deserves. 

Voices, some familiar, some not, add to the cacophony of emotional noise in his head, but none of them matter enough to stop him. None of them even register, really, aside from grating on Michael’s ears. 

In the end, it’s one word that stops him -- his name, only his name, said so evenly that Michael shouldn’t have even been able to pick it out of the noise of the crowd. 

“Guerin.” 

A steady hand clamps around Michael’s wrist, familiarity evident in the touch. There’s no hesitation, no tremble or sign of fear -- just the slide of callouses against the sensitive skin of his inner wrist, warm and anchoring in a way Michael’s never quite understood. He allows the hand to push his arm down to his side, to spin him around until he’s looking straight into Alex Manes’ too-solemn face that he can’t mistake, not even drunk on acetone and a surplus of emotion. 

Stunned, Michael stares at his ex … something, because ‘boyfriend’ is never going to be the right word to describe Alex, and ‘lover’ makes their affair sound like something more than it was. It’s the first time they’ve seen each other since the night Max killed Noah, and Michael can’t imagine why Alex is here, stopping him from fucking up again, when he could be literally anywhere else, where he wouldn’t have to deal with Michael and his bullshit. 

The thought, and the guilt that rises like bile in his throat, kickstarts him from staring to action. Michael wrenches out of the hold, but makes no move to advance upon either Alex or his earlier opponent. Any urge to do violence is gone, leaving him feeling hollow and empty. His wrist burns where Alex’s hand had been, not from pain, but from the absence of the touch, and Michael hates himself even more for wishing Alex would reach out again. 

“I think you’ve had enough,” Alex tells him calmly, and nods toward the exit to the bar. He’s wearing a leather jacket, Michael notes distractedly, and his hair’s gotten longer. Just slightly out of regulation parameters, whereas before, it would’ve been cut at least a week ago to avoid that. Alex is getting on with his life, moving away from the military rules and routines impressed upon him for years, and Michael can’t help but resent that Alex couldn’t have made that decision when it was possible for Michael to move on with him. 

But resentment and heartbreak pales in comparison to the grief and anger that have taken root in his chest, so Michael stops trying to think and allows the light-headed, overheated feeling of over-indulgence to lessen it all. But even then, Michael’s not drunk enough to miss the softness in Alex’s eyes where they linger on him, nor the hesitance in his body language as he reaches out to rest a careful hand on Michael’s shoulder. 

“Come on, I’ll drive you home,” he offers, and the kindness is almost unnerving when Michael expects the opposite.  

“I --” Someone’s bound to have called the police, Michael thinks, even as he tries to slow his racing mind in order to answer. He knows he can’t just go home. He’s got to answer for what he’s done — that guy hadn’t even done anything other than make Michael remember things he didn’t want to, he’s got to —

“Kyle’s handling it,” Alex says, interrupting Michael’s painstaking thought process. It takes him a minute to realize that he’s been speaking aloud, and Alex’s grip on his shoulder has tightened in concern. He hadn’t noticed earlier, but Valenti is standing in front of the guy with the bump on his head, arms crossed and a scowl on his face severe enough to keep him from coming at Michael to blacken his other eye. 

“Michael? Are you okay?” 

The laugh in response to such a stupid question is short and bitter, and makes his nose ache where he’d been struck. Michael nods anyway, an automatic, ingrained response from years of pretending that nothing could touch him. He flicks his curls out of his swollen eye with a clumsy  hand, trying to focus on Alex. Apparently, his reaction hadn’t been particularly reassuring. Not if Alex’s wide eyes and thin lips are any indication. 

Great. Now he’s scaring Alex, like standing him up and betraying him hadn’t been enough. Michael inhales sharply, trying to summon the strength to apologize, to tell Alex that he’s fine, that he should go and stop letting Michael trample all over his heart, but Alex speaks first.

“No one’s arresting you tonight, Guerin. Sheriff Valenti knows about what happened to Max,  and —” 

Michael shoves away from Alex abruptly and pretends not to see the flash of hurt that crosses Alex’s face before he schools his expression. He hates seeing it, hates hurting Alex, but that’s all he can do lately, it seems. Hurt the people  he cares about. Maria. Isobel. Alex. Even Liz. He’s pushed them all away and hidden behind the tall, thorny walls of his own pain. And the walls have grown so tall, so labyrinthine, that even Michael himself can’t escape them now.  Hearing his brother’s name is too much on top of everything else, and no matter how his heart screams for him to burrow into Alex’s chest and beg for forgiveness, for comfort, Michael’s not nearly drunk enough to believe he deserves either.  

The crowds part around him as he moves gracelessly toward the bar’s exit. Maria holds the door for him, tries to say something, but Michael just pushes past her and out into the night. 

No one comes after him. 

[thwip--thwip]

duly noted

“You’re okay, Mr. Stark,” Peter says gently, cluelessly, and Tony coughs, trying to get the words out - that Peter needs to panic, needs to call someone or several someone’s, that this isn’t just food poisoning or something - because if someone managed to get close enough to drug Tony in his own damn Tower, there’s a serious problem. “It’s probably just - “

“Peter, Peter,” Tony’s words are slurring together, and his eyes feel heavy - he cannot fall asleep, no no no - and he grabs Peter’s forearms, shaking him (or is Tony the one shaking?) “Something - someone - I’ve been - been drugged.”

*

Written for the prompt 'laced drink' for Whumptober 2019.

Read here on AO3 | Or below the cut!

Tony knows something’s wrong about thirty minutes into the R&D presentation.

If he’s being honest, he thinks he knew something was wrong like, ten minutes in, but one glance at Peter by his side had put him at ease. The kid had a built in danger radar, and he wore his emotions on his face so transparently it would have been laughable if it weren’t so endearing. Peter’s been full of nervous energy today - leg bouncing, biting his nails, the whole nine yards - but he doesn’t look like he’s sensing anything wrong.

But there’s definitely something wrong.

Tony’s head starts to feel fuzzy fifteen minutes in, almost with the slow, creeping intensity of a migraine - except it doesn’t hurt, it just feels thick, like a weighted blanket on his brain. Peter leans over and whispers something Tony can’t focus on - something sarcastic no doubt, about the sentient toaster or whatever-the-fuck new innovation these bright minds have cooked up next (the smart fridge was dumb, but sold decently well, so).

It takes him another ten minutes to realize he feels drunk (which...says something about how high-functioning he’d been before he quit drinking).

“Peter,” Tony whispers - or he thinks he whispers, but the marketing intern turns around to look at him, so maybe it wasn’t as quiet as he’d hoped. Peter inclines his head towards him, eyes still on the presentation. Tony reaches out with a hand that feels too heavy for his body and clasps Peter’s shoulder. The boy finally turns to look at him with those wide, brown eyes of his, and Tony clutches at his shoulder, tight.

“Get me out of here.” That one is a whisper, an intense one that can’t fully hide Tony’s building panic, and Peter only hesitates for a split-second before complying. He stands up, subtly helping Tony out of his seat (okay, yeah, he’s swaying like the gondola ride at Coney Island, something’s wrong), and looping Tony’s arm over his shoulders when they finally make it out to the hallway (thank God Tony always insists on sitting at the back of the room to brook quick exits).

“I think - I think I’m -” He wants to say drugged, but his stomach rolls and Tony groans, closing his eyes. “Bathroom. Toilet. Gonna puke.”

“Oh shit,” Peter says, ever the eloquent one, diverting them towards the closest bathroom. They burst into the stall, and Tony practically collapses to his knees on the hard tile, stomach heaving as it all comes up. There isn’t much - he’s not exactly a breakfast person - but the coffee and bile stains the bowl a dark brown (not really a half and half person either). Peter rubs a comforting hand down the line of his back, a slow circle, and something that just screams of May Parker’s tenderness.

“You’re okay, Mr. Stark,” Peter says gently, cluelessly, and Tony coughs, trying to get the words out - that Peter needs to panic, needs to call someone or several someone’s, that this isn’t just food poisoning or something - because if someone managed to get close enough to drug Tony in his own damn Tower, there’s a serious problem. “It’s probably just - “

“Peter, Peter,” Tony’s words are slurring together, and his eyes feel heavy - he cannot fall asleep, no no no - and he grabs Peter’s forearms, shaking him (or is Tony the one shaking?) “Something - someone - I’ve been - been drugged.”

Tony expects panic. He expects fear and confusion.

He doesn’t expect Peter’s sad little smile. He doesn’t expect to hear “I’m sorry.” out of the kid’s mouth.

And the last thing Tony expects, as the horrible, confusing, utterly blindsiding realization that Peter was the one who roofied him (Peter brought me the coffee…), is to pass out, Peter’s face blurring out of his vision, into darkness.

But that’s what happens.

***

Tony wakes up in a fireman’s carry, feeling like ass. He wishes he could say it’s a new low for him, but it’s not - and Tony Stark is a lot of things, but he isn’t a liar. Tony grunts, clearing his throat - his mouth feels like it’s full of cotton balls, and it tastes terrible - yet again, not unfamiliar.

“H-ey.” Tony rasps, re-finding his voice - his body feels weak, arms dangling over someone’s back, and Tony struggles to regain fine motor control. “Hey.”

“Oh,” That’s Peter’s voice, sounding shockingly nonchalant, and that’s about when Tony realizes they’re moving. Peter is...not running, but speed walking...somewhere. “Hey.”

“Hey?!” Tony’s annoyance sharpens his tone, brings his voice back a little stronger, and he can’t see it, but he can feel Peter’s wince. Yeah, no shithe’s in trouble.

“Look, uh, don’t freak out.” Peter practically pleads, as though Tony is in any way going to listen to him. “Everything’s under control.”

“What the fuck?” Tony growls, and he wants to demand to be put down, wants a fucking answer - and somewhere, in the back of his brain, he wants to be hurt, he wants the space to be deeply upset that Peter, of all people, would do something like this.

He didn’t think the kid had it in him, and he hates that he can’t help but worry about it (betrayal burns on the way down).

“Mr. Stark, I - “ Peter’s words are cut off by a spray of bullets - he dodges them expertly, jumping and kicking off the wall to propel them down the next side hallway. He executes the maneuver with ease, and no indication of difficulty while still carrying Tony.

“Sorry,” Peter says, so infuriatingly casually, like they’d just been interrupted by a phone call. He’s running now, though, so at least there’s that.

“Who was that?” Tony demands, trying to sound as angry as he felt, which was difficult when he had to close his eyes against the next wave of nausea. Rohypnol - assuming that’s what Peter used, or at least close to it - can last up to six hours so unfortunately, Tony knows he’s pretty much down for the count.

“Our kidnappers,” The kid can’t keep saying shit like that with such ease, or Tony’s going to lose his goddamn mind (even more than he already has).

“Explain. Right now.” He tries, again, to sound commanding, but he knows it just sounds kind of desperate. Peter takes another corner, navigating them somewhere - or at least away from something.

“I was on my way in this morning and these totally weird dudes grabbed me like right off the subway,” Peter begins, and Tony’s stomach lurches at the thought. “But I wasn’t in the suit, so I just went along with it. They wanted me to drug you so they could kidnap you, and they said they’d kill me if I didn’t do it, which like, whatever - “

Whatever. Tony’s gonna fucking kill him when he can stand up under his own power again, Jesus Christ.

“ - but they also said they had bombs in the building, and I didn’t know if that was true? So I figured it was probably better not to risk it.”

Tony hates to admit it - believe him, he does - but it makes sense. It’s what he would have done (well, he’s not sure he could drug Peter and allow him to be kidnapped, but Tony would have 100% sacrificed himself). Still, he’d be remiss if he didn’t protest. “And you didn’t tell me any of this when it happened because?”

“You would have tried to stop me,” Peter shrugs, the movement of his shoulders lifting Tony up and down. Tony sighs, long-suffering - Peter’s got him there.

“Maybe you should have been stopped.” Tony doesn’t need to see Peter’s face to feel the way the kid almost rolls his eyes - but he can also feel the guilt emanating from him, too, so Tony tries to swallow down the upset. “So where the hell are we?”

“I think we’re at AIM.” Peter skids to a stop by a door that leads to a stairwell - it’s locked, but he breaks it open with one hand and then they’re going again - up, towards the roof, it seems. “Not sure. I pretended to panic when they tried to take you, so they hit me with their gun and I pretended to conk out, and that got them to take me too.”

Peter’s a little bastard genius, and Tony struggles between feeling proud and pissed. He can be both, can’t he?

“Are you really mad?” The kid asks nervously, after a long beat of silence, the only sounds his feet, slapping on the concrete steps as he propels them up, floor by floor. Tony stifles a sigh, because that singular question is enough to take the wind right out of his sails.

“No,” Tony squeezes his eyes shut tighter, trying valiantly not to chuck. The up and down motion of Peter’s stair-stepping isn’t helping. “No, Pete, I’m not - “

Tony cuts off in frustration, and the next words out of his mouth - he’s not sure why he says them, why he admits it. Blame it on the drugs. But he says: “I’m scared, kid.”

The admission takes Peter by surprise (almost as much as it does Tony), and he almost falters on a step before continuing, up and up. Tony thinks he hears a door open, far below them, but Peter doesn’t stop to find out. “It’s gonna be okay, Mr. Stark, really I - “

“No, Pete,” Tony cuts him off, tapping a hand against Peter’s back. He’s starting to be able to move his limbs again, thank God. “I’m not scared for me. I’m scared for you. You went lone wolf on this one and - yeah, sure, maybe everything might end up fine. Doesn’t mean it’s any less terrifying to - to be helpless and watch you do it.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter’s voice softens, and this time, Tony knows he means it. “I - I guess I just felt like I didn’t have much of a choice. And it - I felt like it would be safer if I was with you.”

“You don’t need to protect me,” Tony replies gently, and for the briefest second, he feels a wave of ridiculous laughter bubbling in his stomach - this probably isn’t a conversation they should be having while Tony’s facing Peter’s butt (and that says a lot about a) his twelve-year-old sense of humor and b) their lives). “I can save myself, kid.”

“But you shouldn’t always have to.” They reach the top of the stairwell and Peter breaks through the next door, taking them out into open air. He turns around and twists the handle with a screech of metal - who knows how long it’ll hold, but at least there’s an obstacle.

Tony didn’t expect to have his own lessons parroted back at him today, but he can’t deny them. Peter finally sets him down, leaning up against the brick wall that marks the edge of the building. Tony watches blearily as the kid starts taking off his clothes - but the suit is on underneath, and Peter slips his mask on and webs his clothes behind the air conditioner in seconds flat.

“Can I save you, Mr. Stark?” Peter offers, one hand extended, the lenses on his mask widening as they adjust to the light. Tony - he can’t help but smile, because it feels so innocent, so light-hearted. The kid was unbelievably infuriating sometimes, but he means well. Tony takes the proffered hand, allowing Peter to haul him up to his feet.

“Fine. But for future reference, when I swoon, I prefer bridal carry. Just ask Steve.” Peter snorts, lifting one arm to shoot his web, the other wrapping securely around Tony.

“Duly noted, sir.”

Peter jumps off the roof with no further warning, and Tony can’t help the startled yell that the sensation rips from his chest - freefalling with nothing to stop them, until the stomach-dropping swoop of Peter’s webbing catches them.

If I had to be rescued, Tony can’t help but think, as Peter lets out a whoop and shoots another line of web. I’m glad it’s Spiderman.

[smallhatlogan]

Why Nonbinary Borderlands Fans are Mad About Zer0′s Pronouns, In a Timeline

2012

Zer0 was introduced in Borderlands 2 as a character meant to be absurdly mysterious in almost every way.  Zer0 is apparently not their real name, they seem not to be human (but it’s unclear if they’re an alien, robot, or something else entirely), no one knows where they came from, etc. Still, in Borderlands 2, they defaulted to he/him, and was assumed male.  It’s worth noting that Borderlands 2 also featured Bloodwing, Mordecai’s pet alien bird. In the original Borderlands Bloodwing was referred to as he/him, but switched between games to she/her. This is explained outside the game by Burch, who says that Bloodwing’s species changes gender halfway through life.

2013

Gearbox released the Diamond Plate Loot Chest. In it was the “Pandoran Gazette” an in-universe newspaper. It included an “Ask Doctor Tannis” advice column, the last question being:

Dear Doctor Tannis,

I have heard you are acquainted with the vault hunter known as "Zer0". I have been meaning to ask - that's not really his true name, is it? Hell, maybe Zer0 isn't even a "he". Do you have any details on this mysterious figure?

- Curious in Old Haven

Dear Curious,

I am indeed acquainted with the towering stack of leather and poorly-written poetry that so many refer to as "Zer0". As you have correctly noted, "Zer0" is not the Vault Hunter's true name. Zer0's actual name and gender are (CONTINUED ON PAGE 9)

Page 9 was not included. To my knowledge, this was where it was first seeded that Zer0 may not be male. 

November 2, 2014

 In a panel titled “Playing as a female character panel - Does it Matter” during PAX Australia, Gearbox CEO Randy Pitchford discussed Zer0’s gender:

“The other things that’s interesting to me is sometimes when there’s characters that don’t have a gender or have an ambiguous gender I’ll choose them...In Borderlands 2 we left Zer0’s identity very ambiguous. What gender is he?” *crowd laughs* “We need better pronouns, don’t we? Don’t we need better pronouns?” (Timestamp) 

“What’s the gender of Zer0?….That says more about me than it does say about Zer0, the fact that I use the pronoun he when I describe Zer0. In fact, um, we purposely have left Zer0’s gender ambiguous. There’s a lot of folks at Gearbox that like to think that maybe Zer0’s of a particular species that doesn’t have gender- That is more androgynous.”  (Timestamp) 

(Timeline continues under cut)

November 25th, 2014

The first episode of Tales From the Borderlands was released. Anthony Burch answered this question on his Ask.fm: 

To my memory, tumblr blew up with excited nonbinary fans. Prior to seeing screenshots of this, I really didn’t have interest in Borderlands. The idea of a cool nonbinary character who used they/them pronouns, admist a virtual desert of representation, made me play through the entire series as fast as I could so I could catch up in time to see these pronouns in action. For a long time afterwards I’ve seen other nonbinary people expressing the same sudden interest in the series after learning this about Zer0. Because, yeah, it was a pretty big deal. 

2015: 

Zer0 appeared again in episode 5 of Tales, released almost a year later after the first. Their voice had changed to one that sounds more ambiguous in terms of gender, but Zer0 was still being referred to as “he/him”. Anthony Burch was one of the writers on this episode. Afterward, he answered this on his ask.fm:

Since he claimed it was honestly a mistake, nonbinary fans held out hope. There were posts going around tumblr clarifying that yes, Zer0 was still nonbinary, and still was meant to use they/them pronouns. It was just a mistake made by a thoughtless cisgender man. Of course, then some presumably-cisgender fan goes to Burch, and validates him, because clearly a character can’t just up and CHANGE pronouns! It’s not like anyone ever does that in real life! 

It’s not a fair point. It’s a dumb point from someone who has no stakes in this.  (Another thing worth noting is it has only been other characters who referred to Zer0 as he/him. Zer0 has never made a point of standing up for their own pronouns.) After this Burch just kind of gives up on the whole idea. 

This statement about characters being “progressive enough not to misgender someone” is weird, because the characters, even the sympathetic ones, in Borderlands have often blatantly failed to be progressive. The original Borderlands has the worst of it, it’s your basic 2009 edgelord shit. There’s blatant misogyny, not to mention the extremely homophobic joke surrounding Mr. Shank (and within that the transphobic joke about his girlfriend being a man in a wig). Burch only started writing for the game in Borderlands 2, however. It’s a huge step up, but there’s still a lot of bigotry. Captain Scarlett makes a “no fatties” joke. Mr Torgue fat-shames Ellie. Mr Torgue uses the R-slur. Multiple characters slut-shame Moxxi. Incest jokes surrounding Scooter, who also is implied to be a huge creep towards women.  Heck, there’s the entirety of Sir Hammerlock’s Big Game Hunt DLC is a racist, colonialist mess. Its antagonist is implied to be gay, one of two gay male characters introduced thus far, and he’s a pathetic, creepy stalker.  This is the game series where there are two common enemy types whose names are straight up ableist.  So citing characters as being “too progressive” rings hollow with this context.  Besides, trans people are often misgendered, even by people who’d otherwise be considered progressive.  Burch left Gearbox the same year, so he’s not entirely to blame for what anything afterwards. He just set a pretty bad precedent.

2019:

Gearbox did seem to take the “make a new nonbinary character” thing to heart.  They give us Fl4k, again a nonhuman character, who uses they/them pronouns. And okay, I love Fl4k, but like most nonbinary people I’m tired of all nonbinary characters being robots, aliens, or otherwise non-human in appearance (a trope that yes, Zer0 falls into as well). Still, Fl4k is cute and having a nonbinary playable character who uses they/them pronouns is cool! I definitely plan to play as them. Many nonbinary fans were suspicious though, it seemed likely that Fl4k might be meant to appease us and they could keep on using he/him for Zer0. We were proven right when they released the gameplay preview on May 1st. We hear Zer0 called “he”. None of us are surprised, but it still hurts, we felt like we’d been baited with Zer0.  Besides, why can only one character at a time be nonbinary? Why can a bird change pronouns but not a person? Why was a writer allowed to go out and promise this if it wasn’t going to be followed through on (yes, he didn’t use the word “promise” but telling a marginalized group something like that isn’t something you can just “forget” without people feeling betrayed)?

And that’s where we’re at, as of me writing this. I feel like there are some comments I’m bound to get on this, so I’ll answer them here: Why are you making such a big deal about this?

Me typing a few paragraphs isn’t making a big deal. But I feel misled and baited. After a few years of no clarification after Burch promising us they/them Zer0, a lot of people hung on to hope. A lot of people became big fans of Zer0 because they’re a fun, badass, nonbinary character. Their design is really, really rad! And heck, they were (at least for a time) the most popular playable character in Borderlands 2. Telling everyone, in-game, “actually Zer0 was never really a he, they’ve been a ‘they’ this whole time” would have been HUGE. Like how Blizzard made Overwatch’s poster girl, Tracer, canonically a lesbian, and then revealed their badass gruff guy (who fills the roll of your basic FPS protagonist), Soldier 76, to be a gay man. They/them are still not widely accepted pronouns. For us who use them, it’s difficult to convince people not to default to something gendered. Especially when we fail to appear completely androgynous. I’ve been told Zer0 can’t possibly be nonbinary because they have a deep voice and “masculine” body shape. But real nonbinary people come in all shapes and sizes with all kinds of voices! 

What about Fl4k?

As I said, I’m very happy about Fl4k. They fall into some problematic tropes even more than Zer0 (as Fl4k is verified beyond a doubt to be a robot, and has an “acceptable” androgynous shape to them). I don’t know their voice yet, I wouldn’t be surprised if it also fell into the category of “acceptably androgynous”. Fl4k is new and already “they/them”. Zer0 is an established character who already has a lot of fans among a bunch of different groups of people. There’s definite value in demonstrating a character can switch pronouns, since pretty much every nonbinary person who uses they/them haven’t used those pronouns their entire life. Besides, there can and should be more than one nonbinary character.  Fl4k being nonbinary but not Zer0 kind of feels like Gearbox expects us to shut up and be happy with what we’re given.

What about nonbinary people who use he/him pronouns? Can’t Zer0 be that?

Those people are real and valid.  However, we’re talking about real people versus a fictional character. I admit I’d feel better if it was stated, in-game, “Yeah, Zer0 is nonbinary and uses he/him”. But even then, it’s REALLY EASY for cisgender people to ignore that information and write Zer0 off as male (And knowing gearbox, they’d put it somewhere easily missed. I’ve surprised so many straight people who’d played through Borderlands 2 with the fact that Sir Hammerlock is gay, simply because it was only verified in a side quest). And you know, we were promised they/them, so like, not doing that kind of sucks. Also I think it’s really important to normalize they/them.

So what are we supposed to do about this? What do you expect to change, anyways?

Honestly? I don’t expect Gearbox to fix this so late. In all likelihood, that’s way too much dialogue to re-record. But I still think it’s worth making our voices heard. We shouldn’t silently put up with this kind of thing. Other people will pull the same shit, being either unsympathetic or unaware of the harm they do. And heck, it’s unlikely, but maybe Gearbox will at least acknowledge their wrongdoing.

Also, it’s maybe worthwhile to ignore canon, and keep referring to Zer0 as “they/them”, or if this whole thing is news to you, it’s not too late to start. It would mean a lot to nonbinary fans, and make a point about how Zer0 is regarded.

[bountyofbeads]

This is a heartbreaking investigation into how Donald Trump's DISGUSTING 🤢, VILE, DESPICABLE, APPALLING, and DEPRAVED behavior is trickling down in our society and having REAL LIFE EFFECTS(including suicide) on our children and young people. The FISH ROTS from the HEAD. Melania it looks like your 'BE BEST' campaign isn't working out so well. Perhaps you should start by taking your husband's phone away and removing him from public view. PLEASE READ 📖 and SHARE this investigation. TY 🙏🏻🙏🏼🙏🏽🙏🏾🙏🏿

HOW THE BULLY-IN-CHIEF IS TURNING AMERICA NASTIER

By Paul Waldman | Published February 13 at 4:07 PM EST | Washington Post | Posted February 14, 2020 |

Sometimes we overestimate the degree to which a president can change a country, not just altering federal policy but also transforming our national life. But President Trump, there can be little doubt, will have as profound an effect on America as nearly any president in memory. The problem is that he’s doing it in all the worst ways.

As a new report from The Post demonstrates, across the country schools are reporting increased incidents of bullying and harassment directed at minority children in the time since Trump began running for office:

Since Trump’s rise to the nation’s highest office, his inflammatory language — often condemned as racist and xenophobic — has seeped into schools across America. Many bullies now target other children differently than they used to, with kids as young as 6 mimicking the president’s insults and the cruel way he delivers them.

It’s not all kids bullying kids — some of the cases involve teachers telling minority students that Trump will deport them or saying things such as “You’re getting kicked out of my country” (and there are also cases, though much smaller in number, of pro-Trump children being bullied).

Amazing what happens when you take the most repugnant human being in America and put him in the White House.

I exaggerate — but only a bit. I’m sure there are some Americans who are more morally despicable than Trump. Serial killers, for instance. But whether you like his administration’s policies, the president of the United States is a con man, a tax cheat, an accused sexual predator and the most prolific liar in the political history of Planet Earth, among other things.

But he might have been all that and not produced this kind of bullying. In fact, it was utterly predictable, because bullying is at the core of Trump’s being — and his political persona.

When he started running for president in 2015, Trump made clear that not only was he selling an agenda of xenophobia and racism, but he also wanted people to proclaim their hatreds loudly. “I’m so tired of this politically correct crap,” he said, and he wasn’t just talking about campus speech codes. He was angry at the foundational idea behind “political correctness,” that in our daily lives we should try to treat each other with respect.

The hell with that, Trump said. Every day he offered an instruction in the liberating power of being offensive. Not only shouldn’t you let a bunch of scolds tell you what kind of language to use, you should revel in the transgressive thrill of telling other people just what you think of them.

Trump plainly believes that if they see it to their advantage, people with more power should attack, victimize and humiliate those with less power. It’s something he’s known all his life, from when he was a young man being sued with his father for housing discrimination for refusing to rent apartments to black people, to when he was cheating struggling people out of their life savings, to when he refused to pay hundreds of small businesspeople what he owed them because they didn’t have the power to fight him.

In every case the logic was the same: He had more power than them, so he did what he wanted.

This is a man who mocked a reporter for his disability and who said women who accused him of sexual assault were too ugly for him to have victimized.

A different person might ascend to the most powerful position in the world and decide not to concern themselves anymore with petty squabbles. But if anything, Trump has accelerated his feuds, increasing the frequency with which he lashes out at those who are less powerful than him. Some are public figures who may be used to that sort of thing, but others are not.

One victim after another describes the disorienting feeling of being an ordinary person and realizing that the president of the United States is going after you. Just this week, Trump decided to attack the foreperson of the jury in the trial of his friend Roger Stone.

Imagine what it’s like to be her right now. You got the notice in the mail, went to do your civic duty, and now the president is insulting you on Twitter — with the inevitable threats and harassment from his supporters to follow.

And this is critical: Trump’s amen chorus celebrates him for his own bullying and the way he encourages others to be bullies. Recall the 2017 incident in which now-Rep. Greg Gianforte (R-Mont.) body-slammed a journalist to the floor. On Fox News they cheered the assault as “Montana justice,” and host Laura Ingraham tweeted, “Did anyone get his lunch money stolen today and then run to tell the recess monitor?” Trump later appeared at a rally with Gianforte and said, “Any guy that can do a body slam, he is my type!”

That’s the ethos of the Trump era: There are no more standards of morality or appropriate behavior or even simple politeness. There is only his power, and how you have to submit to it.

When Republicans impeached Bill Clinton for lying about an affair, they responded to the argument that it had nothing to do with his official duties by saying the president is a role model, so his behavior matters. They were wrong about a lot, but they were right about that.

The difference is that back then, nobody in Clinton’s party defended him for having an affair, let alone praised him for it. Today, Trump sends the message over and over that power and status should be used to punch down, mock, degrade and humiliate those you don’t like. And his legions of lickspittles laugh and cheer.

So it’s no wonder that Trump, who has the world’s biggest megaphone, has managed to spread his particular poison throughout the country, even to children. It would have a been a surprise if it didn’t happen.

*********

TRUMP’S WORDS, BULLIED KIDS,

SCARRED SCHOOLS .... THE PRESIDENT’S RHETORIC HAS CHANGED THE WAY HUNDREDS OF CHILDREN ARE HARASSED IN AMERICAN CLASSROOMS, The Post found

By Hannah Natanson, John Woodrow Cox and Perry Stein | Published Feb. 13, 2020 | Washington Post | Posted February 14, 2020 |

Two kindergartners in Utah told a Latino boy that President Trump would send him back to Mexico, and teenagers in Maine sneered "Ban Muslims" at a classmate wearing a hijab. In Tennessee, a group of middle- schoolers linked arms, imitating the president's proposed border wall as they refused to let nonwhite students pass. In Ohio, another group of middle-schoolers surrounded a mixed-race sixth-grader and, as she confided to her mother, told the girl: "This is Trump country."

Since Trump's rise to the nation’s highest office, his inflammatory language — often condemned as racist and xenophobic — has seeped into schools across America. Many bullies now target other children differently than they used to, with kids as young as 6 mimicking the president’s insults and the cruel way he delivers them.

Trump’s words, those chanted by his followers at campaign rallies and even his last name have been wielded by students and school staff members to harass children more than 300 times since the start of 2016, a Washington Post review of 28,000 news stories found. At least three-quarters of the attacks were directed at kids who are Hispanic, black or Muslim, according to the analysis. Students have also been victimized because they support the president — more than 45 times during the same period.

Although many hateful episodes garnered coverage just after the election, The Post found that Trump-connected persecution of children has never stopped. Even without the huge total from November 2016, an average of nearly two incidents per school week have been publicly reported over the past four years. Still, because so much of the bullying never appears in the news, The Post’s figure represents a small fraction of the actual total. It also doesn’t include the thousands of slurs, swastikas and racial epithets that aren’t directly linked to Trump but that the president’s detractors argue his behavior has exacerbated.

“It’s gotten way worse since Trump got elected,” said Ashanty Bonilla, 17, a Mexican American high school junior in Idaho who faced so much ridicule from classmates last year that she transferred. “They hear it. They think it’s okay. The president says it. . . . Why can’t they?”

Asked about Trump’s effect on student behavior, White House press secretary Stephanie Grisham noted that first lady Melania Trump — whose “Be Best” campaign denounces online harassment — had encouraged kids worldwide to treat one another with respect.

“She knows that bullying is a universal problem for children that will be difficult to stop in its entirety,” Grisham wrote in an email, “but Mrs. Trump will continue her work on behalf of the next generation despite the media’s appetite to blame her for actions and situations outside of her control.”

Most schools don’t track the Trump bullying phenomenon, and researchers didn’t ask about it in a federal survey of 6,100 students in 2017, the most recent year with available data. One in five of those children, ages 12 to 18, reported being bullied at school, a rate unchanged since the previous count in 2015.

However, a 2016 online survey of over 10,000 kindergarten through 12th-grade educators by the Southern Poverty Law Center found that more than 2,500 “described specific incidents of bigotry and harassment that can be directly traced to election rhetoric,” although the overwhelming majority never made the news. In 476 cases, offenders used the phrase “build the wall.” In 672, they mentioned deportation.

For Cielo Castor, who is Mexican American, the experience at Kamiakin High in Kennewick, Wash., was searing. The day after the election, a friend told Cielo, then a sophomore, that he was glad Trump won because Mexicans were stealing American jobs. A year later, when the president was mentioned during her American literature course, she said she didn't support him and a classmate who did refused to sit next to her.

“‘I don’t want to be around her,’ ” Cielo recalled him announcing as he opted for the floor instead.

Then, on “America night” at a football game in October 2018 during Cielo’s senior year, schoolmates in the student section unfurled a “Make America Great Again” flag. Led by the boy who wouldn’t sit beside Cielo, the teenagers began to chant: “Build — the — wall!”

Horrified, she confronted the instigator.

“You can’t be doing that,” Cielo told him.

He ignored her, she recalled, and the teenagers around him booed her. A cheerleading coach was the lone adult who tried to make them stop.

“I felt like I was personally attacked. And it wasn’t like they were attacking my character. They were attacking my ethnicity, and it’s not like I can do anything about that.”

— Cielo Castor

After a photo of the teenagers with the flag appeared on social media, news about what had happened infuriated many of the school’s Latinos, who made up about a quarter of the 1,700-member student body. Cielo, then 17, hoped school officials would address the tension. When they didn’t, she attended that Wednesday’s school board meeting.

“I don’t feel cared for,” she told the members, crying.

A day later, the superintendent consoled her and the principal asked how he could help, recalled Cielo, now a college freshman. Afterward, school staff members addressed every class, but Hispanic students were still so angry that they organized a walkout.

Some students heckled the protesters, waving MAGA caps at them. At the end of the day, Cielo left the school with a white friend who’d attended the protest; they passed an underclassman she didn’t know.

“Look,” the boy said, “it’s one of those f---ing Mexicans.”

She heard that school administrators — who declined to be interviewed for this article — suspended the teenager who had led the chant, but she doubts he has changed.

Reached on Instagram, the teenager refused to talk about what happened, writing in a message that he didn’t want to discuss the incident “because it is in the past and everyone has moved on from it.” At the end, he added a sign-off: “Trump 2020.”

ust as the president has repeatedly targeted Latinos, so, too, have school bullies. Of the incidents The Post tallied, half targeted Hispanics.

In one of the most extreme cases of abuse, a 13-year-old in New Jersey told a Mexican American schoolmate, who was 12, that “all Mexicans should go back behind the wall.” A day later, on June 19, 2019, the 13-year-old assaulted the boy and his mother, Beronica Ruiz, punching him and beating her unconscious, said the family’s attorney, Daniel Santiago. He wonders to what extent Trump’s repeated vilification of certain minorities played a role.

[  More than 300 Trump-inspired harassment incidents reported by news outlets from 2016-2019]

Anti-Hispanic: 45%

Anti-black: 23%

Anti-Semitic: 7%

Anti-Muslim: 8%

Anti-LGBT: 4%

Anti-Trump: 14%

[ **Note: Some incidents targeted multiple groups and, in other cases,

the ethnicity/gender/religion of the

intended target was unclear. Figures may not precisely add up because of rounding. Source: Washington Post analysis of media reports]

“When the president goes on TV and is saying things like Mexicans are rapists, Mexicans are criminals — these children don’t have the cognitive ability to say, ‘He’s just playing the role of a politician,’ ” Santiago argued. “The language that he’s using matters.”

Ruiz’s son, who is now seeing a therapist, continues to endure nightmares from an experience that may take years to overcome. But experts say that discriminatory language can, on its own, harm children, especially those of color who may already feel marginalized.

“It causes grave damage, as much physical as psychological,” said Elsa Barajas, who has counseled more than 1,000 children in her job at the Los Angeles Department of Mental Health.

As a result, she has seen Hispanic students suffer from sleeplessness, lose interest in school, and experience inexplicable stomach pain and headaches.

For Ashanty Bonilla, the damage began with the response to a single tweet she shared 10 months ago.

“Unpopular opinion,” Ashanty, then 16 and a sophomore at Lewiston High School in rural Idaho, wrote on April 9. “People who support Trump and go to Mexico for vacation really piss me off. Sorry not sorry.”

A schoolmate, who is white, took a screen shot of her tweet and posted it to Snapchat, along with a Confederate flag.

“Unpopular opinion but: people that are from Mexico and come in to America illegally or at all really piss me off,” he added in a message that spread rapidly among students.

The next morning, as Ashanty arrived at school, half a dozen boys, including the one who had written the message, stood nearby.

“You’re illegal. Go back to Mexico,” she heard one of them say. “F--- Mexicans.”

Ashanty, shaken but silent, walked past as a friend yelled at the boys to shut up.

In a 33,000-person town that is 94 percent white, Ashanty, whose father is half-black and whose mother is Mexican American, had always worked to fit in. She attended every football game and won a school spirit award as a freshman. She straightened her hair and dyed it blond, hoping to look more like her friends.

“It’s gotten way worse since Trump got elected. They hear it. They think it’s okay. The president says it. . . . Why can’t they?”

— Ashanty Bonilla

She had known those boys who’d heckled her since they were little. For her 15th birthday the year before, some had danced at her quinceañera.

A friend drove her off campus for lunch, but when they pulled back into the parking lot, Ashanty spotted people standing around her car. A rope had been tied from the back of the Honda Pilot to a pickup truck.

“Republican Trump 2020,” someone had written in the dust on her back window.

Hands trembling, Ashanty tried to untie the rope but couldn’t. She heard the laughing, sensed the cellphone cameras pointed at her. She began to weep.

Lewiston’s principal, Kevin Driskill, said he and his staff met with the boys they knew were involved, making clear that “we have zero tolerance for any kind of actions like that.” The incidents, he suspected, stemmed mostly from ignorance.

“Our lack of diversity probably comes with a lack of understanding,” Driskill said, but he added that he’s encouraged by the school district’s recent creation of a community group — following racist incidents on other campuses — meant to address those issues.

That effort came too late for Ashanty.

Some friends supported her, but others told her the boys were just joking. Don’t ruin their lives.

She seldom attended classes the last month of school. That summer, she started having migraines and panic attacks. In August, amid her spiraling despair, Ashanty swallowed 27 pills from a bottle of antidepressants. A helicopter rushed her to a hospital in Spokane, Wash., 100 miles away.

After that, she began seeing a therapist and, along with the friend who defended her, transferred to another school. Sometimes, she imagines how different life might be had she never written that tweet, but Ashanty tries not to blame herself and has learned to take more pride in her heritage. She just wishes the president understood the harm his words inflict.

Even Trump’s last name has become something of a slur to many children of color, whether they’ve heard it shouted at them in hallways or, in her case, seen it written on the back window of a car.

“It means,” she said, “you don’t belong.”

Three weeks into the 2018-19 school year, Miracle Slover's English teacher, she alleges, ordered black and Hispanic students to sit in the back of the classroom at their Fort Worth high school.

At the time, Miracle was a junior. Georgia Clark, her teacher at Amon Carter-Riverside, often brought up Trump, Miracle said. He was a good person, she told the class, because he wanted to build a wall.

“Every day was something new with immigration,” said Miracle, now 18, who has a black mother and a mixed-race father. “That Trump needs to take [immigrants] away. They do drugs, they bring drugs over here. They cause violence.”

Some students tried to film Clark, and others complained to administrators, but none of it made a difference, Miracle said. Clark, an employee of the Fort Worth system since 1998, kept talking.

Clark, who denies the teenager’s allegations, is one of more than 30 educators across the country accused of using the president’s name or rhetoric to harass students since he announced his candidacy, the Post analysis found.

In Clark’s class, Miracle stayed quiet until late spring 2019. That day, she walked in wearing her hair “puffy,” split into two high buns.

Clark, she said, told her it looked “nappy, like Marge off ‘The Simpsons.’ ” Unable to smother an angry reply, Miracle landed in the principal’s office. An administrator asked her to write a witness statement, and in it, she finally let go, scrawling her frustration across seven pages.

“I just got tired of it,” she said. “I wrote a ton.”

Still, Miracle said, school officials took no action until six weeks later, when Clark, 69, tweeted at Trump — in what she thought were private messages — requesting help deporting undocumented immigrants in Fort Worth schools. The posts went viral, drawing national condemnation. Clark was fired.

“Every day was something new with immigration. That Trump needs to take [immigrants] away. They do drugs, they bring drugs over here. They cause violence.”

— Miracle Slover, referring to Georgia Clark, her former English teacher

Not always, though, are offenders removed from the classroom.

The day after the 2016 election, Donnie Jones Jr.’s daughter was walking down a hallway at her Florida high school when, she says, a teacher warned her and two friends — all sophomores, all black — that Trump would “send you back to Africa.”

The district suspended the teacher for three days and transferred him to another school.

Just a few days later in California, a physical education teacher told a student that he would be deported under Trump. Two years ago in Maine, a substitute teacher referenced the president’s wall and promised a Lebanese American student, “You’re getting kicked out of my country.” More than a year later in Texas, a school employee flashed a coin bearing the word “ICE” at a Hispanic student. “Trump,” he said, “is working on a law where he can deport you.”

Sometimes, Jones said, he doesn’t recognize America.

“People now will say stuff that a couple of years ago they would not dare say,” Jones argued. He fears what his two youngest children, ages 11 and 9, might hear in their school hallways, especially if Trump is reelected.

Now a senior, Miracle doesn’t regret what she wrote about Clark. Although the furor that followed forced Miracle to switch schools and quit her beloved dance team, she would do it again, she said. Clark’s punishment, her public disgrace, was worth it.

About a week before Miracle’s 18th birthday, her mother checked Facebook to find a flurry of notifications. Friends were messaging to say that Clark had appealed her firing, and that the Texas education commissioner had intervened.

Reluctant to spoil the birthday, Jowona Powell waited several days to tell her daughter, who doesn’t use social media.

Citing a minor misstep in the school board’s firing process, the commissioner had ordered Carter-Riverside to pay Clark one year’s salary — or give the former teacher her job back.

[A snapshot of the harassment in 2019 ( SEE WEBSITE)]

In the three months after the president tweeted on July 14, 2019, that four minority congresswomen should "go back” to the countries they came from, more than a dozen incidents of Trump-related school bullying — including several that used his exact language — were reported in the press.

Jordyn Covington stood when she heard the jeers.

“Monkeys!” “You don’t belong here.” “Go back to where you came from!”

From atop the bleachers that day in October, Jordyn, 15, could see her Piper High School volleyball teammates on the court in tears. The sobbing varsity players were all black, all from Kansas City, Kan., like her.

Who was yelling? Jordyn wondered.

She peered at the students in the opposing section. Most of them were white.

“It was just sad,” said Jordyn, who plays for Piper’s junior varsity team. “And why? Why did it have to happen to us? We weren’t doing anything. We were simply playing volleyball.”

Go back? To where? Jordyn, her friends and Piper’s nine black players were all born in the United States. “Just like everyone else,” Jordyn said. “Just like white people.”

“It was just sad. And why? Why did it have to happen to us? We weren’t doing anything. We were simply playing volleyball.”

— Jordyn Covington

The game, played at an overwhelmingly white rural high school, came three months after Trump tweeted that four minority congresswomen should “go back” to the “totally broken and crime infested places from which they came.”

It was Jordyn’s first experience with racism, she said. But it was not the first time that fans at a school sports game had used the president to target students of color.

The Post found that players, parents or fans have used his name or words in at least 48 publicly reported cases, hurling hateful slogans at students competing in elementary, middle and high school games in 26 states.

The venom has been shouted on football gridirons and soccer fields, on basketball and volleyball courts. Nearly 90 percent of incidents identified by The Post targeted players and fans of color, or teams fielded by schools with large minority populations. More than half focused on Hispanics.

In one of the earliest examples, students at a Wisconsin high school soccer game in April 2016 chanted “Trump, build a wall!” at black and Hispanic players. A few months later, students at a high school basketball game in Missouri turned their backs and hoisted a Trump/Pence campaign sign as the majority-black opposing team walked onto the court. In 2017, two high school girls in Alabama showed up at a football game pep rally with a sign reading “Put the Panic back in Hispanic” and a “Trump Make America Great Again” banner.

In late 2017, two radio hosts announcing a high school basketball game in Iowa were caught on a hot mic describing Hispanic players as “español people.” “As Trump would say,” one broadcaster suggested, “go back where they came from.”

Both announcers were fired. After the volleyball incident in Kansas, though, the fallout was more muted. The opposing school district, Baldwin City, commissioned an investigation and subsequently asserted that there was “no evidence” of racist jeers. Administrators from Piper’s school system dismissed that claim and countered with a statement supporting their students.

An hour after the game, Jordyn fought to keep her eyes dry as she boarded the team bus home. When white players insisted that everything would be okay, she slipped in ear buds and selected “my mood playlist,” a collection of somber nighttime songs. She wiped her cheeks.

Jordyn had long ago concluded that Trump didn’t want her — or “anyone who is just not white” — in the United States. But hearing other students shout it was different.

Days later, her English teacher assigned an essay asking about “what’s right and what’s wrong.” At first, Jordyn thought she might write about the challenges transgender people face. Then she had another idea.

“The students were making fun of us because we were different, like our hair and skin tone,” Jordyn wrote. “How are you gonna be mad at me and my friends for being black. . . . I love myself and so should all of you.”

She read it aloud to the class. She finished, then looked up. Everyone began to applaud.

t's not just young Trump supporters who torment classmates because of who they are or what they believe. As one boy in North Carolina has come to understand, kids who oppose the president — kids like him — can be just as vicious.

By Gavin Trump’s estimation, nearly everyone at his middle school in Chapel Hill comes from a Democratic family. So when the kids insist on calling him by his last name — even after he demands that they stop — the 13-year-old knows they want to provoke him, by trying to link the boy to the president they despise.

In fifth grade, classmates would ask if he was related to the president, knowing he wasn’t. They would insinuate that Gavin agreed with the president on immigration and other polarizing issues.

“They saw my last name as Trump, and we all hate Trump, so it was like, ‘We all hate you,’ ” he said. “I was like, ‘Why are you teasing me? I have no relationship to Trump at all. We just ended up with the same last name.’ ”

Beyond kids like Gavin, the Post analysis also identified dozens of children across the country who were bullied, or even assaulted, because of their allegiance to the president.

School staff members in at least 18 states, from Washington to West Virginia, have picked on students for wearing Trump gear or voicing support for him. Among teenagers, the confrontations have at times turned physical. A high school student in Northern California said that after she celebrated the 2016 election results on social media, a classmate accused her of hating Mexicans and attacked her, leaving the girl with a bloodied nose. Last February, a teenager at an Oklahoma high school was caught on video ripping a Trump sign out of a student’s hands and knocking a red MAGA cap off his head.

And in the nation’s capital — where only 4 percent of voters cast ballots for Trump in 2016 — an outspoken conservative teenager said she had to leave her prestigious public school because she felt threatened.

In a YouTube video, Jayne Zirkle, a high school senior, said that the trouble started when classmates at the School Without Walls discovered an online photo of her campaigning for Trump. She said students circulated the photo, harassed her online and called her a white supremacist.

A D.C. school system official said they investigated the allegations and allowed Jayne to study from home to ensure she felt safe.

“A lot of people who I thought were my best friends just all of a sudden totally turned their backs on me,” Jayne said. “People wouldn’t even look at me or talk to me.”

For Gavin, the teasing began in fourth grade, soon after Trump announced his candidacy.

After more than a year of schoolyard taunts, Gavin decided to go by his mother’s last name, Mather, when he started middle school. The teenager has been proactive, requesting that teachers call him by the new name, but it gets trickier, and more stressful, when substitutes fill in. He didn’t legally change his last name, so “Trump” still appears on the roster.

The teasing has subsided, but the switch wasn’t easy. Gavin likes his real last name and feared that changing it would hurt his father’s feelings. His dad understood, but for Gavin, the guilt remains.

“This is my name,” he said. “And I am abandoning my name.”

Maritza Avalos knows what's coming. It's 2020. The next presidential election is nine months away. She remembers what happened during the last one, when she was just 11.

“Pack your bags,” kids told her. “You get a free trip to Mexico.”

She’s now a freshman at Kamiakin High, the same Washington state school where her older sister, Cielo, confronted the teenagers who chanted “Build the wall” at a football game in late 2018. Maritza, 14, assumes the taunts that accompanied Trump’s last campaign will intensify with this one, too.

“I try not to think about it,” she said, but for educators nationwide, the ongoing threat of politically charged harassment has been impossible to ignore.

In response, schools have canceled mock elections, banned political gear, trained teachers, increased security, formed student-led mediation groups and created committees to develop anti-discrimination policies.

In California, the staff at Riverside Polytechnic High School has been preparing for this year’s presidential election since the day after the last one. On Nov. 9, 2016, counselors held a workshop in the library for students to share their feelings. Trump supporters feared they would be singled out for their beliefs, while girls who had heard the president brag about sexually assaulting women worried that boys would be emboldened to do the same to them.

“We treated it almost like a crisis,” said Yuri Nava, a counselor who has since helped expand a student club devoted to improving the school’s culture and climate.

Riverside, which is 60 percent Hispanic, also offers three courses — African American, Chicano and ethnic studies — meant to help students better understand one another, Nava said. And instead of punishing students when they use race or politics to bully, counselors first try to bring them together with their victims to talk through what happened. Often, they leave as friends.

In Gambrills, Md., Arundel High School has taken a similar approach. Even before a student was caught scribbling the n-word in his notebook in early 2017, Gina Davenport, the principal, worried about the effect of the election’s rhetoric. At the school, where about half of the 2,200 students are minorities, she heard their concerns every day.

But the racist slur, discovered the same month as Trump’s inauguration, led to a concrete response.

A “Global Community Citizenship” class, now mandatory for all freshmen in the district, pushes students to explore their differences.

A recent lesson delved into Trump’s use of Twitter.

“The focus wasn’t Donald Trump, the focus was listening: How do we convey our ideas in order for someone to listen?” Davenport said. “We teach that we can disagree with each other without walking away being enemies — which we don’t see play out in the press, or in today’s political debates.”

Since the class debuted in fall 2017, disciplinary referrals for disruption and disrespect have decreased by 25 percent each school year, Davenport said. Membership in the school’s speech and debate team has doubled.

The course has eased Davenport’s anxiety heading into the next election. She doesn’t expect an uptick in racist bullying.

“Civil conversation,” she said. “The kids know what that means now.”

Many schools haven’t made such progress, and on those campuses, students are bracing for more abuse.

Maritza’s sister, Cielo, told her to stand up for herself if classmates use Trump’s words to harass her, but Maritza is quieter than her sibling. The freshman doesn’t like confrontation.

She knows, though, that eventually someone will say something — about the wall, maybe, or about how kids who look like her don’t belong in this country — and when that day comes, the girl hopes that she’ll be strong.

______

Julie Tate contributed to this report.

______

What is your school doing to stop politically charged bullying?

A Washington Post reporter may contact you with additional questions. We will not publish your name or what you submit below without first contacting you. We offer options to securely send information to our journalists using encrypted messaging services and email. To find out how, please go to website to fill out form.

*********

[fish-food-s]

Septum

Words: 2174

Warnings: Major character death, blood, the R slur, cursing, unsympathetic deceit, lots of angst, let me know if I should add anything else.

A/N: This is heavily based off of a youtube video called Septum by Hazel Hayes. I used the same story and really similar characters. Please go check it out!

---

“In front of you is a pill. Within the next twenty-five minutes, one of you must take the pill. If, after twenty-five minutes, no one has taken it, you will all die. Survivors will all win their share of $50,000,000. Good luck.”

Logan scanned the room. A digital clock was installed into the wall, counting down from twenty-five minutes. It contrasted the rest of the electronic free room, being the only source of light that wasn’t a dim yellow lamp against the worn out walls. A security camera was nestled in the top corner of the room, watching them from afar. He and four others sat at a small table filled with little cookies and fruits, along with a single white pill, cushioned neatly on a tiny, fancy box, opened and up for anyone to take.

The man reading the note, Logan knew him as Patton, put down the piece of paper and licked his lips in nervousness.

“Charming,” one man commented, fear evident behind his confident-ridden eyes.

“Would anyone like me to read it again?” Patton asked, unsure. Everyone solemnly shook their heads; Patton nodded and put the note away.

Logan cleared his throat, it being rougher than he anticipated. “I suppose we should introduce ourselves. I’ll go first,” He was met with no objection, “I am Logan, and I feel it would be unfair if I did not mention that I already know Patton,” Logan stated, nodding in Patton’s direction.

“Yes. Hello Logan,” Patton admitted, sheepishly

A man in a black bowler hat furrowed his brows. “Did you know that you’d see each other here?” He questioned.

The two shook their heads. “No. We were friends in school but lost touch when departing. Seeing Patton here came as quite a shock,” he explained.

“Yeah. We haven’t spoken in, like, ten years,” Patton agreed. The man with the hat nodded suspiciously.

“Well, It would definitely add to the show, with all the drama and such,” said the confident man. Logan thought about it for a moment before nodding, remembering that this was in front of an audience.

“Well,” Logan started, “There is not much to know about me. I am married, and we have a daughter. We are signing the divorce papers currently, though. It simply did not work the way we planned. I am a nurse, by the way. It is what I’ve wanted to do since childhood, and I quite enjoy meeting such a diverse set of people from the occupation. There is truly so much to learn from them.” He dipped his head, signifying he was done.

“I guess I’ll go next,” Patton decided through the silence. “I’m Patton, and I’m studying to be an architect. I love traveling and seeing what humanity could make with just a few materials in hand. I’m planning on climbing Kilimanjaro. Which I know seems a bit...” he gestured to his wheelchair, “It won’t be easy, but I’m going to try my hardest.” He smiled proudly.

“Hello, I am Roman,” the next man announced, the same one that spoke with a fragile arrogance, “I am an incredibly charming and witty, and downright devilishly handsome man-” the man in the hoodie next to Roman laughed, “-When I was young I wanted to be a Disney prince, but I settled on being a writer instead, everyone insisted that you couldn't have something that didn’t exist. I do not believe anyone gave a reason for being here, but I came because the cash would help greatly in writing and publishing my novel.”

“You came here for a novel?” Logan confirmed, “That’s admirable.”

Roman nodded, flashing a wavering smile, “I am also quite a fan of this show, another reason I decided to come.”

Logan nodded and everyone’s head turned to a rather dark character. “Would you like to introduce yourself?” Logan asked, leaving silence for his name.

“Virgil,” His deep voice surprised everyone, “And no thanks. I’m good.”

The hat man scoffed. “It’s not like he’s offering you a snack”

Virgil rolled his eyes that were painted with shadows, “Yeah, I’m not giving you some sob story to get you to feel sorry for me. We all got problems, next,” he made a swiping motion with his hands, gesturing to the last man.

The man in the bowler hat sighed. “Well, I am Vincent,” he spoke, his voice smooth and calculated, “I dropped out of school at grade seven and started my own business. I have been under my own employment ever since.”

“Yes, cause someone like you definitely needs the money,” Roman signed. Vincent shook his head and looked away, as if too worthy for his contributions.

“So, that is all of us. How shall we do this?” Logan asked, ignoring the rising feeling of sickness in his gut.

Vincent lifted his head to meet Logan’s eyes. “Let’s do a vote. It doesn't have to be official, we’ll just test the waters and go from there,” he suggested. Everyone made some noise of agreement.

“Yeah, we won't do it unless it’s unanimous. Well, if four people vote for the same person. Obviously, we won't get all five of us to vote together,” Patton added with a touch of forced humor.

“Okay, I will start with me,” Logan stated, “And go clockwise from there. By a show of hands, who votes for me to take the pill?” No one raised their hand.

“Patton?”

“Roman?” Vincent raised his hand.

“Virgil?” Roman, Logan, and Patton raised their hands, the ladder quite sheepishly.

“Vincent?” Virgil raised his hand.

“Okay, that’s one each for Vincent and Roman, and three for Virgil,” Logan finished, feeling nausea take over.

There was a beat of silence

“Let's take a break and come back in a moment. To think about the vote,” Patton suggested, guilt plaguing his voice.

“Excellent idea, Patton,” Logan agreed, and with that, everyone turned to talk amongst themselves.

Logan approached Patton, smiling at the familiar face. “It is quite strange seeing you here,” he commented.

“Yeah, you too,” Patton said, laughing forcefully.

“Now that the first voting has finished, everything has become all too real,” Logan confessed, looking on to the others.

Patton nodded solemnly.

“May I ask why you voted for me?” Virgil turned his head to see Vincent facing him, pleading with his eyes. “I mean, I know we all have to vote for someone, but if I did anything that caused you to be upset, my apologies,” he said almost sincerely.

“To be honest, I just think you’re kind of a dick,” Virgil said bluntly. Roman chuckled. Vincent snarled and turned away.

Everyone slowly made their way back to their seat, and a silent tension was reset in the air. Logan cleared his throat. “I suppose we could vote again. Anonymously this time,” Logan suggested. Patton began to take strips of paper out.

“Wait,” Roman announced, “Virgil are you sure you don’t want to share your story?” he asked.

Virgil looked down. “Well, if you really want to hear it. My dad died when I was seven. It’s just me and my mom. She’s absolutely perfect. You know those moms you see in magazines or movies? Always baking and always supportive? That's my mom. She, uh, she’s sick. Like, sick sick. I came here cause I thought I could-” he covered his eyes, whimpering. “I can’t...” His whimpers turned to low laughs, “I can’t believe you guys fell for that shit.”

Everyone sighed in disbelief. “You sure are something,” Vincent spoke, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“What a wonderful performance!” Roman commented, lifting his glass of wine to Virgil. The actor imitated a bow.

“Can’t you take anything seriously?” Vincent growled at Roman.

“Can’t you take that stick out your ass? It’s not a good look,” Roman shot back. Virgil chuckled.

“Look, I’m just saying that we can’t judge someone so quickly in just twenty-five minutes based off each other sob stories,” Virgil stated, leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah, and you could never know who’s telling the truth,” Roman agreed.

“Who’s side are you on?” Vincent growled.

“My own.”

“What an awful side.”

“Okay. okay, lets vote,” Patton said suddenly, passing five strips of paper around, “If four of the votes are the same, that will be the decision,” Each wrote a name on their slip before passing it back to Patton.

Patton unfolded each and read them out loud. “Virgil. Virgil. Vincent. Virgil… Vincent.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You just got us all killed! We were one vote away from getting out alive!” Vincent lashed out, looking directly at Roman, “You just fucked it all up!” Roman shook his head and chuckled. “What is this for your book? Trying to get a good story out of it?”

“Oh, please.”

“What, you think this is a joke? We’re all going to die because of you!”

“That’s enough-” Virgil stepped in.

“Oh, now he talks! You just stay silent and wait until one of us becomes the antagonist? Well, you did a great job at that!” He seethed, lightly clapping his hands.

“It’s not like I have some strategy to this! I came here for money that I need. I’m here to vote and feel awful about all of it, but I am not begging anyone for sympathy in the process. My shit hole of a life is not going to be my excuse to live.��

“It was me...”

“What?” Vincent demanded.

Patton looked down. “I voted for you...”

“What the hell is wrong with you people? The moment I walked through the door you all hated me!”

“I’ll take that apology when you’re ready”

“Fuck off!”

Vincent stood up and walked to the end of the table. “Since we cannot reach an agreement, I suggest the majority takes the pill. Virgil?”

“Wait that is not what we decided on,” Logan argued, “We need to take another vote just to be sur-”

“Are you fucking retarded or something?” Vincent snapped. The room went cold. “No, that’s not what I meant-”

“You’ve been nothing but trouble all night,” Roman said, standing up to meet Vincent, “You claim you’re some rich business owner, but I’m calling bullshit. You’re just a liar with a bad attitude and a bad-”

Roman couldn't finish the sentence with Vincent's fist to his nose. Logan caught him as he fell backward, and Virgil stood up to level with Vincent. He almost took another blow when Virgil looked up, Vincent following his gaze to the security camera. To where millions of people are watching them. Virgil turned around to help Roman stop seeing stars.

Patton glance at the clock. Only a minute left. “Logan, we’re running out of time.” His voice was on the edge of sobs.

“Okay, another vote, with a show of hands this time, majority rules. I will start with me,” Logan stated, “And go clockwise from there. Who votes for me to take the pill?” No one raised their hand.

“Patton?”

“Roman?”

“Virgil?”

“Vincent?” Everyone but Vincent raised their hand.

“Vincent you have to vote,” Patton pleaded.

“Doesn’t matter,” Roman spat, holding his nose, “he’s dead.”

“No, he should vote,” Logan argued

“Vincent just take the pill!” Virgil yelled. Vincent did nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Logan apologized sincerely, “But you have to take it.”

Vincent sat down in his spot, eyeing the pill. He leaned in, almost reaching it, before retreating back into his seat. The clock ticked from a minute to fifty-nine seconds.

Screams of resentment flooded the room. Patton wordlessly sobbed as he held his head in his hands. Logan stood up and eyed the pill, circling the table. Ten seconds. He reached his hand for the pill and dry swallowed the tablet before anyone could resist. The room went silent.

“No!” Patton screamed, pushing his chair over to logan and clutching the hem of his shirt, “Logan you didn’t have to do that!” The timer hit zero. Logan lowered himself to Patton’s level as the man cried into his chest. “Why did you do that...” he whimpered, sobbing.

Patton pulled away slightly and wiped at his nose, noticing the blood it left on his finger. Vincent, wide-eyed, turned to Roman, who had begun to cough up blood. He tested the tip of his finger at his own nostril, fainting at the sight of blood on his index finger. Virgil looked in horror at Roman. “It was an antidote,” the writer whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut and held out his hand. “Could you… could you hold my hand?”

Virgil wordlessly sat down and took Roman’s hand in his, watching the man take his last breath, knowing his own would come soon. He stood up and separated their hands, before making his way to Logan, who was now cradling a half-dead Patton. Without saying anything, he leaned his head on Logan’s shoulder and fell into darkness, Patton joining him soon after.

Logan, now surrounded by bodies, looked up as the walls opened to a bright white light, revealing a cheering audience that only made his tears burn more.

---

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Taglist:

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[420paki]

i literally dont know anything about the beatles appart from hearing that john lennon was awful (homophobic,abusive,racist ableist u name it) but seeing little proof to any of the claims and since it seems u are a sort of beatles encyclopedia do u know if any of that is true? feel free to ignore this if u dont wanna bother with more of this discourse lmao

hi! i appreciate your asking. i used to have a comprehensive post explaining this shit but i’m not sure where it is, and i want to expand on it anyway. i’m just gonna go through all the buzzwords listed here, explain the foundations of the claim, and then decide if, in my opinion, they have any merit to them. i cant believe im answering this instead of doing my essay

homophobic: okay, this one mostly comes from an infamous incident at paul mccartney’s birthday party in 1963 where john, in a drunken rage, beat up DJ bob wooler to an absolute pulp after wooler (who was a gay man himself) teased him for having gone on vacation with the beatles’ gay manager, brian epstein. wooler insinuated that lennon must also be gay, and john was infuriated at this accusation. he would swear off violence completely following and was deeply ashamed of it, though of course, that doesn’t make it un-horrible and bad. 

this part’s up for debate: i honestly think that in part, this is a stereotypical case of a guy dealing with same sex attraction, at least to a degree. his wife, yoko ono, stated in an interview that john wished he could’ve indulged in a relationship with a man. and the way he talks about his relationship with epstein is… gay imo lol. john seemed to have fairly progressive views on homosexuality in the years following this. by the time he became a radical leftist in the early 70s, he was openly pro LGBT.

racist: i suppose this one comes from woman is the n*gg*r of the world? yeah… that song is, um… a choice? first and foremost, it was composed by yoko ono. john was hesitant to record it and contacted friend bobby seale of the new york city chapter of the black panther party (which, as a side note, he was an ardent supporter of). bobby said it was a good idea and to go forward with it. it is in fact supposed to be a feminist song, but at the end of the day it uses a terrible slur, compares two separate forms of oppression, and doesn’t take into account the existence of black women. so… bad! 

ableist: i can’t even argue with this one. yeah. yeah he was.

abuser: this one i saved for last because it is definitely the most pervasive one.  there are a few things that feed into it. 

1. the publishing of john lennon: the life by philip norman. i should say first of all that philip norman is a GARBAGE little man. all of his books, not just the ones about john, are full of lies and should be taken with a grain of salt. he’s the one who really cemented in place all of this shit about john, and accused him of being a wife beater, which simply isn’t true. john hit his first wife, cynthia lennon, once when he was 18. that itself is horrible and disgusting. but he promised her he would never do it again, and he never did. for the rest of his life, john never hit another woman. both yoko and cynthia confirm that norman is a liar. just as an example of his lies, in his book, he says that john once struck yoko and she hit her head on a wood burning stove at their home at the dakota. but the dakota is a mid century apartment building in the heart of manhattan and definitely did not contain a wood burning stove. so…. yeah. untrue.

2. john himself. john says that the beatles’ song “it’s getting better” is a biographical song. it’s essentially a song about a guy that used to be negative and beat his women, but stopped and is better now. honestly, i think that’s just him being stupid. he was really big into the peace movement in the late 60s, and i think he wanted to push the narrative that anyone can become peaceful. so he used himself as an example and exaggerated a lot, which he did often.

3. his relationship with his first son, julian. john was a bad father to julian. i can’t argue with that. there’s a lot of things that support this reasoning, but for the most part, what i can tell you is that i don’t classify it as abusive, more so negligent and childish on john’s behalf. 

that was long, sorry lol… if that leaves you with any questions please let me know! 

[starryeyedsweetheart]

Firewhiskey

Author: @starryeyedsweetheart

Pairing: Peter Parker & Reader

Word Count: 3491

Note: so this is ravenclaw!peter parker getting drunk the first time and trying to sneak back to his common room absolutely hammered while trying not to swoon over the love of his life (gif isnt mine)

“You can’t do that,” Ned sighs in defeat.

“Everyone’s telling me, Peter no. Wanna know what I think? I think, Peter yes!”

I kick Peter with the tip of my foot underneath the table of the Three Broomsticks where our group of friends usually spent our days away from Hogwarts. Even with the prominent castle visible in the distance, it feels almost refreshing to breathe some air not tainted by Flash’s smoke bombs and Peeve’s shrill yelling.

Peter simply whines, reaching down to rub over his shin, eyes trained on me as he pouts. I fain a fake frown of sympathy in return, causing Peter to suddenly turn away, hiding the smile growing on his lips.

“You shouldn’t get drunk for the first time at a Slytherin party,” Michelle drawls out from behind her book. Her brown eyes barely glance over the parchment as she reprimands the boy with the chocolate colored hair and dopey grin as he continues to tell our group his plan for tonight.

Peter shakes his head, wavy locks swaying side to side. “Well, you’ll all be there, right?” he says with so much hope.

I could only watch for a mere second before Ned laughs loudly, throwing his head back like a teenage girl would in every teen romance movie ever. “Hell yeah, I will be!” he shouts, raising his butterbeer with pride as we all watch the amber liquid slosh around in his cup.

“I mean, it is my common room,” Michelle shrugs, barely paying attention to us.

Peter turns to me, warm eyes peering into me in the most pleasant way. His hands are pressing against the wooden table as he leans in. “What about you, Y/N?”

“I have a Potions essay due next week,” I tease, eyes never leaving his.

Peter lets out a noise of disapproval. “Y/N, I’m a Ravenclaw and I still haven’t done shit this semester.”

“Which surprises no one,” Michelle quips. Peter’s neck snaps towards her, eyes ablaze with a subtle fire. Before he could open his mouth to retaliate, Michelle delicately places her large novel on the table, brown eyes finding mine in a millisecond. Her plump lips curl into her familiar, vexing smirk. “What kind of a party would it be if the Fatal Four wasn’t there?”

I roll my eyes at her taunting question. Around Hogwarts, our small group of four was known quite well for being such a close group of friends when we all came from different houses.

It didn’t take much to place me and my courageous, also obnoxious as hell, self in Gryffindor. The reason we all started being friends was one day back in year one when I thought it would be an outrageous idea to sneak out of my common room. Along my journey of exploring the castle for the first time while dodging every single professor, who I’m sure knew I was there, I found Michelle in the forbidden section of the library, Ned in the kitchens, and Peter on his way to explore the Dark Forest. Then, all four of us went, hovering on the outskirts of the woods before Ned heard a twig snap and we were all sprinting back across the green fields of the school.

With her daunting persona and elegant ability to tell someone to shut up with grace lands Michelle in her green and silver robes of Slytherin. Her ambition honestly amazes me. The lengths she would go to acquire her wants will never cease to somehow inspire me to do my utter best.

Ned was a special character. Looking at him always brought a sense of warmth from within me. Just hearing his silly jokes could brighten my day when it’s the gloomiest. With his loyal and friendly character, he’s surely in Hufflepuff.

To all of our surprise, Peter Parker was a Ravenclaw. Even if he had an incredible ambition, bubbly persona, and the daring audacity to steal a broomstick and fly across the Scottish highlands at four in the morning back in year five, nothing can compare to his astounding ability to spit out fact after fact. His memory is breathtaking, his mind able to remember what I said back in year two at eleven in the morning in Charms class. No doubt, his thirst for knowledge really sets him at the top of his class, always yearning to learn new things.

Despite all of us being different, we all bring each other together (no matter how much Michelle despises us at times). The friendship we all share has lasted us until now, year seven, our last time at Hogwarts before we go our separate ways in the real world.

“So, what do you say?” Peter inquires, brows dancing in a form of persuasion.

I can’t help but laugh at his silly antics, not noticing the other two people of the table giving each other knowing glances at Peter and I’s normal behavior.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

—-

The party was outrageously loud. The Slytherins were truly lucky to have their common room deep in the dungeons where the music cannot be heard by any of the teachers. Surely, the staff knows we do this, yet they let it happen for the sake of teenagers and their fun.

Michelle was the first face we saw, a bottle of some liquid in her hands. Ned and Peter were bouncing on their feet as she motioned us all to enter after mumbling the password underneath her breath.

Before any of us could really bask in the green hue of the strobe lights and dancing bodies by the grand fireplace, Michelle halted, our three bodies crashing into one another one by one like a chain reaction. Sandwiched between Ned’s back and Peter’s chest, the three of us try to contain our laughter as the Slytherin before us hauntingly turns, the bottle continuing to gleam underneath the lights.

“What is that?” Ned asked in awe.

“Oh this?” Michelle said, the golden brown drink sloshing amongst the glass confinement. Her lips turned into her familiar vexing smirk. “Firewhisky. This is what’s getting Peter hammered tonight.”

Ned and I shrieked with laughter, barely hearing Peter gulp behind us.

“R-Really?” he squeaks.

Michelle conjured up some shot glasses using a nonverbal spell, opening the bottle and pouring the first shot into a blue cup, almost taunting Peter’s Ravenclaw status. She handed it him, the remaining two of us eagerly watching as Peter stares down into the alcohol with a glassed over expression.

“Just drink it already so we can dance!” I shouted over the music.

Peter’s neck snaps up at me. “We’re dancing together?!” he replied in the same loud tone.

Slytherin parties were always known as being the craziest and most lavish. Hufflepuff’s was the most accepting. Ravenclaws were kick backed and chill, while Gryffindor’s was wild, but nothing compared to the setting we were currently in. I wanted to experience it the best way possible, wanting to dance around to the beat while screaming lyrics that Merlin would find inappropriate.

Peter lets out a battle cry, surprising the three of us as he suddenly tips back the cup, the alcohol burning all the way down. His eyes squeezed shut and his mouth curled into a scowl as Michelle refilled his cup and declared that he should drink one more. He opened his eyes for a brief moment, fear obviously dancing around in his warm irises.

When his stare met my own, I gave him an encouraging nod.

“You wanted to get drunk tonight, right?” I inquire.

Peter nods.

“Well, let’s get you fucked up!”

From that moment, everything was a whirlwind of blurriness. You’d think the lot of us got obliviated from the memory loss we’d experience the next morning, but no. That was just the magical properties of underage drinking.

Michelle spent an hour with us, chilling with Ned on the outskirts of the crowd until she declared she needed sleep and ventured up the staircase to her room. Afterwards, Ned joined Peter and I on the dance floor, the three of us going nuts when the beat dropped. Peter was headbanging so intensely, I was scared that his neck would just snap. In his hand, was the bottle of Firewhisky, almost empty as he continued to sip from it.

The more the liquid disappeared down in his throat in a messy fashion, the more loud and obnoxious Peter appeared. Usually, he knew when to be reserved and poised, but Ned and I were having a wild time watching Peter flail his limbs and screech out the lyrics to a song that wasn’t even playing.

His laughter rings through my ears as he throws both his arms over my shoulders, pulling me in closer as he giggles crazily. “Hey,” he slurs out, mouth dangerously close to my ear. “You look really pretty.” Ned cackles at this.

We’ve all had our fair share of drinks, yet I still attempt to hold Peter as his motor skills and heavy body causes the both of us to sway in place. “It’s dark in here. Can you even see me?” I tease as his head lolls onto my shoulder, breathing heavily against my neck.

“Don’t have to,” he mumbles, voice soft and barely audible. “You always look pretty.”

Patting his back, I say, “And now it’s time to get you to bed.”

Peter suddenly throws himself off of me. “IT’S TIME TO PARTY!” he bellows, earning cheers back in response. He pulls a dopey smile, eyes on me as he takes another gulp of Firewhisky.

“Pete, that’s enough,” I scold, going to snatch the bottle, but with my slow movements, and our height difference, he easily raises his drink to the sky, laughing childishly as I attempt to jump up and get it. By the time his arm gets tired, I pull his arm down and he spins me quickly so my back is pressed against his chest, arm slung over my shoulders as his head nuzzles into my hair. “Okay, so you’re an affectionate drunk,” I declare.

“I looooove you,” he slurs once more, making my heart skip a beat. I cover up the fluttering feeling in my chest with a simple roll of eyes and small smile before calling out to Ned who was breaking it down on the dance floor with a whole crowd of six years egging him on.

“Ned!” His attention goes to me for a split second, but his body continues to roll and move to the rhythm of the music. “I’m gonna take Peter back to his common room. Are you coming?”

He shakes his head furiously. “Not when I’m in my freaking groove!” he proclaims, an eruption of clapping and yelling resulting from his statement. “You two have fun making out somewhere!”

Furrowing my brows in confusion, Peter laughs loudly, throwing his head back. I could feel the vibration of his cackling against my back, forgetting the position we were in. Rolling my eyes at Ned’s weird statement, I spin myself around and sling Peter’s arm back over me so we were walking side by side.

I drag him through the party, Peter high fiving many people as we passed, shouting lyrics, and mumbling absolute nonsense. By the time we’re even out of the common room, the door sliding closed behind us, Peter was stumbling beside me, his heavy weight too much for me at times.

“Can you walk with me properly? It’s one in the morning and we have to sneak you up the whole fucking castle,” I spit out, Peter giggling wildly in response.

We had to pause just two corridors down due to Peter’s incapability to hold himself up. Leaning him against the wall, I sigh.

“Hey,” he slurs once more. I only hum in response, brushing a piece of hair stuck to my forehead with sweat back. “Heyyyy, Y/N…”

“Yes, Peter?” I say in exasperation.

He tilts his head to the side, smiling at me lazily through hooded eyes. “I love you.”

“You said that already.”

His eyes widen. “Oh my God! I told you?!”

I lunge forward, my hand covering his mouth, body pressing his own against the wall as I used a muffling charm to hide his loud shouting from any teacher or prefect wandering the hallways this late at night. His brown eyes widen, scared and worried as I breathe heavily and look left and right.

“Hey,” Peter says, voice muffled from my hand. I slowly take my hand off, eyes narrowing at him. “I love you,” he says again.

My heart can’t help but beat as fast as a snitch’s wings flutter. Shaking my head and looking off into the distance with another unhidable smile, I slowly turn back to look Peter in the eyes. “I love you too,” I say, knowing the feelings I had behind my words weren’t the same as his. Sighing, I sling his arms over my shoulders once again. “Now, walk with me properly, alright?”

He nods adorably, brown curls swaying side to side as we stumble through the corridors of the dungeon. There were many turns and footstep sounding noises that cause us to suddenly halt, sprinting back against the corner we just came form. Peter found pleasure and happiness from my mental break down, constantly calling me pretty and mumbling other happy and odd phrases underneath his rancid smelling breath.

By the time we were on the main floors, all we had to do was get up the staircases, practically sprint through the floors while trying not to wake up any portraits, and finally haul Peter’s fat ass up the Ravenclaw tower. That was it. That’s all I needed to do.

“Hey,” Peter whispers as we tip toe up the first stairwell, my insides literally crippling from anxiety as my eyes filter over all the sleeping paintings.

“What now, Peter?” I grumble, exhausted from lugging him around everywhere because he was too drunk to carry his own body weight. We should have thought this out better than just handing him the bottle and telling him to get wild.

“D’you remember what Ned said before we left the paaaarty?” he questions, voice soft.

I shake my head, internally screaming when his foot gets caught in the infamous step that juts out a little farther than the rest. As his body plummets to the ground, body producing a loud thump, my eyes snap to the still snoring figures hanging on the walls. I sigh in relief when none of them wake up.

“He said something about us making out,” Peter says, face still pressed against the floor. I can’t help but chuckle softly at his actions, watching with fond eyes as he rests his chin on one of the steps, brown eyes looking big and puppy-like. “Have you ever thought about us making out?”

My heart stops. “Do we really have to talk about this now? We gotta get you to bed.” I avoid the question. I grab at his wrists lightly, lifting him up quietly. His body leans into me and his arms wrap around my torso as he hugs me tightly.

“Not gonna lie,” he says. “I’ve thought about it.”

“Peter…”

“You’re so nice. I like hearing you say my name.”

My cheeks burst with redness, up until we suddenly jolt to the right.

No. My breath gets caught in my throat as the staircase suddenly begins to move. Fuck. Shit. No. Oh my God!

Ignoring Peter’s whines, I tug him up the stairwell, only having a few steps left before we have to spend another fifteen minutes trying to figure out what to do next. Peter stumbles behind me, trying to keep up. With a sudden rush of adrenaline, we both leap last minute, tumbling onto the floor needed, Peter’s body landing on top of me heavily. With a loud groan, I crack open my eyes that involuntarily shut when risking my life by deciding to last-minute hurl my body.

Peter easily gets comfortable, resting his head on my chest with a tired sigh. “I’m sleepy,” he murmurs into my collar bone.

“So, am I.”

Rolling him off of me, we continue our trek through the castle, Peter harder to control when he begrudgingly drags his feet as we climb up the Ravenclaw Tower. By the time we reach the top, I was ready to just throw myself down them. There was honestly nothing that I’ve ever experienced that could compare to the stress levels I had sneaking through Hogwarts with drunk Peter. When we reach the door, I drop his body on the ground immediately, my own following after him.

“Okay, say the password,” I sigh.

Peter rolls over onto his his back, eyes shut as he mumbles, “I don’t know the password.”

“It’s shorter than the rest, but when you’re happy, you raise it up like it’s the best,” the eagle that was their knocker says.

I scream, muffling myself with my hands, realizing we came all this way to be locked out because I don’t know how to solve a riddle. Before I could even ask Peter, he drunkenly mumbles, “Y/N, you make me happy.”

Rolling my eyes, coming far too long on this journey, I crawl over to the eagle door knocker because there was no energy left in me. “Please,” I beg. “Give us another one.”

“I am rarely touched but often held, and if you are smart you'll use me well.”

“What. The. Fuck.” Groaning loudly once more, I bang my head against the door. How am I so incredibly stupid and sleep deprived that I can’t answer a simple riddle? Turning around so my back leans up against the door, I glare at Peter through tired eyes. “Any input, Parker?”

“I wanna be held too,” he mumbles. “I want cuddles.”

I slam my fist against the ground. “Okay, one last riddle, Mr. Eagle. Please make it easy.”

“I am always in front of you, but you will never see me.”

“Fucking Ravenclaws, and their fucking intellect. Fucking hell.”

“That one’s easy,” Peter says, sitting up. He crawls over to me, resting his head onto my lap tiredly. With that, he closes his eyes.

“Okay,” I grunt in frustration. I flick his forehead, earning a loud whine from Peter as he rubs his forehead. “Well, what is it?!” I practically shout, but still lower my voice, knowing there must be a ghost or a teacher lurking amongst the shadows.

“It’s what I see with you,” he mumbles tiredly.

“It says you’ll never see me, Peter.”

“Well, that’s just physically. You’ll never actually see it, but I see it.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“A future, Y/N.”

Suddenly the door opens, and my back that was leaning against it suddenly falls backwards until it hits the blue and bronze carpet of their common room. Peter lazily gets up, crawling over to the couch and slumping his tired body there. And just like that, the anger and frustration of tonight vanished into thin air. I stride over towards the couch, peering at him as he lies on his side and hugs a cushion to his chest.

“A future?” I whisper, not wanting to speak too loudly and wake up anybody else. “You see a future with me?” My heart was practically soaring. Drunk words are sober thoughts, are they not?

“Mmhm,” he hums. He cracks an eye open, brown eyes still warm and still giving me that familiar feeling of joy within me. His lips curl into that dopey, drunken grin. “Come here,” Peter says, patting the space on the couch beside him. “I still want cuddles.”

This wasn’t an abnormal thing between us, but it felt different climbing in beside him and allowing him to sling his whole body around mine. He buried his nose into my neck and sighs happily.

“Stay,” he murmurs.

“What?”

“Just stay the night. Stay a week. Stay a month. Stay forever.”

I laugh softly, running my fingers through his now messy waves of brown. “I’m not gonna live in the Ravenclaw Tower, Peter.”

“No,” he whines. He pulls me in closer and squeezes me tighter. “I meant stay with me.”

My heart goes to my stomach. Or my stomach leaps into my chest. Or maybe even both. By the time I could regain my senses, his breathing had already slowed and his soft snores echo around the common room. I sigh to myself, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead.

“We’ll see how it goes in the morning.”

And with that, we both drift off into a comfortable sleep, unable to see the future that lies in front of it. Yet deep down, we knew it held promise for the both of us, as friends and as potential lovers, and that was enough for the both of us to rest happily through the rest of the night.

---

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tag list: @me-a-hopeless-romantic @ellie24avery @embrace-themagic

[looselucy]

November

“So, when exactly do you think we should have stopped Liam drinking?” Harry’s body curved gorgeously as he leaned against the bar. “Around five pints ago.” I figured. “You didn’t even see him do the shot.” “He did a shot?” I cried. “It was an accident!” “An accident?” I huffed sarcastically. “Yeah. I accidentally ordered the shots, paid for the shots, and then passed one over to Liam. Total accident.”

I lightly slapped Harry’s chest and then dragged my eyes back over to the dancefloor, seeing Liam stood there hugging my dad. I was just grateful that he was being a loving drunk. It seemed the day had rubbed off on him a little bit, because he could have so easily gotten drunk to the stage where he was ready to have a fist fight with my dad, but he’d opted for hugging and dancing instead. “Looks happy though, doesn’t he?” I smiled. “He does.” Harry nodded. “How far do you think you are from being at that stage?” “Well, ten pints and one shot, at least.” I smirked. “But… I just want to talk with him, really. I’m not expecting too much, at this stage. I just want to talk.” It was easier for Liam, in some ways. He’d probably had an even tougher time adjusting to the whole mess than I had, especially with him having to stop travelling and attempting to settle down back in the UK. But at least Liam had been working with him, because it seemed even the small talk had helped them reach a good stage a little quicker. They’d become more familiar with each other. They were used to each other. I hadn’t had that privilege. Also, the bottom line was, I hadn’t drunk as much as Liam had. “You gunna go over there?” Harry asked. “No. He’s gunna have to approach me. I’m trying my best to be understanding, and everything, but I’m not being a pushover. Not tonight.” “Well, I’d offer to buy you a drink, but I’m skint.” Harry smiled, as I turned back to face him. “Student loans don’t really cover buying drinks at wedding receptions.” “You’ve been buying drinks all day.” I pouted. “Let me get you one.” “I’m alright. Kinda want to pace myself anyway.” “Why?” “Well, if you end up drunk, crying, and being sick, I need to be in a fit enough state to look after you.” “Flattered.” I tutted. “But I’m pacing myself too. It could be hours before my dad plucks up the courage to talk to me, and I don’t want to be slurring my replies.” The unmistakable piano notes featured in the opening of Angels by Robbie Williams sounded, and I groaned loudly. It made me regret not getting a drink straight away. “What?” Harry chuckled. “I was just waiting for him to play this song.” I huffed. “Where did they hire this guy? Stereotypical Wedding DJs R Us?” “Worst joke you’ve ever made.” He sniggered. “And for your information, this is a fine song.” “You’re kidding?” “It’s a classic.” He shrugged. “I’d have been disappointed if he didn’t play this.” I watched as everyone poured onto the dancefloor, the song being a literal magnet for those people. I suppose it was pretty difficult not to have a soft spot for that song. For some reason, it seemed to be a nostalgic song for everyone! I wasn’t even sure how that was possible, how one song could have that kind of pull to it, but Angels just did. I guess Liam hadn’t been with us for a while, and I was the one having to think up the sassy, bitter comments. On top of that, it was the prime song at every single terrible wedding that any British person has ever attended. It was just so bloody predictable. As I was staring at the dancefloor, Harry moved around so he was stood in front of me, and offered his hand. “No.” I said straight away.   “We’ve gotta dance.” “To Angels?” “Don’t let me down, Pip-Squeak.” His raised his eyebrows playful, his hand still waiting to be taken. I gave him this look, like I really didn’t want to do it, staring at him through thick lashes, but I found it very difficult to keep the smile off my face. Harry didn’t realise he wasn’t just inviting me to dance, but he was just inviting entirely. The way he held himself, the twinkle that was constantly in his eye no matter the lighting. He was warmth embodied, the kind of warmth I felt like I needed to survive. With a roll of my eyes, I slapped my hand in his, watching each little movement of his lips as they spread into this wonderful, wide grin. He dragged me off towards the crowd, placing us slap bang in the middle, and holding me close to him as we began to sway back and forth, Harry seeming pretty familiar with his role of leading. I was aching to lay my head on his chest, but not only would I be pushing my luck, I would be pushing my own nerves. I couldn’t even imagine how deeply I would fall in love with the bastard if I was slow dancing with him with my head on his chest. I wrapped one arm around him, and lay my other hand on his shoulder. Harry placed one hand on the small of my back, and placed one giant hand nervously on the side of my neck, his throat hitching, and I could feel that he was shaking. Just slightly. He tried to snap out of it. “Okay, so we missed the first chorus whilst you were moaning about the song.” He shook his head. “But I think on the next, you do a spin.” “You want me to spin?” “When Robbie goes, and through it allllll, you step back from me, right?” “Okay.” I chuckled. “But I’ll keep hold of one hand, obviously. THEN, when Robbie goes, she offers me protection, you spin. Then on a lot of love and affection-” “Stop singing.” “You come back close, right?” I could see Harry had started the whole thing as a joke, but the more he explained it, I could see he was actually getting a little bit excited over this performance we were about to put on, even though he would never admit it. My cheeks were hurting I was smiling so much. “And we stay close for whether I’m right or wrong.” “Did you know you can sing?” I bit my lip. “Then, of course, when Robbie sings and down the waterfaaaaall, okay, this is where it gets complicated. When he says that, I’ll step away from you, okay? Then, it’s almost my turn to spin.” “Pippa?” I turned around, to see my dad stood waiting for me. How long had I been waiting for this, for my dad to pull himself together and speak to me? Fuck, I was glad it was finally happening, but did he really need me at that EXACT BLOODY MOMENT? I just wanted to turn around and scream that I was just about to do some bloody spinning with Harry, but I didn’t think that would be much of a big deal to him. “Hi.” I breathed. “You wanna talk?” He mumbled. I nodded, my dad went outside, and I tried to catch my breath before I followed him. Harry dropped his hands from my body at the same time as I dropped mine from his. “Good luck, Pip.” “Thanks.” “Shame though. That was going to be a fantastic dance.” “Well, if this DJ is as bad as I think he is, I’m sure he’ll play the same song again in an hour or so.” “Fingers crossed! Now get out there. Stay calm, okay?” I nodded, and then I finally followed my father, turning around once before I got outside, seeing Harry stood in the centre of the dancefloor on his own, his head towards the floor. He seemed so sad. I really didn’t think it was anything to do with missing out on our dance routine. I had to shove him to the back of my mind for the time-being, because our moment had arrived. It was dark and cold outside now, so no one else was around. My dad was sat down on the wall myself, Harry and Liam had been sat on earlier, smiling with pain as I neared him. I didn’t sit down, I just awkwardly folded my arms. “How are you, Love?” He asked me. “Just looking for answers.” “I bet.” He huffed through his nose and shook his head. “I don’t even know where to start.” “Well, you’re going to have to figure it out, dad. Because if I don’t have some answers within the next few minutes, I’m just gunna go home, and give up on you completely.” The words felt like toxic as they fell from me, and I couldn’t help but feel like I should have felt a little guilty about it. I thought maybe I should have felt a tiny bit of regret, but I didn’t. If anything, I was being nice. He seemed totally lost. I may have been sarcastic, but even my dad had never seen me being so hostile. It just wasn’t in my nature. “I wanted to give you space.” He began. “I didn’t want to push you because, I knew… I knew how you… I knew how you saw me and your mother. You put us on a pedestal. You really looked up to our relationship… and I never wanted to let you down.” My bottom lip was quivering, and I knew this would happen. Even if my dad had just said the word sorry and left it at that, I probably would have burst into tears. Anything could have tipped me over the edge given how long we had gone without talking, and it seemed he wasn’t going to do anything by halves. “Okay.” I breathed. “I get that.” “So, I didn’t want to force any kind of conversation on you too quickly. Then, after a few months… I knew it was supposed to be me who was reaching out to you. But… I was so scared. Scared of you rejecting me and scared of… Scared of breaking your heart more than I already have.” He attempted to hold himself together. “And the longer I put it off, the worse it got, and the more scared I got. Have you ever skipped so many lectures in a row that you were too scared to go back in because of what they would say?” “No.” I lied. “Okay. I’ll pretend I believe you, but we’re cut from the same cloth.” He chuckled under his breath. “But that’s just what it was. By the time I decided my fear wasn’t what was important here, a phone-call wasn’t enough.” He was waiting for me to say something, which he shouldn’t have done, because I had been biting my tongue for a while, and he had given the perfect opportunity to chew. “I thought you were going to write to me.” I could feel myself getting angry. “Huh?” “When you asked Liam for my address, I thought you were going to write to me.” My voice was shaking. “Do you know how much it hurt to receive a fucking wedding invitation when I expected an apology?” My dad undid his top button and loosened his tie, because he obviously felt like he was in a tight spot, but he hadn’t figured out that wasn’t down to his suit. “I didn’t even think.” He sighed. “At what point over the past ten months did you think, dad? We’ve all been fucking scared! That’s not an excuse!” “I’m not trying to give you excuses, Pippa! I’m trying to explain myself. I know it’s not an excuse, trust me! I just wanted you to know why I’ve struggled so much.” “AND DO YOU WANT TO KNOW HOW MUCH I’VE STRUGGLED, DAD?” I was suddenly screaming. “BECAUSE I DON’T THINK YOU REALISE THAT WHEN YOU AND MUM SPLIT UP, YOU DIDN’T JUST DECIDE TO LEAVE HER! YOU DECIDED TO LEAVE ALL OF US! JEN WAS MORE IMPORTANT TO YOU THAN MUM, ME, AND LIAM COMBINED! DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THAT HURTS?” He clearly didn’t understand the meaning of the word struggled, because this was his bed and he didn’t even have the damn guts to lay in it. Of course, he was scared, but this was all down to him, and wasn’t there to hear his self-pity. All I had wanted was a sincere apology for the way things had been. I wasn’t looking for his explanations and excuses or how he had struggled so much with what he had done. All I wanted, was for him to tell me how sorry he was that he messed up, because he had left our family to try and become happier, and it was us who had dealt with the aftermath and had to clean up the pieces. “I don’t blame you for wanting to be happy, dad.” I forced myself to calm down. “But I don’t want to hear about how hard this has been for you. This… this was your decision, and you’ve made no effort with any of us since you made that decision. Now I have your excuses, I want to hear what the hell you’re going to do about it?” He didn’t know what he was going to do about it, I could see the lost look in his eyes. I didn’t expect him to know what to do, what I did expect was him to finally start thinking about it, and to put those thoughts into action. That’s all I could anticipate from him after he had given us so little, for so long. “I think we should take it steady.” He started. “We’ll… ring each other. Then we can meet up for meals and… you can start talking to Jen and… I don’t know. I don’t want to rush you.” “If you’d had said you didn’t want to rush me in March, I would have understood.” I huffed my humour. “It’s a bit late for that.” “Must you always crack jokes, Pippa?” “Yes.” I told him firmly. “Okay.” He smiled again. “But does that sound good to you?” “I won’t approach you. I don’t want these to be empty words, so if you want to see me, you have to make the effort.” I informed. “I will.” “Then, okay. It sounds okay.” I was getting cold, only just realising how dark it was. I just wanted to go back inside and down a very strong drink, maybe do some shots to make Zayn proud. I figured that was as far as we were going to get that night, and as much as he had frustrated me, he’d also done what I’d needed from him. All I’d wanted, for so long, was a start to rebuilding our relationship. We had that. I was okay. “Pippa?” I looked back up after my momentary glance to the floor, seeing the sorry look in his eye. Seeing that, I wasn’t even sure I needed to hear his apology. His eyes were twinkling his regret, there were lines in the creases and ages of his face that hadn’t been there just a moment before. He felt terribly, about everything. “Hm?” I prompted. “I’m so sorry. I know it’ll never be enough… but I am. I’ll never be able to repay these months to you, but I want to make sure that they’re never repeated.” One tear escaped me, and I was kicking myself for it, but I guess my dad knew more than most how often I cried, since he’d had to put up with it since the day I was born. I think in a way, he was relieved that I cried, because he knew it meant something to me. It would have been worrying if I hadn’t cried, even if it was just a little bit. I quickly wiped that tear away, and nodded, because I was so ready to move forward with him. I was so ready to move on. + + + “MUUUUM! OPEN THE DOOR, IT’S COLD!” Liam yelled. “Hold on, Liam!” We heard her through the wood. “I asked your bloody dad to fix this latch years ago and he never bloody did.” “Mum, you dare start talking about how you need a man around the house again.” I scalded. “I do need a man around the house. I’m rubbish at this stuff and- oop, oh, I’ve got it.” She swung the door open with a look of pride on her face, and Liam pretty much fell inside, kissing my mum on the cheek before he ran down to the kitchen to drink a glass of orange juice that he’d been talking about the entire taxi drive back. “Hi, mum.” I smiled. “How was it?” She asked hesitantly, clearly scared to hear my answer, letting us inside and closing the door behind us. “It was okay. Weird, but okay.” “Was Jen’s dress horrible?” She hoped. “Of course it was. She’s got nothing on you.” I moved to hug her, and I hugged her tight. She’d been so incredibly strong. I’d inherited my crying from her more than my father, even though they were both soft. But she hadn’t rang me crying, and it didn’t seem like she was going to cry then, either. She was just handling it all so well and I had absolutely no clue how she was doing it. I was so proud of her. “Oh goodness, where are my manners?” She blustered, pulling out of the hug. “You must be Harry.” “I must.” He smirked. There was something so remarkable about Harry. Two little words, and even I was already swooning. He was just so stupidly charming, so handsome and cut and perfect. God, he was fucking perfect. It only occurred to me in that moment that I actually kind of wanted Harry to flirt with my mother. He would be good at it, for one, and on top of that it was probably the exact little confidence boost that my mother would need. “I’m Lisa.” She offered her hand. “I know exactly who you are.” He shook it. “I’ve heard nothing but good things.” He moved to give her a kiss on the cheek and she was loving it. I felt like my mum would be the only person I would feel okay about Harry flirting with. “Well, aren’t you tall.” She blushed after he kissed her. “Thank you. I’ve dedicated almost twenty years to growing, so that means a lot to me.” She laughed a lot harder than the joke warranted, flapping her hand and rearranging her hair, flirting back with him as best as she could, though she was a little rusty. “You need to bag this one up, Pippa.” She told me. I just awkwardly laughed instead of saying that I’d already made a weak attempt at bagging him up. I felt like saying that would have brought up more questions than it answered. Harry seemed to feel pretty awkward too, because even though he’d been so wonderful to me of recent, he was still aware that he had broken my heart. I knew he was trying his best to make things up to me, but I’d kind of forgotten that it must have been a hard time for him, too. Almost like he couldn’t put a foot right. “I’m desperate for a brew.” I shakily spoke after a while. “Shall I put the kettle on?” We all wandered through to the kitchen, where we found Liam, fast asleep with an unopened carton of orange juice in his hand, his cheek squished against the top of our dining table. Something tugged at my heart in that very moment, because I realised the last time I saw Liam sat at that table, he was just 18 years old. I didn’t even know that the last time I saw him there would be the last time until that very moment. Liam had gone off to university, and he just loved that escape so much, he never came back. Not for Christmas or birthdays or anything. My mum and dad went down to London to see him a few times, but I knew he hadn’t really wanted them to, that’s why I never went with them, because he’d asked me not to. He wanted to be away from us, and I totally understood that. Then he went traveling and he didn’t come back; he only came back when he was needed. I had to question if it was just what he was like, what he wanted from life, or if maybe Liam had subconsciously known about the affair and our broken family all this time, and wanted to be away from it all. Because I knew, the now 24 year old boy who was asleep at that table deserved to be asleep under the stars in a town he couldn’t remember the name of. I was just staring at Liam, though I could feel Harry gazing at the side of my face, trying to figure me out, like he always was. But all he could take in was how lost I looked, so he filled up the kettle himself, and flicked it on. “So what are you doing up so late, Lisa?” Harry chatted. “I just wanted to hear about the wedding. So how bad exactly was it?” She seemed very excited, and I finally turned back to the conversation, because my mum really needed to vent, and I was more than happy to let her. “The DJ played Angels.” I told her. “Every bad DJ does.” She agreed. “Yes, give me more.” “Not an open bar.” Harry added. “I wondered why you both seemed so sober. Harry, why didn’t you drive back?” “We had a few drinks, just not worth the risk. I’m gunna pick up my car in the morning.” “I’ll drive you.” She smiled. “Thank you.” As soon as the kettle had boiled, Harry asked my mum where the mugs were and got to work. I adored how at home he seemed. It was like he’d been there a million times, and I wished he had, and I wished I’d be able to see him there a million times more. “I’ve set up the spare room for you, too.” “Lisa, I’ve been excited for weeks about sharing a bed with you.” He grinned, passing the cup of tea to her. “Well, I’m sorry to let you down.” She giggled. “I’ll get over it. I hope.” “I’m sure you will. Anyway, I’m going to take this to bed, I’m shattered. I’ll try and drag this one to upstairs.” She gestured to Liam. “Goodnight, mum.” I smiled. “Goodnight, Love.” She returned. She attempted to get Liam out of the chair, but her efforts fell flat. After having a good laugh about it, Harry went to help her, the two of them dragging him upstairs, leaving me on my own for a few moments just sipping my tea. I was glad I didn’t come home often, because it made every single visit more special. I just loved being there, finally back in the right house too. Being in that rented house over summer just hadn’t felt right. Standing in that kitchen, the same kitchen I’d taken my first steps, the kitchen I’d cracked my first egg, it just felt right. I’d never loved a place so much. Harry appeared a few minutes later, a dopey little smile on his face as he grabbed his cup. “You and your mum-” “Two peas in a pod.” I finished his statement for him. “You’re not fucking kidding.” He chuckled. “I got her some flowers to say thanks for having me, but I left them in the car because I really didn’t want to go to a wedding with flowers and then be like, oh I’m sorry, they’re not for you.” “You bought her flowers?” I gawped. No one ever tells you how much love can hurt. Love is made out to be an indestructible force, one that consumes you and everything around you. One that brings joy and a kind of happiness that completes you. Unrequited love was the complete opposite of that, because every time Harry even murmured, it physically pained me. I was so horribly in love with him, and I was getting nothing positive from it. All I had felt now for months was absent, hollow, disorientated and miserable. It was so silly, because it wasn’t like Harry being so kind and wonderful and buying my mum bloody flowers upset me. I’d get this momentary burst of happiness just admiring him, then that burst would turn into a sting, almost like the burst was the sound of gun and sting was the bullet piercing through me. “I’m a very good house guest.” He grinned. “And I also grew up with two dads who insisted that if opportunity ever knocked, I should buy a woman flowers. I spoke to Kev and he said this was opportunity knocking.” “I swear, sometimes it’s like you’re trying to torture me.” “What do you mean?” He asked. I’d said that without thinking for even a split second. Harry had this extremely confused look on his face at first, but then whilst I was trying to think up some kind of excuse for what I had just said, the realisation dawned over his face the true meaning of my words. “Never mind. I’m gunna go to bed, I’m shattered.” I huffed. “You coming? Going? Well… Are you-” “Yeah. Yeah, yeah it’s late.” He was trying to brush past it as much as I was. “Where’s um… Where’s the spare room?” “Next to mine.” “Okay. Yeah. Well. Okay, lets call it a night.” We both downed our brews in perfect unison, experts when it came to downing drinks thanks to Zayn, but at least this one didn’t have the after-kick we were used to. But I would give anything to have the bitter taste of a shot rather than the bitter taste of my words. We both went upstairs in a bit of a hurry, and I just kept quietly cursing to myself, because that was the only outlet I had until I could go into my room and just scream into my pillow, trying to figure out why the hell my mouth would run fucking wild like that sometimes. I opened the door to the spare room, throwing it wide open for him, trying to be quiet. “Well, this is you, so goodnight then. Goodnight.” He moved so he was stood in the doorway, and once again his eyebrows were low, and it seemed to be a more often occurrence that Harry just stared at me trying to work me out. I grabbed hold of the handle to my bedroom door, but before I could go anywhere he moved to me, grabbing hold of the top of my arm with a tight grip. “Harry!” I gasped. “You remember when I rang you over summer?” He was getting closer to me. “Which time?” “After the festival.” His grip loosened. “You… You ignored me.” “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I remember. Why?” “I was… I was going to ask you, if you liked me.” “What?” My eyes went wide. “I was stood at Minnie’s front door. Stood at her front fucking door.” He was panting. “All I wanted… was an answer. Because… Because I knew if you said yes, if you had told me then that you liked me, I wouldn’t be with Minnie.” I’d never felt so sick in my life. I could barely understand what he was saying. All I knew, was that I was finally hearing what I had wanted to hear for so long. I knew it was happening at the same time as not knowing what to expect. My head was a mess. “I… I don’t know-” “And when you told me that you loved me… I was so fucking mad at you, because I knew that if you had just fucking answered when I rang that… we would be together. Now how many wasted months do we have?” My head was spinning. I didn’t think I could possibly be hearing him right because this was like Harry telling me that the pain of unrequited love I had been feeling for so long was actually completely fictional, and that just couldn’t be true. Because as much as I had been hating that kind of love, it was now a comfort zone to me. I was familiar with it. I knew it well and I had learnt to live in it. “I’m confused.” I whispered breathlessly. He went quiet, and as he moved closer to me, I moved backwards. I was totally breathless, disordered by the closeness we were sharing, because it had been months since his face was this close to mine, since I had been able to study the exact placement of the brown flickers through his green eyes. He was quiet for so long, then just before he spoke, he placed his hand on my cheek, stroking his thumb under my eye. “I am in love with you, Pippa. I have been in love with you for longer than I’ve even liked you. I… I remember the exact moment I fell in love with you.” “No you’re not.” I gasped, no idea what else to say. “Last November. I hadn’t even lived with you a month. Me and Zayn… We went drinking, and then we got back and you started drinking with us. You-you drank too much and you threw up. I walked into your room and… and I found you like that and… I helped you. I sat on your bathroom floor with you, and helped you throw up. You were barely dressed, slumped between my legs… sitting against me like you belonged there. You were absolutely fucked, but you were still so witty. You were so funny and so sharp… How could I not fall in love with you?” I barely even remembered it happening, for obvious reasons. But what shocked me the most is that we weren’t even friends, not even close. It wasn’t until February when the two of us started getting on, and he was admitting that it was months before that he realised he felt something for me. Fuck, fuck he’d just told me he was in love with me fuck. “This doesn’t make any sense.” “I felt like I had to distance from you. I felt like you didn’t… want me.” He moved closer, backing me up against my bedroom door. “Because you always pulled away, and then you asked for space and… Minnie… She was like a decoy so I wouldn’t keep crawling into bed with you. And… I was just living out this fucking fantasy I used to have about her but… She’s not you. No one’s you. No one comes close. Even when you said that you loved me… all I could think was… I don’t deserve you. I don’t.” “Why don’t you deserve me?” I shuddered. “I just don’t, Pip. You’re fucking dreamlike. I can’t believe you’re in my life at all, never mind as more than a friend. I’m not worthy of that. I really don’t feel like I… deserve you. But I can’t help myself. I love you. I tried to forget, but I can’t. I love you. I’d do anything for you. I just…” He moved his hand to the back of my neck. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the closeness, lolling my head back. I was piecing together things that I didn’t even realise needed piecing. The missed call, the fact that Harry was with Minnie because he felt she was all he deserved. She was a fantasy he’d had since he was sixteen. He had tried to brush away feelings he had for me and then suddenly I tell him I love him even though I purposefully sent him all the wrong signals. In my attempts to deny my feelings, I created an enormous space between us, thinking I was helping myself, when really all I was doing was turning away from him and shunning his affections. I had literally forced him to think I didn’t care for him that way. I felt like such an idiot I just wanted to curl up into a ball and apologise to him for pushing him away when he felt that we were so close. I gripped my eyes so they were shut even tighter, scared my heart was on the verge of exploding. “Harry, I need you to think about what you’re saying.” I hushed. “What?” “I don’t think… I could survive, if you wake up tomorrow morning and regret this. If you wake up and realise that you want to be with Minnie and that you don’t really love me… I don’t know what I’d do...” “Pippa-” “If you say it again, I’ll believe you.” I stopped him. “If you say it again, that’s it. If you don’t say it again… we can pretend this never happened, and I won’t hold it against you, okay? So please think. Please just take a second and think before you say anything.” Without hesitation, he lifted his other hand and smothered my other cheek with it, leaving me locked between him, pressing his forehead against mine. “Pippa, I love you.” He spoke confidently. “Stay with me.” I demanded quickly. A tear slipped down my face, and he wiped it away as soon as he could. I didn’t want to cry. I really didn’t want to cry, because I felt like all I did was fucking cry, but his declaration was something I had never expected. Ever since I had started university, it felt like things were slowly just starting to go wrong for me. I loved university, but I wasn’t doing the course I wanted, my family had fallen apart and I had somehow fallen in love with a boy I used to hate. It seemed far too surreal that two of those things could flip on their heads in the space of a day. I was okay with the new fundamentals of my family, and Harry was there, his face just inches from mine, telling me he loved me in the same way that I loved him. Surreal didn’t even come close to the truth of the day. “Fuck.” He groaned, tenderly brushing my skin. “I want to. I really… really want to, but I can’t.” “Why not?” “Because I can’t… I can’t be the type of person who cheats on someone.” “So just hold me.” I begged. “That’s bad enough.” He sighed, his hot breath pouring over my skin. “Isn’t this bad enough?” “Yeah, it is! But I can’t take it any further than this. You know now, that’s the most important thing. I just… I can’t cheat, Pip. I’d never forgive myself.” I was so desperate to be with him, even if it was just to have his arms around me as I slept, even if it was just to share a bed with him, I just wanted even more proof that he loved me. I wanted to spend every single second I could moulded into his body, talking to him and touching him and finally just being with him. At the same time, him saying no to me and telling me he couldn’t cheat on her, only made me love him more. Even so, I finally plucked up the courage to return his gentle touch, running my hand through his curls and then softly pressing my fingertips against the back of his neck. “Okay.” I nodded. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” “Don’t be sorry.” He exhaled. “I’m just glad you know. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long.” “Harry-” “No. I should have never been with Minnie, and… the second you told me you loved me I should have… I’ve just been so confused, Pip. And… you-you deserve more than what I have to offer. You deserve more than me.” “That’s not your decision to make.” I scowled. “I know that. I know that now. I’m sorry. But, I feel like you’re better-” “Don’t, Harry.” I cut him short again. “You deserve the world.” “Then I’ll make you my world.” He whispered. He kissed my forehead, drawn out, his right-hand clutching at loose strands of my hair, inhaling me as I inhaled him, realising that every previous urge I’d had to kiss him was absolutely nothing compared to the urge I had in that moment. “I love you.” I smiled. “Fuck.” I felt his grin spread against my forehead. “I love you too.” “Okay. You’ve gotta go, I’m dying.” I giggled. I pushed him by his chest so we finally parted, but before he fell back, he pinched his middle finger and thumb against the palm and outside of my hand, making sure we were still touching as he pulled back to me just a little bit, biting his bottom lip as he smiled. “Okay.” He seemed so bashful. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” “You will.” I blushed. “Can I say it again?” “Just once.” “I love you.” He grinned. “Go before I leap on you.” I pushed him again. “Go!” It was so difficult to end that conversation, because we knew we should have really been ending it in at least a kiss. It felt totally bizarre to have finally opened up and admitted that we were fucking in love with each other, and not to be kissing him. He winked at me, and let go of my hand, not looking away from me until he was in the spare bedroom, lightly and very slowly closing the door behind himself. I finally went into my room, and as soon as I was completely safe, I totally freaked out. I tried to do it as quietly as possible, but I was shaking and prancing all over the place and the elation I felt in that moment was something I had never experienced before and didn’t think I would ever experience again. It was euphoric. It took me at least ten minutes to calm down and get into bed, but once I did, I turned to face the wall that stood between me and Harry, tucking the sheets up tight as I stared to where I knew he would be, wondering if he was on the other side doing the same thing. I was in love, and finally with someone who loved me too.