#and I applied to be in a single (I’m so SO sick of roommate issues) and those are always. so small

[sweet-as-kiwis]

Mother dearest is coming down this weekend to pick up as many of my things as possible! Unfortunately as I still have a week before I can go home, that means. All of my decorations are getting packed up on Friday

I should probs take a picture of the living room, it was. So freakin cute I’m gonna miss it

[sapphire374]

A Pleasant but Spontaneous Encounter

"I know we're supposed to be just roommates but you just look too damn cute in the morning and now I can't seem to get you out of my mind."

Wattpad Link 

Nina strongly grasped the paper that had written her room number for the year. Even Though, she arrived early meaning she had yet to find out who she was rooming with. Her nerves were truly at its peak when she discovered while walking into campus that the council decided to pair the girls rooms with the boys rooms. Boys… in the same dorm hallway. She already felt scared starting the new year at Oxford but now she feels uncomfortable knowing there was going to be adult males too. She wondered “what if it’s the guys who host those massive overnight parties. How on earth would I be able to study if people next door are partying all night long.” Nina had jumped into a spiral of thoughts by just overthinking everything. 

Once she arrived at her room she had the pleasure of choosing which bed she wanted since her roommate hadn’t arrived yet. She unclasped her luggage after setting it on top of the trunk and began to store her belongings in drawers, shelves and any other kind of available space in her side of the room. 

Knock-knock. Nina heard as she was hanging up her shirts in the closet. Must be her new roommate. “I’m coming,” Nina hurried as she went to the door. She’s been waiting, wanting to anxiously know who she was going to spend all year with. She grasped the door knob, turned it, and opened the door to a revealing surprise. “Gaston?!”

Both, Gaston and Nina stood there in shock looking at one another. “Nina!… Well it’s nice to see you again but how were you able to find my room and enter it. Don’t get me wrong it’s a pleasure to see you again but this feels a little creepy even though I know I’m hard to forget.”

Nina let out a small frown at his words and replied with “Gaston you really think I would do something like that. I don’t know if this is another one of your jokes but this is my room. Even though they have combined girl rooms with boy rooms in the same hallway  doesn’t mean they get to share the same rooms. Girls with girls, boys with boys.”

Gaston scratches his head and glances at his paper again. “But Nina this is my room, 2774.” 

Nina walks to her dresser, grabs her yellow slip and reads out loud “2774, how odd that’s the same number I got. We need to go speak to the director, this must be a mistake.”

Gaston is now smirking in front of Nina while she wears a questionable look towards his expressions. “Maybe we don’t have to fix this mistake. Maybe we can stay roommates and catch up on what we’ve missed. Maybe this is fate that has brought us here Nina.” 

Nina now choking on her words says, “No no no Gaston, we can’t. We would get in big trouble if I don’t say anything about this and I cannot get in trouble on my first day already. Plus it would seem fishy if they saw a boy in a year after me in the same dorm room as I am. We can always hang out and even catch up outside of the dorm but I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Gaston now making a sullen look replies with “You’re right. We should go.”

“Sorry if I seem like a buzzkill. I’m happy we met but I wasn’t expecting it to be like this.”

“Yeah me neither.”

~~~

“What do you mean we’re going to be roommates for the week. Isn’t that against the rules?” Gaston asked. “Yes it is but we’ve already implemented a system for the roommates which means all of the other rooms are taken. We’re now going to have to wait for when a spot opens up. My deepest apologies for the whole mixup by the way. Don’t worry too much though, this problem should be fixed by the end of the week,” the dean of the campus reassured them. But what if Gaston didn’t want the issue to be fixed anytime soon, what if he does want to be Nina’s roommate. Gaston’s already imagining all of the possibilities of him being able to rekindle his romance with Nina.

Wait a second. A doubt, a fearful thought entered his brain and now it can’t get out. What if Nina is still with Eric? Could that be why she didn’t want to be his roommate, could that be why she tried to brush him off and didn’t seem so excited to see him at her doorstep. Heck she didn’t even give him a hug. 

Throughout the whole meeting he couldn’t help but stare at Nina a few times. Oh how he missed her so much. The way she shuffled her feet when the room was quiet, the way how she tightly held her book in her hand whenever she was nervous, and the way how she barely spoke in conversations, overthinking what to say next. 

Seeing her reaction to the news was a scary delight to see. Gaston saw Nina’s face easily turn red when she glanced at Gaston for a few seconds. Did she hate the idea of rooming with Gaston because she doesn’t like him anymore? Gaston would just love to be a mind reader right now.

They both got up from their chairs and left the office. “So I guess I have to unpack my bags…. In our room,” Gaston breaking the five minute long silence whilst scratching his head in the awkward environment.

“I guess so. I will say though that I call dibs on an extra drawer just so I can have space for my books.”

Gaston couldn’t help but chuckle at Nina’s statement, at how Nina hasn’t changed who she was. 

“Gaston it’s not funny, you know I like to keep my books organized into different categories. Ones I haven’t read, ones I want to reread, and ones I’ve already finished but not planning to reread them anytime soon.” Nina couldn't help but giggle as well. Now Nina and Gaston were both giggling.

~~~

All day Nina tried avoiding Gaston. When she was in the library, she tried to fixate her focus into her textbooks and ignore the not so subtle glances Gaston would throw. Oh how she wishes she can have long conversations and tell him exactly how she feels, but that’s the thing she can’t. Whenever she just thinks of the idea, she chokes. Chokes and not a single word can come out afterward. She thought she has finally grown to be more confident and speak to others but with Gaston around, all of the development feels like it never happened. Before she used to feel very comfortable talking to him and now it feels like the first day she met him, scary and nerve-wracking.

While he wasn’t looking, she couldn’t help but stare and wonder how lucky fate has been to her this very moment. She finally got to see him like she has always hoped. Deep down inside, she’s never stopped loving Gaston no matter what. Just about five months ago, she finalized her decision to break up with Eric. She told him the truth, how she’s still not over Gaston. She thought she had feelings for Eric and she did but only as a friend. She pushed herself to date him thinking it would erase the pain she would feel thinking she would never see Gaston again but not even a sliver of that feeling went away.

Now she’s here. Sitting in a vintage, brown chair while reading her newest textbook in the dull lighting of this library. Great, now she can’t stop thinking about him and has lost all concentration in her homework. She puts her hand on her face in frustration. “Why do you have to take over mind Gaston,” she thinks to herself. Honestly, when she applied to Oxford she wasn’t expecting her first encounter with Gaston to be like this. She assumed she would have some time to put herself together and have the guts to have an actual conversation with him. But instead she barely spoke to him today as if she wanted to ignore him and even gave out signs of being uptight. That’s the thing though, she isn’t like that at all. Her shyness and the spontaneous encounter of him took her by surprise. While already having first day of university stress, she now has past love stress. 

She wonders what he must be thinking now. “Does he hate me? Does he not love me anymore? Am I everything he wasn’t expecting me to be? Does he want to be friends? Does he want to be more than just friends? Is he even single” She face palms herself again and is getting really annoyed now at her overthinking and spiral of thoughts getting out of control.

Gaston notices at the other end of the library Nina’s frustration. Automatically he’s worried and is about to step out of his chair till another doubt reaches his mind. “Wait maybe this isn’t a good idea. I don’t want to force her to like me again or seem clingy,” he assumes. He sits back down onto his chair. 

A group of guys head over to Gaston. Only one of them seems to be carrying books in their hand while the others are carrying backpacks.

 “Hey Gaston. Have you heard of the party that Sara is hosting today. It’s going to be sick,” the guy with the letterman jacket said.

“That seems nice,” Gaston replied

“Are you coming? I heard a lot of people are going to be there.”

“No, I don’t think I’ll go today. It’s the first day and I don’t want to ruin my already messed up sleeping schedule.”

“Oh but c’mon it’ll be the first one of the year. You can’t just miss the first one. Plus I heard a lot of girls will be there too,” the guy then gave Gaston a wink after this statement. 

Gaston then looks over to Nina. She immediately dropped her head down to her books. He noticed and couldn’t help but fall in love at how that reminds him of the looks they would share to each other when they were at the Jam and Roller together. 

“Sorry but I can’t today, maybe some other time,” Gaston stated.

“Ok, your loss dude.” The group of guys then headed straight out the door. 

Nina grew a little worried. She liked knowing now that he is single but she wonders whether he even wants to be with her again. All day it has felt like a battle of who can ignore each other better. She picks up her textbooks, slides them into her open backpack, zips it, and gets out of her chair to leave the library. She can’t concentrate having Gaston very far but also very close to her in one large room. 

When Nina heads straight to the door, Gaston does too. He runs over her and says, “No, Nina, wait.” She turns over. Now Gaston is tongue tied and didn’t think through exactly what he was going to say to her. “Uhh… see you later..” Nina waves a bye to him back and leaves with a confused look on her face. Gaston can’t help but feel stupid, creating a huge fuss all to just tell her in the end “see you later.” 

Gaston hurriedly grabs his backpack and exits the building too. He thinks of the best idea he possibly can at a time like this, and that’s to call Matteo. He takes his phone out of his pocket, types the name and places it near his ear. “Hi Gaston. I wasn’t expecting you to call me today. What’s the matter?” Matteo asks.

“Nina is here. I’m happy that she is but everytime I try to talk to her I forget the words and how to speak.”

Matteo laughs on the other end. “Oh wow no hi Matteo. Good afternoon to you too.Well anyways, you both truly are made for each other. Just be honest with her, plus she probably feels the same way you do.”

“I have tried but I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to come on strong but I don’t want to sound annoying either.”

“You’re overthinking this too much, this is Nina we’re talking here. She already knows you and wouldn’t think of you like that.” 

Gaston thought about it for a second and answered, “Yeah I guess but we hadn’t seen each other in a long time and things can change you know.”

“True but from what I’ve seen the last time I met her she’s still the same Nina you fell in love with before. Maybe this time less afraid to speak her mind, cause of what happened with Gary.”

“Tonight I shall try to talk to her. Maybe we can start out being friends and go from there. I just really miss her laugh, our conversations together, and her smile. This whole day I’ve barely seen her smile. I miss it.”

“That’s a good start. Don’t forget to tell me how it goes ok. Good luck hermano.”

“Bye Matteo. Don’t worry I will.”

~~~

It was 9pm and Nina was already in her pajamas sitting all cozy in her bed while reading a book. Today she was wearing a black and beige nightgown. Gaston had just gotten out of the bathroom from brushing his teeth. He headed towards his bed as well whilst stealing glances towards Nina. He went under the covers and positioned his pillow to fall asleep. Before he laid down, he decided to tell Nina something. He would try to have the conversation he told Matteo about but sadly he can’t seem to think of anything to say. Nonetheless the convo ended quickly and barely went out as planned. “Goodnight Nina. Uh I hope you had a nice day today.”

Nina took her focus away from her book and said, “Yes I did. Thanks for asking. How did your day go?”

“It went decent I guess.”

“That’s nice. Goodnight to you too.”

Gaston then tried to fall asleep. Nina held her book but hasn’t read a sentence after their short lived conversation. She stared at the way Gaston slept. It was so peaceful, as if all the stars were aligned with each other. A portrait she would never want to forget. “What am I thinking. I still can't be in love with Gaston. He barely notices me or even talks to me. I have to forget about him,” Nina overthinks again. She places her book on top of her nightstand with her glasses and tries to fall asleep through the night.

After two hours have passed, Nina seems to be having a nightmare. She tosses and turns consistently in her bed. Gaston slowly opens his eyes. The noise of the sheets moving rapidly woke him up. He sees Nina scared with almost tears in her eyes. He rushes over to Nina and gently wakes her up sitting at the side of her bed. “Nina it’s ok, it’s ok I’m here.” Nina’s eyes begin to flutter and she uncontrollably takes a hold of Gaston’s hand. An electric shock rushed over both of their spines. They touched. 

“It’s ok Nina. You were having a bad dream. You’re going to be fine. I’m here and I’m not going to leave ok.” Gaston’s voice of reassurance made Nina feel much better. They couldn’t stop looking into each other’s eyes. She breaks the stare by rushing into a hug. He softly strokes his hand on her back. She then lays her head on his shoulders. 

“Look Nina there’s something I need to tell you.”

Nina breaks out of his warm embrace. “Gaston there’s something I still need to tell you too.”

“I’ve missed you so much Nina. More than you can possibly think. I thought us breaking up would be the best so that you wouldn’t feel tied to me and have to suffer having a boyfriend who was far away and can rarely visit. Also, especially with starting out school and having to frequently study, barely having time for you, which was not what you deserved, I thought at the time it was the right decision to make.”

“Gaston I’ve missed you so much too. More than you could think of. I remember there were even days where I cried just looking at a trinket from our past. Like that book you lent me that was your favorite. It has all of the notes of the lines that you said reminded you of me. I even take it everywhere I go no matter what. I was so hurt from the breakup, I thought dating somebody else would help erase the pain and make me even forget about it. Not about us since I will always remember you but make me feel better. In the beginning it did till I realized that the relationship I had with you could never be recreated with some other guy. And when I noticed my feelings for you were still existent and even stronger I knew I had to break up with him. I wasn’t ready to have another boyfriend yet.”

Gaston couldn’t help but smile at the fact that Nina is single…. And still potentially loves him. “Nina I still till this day have feelings for you. Whenever I felt stressed or depressed I would always look back into your Felicity account and read your posts. They always gave me that extra dose of strength I needed for the day. I always kept track of whenever you posted for Amigos De Patin. Reading your incredible entries made me feel so lucky to have met you and have had a wonderful girlfriend like you. I always carry around with me too that red bracelet that kept us united like the sea. Remember that ribbon I sent you and how I told you it reminded me of us being like the sea. How far we may be but someday it’s waves will meet up again. How our love lives in the ocean. I never got rid of it. I always wear it on my wrist.”

Nina cupped her mouth with shock. “Gaston I do too. I still keep that ribbon and take it everywhere I go. In fact I keep it in a special place.” She grabs her book off her nightstand and takes out a bookmark. In the clear plastic is the red ribbon. “I always take it with me wherever I go too.”

“Nina don’t you get it. This is maybe destiny. Like the poem of the sea how someday we would meet up again if our love is meant to be. Nina I never stopped loving you.”

Nina then had a tear slide down her cheek. “Gaston I never stopped loving you too.”

Gaston wipes the tear off Nina’s face and has his lips meet with hers. He caressed her cheek while she held his arms. This felt surreal to the both of them. They couldn’t believe they got to meet each other again. Their love was held by the big body of water between them and chose now to bring them back together. Gaston and Nina knew deep down inside that they were meant to be.

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter 6

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

The team takes on trivia. Emily strips in front of JJ. It's quite an evening for all.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

“Come on, Jayje,” Penelope whined. “It’ll be good for you to go out.” 

“I’m sick,” JJ said, fake coughing. “And I need to get a head start on my project for my new media course. It’s worth forty percent.”

“Bullshit.” Penelope said, “I know for a fact that that isn’t due for two weeks. Tonight is NOT the make or break point in that assignment for you.” 

JJ sighed. 

“You need to get out. See the world. Do more than just play soccer, work out and do homework. You’ve been hiding since your break up. It’s not healthy.”

She had told herself she would stop avoiding Emily after she had figured out what her feelings were. Despite JJ’s realization that it was a genuine crush, that JJ truly liked Emily, JJ needed to also be sure that she wasn’t simply rebounding onto someone nearby. 

Someone pretty and smart and kind and who lived right across the hall.

“It’s trivia night JJ,” Penelope said, “and we have Spencer on our team it’ll be fun.” 

JJ sighed, looked up from where she lay on her bed. 

“Fine.”

“Make yourself pretty, you know who will be there,” Penelope replied, turning back to her make-up mirror to finish applying her purple lipstick. 

“Yeah thanks for that,” JJ said sarcastically, “I saw what you did there.”

“Who, me?” she feigned innocence. 

JJ changed from a plain t-shirt to a tighter, low cut long sleeved blue shirt. She then took her hair out of a ponytail, brushing it out before tucking it carefully behind her ears. On principle, she huffed the entire time, so that Penelope would know that she wasn’t happy about the situation, despite the butterflies in her stomach at the idea of seeing Emily again. 

She took care to apply some eyeshadow, some blush and a pink lip gloss that tastes like strawberries. There was something intimidating about Emily. She looked so… put together. With Will, he never really noticed, or cared, if she wore makeup, but Emily definitely would. 

God. This was stressful. Is this what liking girls was like? If it was, JJ was not sure she was cut out for it. 

At least she was going to be on home territory, as trivia was their thing, something that Penelope and JJ had been doing since their floor was forced into going back in first year.  

JJ was working hard at learning to relax a bit. Between maintaining her grades, soccer, and her new job editing press releases for the student government, she was already being pulled in multiple directions. A night out would be fun, she reminded herself. 

She tried to quell her nerves at going out with Emily. It wasn’t a date or anything. Just friends hanging out. JJ’s friends and Emily’s friends. Penelope’s meddling was further tying her to the girl across the hall by blending their friend groups. 

While half of her mind wanted this to happen, wanted to see Emily all the time and have an excuse to see her, smell her, hear her laugh…. JJ frowned as she realized that her crush complicated everything. Emily was already across the hall, and if she admitted her feelings, and they weren’t reciprocated, she would run into her all the time. Now, with Derek Morgan befriending Penelope and Spencer, and all of them going out together, JJ’s silly crush could send ripples across more than just her own life. 

JJ ran her hands through her hair, worrying about the possible ways she could fuck this up. She did not entertain the possibility that Emily could possibly like her back. First of all, she had no idea if she was straight or not. JJ didn’t even know how to tell. 

JJ glanced over to Penelope, who was finishing up her makeup sitting at her desk, looking into a small mirror on the desk. JJ knew Penelope was queer, as her roommate was not shy about it whatsoever. In her mug full of pens was a pride flag from last year’s pride parade. It was in June, so JJ had been back in Pennsylvania then, but she remembered seeing the joy on Penelope’s face in the photos she posted on Instagram. Penelope wasn’t the person she knew that identified as queer. In fact, Spence had recently told them that he was bi. It wasn’t like JJ was not aware of the community, she thought she was just supporting LGBT+ issues on principal, and for her friends. 

She hadn’t considered that when, in her politics class in high school, she was viciously debating on gay marriage for someone like herself. The topics always felt distant. Like something that affected someone else. She was so certain in her heterosexuality that she had joked about it to Penelope earlier in their friendship. 

The token straight friend, she had said. So much for that. 

“Pen,” JJ said, trying to force a neutral tone to her voice, and failing. “How did you know you weren’t straight?”

Penelope turned and simply stared at her for a long moment before giggling and saying: “Are you finally realizing you have a crush on Emily Prentiss?” 

JJ sat up in her chair. 

“What?” 

“Aw darlin’,” Penelope said to her, tilting her head, ”You barely talked about your break up. You were too busy literally running from your feelings for her ever since you ran into her at the library. I had to finally ask her out for you.”

“I–” JJ stuttered. “I talked about my break up.”

“So to answer your question,” Penelope said, matter-of-factly, “I realized when I had my first crush on a girl, just like you’re doing now. Don’t worry about it too much, you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

JJ’s jaw had dropped. 

“Babe, you came home one night babbling about how she taught you French,” Penelope giggled, “You might as well have held up a sign.”

JJ buried her face in her hands. 

“Oh god,” JJ said. “Am I gay? What am I?”

Penelope walked over and tossed her arm around JJ’s shoulders, pulling her into a hug. 

“Aww baby’s first girl crush,” she cooed, “So happy to witness it first hand. You might be gay! Or bi, or something else. Don’t worry too much about the terminology right now.”

Unfortunately, JJ was worrying too much. About not just the terminology. 

Even if Emily was gay, or bi or whatever, she wouldn’t like someone like JJ. She was always a bit of a tomboy, barely knowing how to do make up and dressing like she was going to practise most days. JJ always felt a bit awkward when she dressed up, feeling most at home in joggers and a hoodie. 

Emily, on the other hand, was all elegant with her pretty black hair, her perfect eyeliner and the way she always looked out together when she went out. Moreover, Emily was cool. She listened to music on vinyl and her bookshelf was filled with classic novels and smoked cigarettes. She lived in multiple countries, spoke more languages than JJ hoped to ever learn.

Emily’s mom was an ambassador. She had a nanny growing up. She had a single room and was paying out-of-state tuition. Well, her mom was probably paying her tuition. 

JJ could only afford to be here because she was on a soccer scholarship, and barely had enough money to cover her caffeine addiction. The surprise small stipend from her new student government job was probably the thing keeping JJ from applying for a job off campus. 

Emily would never like someone like JJ, she thought. 

After checking herself in the mirror one final time, she looked at the time. 6:54. Emily and her friends would be there soon, and if JJ knew Spencer well, he would be showing up in just under a minute. 

There was a knock at the door. She was right. 

“Hi guys!” He said, entering their dorm room and taking his customary seat on the very edge of JJ’s bed. “Am I dressed properly? I wasn’t sure what to wear to a bar.”

He was wearing a button up, with a beige sweater vest over top, with slacks and converse to complete the outfit. 

“Aw Spence,” JJ said. “You look great, I promise.”

“Remind me to take you to the mall to get some party clothes,” Penelope quipped. 

“Those were two contradicting statements,” he complained. 

Once Penelope had finished adding rhinestones to her makeup look, they opened the door to find Emily flanked by two boys, waiting in the hall. 

Derek Morgan, JJ recognized, but the other one JJ hadn’t met before. 

“Hello all!” Penelope called out from inside their room. 

“Hi Derek, Emily,” JJ said politely, “I’m not sure we’ve met–“

She reached her hand out to shake the new boy’s hand. He was tall, with a shock of black hair and a serious expression on his face. 

“I’m Jennifer, but my friends call me JJ.”

“Nice to meet you,” the boy said with a small—almost non-existent—smile, shaking her hand with a firm, confident grip. “I’m Aaron Hotchner.”

“His friends call him Hotch,” Derek piped up punching his shoulder in a friendly way. 

“He’s pre-law,” Emily informed her, “we have a bunch of classes together.”

“I do not have that much experience with trivia,” Aaron admits, rubbing his shoulder and feigning injury. 

“No need!” Penelope says, rounding up on the group, “Spencer here is basically a genius. You’re just a warm body.”

“I just have an eidetic memory!” He said, piping up from in the room. 

With introductions complete, they headed to the small pub just off campus. It was a squat brick building tucked between a restaurant and an old book store. It had a nice back patio in the warmer months, and each Monday was trivia night. 

Just inside, the bouncer drew big xs on their hands to indicate that they were underage, which were all promptly wiped off once they were inside and found a table. The atmosphere inside was relaxed, the staff not really caring if people were drinking underage on a Monday night if they didn’t cause trouble.

JJ loved this bar. It was old, with exposed brick walls and large wooden rafters over their heads. The ceilings were low and the bar was packed and loud, making the place feel cozy, yet not quite claustrophobic. On weekdays, it was mostly locals or upper year students, as their peers were more likely to try to drink underage on the weekends. The crowd was quite a few younger adults, with the occasional older couple or group of middle aged women having a girls night. 

They found a table big enough for their group by just to the right of the bar, tucked out of sight, far from the bouncers. The six of them squeezing tight onto the rustic booth and shrugging off their coats.  

Trivia started at 7:30 pm, so they still had time to get settled and acquire some drinks. JJ was squished between Penelope and Emily’s friend Aaron, who was explaining that he played forward on the men’s hockey team. JJ knew he seemed familiar, realizing that she and he had probably crossed paths at athletics functions. 

“Did you guys rub the marker off your hand?” Spencer asked, too loudly, receiving a chorus of shushing in response.

“Dude,” Derek laughed, “Not so loud you’re gonna get us kicked out!”

“What do you mean?” He asked, the classic Reid obliviousness shining through. 

Emily tossed a casual arm around his shoulders. 

“You see,” she said, “we would like to drink this thing called alcohol tonight. If we have an x on our hands, we don’t get served.”

She pointed to the x on his hand. 

“Speaking of which,” Aaron said, standing up, “I’m grabbing a beer, who’s with me?” 

“Me!” Emily jumped up, with Derek on her heels, “What are you guys drinking? This rounds on me!”

JJ balked, drinks here were expensive. Did Emily actually want to buy them drinks? Or was she simply being nice. JJ should say no. 

“Vodka cran, por favour!” Penelope responded before JJ could politely decline. “JJ drinks beer, and Reid will take a soda.”

“What kind of beer?”

“Whatever’s on tap,” JJ said sheepishly, feeling guilty about someone spending money on her. At the same time, with JJ’s baby face, there was little chance the bartender would buy that she was already 21.

“Root beer please!” Spencer called out after her, though Emily had already turned around, following the boys over to lean against the bar. 

The bartender, a gorgeous young woman with shoulder length brown hair was serving Emily, leaning over the bar. Her eyes were rapt with attention as Emily ordered, even giving her a once over before she left to make their drinks. 

Emily seemed to flirt back, but JJ could not hear what she said, the two women going back and forth for a few moments, their attention hardly broken by the other patrons. 

JJ felt jealousy flare in her stomach. 

As Emily’s fingers grasped the glass, the other girl’s hands lingered, and JJ watched the bartender wink at Emily before turning towards the other patrons. Emily had a cropped tank top, with a plaid shirt on top. Her tight jeans gripped her long legs, and her heeled boots gave an extra inch or so to her already impressive height. She looked hot. The bartender clearly saw it too.

She tried to push back that jealousy. She had no right to be possessive, Emily and she weren’t dating, or anything, they were friends. New friends.   

“Your girlfriend is so good to us!” Penelope cooed, breaking JJ out of her thoughts. 

JJ felt a blush spread across her face. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” she sputtered. 

“Have you told her you like her yet?” Spencer asked. 

“Guys,” JJ exclaimed, “this is not the time. She’s right there.”

“She has not,” Penelope replied. “Even though it’s so obvious that Emily likes her back.”

“Pen!” JJ said as she buried her face in her hands. 

“Spencer you wouldn’t believe it!” she continued, unheeded, “Emily brought her cookies to the game!”

“She was just being nice!” JJ said, peeking out from between her fingers. 

“She didn’t give me any cookies,” Spencer pointed out. “And we spent almost three hours in class together.”

As he said that, Derek, Aaron and Emily returned with not only alcohol, but also nachos and fries for the table. JJ, too polite to protest when being offered food, and who had the appetite of an athlete, dug in. She took a guilty sip of her beer, and felt Emily’s eyes on her. 

Did Emily like her back? That couldn’t be true. JJ was just… Jennifer. JJ. No one special. Not like Emily. JJ decided not to linger on that thought, it wasn’t like JJ would risk their friendship by admitting she had feelings anyways. 

“You know,” Spencer said between mouthfuls, “I’ve never done trivia before, but I’ve been told I’d be good at it.

“No shit, kid,” Derek replied, talking through a mouthful of nachos, “You talk like a textbook.”

Spencer looked like he was unsure whether or not to take that as a compliment. 

“What are the topics?” Emily asked. 

“They don’t tell you until you get here,” Penelope replied, “Someone should be by with papers and pencils. 

As if summoned, a tall girl with short black hair came by, dropping off a pencil and a paper, split into four quadrants with ten blanks on each page. 

“Who wants to write?” JJ asked, looking around the table. 

Hotch was busy scanning the page for the topics: science, television, sports and music, and he didn’t realize the activity going on around him. Everyone, including Reid somehow, (Derek helped him) had stuck their finger to the tip of their nose, the official sign for ‘not it.’

He looked up, seeing the fingers and without comment he grabed the pencil.

“It’s for the best,” Emily said, “My handwriting is illegible.”

“Can vouch for that,” Derek laughed, “It’s like half cursive half something inhuman.”

Emily punched his shoulder and took another drink. 

“So how does this normally work?” Hotch asked, gesturing towards her paper with the pencil.

“Question, two minutes to write down your answer, no phones,” Penelope replied, “Then we swap with a nearby team to mark it! And so on for four rounds.”

“There’s prizes,” JJ added. “Whoever gets the most right in the end wins, we hand in the sheets to the MC to enter.”

“Sweet,” Derek said. 

“We need a name,” JJ said, looking up. 

“The twinkies,” Emily blurted. 

“The… twinkies?” Hotch repeated, incredulously. 

“I don’t know,” Emily muttered, “I panicked.”

The group burst into laughter, which Emily laughed along with. She was a good sport. 

“Let’s get Quizzical,” Penelope offered. 

“I don’t get it,” Spencer said. 

“Quiz me, daddy,” Penelope tried again, winking at Derek. 

“Settle down now, little lady,” Derek said, laughing. 

“We’re not doing that,” JJ laughed. 

She wasn’t sure who looked more horrified at the idea, Spencer or Hotch. 

“Counter intelligence,” Derek proposed instead, it has a nice ring to it and works with the trivia premise. 

“That’s funny,” Penelope said. “And seems ok for the prudish ones amongst us.”

Hotch wrote that down on their page. 

“Hello everyone,” the MC said through a microphone as the music quieted, a hush fell over the bar, with everyone listening to the women speak. “My name is Tara and I’ll be your MC tonight.”

Tara was beautiful, with curled hair tucked behind her ears and a friendly smile, she was tall, wearing high heels making her stand tall over the seated audience. JJ thought she might be a student, as she looked a bit familiar. 

“Hi Tara!” Someone yelled out from the other side of the bar. 

Tara chucked, “Hello Dave. Welcome all to Trivia Night at O’Keefe’s, we have brand-new questions and prizes for you. Are you excited?”

The audience whooped, Hotch pulled the paper close to him and readied his writing hand, taking a quick swig of his beer to prepare himself. 

“We’re going to start off with some science questions,” the MC said.

The group looked expectantly at Spencer, who looked slightly nervous. 

“First question,” Tara announced, “We’ll start by looking outside of our planet, at the others in our solar system. Scientists have long been able to calculate the masses of most planets, including Earth. It has taken longer to measure the masses of Venus and Mercury, primarily because these two planets lack what?”

“Moons, obviously,” Spencer said, too loudly. Other groups clearly overheard, writing the answer down on their cards.

“Reid,” Penelope scolded, “You’re on our team. Whisper please.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, taking a sip of his soda through a small straw. 

“Question two: of what material is a rhinoceros horn made?”

“Bone?” Derek whispered to them, “They look boney.”

“That’s actually a common misconception,” Reid replied, “They’re actually composed of keratin, which is essentially hair.”

“Huh,” Derek tilted his beer in acknowledgement. Hotch wrote that down. 

“How many hearts do octopuses have?”

“Three!” Emily hisses, before Spencer has the chance.

“Nice one,” Hotch murmured back to her.

“I like cephalopods,” Emily said, as explanation. 

JJ desperately wanted to comment on that, but the game moved too quickly. 

The next few questions were rapid fire, covering everything from the speed of a sneeze, to the surface area of the lungs, to the oxygen in the atmosphere, to which letters from the alphabet were missing from the periodic table (the answer was J and Q.)

JJ perked up when she heard the last question: “What are people who study or collect butterflies called?”

“Lepidopterists!” She said, triumphantly before the MC even listed the options.

Everyone looked at her, surprised about her beating even Reid to the punch.

“I- uh,” JJ stammered, “I collected butterflies as a kid.”

JJ caught Emily smiling at that. She looked away, embarrassed. 

Next was music, which, between Hotch and his impressive understanding of dad rock and Penelope’s encyclopedic knowledge of current pop music, and Derek’s well-rounded passion for all genres, they did fine. Reid pouted, as his eidetic memory doesn’t quite work for things he hasn’t read. 

JJ, unfortunately, was not any help. JJ liked music, but she did not bother memorizing facts about writers or sampling or anything like that. She just liked listening to it. 

After that was sports, and that topic went by quickly with JJ, Derek and Hotch answering the questions with a high degree of confidence. 

Hotch, who was already writing aggressively and getting into it, wrote more and more excitedly, and on the second to last sports question—about the composition of a baseball—he snapped the lead off the pencil right off. 

This caused sheer chaos. 

With no writing utensil, one more answer to write down, they scrambled. JJ shrugged helplessly, typically known as the mom friend in her group, she felt bad that she had nothing to offer. After a moment, Penelope discovered a fluffy pink gel pen she found at the bottom of her purse. 

“Is the ink pink, too?” Hotch asked, raising an eyebrow. 

He tried writing. The ink was pink and sparkly. 

“Yes, sir,” Penelope replied. 

“Did you just call me ‘sir’?”

“I don’t know what came over me.”

During the brief intermission between Sports and Television, somehow the Salem witch trials came up in conversation. (It was actually because Penelope had mentioned the Blair Witch Project and Spencer misheard, but that’s neither here nor there). 

“She was four?” JJ demanded, “That doesn’t seem right.”

“Oh I read about this,” Penelope said, “Dorothy something, she was accused of witchcraft alongside her mother.”

“Dorothy Good, also referred to as Dorcas Good, was only four years old when she was arrested in 1692. According to her accusers, she had allegedly bitten them on their arms. She was actually placed in jail and interrogated by Salem officials where they took the fact that she had a pet snake as proof that she was a witch, as the snake would serve the role of her animal familiar.”

“She was a child,” JJ said, horrified.

“Yup,” Spencer replied, unfazed. JJ frowned but continued writing. 

The last one was television, which was very clearly Penelope’s favourite. 

“Friends ended in May 2004 after how many seasons?”

“Oh I know that one,” Hotch said, “Seven.”

Hotch wrote that down in pink ink, the fuzzy pom-pom danced as he wrote.  

“Amy Poehler, Rob Lowe and Chris Pratt worked together on which US comedy series?”

“Parks and Rec,” Penelope said, “Parks and Recreation, God, I should rewatch that. Such amazing girl-power vibes in that one.”

“What were the names of the two government agents played by David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson in the 1993-2002 series X-Files?”

“Special Agent Fox Mulder and Dr. Dana Scully,” Emily said with a smile. 

“Wait, you too Prentiss?” Derek said. “Nerding out with Reid tonight.”

“Guilty as charged,” Emily said, “What can I say, I’m a sucker for Gillian Anderson.”

JJ’s mind stuck on that comment. Was she simply a fan of the acting? Or was she implying some sort of attraction to the actress. JJ did not ask. Her mind was wandering for too long, all while looking at Emily, that she missed the next question. 

Whatever it was, Hotch was informing her that the answer was ‘72 survivors’. 

Questions about Saturday Night Live, The Office, Scooby-Doo and a few old-timey shows that they didn’t recognize followed. 

“The last question for the night!” Tara announced, “It’s been lovely being your MC for tonight. I hope you all had as much fun as I did. You ready?”

The crowd cheered.

“Ok this one’s for all the nerds out there: what sci-fi series premiered in 1966?”

“Star Trek: The Original Series,” Reid hissed, struggling to keep his voice down. “Which was the beginning of a franchise that has now lasted over fifty years, spanning nine television series, thirteen films and assorted shorts, video games and novels.”

“Ok Mr. Spock,” Emily laughed, “Thank you for your brain.”

“Spock’s Brain is actually one of the best episodes in the Original Series,” he replied, JJ couldn’t tell if he had made a joke or was simply spouting another fact. 

As trivia wrapped up, and the scores were being tallied, the bar roared back to life, with music booming and the attendees milling about near the bar, back at the darts and grouping around the tables.

She found herself chatting with Hotch and Penelope, about some question they were unsure about, but her eyes were fixed on Emily and Derek. Derek had a hand in the small of Emily’s back, guiding her past the crowd near the bar. 

JJ wondered if there was really something more there, despite Penelope’s encouragement of her crush on Emily. Maybe she was already into Derek? He was very affectionate with all of his friends, especially Penelope, so maybe it was nothing. But still, Emily seemed to be reciprocating. 

But the hand didn’t leave, it held her close, almost protectively, something a boyfriend would do. 

JJ turned away, pushing the thoughts away and slamming the last of her third beer, scanning for where Spencer had run off to after the game wrapped up. He was seated with two other people at a table near the back, talking excitedly at them while they looked at him with rapt attention. Out of curiosity, she wandered over.

Maybe she can hang out with Spence as she banished the strange feelings of jealousy burning in her chest.  

“Return to tomorrow?” the girl asked Spencer, leaning over the table in excitement.  

“Return to tomorrow, season two, production number fifty-one,” Reid replied, “An alien named Sargon takes over Kirk’s body while two others take over Spock and Dr. Mulhall.”

JJ frowned, she had no idea what he was talking about, but recognized that it seemed like the plot of an episode of Star Trek.

“Alien races appearing?”

“Trick question, a race is never identified. Sargon is a disembodied mind?”

“Dr. McCoy quote?”

He looked stumped for a moment. 

“Five, four, three, two-”

“I will not peddle flesh, I’m a physician!” He concludes enthusiastically. 

This all appeared to be an extension of his trivia game. JJ was happy that he was making friends, despite him worrying that he wouldn’t fit in at a bar, he seemed to have found his people. 

JJ gave him an affectionate pat on his shoulder before passing, on her way to the dart board. With Reid occupied, Derek and Emily flirting at the bar and Hotch and Penelope hitting it off, JJ decided to show some random boys up.

It would make her feel better.

There was a pair already at the board, tossing the darts fairly inaccurately. JJ asked if she could join, batting her eyelashes in a way she knew would grab their attention quickly. 

They immediately welcomed her in, handing her some darts. She hit the nineteen, twenty and dead centre in quick succession. The rush of the game kept away her earlier feelings of jealousy, centering her in the moment and her goal.

The boys were floored. JJ was good at darts. 

She played three rounds, slamming them each time easily. Amateurs. They were drunk, aggressive with their throwing, all force no finesse. Typical men.

After the third round, they left for the bar, offering to grab her a drink to celebrate her win, she followed close by, knowing better than to leave a drink unattended, but also not passing up the opportunity to drink for free when it was a silly boy paying. 

Maybe she should rebound after her break up and sleep with a random man. She looked at the man in front of her, he was tall, with dark hair and hazel eyes, wearing a tight fitting white shirt. His companion had sandy brown hair and dark eyes, but neither of them were stirring anything in JJ’s heart. Both were objectively attractive, but neither were the beautiful brunette that lived across the hall. 

JJ accepted her drink graciously, knowing she had to fill another few minutes of small talk before it was appropriate for her to rejoin her friends. 

The one boy was telling her about darts, in detail, despite the fact that she had informed him that she did know how to play, and had just beat him at the game. 

“Can I steal JJ from you guys for a sec?” She felt a hand on her bicep and Emily’s sweet voice in her ear.

JJ turned and the taller girl was next to her, her hand resting lightly on her bare arm, feeling electricity where their skin touched. 

“Uh, yeah,” the brown haired boy said, JJ didn’t remember his name, “Of course.”

JJ smiled apologetically before allowing herself to be led away.

“Thought you could use an out,” Emily whispered in her ear, “You looked bored.”

“Thank you,” JJ replied. “I was.”

They stopped further down the bar, standing close, with Emily looking down at her, their hips brushing each other. JJ could smell her perfume over the ambient smell of alcohol, bar food and the old building. 

“Men,” Emily laughed, “Am I right?”

They laughed. JJ wasn’t sure exactly what she meant but she thought she got the gist. JJ gulped down a sip of her drink, a vodka soda that the boy had chosen for her. 

“Speaking of, are you and Derek, uh,” JJ asked, nervously, “A thing?”

Emily’s eyes widened, and her lips tugged into a smile, she began to laugh. 

“Derek Morgan?” She guffawed, “Absolutely not, that boy is like my brother. Oh my god, JJ you thought we were together?”

JJ felt herself sigh a breath of relief, hoping that it was not visible on her face.

“I just saw how he was at the bar,” JJ explained, “I just assumed.”

“Oh that,” Emily smiled, “I asked him to basically pretend to be my boyfriend, a beard if you will. Keeps guys hands from wandering.”

JJ frowned, that she could empathize with. 

“But no, we’re very much just friends.”

JJ looked over to their table: Derek, Hotch and Penelope were currently playing a game that seemed to consist of tossing coins into Reid’s empty soda can. 

There was a comfortable silence for a moment, both girls listened to the music, standing closely, closer than they needed to. 

Emily ordered them another round, and by that point JJ had given up protesting, realizing that this is just what Emily did. 

Grabbing their drinks, Emily handed JJ’s to her. They smiled and raised their glasses in cheers. 

“To new and old friends,” Emily said, “and to us winning at trivia!”

“I can drink to that!” 

Both accidentally raised their arms too enthusiastically, their glasses crashed together. Emily’s grip slipped and the glass went tumbling out of her hand, right onto JJ. She was suddenly damp and sticky, the liquid soaking through JJ’s thin shirt. 

“Oh my god,” Emily gasped, “I’m so sorry.” 

“Shit,” JJ gasped, putting her own drink down onto the bar and stepping back. “It’s ok, it was both of our faults.” 

“Let’s get you to the bathroom,” Emily said, with a hand pressed to the small of her back, leading her away from the bar. As an afterthought, Emily grabbed JJ’s drink and carried it with them.

A few people gave her concerned glances, one patron offering her a small napkin that did basically nothing. JJ wasn’t mad, it was fully an accident, but now she was just desperate to dry off. 

Now, JJ was acutely aware of Emily’s hand on her lower back. Warm and firm, it guided her into the bathroom. 

As soon as the door shut, the silence made JJ’s ears ring. Emily had turned to the paper towel dispenser, yanking probably four feet of it off and bunching it up before handing it to JJ.

It was a small bathroom basically just the room, one sink and no hand dryer, much to JJ’s sadness.

JJ hoisted herself up onto the counter, taking the paper towel from Emily, patting her shirt hopelessly. The alcohol soaking into the cotton and leaving the shirt a noticeably darker blue. JJ sighed. 

“I’m such a klutz,” Emily said apologetically. “My mom always was on my case for it.”

“It’s not your fault, Em,” JJ said, “it was an accident.”

Emily grabbed more paper towels, moving closer and helping her, patting on the shirt, over her stomach. 

JJ held her breath, realizing that Emily was so close. JJ could look up, see Emily’s face, looking concentrated, with her perfect red lips right there. Her strong hands were carefully dabbing at her shirt, fussing over JJ in a way that made her heart skip a beat. Emily’s collarbones led down to her chest, visible with her low cut chest. JJ felt herself blush, looking up to the ceiling, feeling embarrassed at these thoughts. 

JJ’s top hadn’t changed much, besides it feeling a bit less damp, it still showed the liquid clear as day. 

“This is doing just about nothing,” JJ sighed, clearing her throat. “Maybe I should just go home. It’s getting late anyways.”

“Nonsense,” Emily said. “You can wear this.”

JJ’s jaw dropped as Emily shrugged her plaid shirt off her shoulders, revealing her tank top underneath and handed it to her. JJ took it, dumbly, closing her mouth but saying nothing. 

Emily turned around, clicking the lock on the door, and leaning her shoulder against it, just in case. She took a sip out of JJ’s glass, casually, as if JJ was not about to take her shirt off behind her. 

Emily’s back was to her, but JJ sat, frozen, holding this new shirt in her hand. JJ pulled her wet shirt off, very aware of being naked in front of Emily. Well, shirtless, with her white bra visible, but still feeling incredibly naked. 

She quickly buttoned up the plaid shirt, it was oversized and a warm grey with hints of green and navy, feeling very incredibly soft. 

Warm and dry, JJ felt the shirt envelop her in what felt like a hug. A hug from Emily. 

JJ hopped off the counter and smoothed out her new shirt, Emily’s shirt. JJ folded up her wet shirt and held it in her left hand. The other girl turned and looked JJ up and down, with an unreadable expression on her face. 

“You look good,” Emily commented. 

“Thank you,” JJ managed. 

They stared at each other, for a moment, the room filling with a tension that made her shiver. The music thumped from the other room, but JJ’s heartbeat was deafening. She had accidentally stripped a layer off of Emily, and desperately wanted to take more off of her. Emily’s black tank was riding up, revealing a small strip of her stomach above her high waisted jeans. Emily’s face was flushed from the alcohol, her pale skin becoming pink on her cheeks and nose. JJ thought back to that morning when she had caught Emily in her PJs, of what she knew was under her shirt. This too hugged her curves, revealing hints about what lay beneath. 

“We better get back,” JJ found herself whispering. 

The bathroom was small, so the two of them were packed together in the tiny space. Emily suddenly leaned forward, closing the distance between them, reaching her hands out towards JJ. 

JJ’s heart raced, unsure what to expect. Was Emily going to kiss her? No. Why would she? Oh my god what if she was? 

Emily’s hand carefully fixed her collar, tugging on it slightly. 

“There,” Emily whispered, “you’re perfect.”  

JJ closed her eyes at the feeling of Emily’s hands on her. Sighing slightly. 

She chastised herself for being silly. Emily was just fixing her collar. Being a good friend. 

“Let’s get back,” JJ said. 

“If we have to,” Emily replied. JJ tried not to read into that too much.  

They returned to their table, squeezing back in tightly with their overcrowded group of friends. They were in a heated debate about the Zodiac killer. Neither girl knew how the conversation got there, but Emily immediately joined the conversation. 

After a few minutes, and after quite a few sly looks from Penelope, the MC tapped on the mic, gaining the audience's attention. 

“We officially have a winner!” Tara announced, “With 36 points, it’s Counter Intelligence!”

Their table erupted in cheers. They had won! There were a flurry of high fives, hugs and fist bumps in their celebration. 

Tara, the MC came over to their table to congratulate them. She told them that they had beat out the second place by one point. 

“Impressive work everyone,” Tara said, “that’s close to a high score, and these were hard questions.”

“We have a great team,” Penelope said with a grin. 

“I can tell,” Tara replied. “Are you all going to come back next week? It’s Halloween themed!”

They looked at each other, then nodded at her. It was a plan. 

“See you then!” Tara said. 

She gave them their prizes, which were mugs with the bars logo printed in white on the green mugs. She would treasure it. 

JJ finds herself yawning, catching the eye of Emily, who said: “we better get JJ to bed, looks like she’s fading.”

Please, JJ thought sleepily, resting her drunk head on her hand, take me to bed.

Sitting down, JJ’s five or so drinks had hit her hard, and she dreaded standing up and risking stumbling. She was drunk. JJ wasn’t a light weight, but over their time at the bar, she had gotten quite a bit of alcohol into her system. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” JJ could feel Penelope grab her arm and hoist her up. JJ leaned on her, feeling a warm affection for her friend in the moment. 

Together, they walked home in the cold night air. Laughing, chatting and walking together amicably, all holding their prizes in hand. JJ leaned into Penelope’s side, feeling warm despite the chill of the air. Something felt incredibly right about that moment, those people. 

She didn’t want it to end. 

They went their separate ways from Hotch once they got to campus, bidding him farewell, not before Penelope added him to a group chat titled “The Team 🕺” in reference to their trivia playing. Hotch promised he’d join them all again next week. 

Once they climbed the stairs to their floor, Reid continued up to his room and the four of them found themselves trying to quietly return to their rooms without getting caught by the RA. 

Despite being served for the entire night, if they got caught drinking underage they would get in a lot of shit, especially Derek and JJ on their athletic scholarships. 

Muffled whispers and giggling filled the air as they walked through the common room.

Derek hugged them all goodbye—he seemed to be a hugger JJ surmised—and went to his room down the hall. 

“Oh!” JJ said, spinning to face Emily in the hall. Penelope had already entered their dorm, with the door closing behind her. “I can give your shirt back tomorrow! I can… er… wash it for you. It probably smells like beer now.”

Emily gazed at her, from over her shoulder as she unlocked her door, looking JJ up and down.

“Keep it,” she said. “It looks good on you.”

JJ would swear she saw Emily wink at her, but couldn’t be sure. 

Emily disappeared into her dorm room, and JJ went into hers. 

She slept with the shirt folded neatly next to her pillow, the smell of Emily’s perfume filling her senses as she dreamt. 

[sunshinesholland]

the one (and all the others) | t.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word count: 3.16k

Summary: Everyone in your life knows how much of a hopeless romantic you are. You’re constantly diving into things headfirst, and expecting a fairy tale ending. You tend to laugh off any remarks your friends make, take them in stride, as it’s kind of commonplace in your friend group to joke about your romantic escapades. But this time it feels different.

Warnings: swearing, angst/pining, mention of shitty past relationships, allusion to PTSD 

A/N: Again, it’s kind of based on some personal stuff. Getting back into writing is easiest when its based on self experience for me. I have the rest of this mostly written out, so let me know if you like it!

part one || part two || part three

New York winter has brought with it snow, accompanied by a brisk wind that harasses anyone caught outside. Lucky for you, you’re inside and warm in the shelter of your favorite cafè with a good friend and hot coffee.

“He said he couldn’t stop thinking about me since first semester,” you gush, “he said whenever he sees the film I did my midterm on in class, he thinks about me.” 

You’re practically swooning, your vanilla latte in one hand, and an earl grey tea in the other. Zendaya, reaches for the cinnamon among the array of wooden sticks and sweeteners as you continue your story.

“Yeah, I’m sure the guy has watched Love Jones so much the past four months,” she comments, smile on her face as she takes a taste-sip of her coffee. Satisfied, she begins walking with you to the usual table. It’s tucked in the corner with a view of both the wooden-framed windows and the small stage where a guitarist plays softly. 

You continue speaking as though you didn’t hear her smart remark, “I mean he’s got an accent, and he’s really cute too, Z. I didn't even present the analysis that well, you know I had work and that huge paper for music theory class due,” you babble, and she just sips her coffee and listens.

The bell atop the cafe door chimes and the cold breeze from outside manages to reach you in the corner. Your eyes flicker up to Tom as he begins walking over, shaking the snow out of his hair, his curls slightly damp and his cheeks pink.

“What were you guys talking about?” He asks, shrugging off his jacket and sliding into the seat beside you.

He smiles at you as he grabs the tea you’ve ordered for him, a silent thank you despite the fact that you do it for him every time you arrive before him. 

“I was just telling Daya about the guy from our film history class last semester,” you grin, “you remember him?”

How could he forget? You gushed over him then too, and the bastard was bold enough to make advances towards you during class discussions. Not to mention the times when he would stop the two of you on your way out of class to flirt, while Tom would have to wait for you and watch it all unfold.

You and Tom have known each other since day one of university, when you complimented him on the Spider-Man pin on his backpack. It was the pin his baby brother Paddy had given to him before Tom left to attend university in the states, and your complimenting of it instantly made him warm towards you. He’s been friends with you since he held the elevator for you, the same day you both realized you’re neighbors at the same apartment complex. He’s been your best friend since the day you stayed up all night with him after having only known him a month. He was stupid enough to put off writing an important paper for his literature class until last minute and you still stayed up with him all the same. You brewed coffee and kept him company, making him laugh all night long all while encouraging and motivating him. 

And he didn’t realize at the time but he’s been in love with you since he called you at 11 PM, heartbroken, and despite the fact that you went to sleep hours ago and had work early the next morning, you didn’t let him wait past the second ring before answering. You were up and knocking at his door moments later, still in sleep shorts and a t-shirt, half awake. You met his bloodshot eyes and hugged him tightly, there to be whatever he needed at that moment. You let him ramble and cry into your shoulder while you stroked his hair. You watched over him while he drank to numb the pain, and you were there to rub his back the next morning for the aftermath. He knows he isn’t exactly special, you’d do this for anyone you care for and somehow it makes him love you more.

When he did realize his feelings, he didn’t make a move, as you were in a toxic on-again, off-again relationship, and you didn’t need anything else on top of what you were going through. The love from the way you valued him as your closest friend was enough for him. It’s possible he would have outgrown the crush, but after one night, everything changed. And the worst of it all is that the two of you don’t talk about it, or even acknowledge that it happened. But that’s how it always goes right? It’s good until it’s not.

Tom is pulled out of his thoughts and reminiscing when Zendaya asks, “When’s the date with prince charming then?”

“It’s this weekend,” you mumble, looking past her to avoid her eyes.

“This weekend? Y/N, you said you’d come to Laura’s party with us,” her tone is criticizing because she’s fine listening to your interactions turned romantic narratives, but abandoning plans you’ve already made with your friends is where she draws the line. 

You avoid her eyes, looking down at your cup and then out the window at passersby on the street. You don’t want to be a bad friend, really, but it’s one night and you’ve been looking forward to the date since he asked you last week. And you really don’t like parties anyways. You don’t make a habit out of canceling plans, you truly try to be as reliable as possible, there whenever your friends need you. Your only fault is that finding love is almost as high on your list of priorities as your friends.

“I know but I’ll come to the next one. She’s always throwing parties and what difference does it make to miss one? I don’t even like parties either, I wouldn’t really be fun to have around anyways,” you try to reason your way out of the guilt.

“Yeah. Sure. Let's just talk about something else, okay?” She huffs, not wanting to argue and knowing you won’t cancel on prince charming. 

“Okay… Tom when are you going to ask out Perrie from downstairs? I think the whole complex is getting second-hand embarrassment from the poor girl’s obvious and multiple advances,” you grin, because anything to do with romance is welcomed by you. It doesn’t just have to be your love life.

He already feels sick because while Perrie is a lovely girl, she’s not you and no one else is either. Answering the question why he won’t ask out the pretty, single, and clearly interested girl is something he barely admits to himself. But lucky for him Zendaya is who she is in that she always seems to know what to do. Though she’s never had it officially confirmed, she knows on some level about you two. She’s your roommate and the three of you are all close and in the same friend group, and honestly, how could anyone miss the way you look at each other? More often than not, she gets back from work and finds you two asleep on the couch, scrunched up together under one blanket. If she comes home, and you’re not in your room all she has to do is walk across the hall and you’ll likely be at Tom’s. But again, Zendaya is who she is, and so she allows you two to define what you have the way you want. But she sees the color drained from Tom’s face, and for his sake, she changes the subject.

“Or... we could talk about the fact that I got offered my first modeling job!” she exclaims, effectively taking the heat off of Tom.

Your supportive friend nature kicks into overdrive, Perrie from downstairs long forgotten, as you gush over how much your friend and roommate deserves this and so much more. Tom gives Zendaya a half-hearted smile, which she returns before chatting with you about the details.

—

“I really do think he could be the one,” you smile back in the mirror, while Tom searches through your display of Spider-Man comics. 

You’ve been best friends for so long and you live across the hall so it’s only natural that Tom comes to keep you company when you get ready for your dates. No matter how often he's there, or what feelings he has, he wouldn’t ever turn down an opportunity to spend time with you. 

He grabs your favorite issue, the front page worn as a result of how often you read it. You could cover them in slips and store them on a dusty shelf, preserving their value. But you’re a firm believer of loving what you have, not shielding it away to protect it, and maybe that applies to more than just comics. He drops onto your bed unceremoniously, looking up to meet your eyes in the mirror. You finish curling the last section of hair that frames your face, unplugging the iron afterwards.

“I don’t think you can really call him the one, if he’s the tenth you’ve called that so far this year,” he replies light and jokingly, despite the insensitive words he’s spoken. He’s the only one who’s never poked fun at your dating habits, but maybe it’s just the mention of the prince charming from film history.

Although he may be joking, he’s right. You glance down at your vanity, a mess of makeup and hair products showing just how much effort you’ve put in the last forty-five minutes. No matter how many first dates you go on you’re always saying things like this. Most everyone in your life makes remarks like this and usually you would let it slide and laugh or brush it off. But it’s Tom, who knows better than anyone the heartache you’ve experienced and how even though you refuse to admit it, it’s a coping mechanism. You’d like to think your past doesn’t define you and so you tell yourself you’re in love and hopeful, but the trust issues and self sabotaging comes shortly after. Tom should know that, having seen the relationship that was responsible for the cycle and the beginning, quick middle and eventual end of every relationship since. 

So you’re immediately defensive at the fact that your best friend would make some comment like this. He lifts his head up at you, as you spin around to face him.

“And why can’t I?” You ask and Tom opens his mouth to reply but you’re continuing and challenge him further, “What’s so wrong with being a hopeless romantic, with feeling things deeply?” You question, not waiting for a response as you continue.

“There’s not one person in my life who hasn’t said shit like this to me! Out of all people I thought you would understand,” you raise your voice, hurt evident in your tone. 

“You know how hard it was for me. I’m just doing my best to hold myself together, and I’m an adult, if this is how I decide to cope, I’m allowed to!” You’re shouting now, standing and pacing around your room in frustration.

“I’m just hoping there’s someone out there who is willing to love me kindly and fully, and I think I’m perfectly justified holding out for that,” your voice softens, your back is facing him, posture slumped as you huff, overwhelmed with emotion. 

Your frustration is tangible in the air and Tom blinks, placing down the comic book before scooting to the edge of the bed towards you. You tend to laugh off remarks, take them in stride, and it’s kind of commonplace in your friend group to joke about your romantic escapades. 

He feels unbelievably guilty, he never would’ve said something if he was aware you felt even one one-thousandth as upset as you’d just displayed. He had been there for the awful relationship that had you sick with heartache. He’d been the one Zendaya would come to when you’d refuse to leave your room for anything but classes, if even that. He just feels idiotic for not connecting the dots, he just thought you were strong for having such an open heart after everything. You’re always compassionate and supportive others and you’ve definitely helped him through his fair share of heartbreak, and wow he feels like a dick. Whether it’s orchestrated by heartache or not, he admires that you’re willing to keep trying despite everything. He only wishes he was brave enough to bare his like you always have.

“Hey,” Tom speaks softly, reaching for your hand and slowly turning you around to face him, “I’m sorry, Y/N, I never realized this is how you felt,” He mutters, tone gentle, coaxing you to turn to him.

Tears have managed to well up in your eyes and if he didn’t feel like a huge jerk before, he absolutely does now. But it’s really not about him, it’s about his best friend who he’s unintentionally made feel invalid in her feelings. You’ve never once asked him to justify how he’s feeling, or poked fun at him for his emotions. Well, except... maybe when he broke his pinky finger in a fit of anger, after having punched the face wall when his team lost the European championship (though you did apologize for it and you grabbed him ice right after). 

“It’s, erm, it’s fine, it’s stupid anyways,” you mumble back, voice unsteady as you try to blot your tears away with your sleeve in an attempt to prevent your makeup smearing. You’re just overwhelmed and it all bubbled over. Tom has never said anything like that before and it was dramatic to blow up at him like that, you think. 

“It’s not, N/N, and you know that. You’re crying and I know you hate crying and so I can tell you’re upset. Even if you don’t want to admit it, I’m still sorry,” He apologizes, rising to stand with your hand still in his. He pulls you into a hug, resting his cheek atop your head. 

“Thanks,” you murmur into his shoulder. It’s not completely his fault, because you really hadn’t voiced any sort of animosity for the jokes made about it. You never really talk about how hurt you are by the past either, not anymore than in passing at least. 

You just stand there for a minute, his hand stroking your hair absentmindedly, and he’s messing up your curls but it’s comforting because it’s Tom. Thinking to ask him to stop isn’t even on your mind. 

He’s thought about it before, but now more than ever he just selfishly wishes he was there before your ex, to see you unguarded and truly hopeful. Not as a coping mechanism, not as an extreme reaction to hurt, but to love because it’s all you know. Because maybe then things would have played out differently for the two of you.

He’s lost in his thoughts, stroking your hair and his other hand rubbing your back, your ‘getting ready’ playlist ends. Somehow the algorithm has decided to play One by Ed Sheeran, soft, melodic and completely dissimilar from the upbeat tracks playing a moment ago. But Tom couldn’t be more grateful, because if he closes his eyes he can almost pretend you’re at the before, and he had the guts to ask you out on the first day of class. If that was true, when you’re in your room with him now. You’d be aware of how he feels about you, and you’d feel loved in that kind and gentle way you’ve been hoping for, because you’ve never known anything else.

The soft ballad ends and when you glance up at him, the façade he’s formed fades away before his heart has the chance to beg it to stay.

“I don’t really want to go on this date anymore, I probably look a mess and I’m just...not in the mood for not finding ‘the one’ tonight. I’ve got you, and that’s enough for now,” you confess, smiling up at him. 

You say that, because as cheesy as it sounds, friends are a kind of soulmate too, and you’ve already found them. You can always look for ‘the one’ some other time. This revelation would feel sweet to any other friend, but to Tom, it hurts just a bit that to you he’s just a placeholder. 

He manages to crack a half smile at your heartfelt statement, because no matter how he feels, he’s lucky to have you. Even if only as a friend.

“So how about we order a pizza and watch New Girl for the fiftieth time?” You question, oblivious and smiling up at him before pulling away from the hug and wiping at your wet eyes.

Any other time he would stay in with you, happy to watch you laugh to the point where he’s grinning at just your reactions. But he’s gotta be a good friend too, because well, he’s in the same boat as you. Except he’s found the one, and he doesn’t want to leave. Yet he knows the right thing to do is to go to the party he promised Zendaya and Jacob (and previously you) that he would attend. Though he still isn’t happy to admit it to you.

“I was going to go to Laura’s party tonight…” Tom grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck, because he knows you don’t like parties and you’re likely emotionally exhausted on top of that. He’s only going because he’s made a promise, and really— trust him— there’s nothing he’d rather do than spend time with his favorite person.

“Could I maybe go with you?” You ask, because being with friends, even if you don’t like parties is better than sulking at home alone. 

Tom cracks a smile, and it’s easy to fall back into friend-mode with you. Because that’s what comes when it comes to you, before anything else.

“Well, I mean if you clean up I suppose I can just take you with me,” he teases you, “because I cannot show up with you like that.” He jokes and laughs as you shove him. 

This kind of banter is normal and makes your heart feel just a little less heavy in your chest, because Tom always manages to make you feel better.

“Okay, just let me text him and let him know I won’t make it, and then I’ll try and look better for you,” you reply, laughing all while rolling your eyes. 

You’ve got your phone in one hand texting, while your other wipes away at the makeup on your face. You’ve got a focused look on your face, squinting a bit because you don’t have the best eyesight and refuse to wear your glasses on first dates. But you look lovely to Tom, despite the crease between your eyebrows, your slightly opened mouth, and still smeared mascara. 

part two

[mdseavoy]

Untitled

01/19/20

It’s been awhile. I’ve lost a lot of the motivation and ambition I had coming out of treatment. I was happy to be home, but unhappy that home is now with my grandfather. I’m in an unhealthy environment for early recovery. I need more positive vibes. The lockdown has both my “roommate”, and I, getting shack happy. That motivation and ambition is still there somewhere, but for now, it is lost.

I have a lot to be grateful for. A couple of weeks ago I spent a Saturday snowshoeing, followed by, recording an original tune with a former bandmate and good friend. I’ve been friends with both of these guys since around kindergarten. It had been a long time since I had such an eventful day! It temporarily recharged me, but again, this environment it doesn’t take long to start feeling down. Still, I had a lot of fun and appreciate having good friends! I know some people have very few, if any, true friends. I have a lot.

This past Friday I graduated from my LiveOps 01/04/21 class. I completed two weeks of intensive training and a lot of homework. I ran into technical difficulties with my new computer and had to reinstall all of the companies software. For three days I could do very little. I had a lot of catching up to do, but I did it! I lost that ambition I had at the start of training, so I relied on discipline to complete the courses. When one tool in the toolbox doesn’t work, try another! I’ve collected a lot of tools over the years, I just haven’t been using them right.

It took a lot longer for my work equipment to arrive, so I was left with the scraps when it comes to picking shifts this week. I grabbed an evening shift on Saturday and Sunday. There were a lot of those open! Now that I graduated, I have my equipment, and I’m on the schedule, I am so proud of myself for this accomplishment. If you knew how I feel when my depression and anxiety kick in, you’d understand it was a major feat to apply myself as I did. I didn’t just pass the class, I know what the hell I’m doing. This job gives me an opportunity to work from home (and keep working from home just about anywhere I decide to move), earn good money and start paying and saving, and most importantly at the moment, it gives me something to do! This is just another major step in the rebuilding of my life.

I still plan to do construction work this summer, but I don’t know on what level. I may reboot Skyline, work for another company, or most likely, I’ll do freelance work here and there. Building is my passion, but “in these trying times”, it’s a good idea to have a backup job. I choose my own hours and have a minimum of only five hours a week to keep my position. Well, technically I’m an independent contractor working THROUGH LiveOps to provide SUPPORT to TurboTax (Intuit) customers. Even when I’m not building, I’m working for myself! All you need is a 1099, baby!

I’m grateful for Treatment Court. I’m glad I was given a chance. I don’t consider myself a criminal. I consider myself a sick man (alcoholism) who does criminal activities when deep in the bottle. I never would have done the things I did this summer sober. I wish I had kept that momentum going! I was stronger, happier, prideful, a success as far as I was concerned. The old demons came back, though. Apparently I wasn’t as ready as I had thought. Did I finally hit my rock bottom? I thought my suicide attempt HAD to be it. 

I am six months sober, now! I am on the right path! There’s no doubting that, but I was so SURE that I had won the war, and now I just don’t know... I’m just fighting. I don’t have half of the strengths I had during my last good stint of sobriety (ten months). Other addicts and my consolers have told me that I may just be humbled. Perhaps my last relapse had to happen. Maybe not. I’ll never know and it’s in the past, so there’s no sense in dwelling on it. I’m going to keep moving forward, even on the bad days, until there are almost no more bad days and I find peace. 

My next big ambitious adventure will be a camping expedition on the edge of my grandpa’s 40 acers. I plan to do it soon this month. I’ve camped in November, during deer season, with my brother Travis, but it was a warm November with only a dusting of snow. We’re experiencing a mild winter, so why not? I’ve always wanted to do it! No tent, limited supplies, and all alone. I’ll have my dog, Whiskey, with me. Other than that, alone with my thoughts and an escape from negativity. No news media, Facebook, politics, or a grumpy grandpa! Just me and my dog!

I tore my stomach muscles when I was DTing in the drunk tank in Iron River. I was puking THAT violently! I probably should have been in the ER. Nothing comes close to the withdraws I experienced in Houghton County, though! I literally thought I was going to die! I shit you not! I thought to myself, “God, please not in a jail cell!”

My hip has been bothering me a lot again lately. I think its from the snowshoeing, but I’m not giving that up! I do it on a daily basis at least for an hour, but sometimes I go out a couple of times or take ALL my trails and not just a single route. My dog and grandpa’s dog loves it as much as I!

I’m writing about health issues... time to end my post.

[larkfox]

( SAOIRSE RONAN, FEMALE, SHE/HER ) ⌇ have you seen LARKSPUR FOX around icaria? they are the TWENTY-SEVEN year old child of ZELUS. they remind me of HOMEMADE PROTEST SIGNS, SING-SCREAMING ALONG TO THE RADIO, and A HEAVY STACK OF HISTORY BOOKS. They’ve been on the island for 4 years. 

Lark comes in two volumes: Loud and VERY LOUD. An intellectually brilliant radical anarchist, she is prone to protesting against Icaria’s government and for a different cause every week. Although she’s certainly spread awareness for some significant issue, not every cause Lark champions is noteworthy… or even logical. Whoever is within her radar will inevitably hear an earful. She’s also a gigantic nerd- particularly history- so she knows a lot of stuff but lacks in common sense.

She has a very weird, codependent friendship with Steffi, whom is probably her best friend at this point because fate keeps shoving them in the same place. They are both very annoying for different reasons, and the two together can get chaotic. Important: Lark likes Steffi more than Steffi likes Lark, but Lark is more fond of people as a whole than Steffi.

You may be thinking: Lisa! Why do you have two bumbling, good-intentioned loud characters that can be irritating to others? Is Lark going to just be Chloe 2: Electric Boogaloo? Fair question. Lark and Chloe are self-aware in completely opposite ways. Chloe would never indulge in this kind of reckless behavior or be anything close to this argumentative. Anyway, I’ve basically written an essay about Lark below, so you can see for yourself.

Further information/bio:

Basics

A PhD candidate in History at Icaria’s University, she is keen on finishing her dissertation soon and trying to get a job at The Icaria Museum. If that doesn’t work, she supposes she will just have to see about becoming a professor or something. She’s so close to finishing, though, it’s palpable.

On the side, she does some copyediting and tutoring because living isn’t cheap. Sometimes she also does some music production, but that’s not a big thing.

Lark is a bit immature, and an absolute disaster at interpersonal relationships. She is heavily opinionated, and rarely keeps anything close to her chest. A gay mess, she didn’t have her first relationship until her early twenties. She has very mixed feelings about her demigod status (and her dad, whom she didn’t meet until he swung by to tell her about the disappearances and urge her to move).

Early Life

Her conception kicked off in a dramatic fashion. Diana Fox was a sixteen year  old teenager in Canada when she attended her first protests (various feminist ones, mostly). After one of them, she met up with a strange guy who just seemed to get it (also he seemed to like debating for fun). He (the god Zelus) was definitely too old for her, but she lied about her age, and ended up pregnant after a few trysts. Diana decided to keep the kid, but she most definitely wasn’t ready to be a mother. She named the child Larkspur because she thought it sounded cool, the flowers were pretty, and also she was kind of a punk who got a kick out of her kid being named after something poisonous. And that was about as much contribution as little Larkspur’s parents offered up in terms of upbringing for those early years. Gods weren’t about that sort of child-raising life, and Diana wanted to enjoy what remained of her adolescence.

Cecilia and Dale Fox stepped up, and raised their granddaughter. Larkspur adored her grandparents, even if they did not quite expect to have to raise a baby at their age. They were only in their late forties, but a grandchild to take care of had not exactly been in their plans while they were both still working. Cecilia’s job didn’t pay as well, so she took a few years off to be the primary caretaker for the little girl. When Lark was four, she was able to go to preschool, which helped everyone.

Larkspur frankly thought her name was embarrassing. What kind of mother named her kid after a poisonous plant? She was much happier to go by Lark in school, or even just Fox.

Even though her mother could have cared less about books and learning, Lark took to school rather well. She rarely had to study, and knocked out essays and reports without thinking too hard about it. Marks didn’t mean much to her, but she still skipped grade two. Even after that, she continued to excel in school.

A Turn for the Worse

When Lark was nine, Dale started to get sick, which inspired Diana to head back home. She moved back in, and tried to be more than a parent when it was convenient. Lark didn’t like that very much, so she clung to her grandmother, or shut herself up in her room for a while. The only time that Lark felt really close to her mom was when she took her along to protests.

Lark has absolutely been arrested for protesting before, but it’s never resulted in any real convictions. Her mom is the one who’s actually seen prison time. Lark actually thinks that’s very cool. Diana and Dale did not agree with the coolness level of any criminal activity, but did their best to point the kids (i.e. Diana and Lark) in the right direction.

Zelus

Lark thinks her dad sucks even if he’s supposedly one of the good guys. It doesn’t even matter that Zelus seemed to be the god of nothing good. She didn’t find out who her dad really was until Diana came back home and sat the family down. I will now present you with an excerpt of the conversation:

Diana: So I’m sure that you’re all wondering a few things.

Dale: Yes, I’m always wondering things, Annie.

Diana: About Larkspur’s dad!

Dale: Ohh. Yes, we’ve all been wondering about that.

Lark: I haven’t!

Diana: You haven’t?

Lark: Not really!

Cecilia: Grandpa and I have been wondering. Diana, where were you going with this?

Diana: Oh. Right. So it turns out he’s a god… Here, let me show you…

Lark: Is this a print-out from a Google search?

Cecilia: Her father is Zeus? Like the greek god Zeus?

Diana: No!! Zelus! There’s an entire extra letter in there. He’s like Zeus’ pal. Or at least that’s what I’ve read about on Google.

Lark: So he’s still a greek god. But like a discount greek god. Eh. Zeus is probably just as good of a dad as this one is.

Cecilia: Zelus. Like zealots. Oh. Oh no. Let’s just… Make sure nothing happens with that.

Dale passed away when Lark was twelve, which especially devastated his wife. Cecilia had gone back to work a while back, and she took the opportunity when it came up to transfer into a slightly better paying opportunity in the UK. It helped that she was born there, and still had aunts and cousins around. It was about time to move back. Diana wanted to stay in Calgary, but Lark wanted to go with her grandmother. Making her first mature decision in a long time, Diana conceded, and applied for jobs overseas.

Steffi

Lark had been poor at making friends in Canada, and this did not improve thousands of miles away. The person that she got on best with was Steffi, a recent transplant from Germany that did not seem to be fitting in well either. Since Steffi did not seem to have any friends either, Lark latched on immediately. The mean comments didn’t exactly phase her (especially because the older girl didn’t seem to outright hate the idea of being friends).

Her friendship with Steffi is… weird. Here are some helpful references: the entire main character group from Friends as two people. All of the characters from Derry Girls (including side characters) as two people. Rosie and Tanya from the MMCU (Mamma Mia Cinematic Universe). The Odd Couple. You get the picture.

Anyway, while they were very good friends, it still did not come up in conversation where they both settled on schools until acceptance time came. Heidelberg University’s History program was amazing, and Lark couldn’t turn down how reasonably priced German schools were. She casually-but-not-casually suggested that she and Steffi room together, and was pleasantly surprised to start the next year with a roommate that wanted to be friends.

After graduation, Lark and Steffi went to separate universities for graduate school, and conversation was not quite as frequent as Lark would have liked. She did start to make more like-minded friends in her Musicology masters program. The professors seemed not to hate her either; she was “a pleasure to have in class” but not the student with the highest grades. Oddly enough, she and Steffi just kept running into each other without planning on trips and the like.

Poorly thought through things that Lark has suggested to Steffi (list is not exhaustive):

Protesting for squirrel rights on their university campus at 2 AM (nobody else agreed to join her)

That they should have split custody of a shiny beetle that Lark found on the ground. She stopped trying to persuade her friend after the beetle started flying around the room

Marriage pact if they are both still single by age 42

Reenacting various historical scenes while sober

Road trip across Europe on a beercycle (with only two people)

It had never seemed like a good idea to mention her demigod status until Lark and Steffi bumped into each other… on Icaria. Overjoyed to have her friend back, Lark suggested rooming together again, but this was unfortunately shot down. She still spends quite a lot of time at Steffi’s apartment and vice-versa.

Powers

Power-wise, she has some control over the human voice, which she finds easiest to use for controlling the volume of her own voice. Lark can’t change the concepts of the sound, but she can alter the volume or “throw” the sound so it comes like it originates somewhere else. If Lark were actually interested in starting a cult or being a politician or something, she could use her superior control over the voice to make herself heard without distortion, and deafen the voices of those that opposed her. A loud enough voice could even cause real damage. Fortunately(?), Lark has little interest in all of that, and isn’t especially charismatic to begin with. She only really uses it to force people to listen to her when she’s trying to tell people something deemed important. Or to secretly help shy friends that don’t know how to project. Or to make annoying mansplainers stop talking over her. Or to make Steffi go shhh when she shows up in her apartment in the morning

[argylemikewheeler]

Ok but If/When Will comes out What would everyone’s reactions be? What ab Steve, what ab… just everyone I don’t even know but like,,, Especially w/Steve

|| Okay I love thinking about Steve and Will being friends. I really think that nurturing soul would love Will with his whole heart. And that’s a fact. So here we have Steve (and Jonathan) talking to Will. It’s sweet, it’s serious, BUT it’s mostly a lot of funny dialogue to keep it light. I’ve been writing mostly sad stuff lately so this is a happy funny one xo ||

Steve is at breakfast one morning. Joyce had work late the night before and is driving El to a doctor early that morning, so she isn’t around. Hopper is at work before Will even feels the sun come through his window. When Will comes down the hall and sees Steve at the kitchen table, munching on toast with Jonathan at the stove, he knows what it means. Well, like, he doesn’t really know what it means because what it’s supposed to mean doesn’t apply to his brother. Him and Steve are just friends. But, he knows what it could mean if Steve and Jonathan were both like Will. But they’re not. And he doesn’t want to think about it anyway. Not really.

That’s his brother. And that’s his old babysitter.

“Hey Will!” Steve says, placing his hand over his mouth but still talking with his mouth full.

“Hi.”

“Morning, bud.” Jonathan turns and waves with his spatula. “I’m making eggs if you want some.”

“I’m… not hungry.” Will isn’t sure why he’s uncomfortable. He shouldn’t be. There’s nothing weird about this situation. He just can’t help but feel the stark difference of how it would be if Jonathan woke up to Will and one of his male friends making breakfast. How would it read? Would Will be found out in a second–

It’s all very confusing to Will, but none more confusing than his head when he simply thinks about Mike. God, Michael Wheeler, just the name makes Will feel like he’s being choked. It’s like getting stabbed in the chest while the walls lean in and try to crush him to death. It’s not enjoyable. It’s the most painful love he’s ever felt. But it’s love. Will knows this and it’s horrible. No one would understand. Or at least he doesn’t think so.

“You’re sixteen. You’re hungry.” Steve says without chance for argument. “You were out late last night! What were you up to? Anything good?” Steve asks in a way that Jonathan scolds him for, but Steve pleads innocence.

“We went to the movies.” Will doesn’t remember the movie they saw. He was so distracted by the fact that he failed to end up sitting beside Mike he couldn’t pay attention. He was on the end next to his sister. She held his hand through all the scary parts– was it even scary? Will can’t remember feeling a single thing. He only remembers the sinking embarrassment warming his face as he thought about how hopeful he had been to be close to Mike. How fucking stupid.

“Have a good time?”

“I think so.” Will shrugs, pulling out a chair. “The ice cream was good.”

“Oh! So you got ice cream too! You guys had a full night out!” Will has a suspicion that Steve keeps talking in order to smooth over the awkwardness of being in the Byers’ kitchen in his pajamas. Will hopes his distracted, exhausted nature isn’t contributing to Steve’s running mouth. It’s not his fault. It’s so not Steve that’s the problem.

“I wish you would have told me you were going to get ice cream. I would have given you some money.” Jonathan says, looking at Will over his shoulder.

“I was fine. Mike owed me from the arcade the other day.” Will sits down and pulls his chair in. The metal legs are loud again the floor and cuts up the conversation. It leaves Will to think about Mike– touching his arm and assuring him he’d buy him his favorite cone without even asking what flavor– for just a second too long.

He feels sick. He feels anxious. God, he’s lovesick.

In the pause, Jonathan plates his pan of eggs and places it in front of both Steve and Will. He places a fork in Will’s hand firmly, giving him an in-arguable look. Will folds and prods the food. His brother checks his watch, twice, before muttering something about needing to get dressed sooner rather than later.

Has Will mentioned his brother is a terrible liar? Because this is the time to do so. Will was a master of deception, of keeping his truth feelings about boys and girls (or actually boys rather than girls) to himself, while Jonathan remained as open as a book. It’s a curse, Will thinks, at least in some ways. He has a brother that gets to date who ever he wants, and the only issue is that he can’t seem to cover up when he’s going out. Never who he’s meeting up with. But Will has to explain that no he won’t be taking a girl to prom. He can’t. He won’t. He’s in love with Mike Wheeler.

Jonathan leaves Will alone with Steve, like a strange set up, and goes back to the laundry room. Will pokes the eggs, debating whether or not he wants to cover them in pepper. Just so he can do anything but actually eat them. He thinks he’s going to throw up.

Steve moves and cross his legs under the table. He turns and faces Will more openly. Oh God, Will thinks, what did Jonathan leave Steve to talk to him about? Steve is… well, there’s a possibility that Steve is like Will. Like, a half chance. More than a half chance. There’s a rainbow sticker on the bumper of his car. There’s a least a pretty good chance. But if Jonathan left Steve with him that meant he knew and–

“Jonathan tells me you’ve been really weird lately.” Steve says without preamble.

“Oh. Wow. Thanks.”

“No, okay, not like that.” Steve puts his fork down. “No one is weirder than Jonathan. The man is an enigma. You are not even close, please. Don’t think you’re like him at all. You have friends, Will.” He laughs and Will feels warmed.

He snorts out a quiet laugh and lifts a forkful to his mouth. “Yeah.”

“He just means you seem off. You go to work, you come home, you sleep, you eat– well, sometimes you do. He says you’re quiet.”

“Hm.”

“And he knows you won’t tell him since he’s your brother, but, if you want to talk about anything, I’m your number one fan, kiddo. You know that.”

“I know… I know.” Will mutters, chewing. Steve sits up straighter, like he expects Will to start talking right then and there. Will lowers his eyes to his plate and denies him. “Thanks.”

Steve sighs but nods, patting Will on the shoulder as he stands. His back is turned as he pours himself a cup of coffee and Will is allowed the privacy to bite his lip and weigh his options– should he actually talk to Steve? It’s forced but it’s an opening. Will watches as Steve knows where all the mugs and spoons are. He’s fit into their house perfectly and quickly. He’s comfortable, knowing exactly what each moment and movement is evidently saying about him, about how close he’s choosing to feel to Jonathan. Even if Jonathan doesn’t feel the same way.

Will takes the bait.

“Hey, Steve?” Will tries not to roll his eyes as Steve turns around quickly, light in his eyes.

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course you can.” Steve sobers up with a sip from his mug. “Ask away. Just don’t ask what my GPA is, please. I’ve been keeping it a secret from Jonathan for years. He only hangs out with me because he thinks I’m smart.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Not with biology, I’m not.” Steve chuckles, sitting back down. “But, that’s not your question. Please. Go on.”

“Uh, I mean, you kind of answered it.”

“Your question was whether or not I’m stupid?” Steve lifts an eyebrow. Steve might not be  stupid, but Will sure feels fucking idiotic. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to ask… if, you know…” Will spins his fork around in a gentle circle. It’s incoherent, but then again so are his feelings for Mike. Nothing makes sense when he thinks about it– about how his heart doesn’t seem to understand what the rest of the world expects from him. “If you’re gay.”

“I am, yes.” Steve says it without a moment of hesitation. He doesn’t even laugh or have an uncomfortable grin to ease the tension. He admits it. He knows it. It sounds like he loves it. Pride had never looked so comfortable. “But you already knew that.”

“I- I- uhh.” Will knows it’s obvious now. Asking a question he already knew the answer to? That’s a dead give away; he just wanted to hear someone else admit it to give him the all clear. “I just wanted to check.”

“Check?” Steve repeats. “Something make you think I wasn’t?” He teases Will, reaching over and gently nudged his elbow on the table. “Was it my recent trip to New York with my male roommate or the sticker I have on my car that made it questionable?”

“You don’t look like it.”

“I don’t look gay.” Steve cocks his head, looking offended. “You say that like it’s a good thing… Does it bother you that I ‘don’t’?” Steve’s asking all the right questions. He is too good at this.

“No… I just wish that… wish that I didn’t…” Will mutters, his words fumbling together.

“That’s fair.” Steve shifts and crosses his legs again. “Does it bother you, people thinking that you are?”

“Steve, I am.” Will says quickly, the ending of his previous sentence rushing out before he can stop it.

Steve blinks. He smiles. “Does that bother you?”

“N-No. At least, I don’t think so. I’d just like to be able to keep it to myself for like, five seconds.” Will sighs, folding his hands in his lap. “I look like–”

“I don’t think it’s anything with your appearance, Will.” Steve cuts in. “I think it’s your fawning look at Mike.”

Will doesn’t even have an argument. He has no counterpoint to how hopelessly in love he must look to everyone. Mike must see it. God, he is a fucking idiot. Will wishes he hadn’t opened his mouth. Just knowing how embarrassing his feelings were was enough. He didn’t need other people to be aware of them too.

“Have you told him?” Steve asks. Will shakes his head. “Have you told anyone?” Again, Will shakes his head.

“No. I can’t tell anyone.”

“Well, whether or not I look it, I can keep a pretty good secret.” Steve reaches over and takes Will’s hand. “And you know what else? I promise I’ll forgive you for saying I don’t look gay if you promise to talk to me about whatever you’re feeling.”

“You don’t have to be my mom, Steve.” Will mutters, his eyes darting around. Anywhere but Steve’s kind and sincere look of concern.

“I’m not. I’m being your friend. Because it’s hard out there. When I was sixteen, I would’ve needed two beers and money to tell you I was gay that quickly. I don’t want that for you. And neither does Jonathan.”

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Will feels the walls start to lean in. He pulls his hand from Steve to prepare to hold them at arm’s length.

“No. No he doesn’t. But, I can tell you that he’s more than okay with me and I want to extend that feeling onto you. Tell him when you’re ready, but know he’s not a menace. He’s weird but he’s not a bigot.” Steve lets Will pull away and doesn’t reach for him again. Instead he turns the fork back toward Will. “Eat up before it gets cold.”

Steve turns back to the table and lifts his coffee cup. He clears his throat and minutes later, Jonathan comes back into the room. His clothes aren’t any different. He’s honestly the worst liar.

But Will isn’t, because he decides, in a burst of strange impulse and excitement, that there isn’t a lie he’s going to tell anymore.

“Hey, Jonathan?” Will says, taking another forkful of eggs. He holds it by his lips, ready to fill his mouth and silence him in a second’s notice. “Egg’s are good.”

“Oh, thanks I tried something a little–”

“And I’m gay.”

Steve spits up his coffee all over the table, coughing and choking. But he’s laughing; he’s completely grinning as he wipes his mouth.

“Wow.” He says to Will, coffee dripping from the tip of his nose. He looks like he’s shocked, like he wants to be just as scared as Will, but there’s something else. His eyes are getting glassy suddenly and his eyebrows are furrowing together ever so slightly. He’s tearing up. Pride took yet another form.

“O-Okay.” Jonathan says, lowering himself into the third seat. He looks absolutely sidelined. Will feels so powerful. He’s visible but he’s in control; heart eyes but stiff upper lip. “Umm, uh… Fuck, Steve what do I say?”

“Well ‘okay’ isn’t it.” Steve says with a laugh, still wiping his face and shirt. “Try ‘I love you’ or, oh, I don’t know, ‘I’m glad you told me’?”

“I– yeah. That. Proud. Love. Happy. All of it.”

“Jonathan, why are you acting so surprised? He didn’t tell you he killed someone. You’ve heard a lot more startling things from Will– from this whole town.”

“I am surprised!”

“Are you kidding!” Steve says, waving his arm out to Will.

“Hey, you said I didn’t look gay.”

“You told my brother he looks gay.”

“NO! No. I– stop. Both of you!” Steve places his hands on each of their shoulders. “As the in-house professional in this topic, may I?”

“You told my brother he looks gay.”

“I didn’t!” Steve sighs heavily, shaking his head. “I’m just saying, Jonathan you left me with Will. You left me with your brother after saying you thought something was wrong. To me, that kind of says something.”

“I didn’t think that! I thought he’d talk about his one annoying teacher or something.” Jonathan shrugs. Will blinks at the two men in front of him. He somehow doesn’t feel like the stupid one anymore.

“You left me, your only gay friend with your brother, who you’ve told me you feel like you can’t quite understand about some things, because you thought he was going to approach me about… academia? Jonathan, I’m an idiot!”

“You are not.”

“I am! I’m gay and I’m stupid but God, you’re worse. You’re straight and clueless!”

“Sounds like Mike.” Will mutters under his breath, continuing to eat.

Steve turns his head quickly to catch Will’s mildly-dejected expression. Will expects a scolding or a pep talk, but Steve just starts laughing again. He points at Will, tapping the table near his plate. “We have a winner: gay and hilarious.”

Will can’t help but smile too. Gay and. Not gay but. It’s a positive. Will hasn’t been changed by admitting anything, just like Steve. He was still able to sit at their table and have coffee. Will is still able to eat with his brother. His life is still in tact. The walls are still far away, giving him space to breathe. It’s freeing, to know that if anything, no matter who loves in him return, Will still loves himself.

“Thanks for telling me, Will.” Jonathan says finally. Correctly. “Have you told Mom? Any of your friends?”

“No. God no.” Will laughs. “You think I want to tell Mike? Ha. No thanks.”

The table stills. “Why don’t you want to tell Mike?” Jonathan took Will’s approach; asking a question he already knew the answer to.

“Nope. Nope. One confession per day. No no no.” Will says, pushing back from the table. “I’m not falling for that.” It was bad enough Will was falling for something, someone, else. He didn’t need to fall face first into never-ending embarrassing torment for having a crush on his childhood best friend.

“Okay.” Steve says, placing a hand on Jonathan’s arm, stopping him. “Okay. You don’t have to talk about Mike. Or any boy. That’s your business. But if you need an ear. We’re here, okay?”

Steve has coffee stains on his shirt and Jonathan still looks like he’d seen a ghost, but they were still the two faces of the only people who were truly seeing Will. They were still able to look him in the eyes— this time not wistfully staring at his best friend– and smile back at him.

Maybe not all coming out situations would end like this for Will- well, hopefully not, he didn’t like bearing his soul in his pajamas that much– but this was at least a safe first time. Maybe with his friends it’d go different. Maybe Mike would turn away with a look of fear and disgust, but at least Will knew what acceptance looked like. That was his first memory of being an honest teenager. Sure, there were many other memories of being loved that Will had to hold close, but this one felt special. It was finally a secret that felt good to keep.

ao3

[hael-yes]

It's just... completely impossible to get ahead. Actually not even get ahead just fucking catch up. Just as I reach a point of a single paycheck off of being able to pay off enough of my credit cards to be able to apply for the place I want to rent another financial and emotional disaster happens. My cat started having breathing issues and I needed to take her to an emergency facility that is looking like its gonna cost me around $3,000 in medical bills since she has to stay there multiple days for observation. I have $13 in my account. I had to apply for carecredit with my roommate to cosign and that is going to be nearly maxed out if not maxed out by the end of all this. So not only am I sitting here freaking out my pet is sick and having to be in the vet hospital but now my credit might tank... again.. I'm just... I'm just not allowed to catch up it seems. As soon as it seems like I'll be able to stand up again my feet get swept out from under me.

[insert-bacon-emoji]

Vent Post

I’m on the verge of a breakdown or worse. This isn’t one of those begging for money types, because I couldn’t live with myself. 

I work a shitty $9 job for 20 hours a week. I can’t find another job and I’m getting desperate. I’m about to get 2 strikes at that job for going on my last ever family vacation, because I’m going away for 5 days. 

They’re probably about to fire me anyway. just looking for a couple of reasons why. They hire me to do maintenance. They expect to have the following done at exactly 9:30, though they’d much rather that be closer to 9. In 2 hours, I have to 

1) Clean, stock, sweep, and mop both of the bathrooms.

2) Clean, stock, sweep and mop the break room. WITHOUT getting underfoot of everyone’s breaks. AKA, I motherfucking can’t okay?! People gonna have to start tiptoeing around the wet floor sign or wear better shoes. I almost got written up for that the other day. The customers don’t have an issue treading lightly, but my stuckup coworkers seem to. 

3) Take out the trash.

4) Sweep, spot mop, and buffer THE ENTIRE STORE. 

They made it clear that if there’s a SINGLE dust bunny floating around by 9:29, well I better see if the BBQ place next door is hiring. I have the next 4-5 days to clone myself/ find a job on top of the second job I’m already trying to find. 

I don’t have a car, so I depend on the city bus. I would depend on my roommates, but they’re never home. Plus I don’t have the money to pay them for gas. 

I’ve never been so hungry and I’m getting desperate. Thank God my roommate’s girlfriend bought me some cans when I was sick, or I’d have passed out at work probably yesterday. I’m running out of those too. I’m down to one meal a day (7pm dinner) and believe me, I know something is fucked up health wise. I almost cried over a green bean yesterday. 

I want to apply for food stamps, but I don’t know how. I have no one to answer my questions. I’m ashamed to tell my parents that it’s already gotten to that point. 

Not to mention I fell down on the walk from work today. Bruised my ankle. Thank God I could limp home and steal my roommates icepacks. I don’t have any pain killers or compression wrap so might as well file for unemployment too. Though, I really hope the bitches across the street that pointed and laugh, get some really nasty karma if it hasn’t happened already. I’m thinking something smelly and embarrassing. 

Not to mention, I’m depressed. I mean that’s not news. This is all spiraling out of control. I’m probably less then a month from unemployment, food stamps, and some serious calls. I’m too afraid to hurt myself, but I can feel that fear waning. I work with dangerous chemicals and sharp objects. My roommates are never home. I feel like I’m burdening people who care for me, so I have no one to turn to. I can’t even afford therapy. 

[grey-kisses]

Hello, I'M IN A DESPERATE NEED OF A MIYUSAWA FIC, where mura gets sick and hides it in a game and failes, so miyuki feels a bit angry and guilty for not realising and plays the nurse for sawamura :) Thanks

In a weird form of irony, this is the request I finished first and also absolutely hated the most. Like, the idea of Eijun, who wants to make Chris proud and wants to be a worthy rival to Furuya, NOT confessing when he’s not in his best form is not a prompt I like, BUT I tried to work in the angle you seemed to want. I also did not bother looking up much about the medical information, not for a Drabble.—

Eijun felt fine when he had woken up that morning. His eyes were bright, his form looked in shape, his entire demeanor glowed as he set each practice pitch directly to Miyuki’s mitt. Bright smile and proud eyes, he looked at Miyuki from the distance had every right to feel good about being the starting pitcher in the practice match they had.

Miyuki teased him for his puppy-like excitement, and Eijun pouted, but he still seemed physically fine despite his boyfriend’s emotional torture. You can only tell someone he’s lucky to pitch so many times, but at least Eijun realized Miyuki was really proud of him and had full confidence in him. The fact that Miyuki brought them close together was a good indicator that he had full support from his beautiful catcher.

Then Eijun smelled the most wonderful scent when Miyuki brought him close for a side hug. A soft musk that had an almost sweet citrus aroma to it. Eijun could barely hold back, the smell of Miyuki driving him mad.

“Kazu, you smell so good. I’m happy you’ll be so far during the game, or I’d be so off if I had to smell that too close.”

Miyuki chuckled and ruffled Eijun’s hair. “We should get this scent all over you. Test your focus during a match with outside stimulus. Hm?” And Miyuki leaned in close over Eijun’s ear, whispering his words so sweetly, but Eijun could only think of that new cologne.

Eijun felt his entire body tingle, and the two took the extra warm-up time to warm up in their own unique way before the game. Hands all over, and bodies pressed against each other, they had a nice adrenaline boost to get them through the game.

Except the tingling from the make-out session never disappeared. Eijun’s body felt on fire, and his performance suffered. An itch in his arm at the second would throw of his pitch, and ache in his legs ruined his at-bats. Within only a bit more than two innings and three lost runs, Eijun got switched for Kawakami early on.

His throat felt dry and he felt so damn itchy. His eyes wanted to stay shut and he could barely be upset ruining the game’s momentum for Seido when he could barely even see the dugout. Only when he took off his jersey to put on the shoulder pack did the coach notice the giant rash spreading over Eijun. Red and full of awful tiny bumps, Eijun felt horrified at his own skin. Nothing seemed to be melting off, but the horrible feeling skewed his perception of how it looked.

And Eijun almost screamed, had tried to scream, but his throat dried and could only get a startled yell out.

“B-b-boss, what is this?” And the sheer panic in his eyes explained to the others he had no idea that he had the issue as much as they did.

Rei'a calming presence entered the scene, and assured Eijun he would be fine before excusing them both to see a doctor. The team seemed understanding about Eijun’s poor pitching when news from the dugout reached the fielders, but they could only regain so much momentum. Eijun complained and whined the entire time to Rei that he should have done better, and that he should have done better despite and physical ailments. Rei nearly lost her wits in the short car ride to the doctor, partially because she had to explain to Eijun very carefully that no player should have to ruin their body for a single game. Eijun calms down, barely, took as deep a breath as he could with his scratchy throat, and let himself figure out what was wrong before throwing another fit.—“Allergies?” Kuramochi asked with his face full of rice.

Eijun looked like he would grind his jaw in frustration. “CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?! Allergies! ALLERGIES? I cost us a match and a chance to prove my worth because of something in the air! NYNYNYNYNYN!” Eijun felt pumped with anger at himself and his stupid rash, scratching his head in frustration.

“You did well, all things considered,” Furuya added, soft but serious enough to make it that much more of an annoying comment. “It was only three runs in two innings.”

Eijun turned his eyes into cat-like slits. “I really hate you sometimes, you know,” Eijun mumbled, head still between his clenched hands.

“Hey, hey, don’t beat it too much. The coach doesn’t think that’s your usual, and doesn’t think it reflects you much. It’s like Furuya said, you only lost three runs for someone who could barely wear a mitt.” Miyuki grinned, but it was flat and his eyes showed that he had something further to say but didn’t.

“Mmmmmm! But I don’t even know what it was! Pollen, grass, sun, food, and everything else was the same!” Eijun crossed his arms and continued to pout.

“Hyaha! Sucks to be you! If the coach thinks it’ll happen again, you won’t ever play!” Kuramochi “teased” even though that fear had not crossed Eijun’s mind yet.

The dead weight of failure hung in Eijun’s face and stomach. “Never … play …”

Haruichi jabbed Kuramochi in the side, frowning at him before turning to Eijun. “If it’s never happened before then it may never happen again. You should keep an eye out for anything that could have set off your reaction from the things today.”

Eijun sighed and nodded. “I think I’ll take a shower early. I’m in no condition to practice.” Not that Eijun wanted to shower when the slight fragrance of Miyuki’s cologne lingered on his skin. Eijun cast one more longing look at Miyuki before heading out of the cafeteria.

Taking out his phone, Eijun noticed the few bumps on his hand that had calmed in their itchiness. [Hey I’m about to shower. Meet in ur room? i miss your smell]

Eijun threw his phone on the charger and grabbed a new set of clothes for after his shower. The phone stayed on his bed, and he felt no need to take it if he would just do the usual Miyuki meet-up. All he wanted was a nice, refreshing bath to ease his skin so he could apply the new skin treatment the doctor prescribed to him.

Eijun enjoyed the feeling of the water on his skin, but left earlier than usual to get a head start into going to Miyuki’s room. The door was unlocked, and he let himself in while the other inhabitants stayed out to practice. Eijun felt plenty of relief just laying on Miyuki’s bed and nuzzling into the sheets. A fault scent of Miyuki lingered on them, but nothing so nice as the new cologne he got.

Okumura came in first of the roommates, glaring the moment he entered the room and saw Eijun. “Shouldn’t you be resting and taking something to get yourself back to normal? Or as normal as you could be.”

Eijun stuck his tongue out. “Well, wolf-boy, I can’t say there’s anything quite as being in my boyfriend’s bed,” Eijun half-sang out, raising on calf into the air as he squeezed a pillow and buried his face into it partially. Eijun hid his grin under the pillow when Okumura looked repulsed enough to look away.

“I don’t know what you see in each other,” Okumura muttered, but his cheeks were a bit brighter than before. Before Eijun had a chance to ask where Miyuki went after dinner, Okumura already left, probably wanting to not be around when the lovebirds decided to make out again. Okumura almost looked cute when he felt flustered, but Eijun pushed that thought away immediately.

Thirty minutes had gone without anyone else coming in, and Eijun felt irritated, mostly physically. He packed his prescription in his bag, and right when he reached for it Miyuki walked into the room.

“Eijun? Why are you here. I said you shouldn’t come tonight,” and Miyuki’s face held more concern than annoyance. “Did you forget to take your phone again?”

Eijun averted his guilty face. “I wanted to see you. I need some support and cuddles since Boss is going to kick me out of first string now.”

Miyuki shook his head as he walked over to his bed. “You can’t walk in like that! I needed to spray my room down with cleaning supplies!”

“Why? It looks clean and organized enough.”

“Because I sprayed the cologne on in here. Are you too dense to figure out that was what your reaction was to?”

Eijun’s heart sank and he felt a horrible feeling of dismay and outrage. “That can’t be right! It smelled so good! I wanted it for myself!”

“It’s literally the only thing that was different about today. And regardless about your complaints, I already threw it away. You’ll be forgiven by the coach when I promise him I found the source of your reaction and won’t preform like that again.”

“But you gotta find something that nice that doesn’t hurt me, okay, Kazu?” Eijun whined, subconsciously scratching at the bumps on his arms.

Miyuki took note, and took the box from the Eijun was not using to scratch himself. “I’ll find something better, if it matters so much. Now let’s put this on you,” Miyuki said as he shook the box. The ointment looked like a standard toothpaste container, and Miyuki wondered if Eijun couldn’t just take pills for that sort of thing. Either way, he oozed out a bit of the content onto two fingers. “Take off your shirt. It’s on your back, too?”

Eijun blushed and obeyed. “H-how do you want me?”

Miyuki laughed, not too loudly, but it was obvious Eijun was reading into it too much. “Just hold out your arm. I’ll start there first. Then you can just lay on your stomach.”

Miyuki seemed to go slower than necessary. He applied more to his hands when needed, and seemed to be massaging Eijun’s arms as he applied. Every bit of effected skin received a fair bit of the medicine, and Eijun admitted he enjoyed it. From the soothing touch of medicine doing its job, the small muscle massage, and to the fact that he received so much attention from his handsome lover warmed and relaxed Eijun.

“Hey! Don’t go to sleep yet! I haven’t gotten your back yet.”

“Mmnn! If I’m about to sleep now how am I supposed to stay awake while you rub my back?!” Eijun still decided to roll on Miyuki’s bed until he laid down.

“Oh? Who says you’re getting the same treatment on your back?” By tone alone Eijun could tell the smile wide grin had spread over Miyuki’s face. Worse still, Miyuki seemed to be in a truly teasing mood as he ran a devious hand along the known ticklish spots along Eijun’s back.

“Gya ha -ahha!” Not that the noises made any sense, because Eijun wanted to yell and laugh at one. “Miyuki Kazuya!”

Miyuki exhaled in what sounded like disappointment, but Eijun could tell he was still planning something. “I’ll behave. Don’t want to waste your medicine, at least.”

Miyuki kept his words. Skilled but rough hands worked over Eijun’s skin with tender care, which hyper focus on the idea of making sure every bit of the effected spots took in the medicine to the pores. Eijun kept in his noises, but he enjoyed his little free massage and the idea that Miyuki cared enough to do it. Eijun did not actually blame Miyuki at all, not when they had no way of knowing about any allergic reaction, but Eijun would never refuse his horrible boyfriend actually being sweet for once.

“No sleeping!” Miyuki punctuated his words with a small pinch on Eijun’s arm.

“Wha- You’re supposed to take care of me!”

“Hee, did I say that involved sleeping on my bed? I finished applying it, so head to your own room already! You’ll feel better in your own space, and so will I. I can do more on you tomorrow.”

“Mmmmm,” Eijun replied with a groggy pout as he sat back up. “Promise?”

Miyuki placed a hand on Eijun’s cheek and pulled him in for a brief kiss. “Promise. I’ll take care of making sure you get batter and finding out what in the cologne gave you a reaction. Now go to bed.”

Eijun sneaked in another kiss on Miyuki’s lips and smiled. “You’re not the best nurse, but I’m happy you’re taking care of me, Kazu.”

[annaddendy-blog]

This Woman's Story Will Change the Way You Think About Public Assistance

I had a kid… once.

Her name was Averi. She looked like my daughter, but she was my niece.

My sister was unable to care for Averi. It came down to me or foster care. I decided my life was no more important than hers, so the Florida Department of Children and Families (DCF) granted me temporary custody. At 27, I was suddenly responsible for keeping a 4-year-old alive.

Most parents get months to prepare; I had less than a week.

I made $360 a week, about $18,500 a year. Now, I had to squeeze caring for a child - day care, food, clothes and all those unexpected expenses - out of an already razor-thin budget.

On top of that, I was consumed by grief from losing my own mother that same year.

I kept telling myself I could do this. After all, it was only supposed to be for two months.

My First Days in the Single-Mom Hustle

My first days as a stand-in mommy presented more questions than my sleep-deprived brain was prepared for: Who was going to watch her while I work? How the hell was I going to afford this?

Luckily, there was a voluntary prekindergarten, or VPK, and day care two blocks from my apartment, and they graciously let me bring Averi by the same evening I picked her up from the DCF.

Averi curiously roamed about the classroom as I quietly explained the situation to the teachers and administrators.

Back in my apartment, we settled into our first night together.

I rolled out an air mattress on the floor of my bedroom. She was required to have her own bed, and an air mattress was the fastest and cheapest solution.

The first day I dropped her off at day care was emotionally taxing for both of us. I cried the entire drive to work.

And once I got there, I could barely focus. I kept thinking through this new set of obligations, commitments and sacrifices I was only beginning to unravel. My mind raced through checklists, appointments and my shoddy finances.

I knew my salary was no match for the expenses of child care. I lived paycheck to paycheck as it was.

Rebekah, my roommate and childhood friend, shouldered the circumstance alongside me. We split rent and utilities, which lowered my core costs considerably. But my credit card debt had nearly doubled since my mom's death.

My approximate monthly expenses were:

Rent payment: $375

Car payment: $350

Electric bill: $75

Internet and cable: $65

Car insurance: $115

Cell phone: $75

Gas: $40

Credit card: $200

Groceries: $150

Total monthly expenses: $1,445.

My average monthly income: $1,440.

Adding in the cost of caring for Averi took me to a new level of financial anxiety. Trying to map out an impossible budget only made it worse.

It started to suffocate me.

The Maze of Applying for Public Assistance

During my first home visit with Averi's social worker, I reluctantly shared my concerns. I was so scared of losing her to the system.

The social worker urged me to apply for public assistance, which I hadn't even considered. I had never seen myself ever needing it. But I had to do something.

Asking for help wasn't in my familial toolbox. My parents always struggled financially, but they rarely ever asked for help. So not taking “charity” was in my blood - from gifts to handouts, I always paid my way even if it secretly broke me.

But I cared more about Averi's well-being than my dignity. It was too real. I needed the help. Any help.

I had no idea where to begin, so the social worker provided me with a list of all the programs I was eligible for. I dove in headfirst.

I swallowed my pride and signed my name on all the dotted lines I could. Applying for government assistance at 27 years old was my new reality.

School Readiness

The first program that came through was Florida's School Readiness financial assistance program.

It subsidized the weekly day care costs, so I could continue working without spending most of my salary on child care, like so many parents are forced to do.

After a $125 deposit, I paid $9.20 a week for Averi's day care.

She attended VPK in the morning and an after-school program within the same building after. I had to pick her up by 6 p.m. every day, or else face a non-subsidized, minute-by-minute late fee.

Temporary Cash Assistance

Initially, my circumstance made me eligible for temporary cash assistance (TCA), a $180 monthly stipend designed to help struggling families with minors.

The benefits help keep children in their own homes, or in the home of a blood relative, instead of foster care.

I received an Access debit card, the same card people use for food stamps. (The Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) wasn't born yet.)

The card was automatically loaded with $180 each month. I could use it anywhere that accepted electronic benefit transfer (EBT) payments.

Suddenly, I was that person scouting the exterior of stores for a “We Accept EBT” sign, or quietly asking the cashier if they accepted EBT cards, worried about being judged by other customers.

Eventually, DCF approved me for the Relative Caregiver program, and the $180 increased to $240 monthly.

Women, Infants and Children

Because of Averi's age, I was also eligible to receive assistance from the U.S. Department of Agriculture's supplemental nutrition program for Women, Infants and Children, WIC.

WIC provides assistance for low-income women with children under 5 years old. WIC serves 53% of all infants in the United States.  

Thankfully, my 32-hour-a-week job allowed some wiggle room for the sloth-like government waiting rooms. I spent a whole morning waiting.

Eventually, I walked out with a handful of food vouchers. They had date ranges and expirations and a list of specific items they could be exchanged for. How hard could it be?

The items on my monthly food allowance weren't exactly the nutritional foods I'd hoped for.  

But I had to face it: These were the times of white bread, cereal and canned beans. No more organic eggs and vegetables or soy milk, which I'd become accustomed to consuming before I became responsible for Averi.

The monthly allowance included a whopping $8 for fruits and vegetables. While I would have hoped for more, I was thankful for food in our mouths, regardless of the form it came in.

Averi loved bananas and green beans, so I would purchase those fresh, along with a bag of carrots or apples, whichever I could squeeze out of that voucher.  

I won't forget the first time I tried to use them at the register. I dreaded the whole experience, fearful of the disgusted eyes cast by other customers as they waited for me to shamefully get my government-issued rations.

I'd read the voucher over and over to be sure I followed the instructions perfectly to avoid any holdup at the register.

But at the checkout, the cashier informed me I'd made a mistake.

I'd picked up a 24-ounce loaf of bread when the voucher clearly stated I was only allowed the 20-ounce loaf. I was mortified. I couldn't leave Averi there while I ran back, so I put everything back in my basket, careful to avoid the gaze of the line forming behind me.

There it was on the shelf, the 20-ounce loaf of bread with the letters “WIC” plain as day on the price tag.

After that, I spent much more time at the grocery store than necessary, cross-referencing my vouchers so I could avoid any unwanted hubbub at the register.

Medicaid

Averi caught a cold the first week at day care, and then I caught it. I hadn't been sick in over a year, but my stressed immune system was no match for kid germs.

After that, it was pink eye.

Then Averi's repeated sinus infections, futile prescriptions and doctor visits led to a diagnosis of asthma. She was prescribed a nebulizer treatment three to four times a day.

She hopped and bopped around with the cough of a 50-year-old smoker. Eventually, her breathing improved a little, and she got off the nebulizer.

The symptoms kept creeping back, though, so we went to the pediatrician again. She got chest X-rays that determined she had pneumonia. She needed bed rest. That meant finding babysitters or missing work.

By the summer, we both contracted scabies from visiting the place my grandmother lived. The scratching saga continued for months. I wouldn't wish that itching on anyone.

I'm scared to think what may have happened to her if she didn't have Medicaid.

What Life as a Single Parent Was Like

After the first week, I was informed that the original two-month timeline would actually be six months.

To pass the time, I kept her busy.

I found plenty of free kid-friendly events happening around town. We went to community festivals, parks and free concerts.

Friends gave me free tickets to museums and local events like the Renaissance Festival. Averi thrived on all of the new experiences.

I registered her for a Busch Gardens preschool pass, offered free for children ages 5 and younger. I already had a monthly pass - with a $7 monthly rate I'd been grandfathered into - so we frequently visited the park for free entertainment.

When she outgrew her clothes, there was someone bringing me hand-me-downs so I didn't have to buy more. When I did, we went to thrift stores, making it a fun treasure hunt to pick out an outfit she loved.

You learn a lot about people when you fall between a rock and a hard place.

I'd come into work to find a handwritten note and AMC gift cards on my desk. Or a friend's mom would slide me $20 when I hugged her. My boyfriend would treat us to dinner, or his mother would make breakfast on a Sunday morning without asking for anything in return.

Many endured DCF-required background checks just to babysit her for a few hours so I could have a wink of sleep, or time to catch up on work or other obligations.

On Averi's fifth birthday, more than 40 people attended her party at Chuck E. Cheese.

At home, we danced around in all of the tissue paper from the gifts. The joy on Averi's face showed she didn't know about our struggle. She only knew the kindness of friends and family, which is exactly how I wanted it.

The network of support humbled me, and I allowed myself to lean into it.

That August, Averi started school. She received free lunches, and I made her breakfast at home. She adapted with ease, and I shouldered the expense of fundraisers, classroom activities and gifts for her classmate's birthday parties.

One night before bed, I saw the light bulb click in her eyes as the words to Dr. Seuss' “Marvin K. Mooney Will You Please Go Now!” started to make sense. She read every last one of them (except Zumble-Zay).

Sharing that milestone was priceless; I'll forever treasure the memory.

The Financial Toll of Being a Caregiver

Soon August rolled into September, and as the time toiled on, so did my financial problems.

While everyone thought I was due some karmic reward, I was busy maxing out my credit cards.

I knew I'd literally pay for it in the end, but I didn't care. My maternal instinct was to protect her at any cost.

The credit card companies started to lower my limits, because I was only making the minimum payments and overspending.

Overdraft fees on my checking account sent me to my Bank of America branch. I didn't mean to cry when I talked to the teller, but the flood came anyway. All I wanted was to reverse a $30 fee for going $2 over my balance.

It happened more than once. One bank associate began to know my face and my circumstance. His patience and benevolence will always be beyond me, as was his advice.

He told me about financial hardship programs that would allow me to close my credit cards and pay little to no interest.

By September, I started closing my credit cards. I knew this would kill my “age of credit history,” but it was the only way I could keep from drowning in debt, consolidate and lower my interest rates.

The Life I Chose for Averi

I was granted permanent guardianship of Averi that November.

I wanted to keep her as close to my chest as she'd become, but I knew deep down I couldn't continue to provide for her or afford our life together.

My older brother had recently moved back from out of state. We discussed the option of Averi living with him and what would serve her best long term.

On paper, I was single and broke. He had a wife and daughter and was financially stable.

We both knew living with him would be best for her, regardless of how it made my heart ache.

That Christmas came fast.

Between the donations set up by DCF and the continued generosity of family and friends, Averi wanted for nothing. Santa supplied maybe her best Christmas yet. Gifts towered over our 3-foot pink Christmas tree.

While she tore open presents, I snapped a ridiculous amount of photos, mentally preparing myself for the fact that our time, like 2010, was nearing an end.

I was coming to terms with letting go and the decision to give her a better life. A life not supported by the system. A life still with family and within an arm's reach of me.

A week shy of a full year together, I packed her stuff, swallowing back tears.

Her moving in with my brother was an easy sell. She adored her little cousin and wanted to have sleepovers with her every night. The only problem, she said, was that she would miss me.

As we piled her stuff into my brother's black Suburban, she hugged me tight and said, “I love you with all my heart, Aunt Stephanie.”

What My Year on Public Assistance Taught Me

My year of living on public assistance was eight years ago.

Averi now lives 2,000 miles away.

My brother took a job up north, so they moved a year after she left my care.

We've seen each other only a handful of times since; we stay in touch with handwritten letters.

It took me some time to readjust to life without her, both emotionally and financially.

I had plenty of credit card debt before Averi, but it nearly doubled after a year of unexpected child care. The public assistance support ended the moment she left me.

While I did receive a boost in my tax return for claiming her as a dependent, it barely made a dent.

It took me a few years to get serious about paying it off instead of wallowing. I felt like I'd made enough sacrifices that I just wanted to live without worrying about it.

Obviously, ignoring debt doesn't work. I couldn't escape the financial obligations lest I file for bankruptcy. That wasn't me, or who I wanted to be. I'd already danced with the public assistance system, and this time, I wanted to clear it for good. So I faced it.

I slayed that interest-laden beast with balance transfer credit cards and a personal loan to consolidate other outstanding debts.

I inched my way out of debt every year since, and as of August 2018, I'm finally debt-free - aside from a car payment - for the first time in 16 years.

My credit score rebounded, but I had to learn some costly lessons.

I'm not embarrassed to admit that public assistance helped me through the hardest year of my life.

My experience with social workers, courts and public assistance offices made me realize how many kids need our help. Those insights led me to seek out opportunities locally.

I learned that while it isn't easy, asking for help is OK; people love you and want to help you.

And one day, you might even have the chance to help them.

Stephanie Bolling is a staff writer at The Penny Hoarder. She'd love to talk to you about your experience on public assistance.

This was originally published on The Penny Hoarder, which helps millions of readers worldwide earn and save money by sharing unique job opportunities, personal stories, freebies and more. The Inc. 5000 ranked The Penny Hoarder as the fastest-growing private media company in the U.S. in 2017.

The Penny Hoarder Promise: We provide accurate, reliable information. Here's why you can trust us and how we make money.

[sweetielouis]

pining fic rec (21 fics)

here is a quick little fic rec of some of my favorite fics with pining!! i hope y’all like them, and as always drop by my ask with requests!  💖

❉ - means you need an ao3 account to read!

Searching For The Cure (We Found Us) by itsprobablylarry (30k)

“So you woke up as a frog,” Louis considers out loud. “What if you're like that princess that turns into a swan during the day but is a human between sunset and sunrise?”

Harry just blinks at him, clearly unimpressed.

(Basically: Louis doesn't quite know how to handle the fact that his best friend/roommate wakes up as a frog.)

(your heartbeat) rang true inside my bones by flimsy for estrella30 (32k)

Harry goes as Louis' date for a weekend wedding. He ends up taking the role a bit too seriously.

“Hey,” Harry hears himself say just as Louis climbs back into the car. He ducks down, holding onto the roof to look at Louis who cocks his brow at him and says, “What?”

“I meant it,” Harry starts. “Like, I’d do it. I’d be your date for the wedding. If it’d make you feel less awful about being there and if you want me to, I’ll do it. I promise I’ll be good.”

Runner on Third by Anonymous for Louvie (39k)

As Harry stood there, the other man turned around, and he knew he was correct in who he thought it was.

“Louis?” he asked, still not quite believing it.

Louis blinked. “Harry? Wh– what are you doing here?”

“I work here,” Harry said. “What are you doing here?”

“Um, I’m picking up my brother. The nurse called and said he was sick.”

Harry felt like he was going to be sick. “Wait, Ernest is your brother? Since when do you have a brother?”

“Since about seven years ago, I guess. Wait, how do you know Ernest?”

“I’m his teacher.”

“You’re his what?” Louis exclaimed.

Harry gulped. This was going to be a long year.

---

Or, the AU where Louis and Harry were best friends growing up, but lost touch after Harry moved away. Ten years later, Harry has moved back to town, but he and Louis don't pick up where they left off.

Roots by cherrystreet (43k)

There aren’t many things that make Harry Styles nervous. He’s spent the past couple of years on and off various stages, filled with screaming fans, all chanting his name, loud and adoring. He’s done countless interviews, some even on live, national television, never faltering over his words, answers meticulously planned out, smooth and steady. He’s signed countless autographs, taken just as many photos, and even when he sat in his label’s studio, waiting to see how high up on the charts his single made it, he didn’t feel uneasy or uncomfortable. It’s all been unbelievably fun. No, there aren’t many things that make Harry Styles nervous.

Enter Louis Tomlinson.

---

we're only stones around the sun by snowingwhite for Serised (46k)

Harry used to talk about him like that once, months ago when he wouldn’t let himself linger on touches that lasted a beat too long or looks that held unspoken promises. Back then it’d been easy, with the hiding of feelings, now it’s all a mess, complicated and hard. He doesn’t know where one feeling starts and another one stops, how he’s supposed to figure it all out. He doesn’t know where to begin, which thread to pick up and begin untangling, where it’s going to lead him if he does. He doesn’t know if he wants to find out.

or, Harry finds that he can't ignore his feelings for his best friend when the months start ticking down to Louis's graduation.

Faking It by TheCellarDoor (46k)

A uni AU in which Louis has been Harry’s best friend since he offered him cubed fruit on the playground, and they spend more time cuddling in their dorm beds than they do apart, but it’s not like that. Or is it?

Aka Harry pretends to date his best friend to escape unwanted attention from a too insistent classmate and hopes it won’t blow up in his face. Featuring embarrassing dildo accidents, awkward boners, longing, first times, late night conversations, emotional discoveries and Niall as the exasperated friend with bad advice.

Chestnuts Roasting... And All That by elsi_bee (46k) ❉

Louis is apparently the only person at his new job who is single as can be. It’s not a big deal to just tell his new colleagues that he has a boyfriend, right? Until he has to make this imaginary boyfriend magically appear at the office holiday party. Cue fake relationship antics with a certain someone who is more than willing to play along.

kiss me on the mouth (and set me free) by tempolarriefics (47k)

Harry, being his endlessly patient self, asks with a wry smile, “And who am I going to spontaneously marry for financial aid?”

He clearly intends for it to be a rhetorical question, for it to shoot down Louis’ ridiculous marriage idea. But Louis answers easily, “Me. You’ll marry me."

aka the not-so fake marriage AU in which Harry and Louis get married to keep Harry from dropping out of uni (and if they discover that they’re in love along the way, well, that’s neither here nor there).

like a boomerang by youwilll (48k)

AU in which Harry gets trapped in a lift, Louis gets stuck in a Wednesday, and it's always February 2nd. Until it isn't.

i'll make this feel like home by zouisclimax for Midnight_Magic (49k)

Harry to groans himself and then takes a deep breath. “Okay, well. Here’s the thing. I peed on a stick.”

Louis isn’t able to get more than a shocked “What!” out before Harry’s steamrolling on.

“I peed on a stick and it says it’s positive, but you always prattle on about how it’s best to go to the doctor’s before you get excited, you know to confirm it because sometimes hormones are off or you have like a tumor or some shit and get false positives and what if I’m dying and-”

“You’re pregnant?!” Louis shouts out, stomach dropping as the words leave his mouth.

“Um, yeah… maybe.”

[the one where Louis' hopelessly in love with his best mate... who just happens to be pregnant with another man's baby.]

To the Ends of the Earth by stylinsoncity (55k)

During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

I need home (our tangled bones) by togetherwecouldbealright for tomorrows, tomlinsunrise (68k)

Louis runs a record label and Harry is his daughter's new nanny. Over the course of a year, Harry helps Louis learn what it really is to be a father and somehow they find an unexpected home in each other.

Or, the kid fic where Louis wants to make Harry a star, Zayn just needs everyone to stop being stupid, Niall laughs his arse off at everything, Liam attempts to keep things in order and Harry takes a chance.

Dreaming of You by Velvetoscar (68k)

The Begrudging Starbucks AU.

The world is winter and steamed milk and creamy espresso shots. The world is a never ending queue. The world is a Starbucks logo and a pink-cheeked smile from Niall and a bored scowl from Zayn and the world is Louis watching his best mate, Liam, fall in love with their newest customer, Harry. Who may or may not be in love with Louis. The world is cruel.

don't tell the gods (we left a mess) by bottomlinsons (grimgrace) (71k)

After a misunderstanding with Liam’s mother, Louis agrees to accompany his best friend to a family wedding and pretend to be the world’s best boyfriend. But their simple plan goes awry when he learns that Harry, ex-boyfriend/ex-love of Louis’ life, will also be in attendance. (aka: fake!boyfriends with a twist ft. bromance, romance and cake.)

Want You More Than A by TheCellarDoor (77k)

Falling in love with your step-brother’s best friend is a disaster enough. When he happens to be the boy everyone loves and you’re a nerd who wears sweater vests and cries during rom-coms, it takes it to a whole new level.

Don't Look Down by zarah5 (91k) ❉

AU. In which Louis is a solicitor at one of London’s most prestigious law firms and Harry happens to apply for the position as his trainee. And everyone else is around, too.

In This Light by exhilarated for tilthesundies (99k)

Harry is a wardrobe stylist who likes to live in the moment, and Louis is a popstar who looks dreamy in double breasted jackets. Harry never stood a chance.

Like a Bullet in the Dark by Vurdoc (99k)

Prince Harold Edward Styles Lancaster is second in line to the throne of Great Britain. He is also your average Uni student- or he tries to be, anyway.

With a promise from the press (and his father) that they'll leave him alone for four years, he sets out to be a student at Cambridge, when he meets his very normal, very working class, very handsome suite-mate, Louis Tomlinson.

Louis makes Harry feel more like a person than he ever has before, which might cause some issues later on- 'cause Harry has a secret that he's only told his sister Gemma about.

Little does he know though, that Louis has some secrets of his own.

A Will & Kate Au- with a twist.

You Drive Me Crazy (but it feels alright) by MrsStylinson (102k)

Bridget Jones' Diary AU.

“Harry is not short for Harold,” he corrects, his voice as thick as molasses. He lowers his eyes to Louis’ sequined lapels, rubbing one between two fingers. “Is this small or extra small? It looks lovely.”

Louis breaks away from his grip with a petulant huff and pushes him back with two fingers.

“You’re mocking me. Again.”

Harry smiles and it's a real honest swoop of his lips this time. Louis’ stomach swoops with them.

Untangle Me by suicxne (103k)

Louis finds himself out of place in LA, unable to get at an itch that’s been bothering him for years. He supposes back in the early days, home hadn’t been a place. It’d been a person. He’d etched it permanently into his skin for fucks sake. It was always him and Harry. Stuck to each other like super glue. Pulled together by some magnetic force, existing in their own bubble. Everyone could see it, but that was half the problem, wasn’t it?

It’s not like Louis can pinpoint the exact moment in time when him and Harry fell out of sync. There wasn’t really one at all. It had been a gradual slip, like the tide wearing away at a sandstone cliff. Chipping the solid foundations until there was nothing left to stop the structure falling to the waves below. It’s not like he spends all of his time sitting around moping over a lost friendship, he’s good at distractions. But LA only seems to accentuate the distance between them. Two separate planets, not even in the same solar system.

Or the one where Harry and Louis finally get it right.

Empty Skies by green_feelings (134k)

For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream -- making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.

Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He's still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

Featuring Perrie as Harry's adorable flatmate, Niall as his manager, and Liam and Zayn as Louis' bandmates.

BONUS:

Say You'll Remember by whisperdlullaby (93k)

au. louis and harry are best mates that are only half aware that they're also soulmates. alternatively, louis goes to university and harry travels the world, and they always manage to find their way back to each other.

takes place over nine years, in which they love and hurt, make mistakes and learn, and above all, grow.

Never Be by cherrystreet (117k)

Monica: You've got to see her again. Ross: And why do you care so much? Monica: Because! You could get to live out my fantasy! Ross: You had fantasies about Emily? Monica: No! Y’know, the fantasy! Meet someone from a strange land, fall madly in love, and spend the rest of your lives together.

The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

---

[lx-5point0-blog]

Nameless Enemy, Secrets Never Hide

ENEMY NAMELESS, SECRETS NEVER LAST. 022317 9am 5fwy south at Avery pkwy An enemy which is nameless, does not have a uniform, but vigilant, and organized, as if it were a MOB, is the most dangerous form of “predatory terrorist” you can face in battle. The ability to hide in plain sight under the cloak of a “false identity” and a DISGUISE of normal citizen with a license or a certificate empowers them to commit criminal acts without any obstacles.-John Lober I was given the DV-100 on LiLi Garcia. Made some phone calls to her phone and Marisa Garcia answered and said,”what makes you think I'm going to give YOU any information on that?” I replied,”thank you.” Proceeded to calm the remaining numbers I had written down on my list, then they began to roll over and forward to appear that I was receiving an incoming call from the previous number. It would hang up immediately upon picking up the call. These women are efficient at manipulating internet phone numbers to appear that they are legit businesses. OP ROM: ENEMY ANA L MEN DOZA aka Ana LiLia Garcia DV-100 We connected on TINDER. ANA insisted on giving oral pleasure. She became enraged and aggressive when I told her we are not a match. Stalked me to Kennesaw GA and back to Menifee and Huntington Beach, Orange County. Threatened to kill me, assaulted me and my current wife with a deadly vehicle. Follies my wife who is disabled, and is aggressive shooting pics of her and mocking her disability in a hateful manner. Disperses flyers with my pic and false lurid accusations of obscenities with minors. Fires gun on Facebook and tags my name. Her roommate threatened me and my wife as well with a baseball bat, a gun and a child-130. I have been in constant fear for my life for 7 months. But who knows, I could be mistaken about the Tinder connection. It's just safe to assume that. Attack by Ana Garcia aka LiLi Garcia Ana Mendoza SECURITY GUARD GREATFULfoundation CA.breeze.com: https://youtu.be/4nq84GijtOM Ana Garcia and her minors create a problem that was not real: https://youtu.be/9VRauLrpWmk After I was supposedly issued a misdemeanor for proximity, I was informed my TRO had not been served on Mario. He would not answer the door when I schooled the deputy on the letter the law, because he had knowledge of the TRO, he MUST enforce it and just serve him. Because Mario was hiding from Police, I came to Kepler at 1am and honked my horn. Mario appeared with a shit eating grin and the phone to his ear. It was cute in the black of night. The cops rolled in deep. I recorded the incident. Ana threw a fit and demanded I be arrested. They told her to stfu because they saw the video of her driving Reckless and Mario with a bat. Now to serve this bitch a DV. She cannot be within 100yards of Lisa's home . 022817 @9:30am Starbucks FV. Sick as fuck yesterday at noon til right now. Slept in my car at Raquetballworld world and Black Anus. An enemy which is nameless, does not have a uniform, but vigilant, and organized, as if it were a MOB, is the most dangerous form of “predatory terrorist” you can face in battle. The ability to hide in plain sight under the cloak of a “false identity” and a DISGUISE of normal citizen with a license or a certificate empowers them to commit criminal acts without any obstacles.-John Lober The Commander, Al Garza, is a vigilante, Minute-Man. Now, Evangelist. Mario and LiLie Garcia are at the last resort , and are having the minors attempt to create an confrontation. LiLie is efficient with the numerous phone lines she possesses and has the ability to roll them over and connect them in ways that convinces me that that stinky bubble butt skank slut but his observing the way my exceptionally and optimimally functioning and problem solving infrastructure, that's my Brain, dip ship, operates. She has compromised the iPhone 6 Plus. That being stated to the enemy, be prepared to know where I am stating fact or fiction from here . And sat down and took a shit. Forgetting anything that ever had to do with a little slut fuck like the cunt scycle on Kepler street. It. Ever even happened, but it did. And my digitally enhanced and visually modified memory bank, and an emotionally intelligent spirit never forgets the way you made me feel. It forgives. It forgives so easy. It just without any conscious effort always recalls how and why it was felled upon at the moment of it. And my battle planner has diagnosed the response from an action of reaction to an ability to just act. Act as if it has no idea what the fuck to do. It confuses the opponent. “He is chuckling. It's a laff? He is. It afraid, he is laffing.” Wrong. I am laughing because I have already done all of the thinking. “Snap!” Quicker than that. The energy has traveled a 45 years light speed highway in only a fracta-second of light switching on and off. So rapidly it appears to be traveling in reverse. So, epically close, that one single more coat of paint, and it would be a 99 car pile up on the 99 north to Fresno in the fog. So, Ana, LiLie, or Bend Oza. I am going to dip the penile punisher in Vaseline, and then, flour it with large grain Huntington Beach sand, just before your gushing pussy hole believes it's gonna receive it. And then I'm gonna jam it into Mario’s spinchter with Love Force. He is gonna scream like a lady. You with receive a great big box of disappoint and a jail cell without a pillow, and a salad bar serving carpet and upside down scissoring with a fat yeasting pig named,”Natasha.” Okay, enough fucking around. Al Garza is a fucking clown. It's what is NOT said tells me it all. I'm gonna send that white haired devil fuck the audio of Willie admitting to know of Pat, or at least being a characterless pos. We will see what his reaction is to the audio. The enemy knows. The enemy knows now, that Lober is a cagey mutherfucker, but, Patrick told us he is a goddamn Jellyfish. He is brainless and has survived a million years. How does he do it. Study closely you fucking butt nutt with bad roots. FYI I know you are growing it out so you can chop it then dye the dark into red.sneaky little pussy hole. The only shafting that will happen here is the elevator shaft of the cut hole like yours. With a windy odor of vastness blowing up and in through my hair of my nares. When, the subconsciousness captures the actual dynamic energy, and I have no idea how to decipher the data, it is when the silly guy begins ranting the most outrageous and obnoxiousness word smithing conjures by even a rap god. Pussy Money Weed… and, BLEED. I do not want bloodshed. I am avoiding shedding your families bloodline at all costs. Not the words I hear uttered from the stretch marked lips of a cunt, but the intent of malicious and sinister clowning of a Mexican Latina hot blooded stink Clit, I am inspired by. The collective cognitive of the “nameless” familia, is absolutely granite. You have crossed the line of no return. The fall to grace is bottomless for all who step into the fake room is cozy comfort. You have tricked yourself. He has Lie to the liar. The SHIT-EATING GRIN of getting over on the master of deception, has been dick-slapped off the wet slutty porno face of the enemy. The excited pleasure of a seven layered flavored bukkaki on the whore that you were, is not the great white face of complete and utter loss and deception. The tactics have been whittled down to using a couple of fuck-tards that so dearly need CPS involvement and real adult supervision, but nonetheless, voice disrespectful diarrhea to a warrior of bright laser death strokes, and repeating what they have heard from the parent.(Boomerang) Hold on… who is this little Popeye with his armpit in my face. He is trying to open the blinds behind me. I offer my help and he declines determined to get the string pulled. I poke him in the armpit. Looksyits your armpit bee booop! Haha we laff. He says I am Paul. I am blind. I reply, me too, Paul. Colorblind. Did you go to high school here in fountain valley? No. I am from Armenia. I retired as a government and aerospace engineer. I have three grandchildren and I have a sailboat. What is it that you do? What is your name? I reply I am Mike, and I am a writer. He replies, I read a lot. What do you write about. I replied, when people do things that are unbelievable to others, but are actually happening, I attempt to explain them so that it may help them be better. Black magic . Yes, Black OPS. Operations. Namelesss a concept that is explainable. Have you heard of Kabbalah? The difference between right and wrong Take responsibility for everything you do Subconscious thought rules us more than we think. We are all connected. Paul 8184142426 sail boat Politically correct simply means to be liar. Politics and Religion. There is absolutely no connection. Christ is a lifestyle- Christyle. I do not go to the church. Religion is a business. It's bad. Have you heard of the child abuse crimes within apostle church? No. I mean yes. Well, Paul. Everybody is up to something. He replies,”Yes.” John 9:01 it is not his fault. It is the fault of the third party. A boomerang effect. It always comes back to you. The other religions say do this, and do that, to save yourself. Christianality says believe me and I will save you. Space is expanding. Dynamic. Humans are like a universe and ever expanding. Paul says,”I must go now. For me it's time to go now. (Referring to the grandkids coming home from school. Not dying.) It was good to be talking to you. Let's keep in touch. Goodbye, Mike.” Wow. I feel like a hypocrite. So, how does Mario and Ana feel? Their hearts pump piss through opaque black rubber surgical tubing. It saturates to their children. I witnessed first hand the “Clan” at work. I really wanted to become violent. I applied discretion . Let's let these blind people babble through the name calling. Let's hear what they are saying. • I'm 17. How old are you? Yo’ Mama! • A washed up MMA fighter. • Harassing minors. Pedophile. • My minors children. • Delusion you have associates with us • I don't even live here • You are abashed up fucking bitch. Fuck you These individuals appear to very familiar with John Driver yet, I have never seen them before. Or, maybe I have. Or, they are all sitting around the YouTube and mimicking me because they all want to be me. They certainly are not concerned with a piece of trash or a karate chop to Maria's neck. They kept a dime between each other as if they were traditionally trained in this skit. They did that to not be photographed together. And, also to appear to occupy a greater amount of space. You fucking rookies are not on the realm of ability you believe you are in. You have kids and women doing the job. They are the brains or you are a coward, or vice Vera's and both. Enemies for life. By: JOHN DRIVER LUBRX brand SMASHSHATTER-obliterator Edition License Cover design by OP ROM Book design by LX-5.0 All rights reserved.© No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. This ebook is licensed for personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy. *DISCLAIMER. Please excuse any and all spelling, and grammatical errors, vocabulary misusage, flow or redundancy, ramping or un-ramping of vocabulary, BAD WORDS, fouls language, bad words used as punctuation, or bad words that sound like obscenity unintentionally, mistaken words for FIGHTING WORDS, they are not, accusations, are only hypothetical theories based on actual experiences, and or hard copy evidence provided, and all are considered a REAL THREAT to my freedom, until evidence is discovered, or uncovered, not sure which is first, that discredits the REAL THREAT. ATTENTION CONTENT DISCLAIMER COPYRIGHT LAWS INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY RIGHTS OF THE CREATIVE COLLECTIVE ™LUBR X brand channel and John Driver® The views and opinions expressed in this media or video or comments on this channel are those of the artists that provided us with that f*eked up idea and we were lazy enough to accept it, we thought it was funny, but doesn't necessarily represent the beliefs of the ®LUBR X brand channel ©2016-17 Due to the social satire of this channel it may contain content that has been copyrighted, but we took extra care in f@*k in it up, so you won't notice it was poached. The owner of this channel claims no responsibility to the creative collective and its thoughts and ideas contributed to the broadcast and therefore, can not be held accountable for liable. LUBRX brand™

[starless-night-fright]

I need to vent here for a moment. I can’t find my journal I normally would be venting into, and dear lord I just need to put everything I’m feeling down because I’m not okay, right now.

She’s a long post, about everything I’ve been struggling with since the beginning of the year. It’s heavy, I don’t hold back.

I went into 2020 thinking, yes, this is it, I’m finally gonna have a good year. The last time I was constantly happy, and having a good time, I was 17. But, I started this year student teaching, I was going to walk in May and be the first in my family to get my diploma, I had everything planned.

What a fucking joke that was. 

Student teaching was a mixed bag. It got cut short, and I ended up losing on valuable experience that I need. I struggle with enforcing consist discipline. Students don’t take me seriously. That was the biggest goal I was working on, right before everything shut down. We never went online, and I won’t see my students that I had again.

I’m not gonna lie, I had days that were really, really bad. Days where “It wouldn’t matter if you just drove your car into a semi and ended it” were thoughts that came up on my 30 minute drive home. I’d go and have days where it felt like I wouldn’t succeed in the field, and then come home and felt...I don’t know. I think I felt like people close to me didn’t care? That if I really did choose to just...crash my car spontaneously, that it wouldn’t matter in the long run to them? That they had someone they could replace me with, if that makes sense. Because if I reached out in my very indirect way of saying “I need help, and I need attention” I’d get brushed off, with an explanation of some kind. It’s okay, I’d think, everyone has priorities more important than me. And then I’d go to bed, get up, start the cycle again. Until I didn’t. 

I got my Bachelor’s Degree, though I slept most of the day I would have walked. I got my teaching license, but somehow, I feel under qualified for it. Like, I don’t deserve this. Even my degree. I skated by in college, writing every paper the night before, and reading bits and pieces of every book - even content I was interested in. I never proofread a single paper, never edited one. Not even my capstone paper. I passed, though I don’t know what I got for my grade. It feels fake to me.

So, I graduated. I got a degree in a field that arguably has a demand for people, so why can’t I get a job? Why is it that I haven’t been able to land a single fucking interview? It isn’t because I just graduated, and it isn’t because I only had my actual legit license in my hands for only about a month at this point - I know plenty of people with the same training and the same everything I had getting jobs in late May and early June, so what is so wrong with my applications that I can’t get past the screening phase? 

Maybe they know that I’m under qualified. Oh, she doesn’t have any of her host teachers? Her mentor teacher from student teaching? She has no other experience in education aside from 4 semesters in a classroom, and she has no experience with kids either. 

I’ve been jobless since March, and have had no income since May. It’s my fault, I suppose, because I kept putting off finding a new job. My best friend’s mom would say that I’m making excuses, but it’s hard to find a job when I’m sitting there like “Oh, yeah, by the way, I have no idea if I’m going back to student teaching in person, or teaching online, and if I have to do that - and it’ll be very sudden - I won’t be able to work between 7am-3:20pm if we go online, and 6am-4:30pm if we go in person, and I won’t be able to work past 10, because my health is important.” I don’t know. I’m getting sick of explaining why I don’t do things and people saying “You’re making excuses.” I really, really fucking hate it when people say that. 

I applied for unemployment, after getting people bugging me for a while about it, but it didn’t make a difference. They basically looked at what I submitted, and said “There’s no income here” and I sent in something saying, no, I had income, here’s my W-2, and that was a month ago, and still nothing back. When people were first pushing me to apply, I was going back and forth from saying that “I don’t know how to report my income because my hours were very inconsistent” to “I don’t currently need these benefits, because I still have money from income taxes and the stimulus check”. Which was true.

So I went back to donating plasma. My last donation was Friday, and something went wrong with it. The needle wasn’t in correctly, so they decided to give my blood back after one pull (if you haven’t done it before, it’ll go through about 4-5 cycles if you’re in the highest weight category, which I am). They slowly returned my blood back to me, but it started to sting when the saline started to go in. I don’t know if it was the blood or the saline, but something went into the tissue, not the vein. So, I’ve had a nice bruise on the inside of my arm that prevents me from going and getting more money. I haven’t touched my donation money, since it’ll be rent in a worst case scenario where I don’t have a job by September 1st. I want a teaching job, or a subbing position in the district I’m in, but if the subbing position also gets overlooked, I don’t know what I’m going to do, emotionally. 

It’s been almost a week since my last donation, and maybe I’ll be able to go in a day or two? The bruise is fading, but I don’t know. 

I’m lonely, I’m stressed, I’m anxious. I want to hang out with people, but I look at the list of people I know and I’m like...who even cares, right now? I’m getting frustrated with people getting annoyed at the fact that nothing is going okay right now, and me expressing those feelings is annoying, and I’m getting frustrated with people just saying “oof” when I express that something isn’t okay. It isn’t even down to who cares, either, it’s also looking at who has the energy to deal with me? 

The last week has been pretty shitty, in all honesty. At first, it was the stress of everything leading up to plasma donation going wrong. Then it turned into “People only care about people that they deem as useful, and it seems like my usefulness has run out.” Because it has. I’m just burdensome to people at this point. 

So, then I sit there. I want to talk to people, I want to just sit and watch stuff and drink with friends. But I don’t want people saying all the things i enjoy are stupid, and I don’t want to be brushed off. I don’t even want advice for everything because what advice can people even offer me right now? I want human company. But people have lives that don’t involve me - which is okay - and those lives and relationships take precedence over me. Which is okay. To most people - if not every person I’m associated with - I’m a second thought, at best. Everyone has someone else that they care about more, or some other issue that they have more thought processes to deal with. I’m not mad, or upset by it. I don’t expect people to put their lives and their problems on hold to help me get stabilized. Because, in all honesty? Right now, when nothing is okay right now? I don’t think I could emotionally sustain anyone either.

So, I don’t want to be burdensome. So, I sit alone, and try to drown out everything by watching dumb videos on YouTube or starting to hyperfocus on something. It sometimes works. Other times, I just sit there and feel the need to just break something, to let out the tension, and I have a relapse. I’ve had two, this week. It doesn’t matter what it is, in all honesty. I’ve done dishes, while in this state, and I broke a glass. It just...it felt like the glass was the heaviest thing I could hold, and I just didn’t have the energy to keep holding it anymore, and I dropped it. I still haven’t found all the pieces to the cup. Though, it doesn’t matter, does it?

I did start therapy, recently. My first appointment was a week ago, and I won’t have another one for two weeks. In this appointment, I discussed with the therapist about how I thought I had undiagnosed ADHD, anxiety, and depression. I had filled out a questionnaire a few weeks prior, and he had my answers from then about those three things, among a few other things. I explained that at times when I feel like I’m dealing with anxiety attacks I struggle to breath - I have to pause, take a deep breath with my diaphragm and fully expand my lungs, cause it feels like my breath is too shallow in varying circumstances, but it’s been worse recently.  

He asked about study habits. How is reading? I have a hard time sitting down, and focusing to read, but when I find something I’m engaged it, I don’t put it down. Is that webcomic 90-144 chapters? I. Won’t. Stop. I can’t. So, he asks about deadlines. How close to a deadline do i complete tasks? Literally, the last minute. Does that pressure help you work? If I don’t have a deadline, I don’t finish anything. Fun fact! I’m moving in a week, and I made a list of everything my roommate and I need to do. I did this a month ago, and this was supposed to be done before we went on a roadtrip in the beginning of July. Nothing has been checked off. He asked how I do progression. If I work on a paper, I’ll clean my workspace, then I’ll go get snacks to munch on for the 5-10 hours I’ll be at my computer. Sometimes, cleaning my workspace causes my to clean my room. After all this he said “I think there is some ADHD at play here.” And he explained that, typically in women, ADHD is undiagnosed, because it’s the high energy that people look at, not necessarily the inattentiveness. Young boys are diagnosed more often because they have that high energy people look for - and they get misdiagnosed, sometimes. So, that tells me that, for 23 years of my life, and for 17 years of education, I had ADHD. Which makes a difference.

Because, then, I start thinking about the past - this has been a thing for the last few days, in particular. And I start to get...frustrated? Angry? Because, I’m sitting there thinking that the signs were there. When I was in the 5th grade, I just stopped doing my homework. Or rather, I never did it to begin with. It was a whole thing that I don’t want to get into right now, but my teacher did get my parents involved. And then, again, in high school. I had the same English teacher for 3 years, and she allowed me to go into the AP Lit and Lang courses. This was the point that I really struggled with reading. I loved reading up until that point. It was my escape. And she had me the year before, she knew I was an avid reader at that point. But when I started slipping and when it was obvious I wasn’t reading, she never really said anything. I don’t think she contacted my parents, and it never came up in parent teacher conferences - I went to all of them because I liked being praised by my teachers, and they always did. I don’t really blame a lot of my other teachers, though. I’m weird in the sense that lectures and direct instruction is a really good method for me to learn. I sit there, copy the notes, and hoard said notebooks until I need the information. I haven’t take Algebra since I was 17, but dammit, I still have my notes from College Algebra that I took in high school.

It’s that stigma that only boys have ADHD. I know it is, and it’s not like I was in a district that was socially advanced, if that makes sense. We didn’t even have sex ed. I’m not in the south, either, I’m in Colorado. But, like, I’m kinda bitter? I’m pretty average, as a student, even with the ADHD. I was ranked dead middle in my high school graduating class with a 3.4 GPA. I might have gotten it up to a 3.5, but I don’t remember. And then College happened. All the support fell away, I was independent. I ended my first semester with a 1.1 GPA. It fucking hurt. I came home for Christmas and everyone was telling me to change my major - because obviously if I ended my first semester that badly, it meant I wasn’t interested in it. It didn’t matter that I only had two classes in my major, and one really dealing with what I wanted to study. I got my shit together, and bumped my GPA back up to a 2.1 the next semester. 

But, then, it just kinda...I don’t know. Like I dipped low, I skyrocketed, and then I steadily went down again, until I flatlined. Like I said, I skated by in college. I feel like I didn’t put in more effort. Maybe I feel robbed? Like, if I knew I had ADHD, and if I had medication to help me focus a bit, that maybe things would have gone differently? I would have been more at the top of my class in high school, and maybe I would have been able to graduate college with at least a 3.0 gpa and I would have gotten honors and maybe I would be able to get a fucking job right now in the field that I got a degree in? How is it that I’m so bad at this, that I can’t even get a job in a field that is always struggling with getting people? 

I don’t know. I’m bitter. I’m angry. I’ve been writing this for an hour. I’m still upset, I suppose, but now I’m just tired, and my hand is cramping up.

That’s another thing that I’ve noticed, over the last few months. I want to create things. I draw, I write and I’ve been designing a video game. I want to release it, but I just...I feel like people don’t care about it. The things I create. I’m not good, I’m not bad. I’m pretty damn average. So it doesn’t stand out. And I feel like - mostly with writing and the game design - that if people aren’t going to enjoy it, then what’s the point in putting in the time and energy to actually develop these things. Like you can say that it’s creating it for me, but I can think about it in my head. I can daydream these things. Giving it corporeal form so I can enjoy these things is pointless. And it’s not like I haven’t tried. I’ll show people are that I’m proud of and get lukewarm responses, or even “It’s creepy” (dear fucking Jesus am i sick of people saying what I create is creepy). Or, I’ll send people a link to the download of the demo of my game and I have gotten no responses. Like, several people have said “Yeah, I’ll play it” and then never do. It’s like, 30 minutes, at most. I’ve timed it, even with killing every single spawn I can. It only takes about 30 minutes. 

Dear God, this doesn’t even get into the problems of the world oh my Fucking God. 

I feel better after ranting like this. I’m less upset. I’m tired. Though, in the end, nobody really cares, do they?

[voice-in-the-voids]

Tactical Analysis

So there’s some trends I’m seeing that I don’t like, and I’m here to complain about them. Two of them, anyway.

1. Looting. Anyone condoning looting is wrong. My original stance on this was neutral and I acknowledged that in a previous post, but people and opinions can and will change, so get over it; I reserve the right to change my opinion at any point in time for any reason (even though I won’t go against my core principles, such as no hating). 

Looting is, first and foremost, a moral problem. Your roommate leaves their chocolate on the counter, you don’t steal it because either you don’t want them stealing your food (@ Golden Rule), you don’t want your friends to think you’re a jerk (@ Headline Rule), you have a duty to respect your roommates (@ Deontology) or the misery experienced both by your roommate when she finds the chocolate missing and yourself when your roommate exacts her revenge outweighs the joy you get from eating it (@ Utilitarianism). Every single one of these lines of reasoning applies to looting; looting fits under NO moral system. 

Secondly, looting is a legal problem. To all the people who’d argue something in the vein of “looting is a form of expression of discontent” I’d say so is my four year old brother throwing a tantrum in the middle of a restaurant but that doesn’t make it acceptable. Looting is against The Rules. It’s one of those things that we all agree not to do to each other because we’ve agreed it’s a Bad Plan (@ the Social Contract). 

Thirdly, looting is a tactical mistake. Think about it in the long run: politicians and law enforcement officers will utilize cases of looting to promote things like curfews, stricter crowd control, and other security measures that could also be extended to impede peaceful protests in the name of “security”. It could even affect “peacetime,” when there aren’t protests, as the “security” measures the government/police/small businesses consequently invest in feed a military-industrial complex. 

TL;DR: don’t loot, it’s illegal and leads to more excuses to restrict freedoms. 

2. Covid tracking. I’m against it. I know public health officials have endorsed and even advocated tracking the spread of disease, but I’m still against it because of the rather large likelihood of ensuing invasion of privacy. The idea sounds good on a surface level because it’s “oh yeah, we can track the disease and that way we know when we’ve come into contact with the disease and public health officials can know where to prepare” but the implications of this kind of technological tracking are staggering. If the government required people to yield personalized geographic data, it can and will be used to track protesters, potential political rivals, peoples’ shopping habits, activist groups... basically, it gives the government more power over the organizations that oppose them, which, as we’ve seen in the Impeachment this past year, is a real and tangible threat. Honestly, the political cost of implementing an intimate tracking system (with permanent consequences continuing beyond the reasonable threat of an illness) alone outweighs the benefits-- the benefits we should reap by being responsible in quarantine, wearing face masks, etc. 

Empirically, government powers don’t downsize-- at least, not without a revolution-- and the government already has too much power to spy on its own people in the status quo. (@ the Snowden leaks, Patriot Act, etc). 

And then there’s the psychology issue. Let’s say, best-case scenario: the government (or a private company) tracks Covid contact, meaning they track individuals’ contact with each other in stores, dates, parties, schools, etc. Immediately upon analysis of the data and the conclusion of the pandemic, they terminate the program and refuse to sell out the data to companies. It doesn’t matter if they say they’re not tracking us; everyone knows they can, which means there’s some level of suspicion that we’re perpetually being tracked. That the government is watching our every move. That we’re never truly free of a watchful eye that’s subject to misinterpret that shopping trip as a robbery. Have you ever been sitting in a test when you look at someone else’s paper to see how far they are and realize the teacher might think you’re cheating? That paranoia could happen on a national level with detrimental psychological repercussions. 

Finally, there’s all the logistical and pragmatic problems. Who would build the app? Would it even be an app? What if there are competing apps? What if a phone company refused to allow the app? Would it be acceptable for the government to sell out the data to companies? Would the data be viewable by everyone? What about during international travel? 

TL;DR: the right to privacy from gov’t surveillance > right to know if someone else is sick (which, how that I wrote that, makes tracking contagious diseases sound like a violation of HIPPA)

Don’t get me wrong; I support the efforts to contain the virus. If health officials say it’s too early to reopen the economy, I’m willing to hang on a while longer. If officials say to wear masks (and I have one), I’ll wear a mask. I’m grateful to the healthcare workers that have been swamped throughout this ordeal. However, digital privacy is already in question, so I think the negative implications of the intimate tracking required to actually work outweigh the potential benefits.

Stay healthy and be nice,

-Voice in the Void 

[wannabealto]

Hey y’all,

Damn it’s been literal YEARS since I’ve posted here. Therefore, we’re gonna do a quick recap for posterity reasons so here goes nothing (I don’t remember everything but I’m gonna mention important bits of what I can)

Freshman year:

- started at Michigan living in the dorms

- Got kinda sorta grey zone sexually coerced/assaulted by someone I was interested in romantically

- Was borderline assulted again by a different person who didn’t take no for an answer, but nothing serious occurred (thank god)

- Unknowingly spiraled into absolute Manic Pixi Dream Girl behavior, self-loathing was at a normal place though

- Got into an incredibly messy relationship with someone from high school

- bf spread some pretty important and personal info to someone and I got severely freaked. Should’ve broken up, ended up not doing it and losing all trust

- performed in a masters recital which was super lit

Sophomore year:

- returned from interlochen which was both the best and worst lol

- David was gone for a month or so first semester in order to perform. Got to work with different people, but most importantly, Elizabeth Bishop who I idolized and was willing to follow

- didn’t actively work to make friends, spent most the time with the bf

- took over a half year lease that ended up becoming entirely MY lease after the girl bailed and despised the incredibly rude roommates who were absolute garbage and incredibly selfish

- hit the sophomore slump real hard

- ended up creating one of my best recitals ever- my Samuel Barber lecture recital which was incredibly done and took the efforts of so many people and was so wonderful to put on. I’m still so proud of my work and I feel better about it every time I look at it

- continued to grow musically, applied to summer programs and was rejected. All good though. Only bothered me a lot at the time

- worked on the cello/Katz collaboration concert for “Loves philosophy” which is still a beast. Was very sick for the performance but pulled a good one out

- should’ve failed the final theory class, but Nathan Martin passed me like the god he is and I received my first ever C in a class!! Cause he thought I was a senior.... did I mention the sophomore slump??

- starting to get really angry at this point at the world, losing the softer (hard to believe I know) edge I was capable of

- significant weight gain to the highest I have ever (and hopefully will ever) reached. Only admitting to 175, but in all reality, was most likely over 180. Not doing too hot

- lost the weight and got plastered at a one year olds birthday party. Honestly a stellar story

Junior year:

- David is accused of drugging and raping another singer 10 years ago

-absolute chaos descends in the school and the studio dispurses amongst the teachers. Many of us are placed with Carmen Pelton

- A girl from an old program transfers to Michigan and we are very fast friends due to oberlin connections. Finally getting more social as a result

- Carmen and I do NOT get along in the slightest and it looks like I’m in for a very stressful year

- I am part of my first staged opera chorus in Candide. Have an absolute blast

- Mathew Ozawa is a goddamn gift from heaven. Best class I’ve taken at Michigan and he’s such a delight. Very helpful to me for applications and dealing with unrecognized trauma.

- places in chamber choir for the second year, now working with former conductor. It’s going alright so far and I’m still in love with choir despite the affect on solo singing

- getting angrier overall. Littler things are setting me off, especially with bf

- places with new (free) pianist because I needed a free one. Derv and I are no longer together and my new pianist is.... interesting.

- new pianist is absolutely terrible

- auditions for Alcina come up, recit is completely bombed

- got my first ever named role, Oberto, double cast with the transfer. Found out through contact with David prior to the release

- more David news hits regarding a student and an indecent Grindr proposal. Potential legal cases to follow up

- major illness which results in absence from school before major choir performance. Carmen excuses me via email with director who then chews me out a good 10 minutes (in front of peers) for my unprofessionalism. Leaves room in tears. I never show up early to another day of choir for this man again.

-

- beginning next semester, a student accuses David of drugging and assaulting him

- massive stress moment of “what the fuck”

- anger is steadily increasing

- Alcina is a mess, Oberto is all wrong for me, and I am very resentful. Directing is chaotic at best and music rehearsals are useless

- opera workshop is a disaster and I loath it. Given two IMPOSSIBLE to learn scenes that must be memorized the same day the opera opens. Absolute madness.

- choir tensions are rising between the director and I. A noticeable amount. Becoming continually singled out with any criticism. I have taken to rolling eyes and muttering under my breath. I never receive another solo opportunity and he in fact snaps at me so hard one day, I attempt to take him to the dean for behavioral issues.

- were still bookin up to that breaking point.

- lessons with Carmen are going much better, and I’m starting to enjoy her some days. Not always, but the relationship is building. Still won’t let me sing glitter despite all my efforts to let her let me.

- getting closer to my best friend in the whole world and making a few others along the way

- planning for junior recital with transfer, pianist will not learn music, is required to pull out, transfer will not take no for an answer

- cue massive panic attack and an even bigger fallout

- loss of people I considered friends due to lies spread by transfer, incredible amounts of pain. Breaking point has been reached following talk with Ally. I have never felt more alone in my entire life.

- my anger and self loathing are unfortunately taken out a little more than just pure verbalizing and are more sinister with bf

- huge personal come to Jesus as a result

- reachingout more to friends which helps ground me

- we go to summer

- no summer programs, rejections and chorus offers with no scholarship. Another summer working

- finally reaches musical breaking point, wants to not finish the degree, begins despairing at the thought of returning to school, never wants to sing again. Mother fears for my safety an is about to pull me from classes.

- mother suggests study abroad. I finally see a light in all of this. I agree and begin my search for a school and eventually settle on the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland.

- bf and I decide on a break, I find I am much happier and miss him desperately. I have gay sex!

- bf and I get back together for a short while before another trust break (this will be the fourth) results in me being done forever.

- finally single and livin life large

- beginning work on senior recitals including chamber commission with exbf and Handel cantata following junior year performance in a Purcell cantata as a soloist. First technical oratorio gig!

- offered to premier a newly discovered Scarlatti work. Incredible opportunity!! Took it!! Got professionally filmed!! Beginning a baroque music relationship with head of department. Absolutely love it

- begins work on first bel canto mad scene

Enters into senior year