#and he fucking calls my mom to brag about it???? like really?? congratulations you made someone fear for their life because of a

[gaybox]

any interest i have in being in relationships and dating and whatever is being sapped away from my sister and the men she picks like i cannot believe

[1kook]

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.  warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.  

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.  

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?” 

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.  

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence. 

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[melanch0lyism]

Here it is bois- Jagged Little Pill full plot synopsis

So, a lot of people in the JLP tag have been asking for a detailed synopsis of the show. I’m here to deliver! This goes out to @sunveiins and @lovebug1313 who I think were the first couple of people to start asking and wanted to be tagged to know when this was posted. Hope this helps for anyone who can’t get out to see the show!! (Also sorry this was delivered a bit later than promised I’m the worst sksdfn)

Warnings: Drug addiction, sexual assault, heavy topics like that and obviously spoilers if you want to go see the show for yourself

ACT 1:

-Mary Jane Healy is a mother obsessed with being seen as perfect, the best at everything, and with her family’s squeaky clean image. Literally all her energy is invested into making sure nobody knows that a single thing is wrong in her life.

-The show opens at Christmastime, and she is writing her annual family Christmas letter (the purpose of which is basically to brag about how great the Healys are doing and how she’s winning at life). 

-She writes about how her husband Steve got yet another promotion at work. Her daughter Frankie is in high school, as artistic and expressive as ever. (“In fact, right now, she’s upstairs with her best friend Joann working on a little craft project. *Lights on Frankie and Jo upstairs literally making out* “We always emphasize the importance of female friendships.”) And her golden boy, her perfect oldest son Nick, has just been accepted early to Harvard. (Right Through You)

-A celebratory breakfast for Nick reveals that the family is actually falling apart. Steve works so much that his marriage to MJ is now distant, hostile, and non-intimate. MJ is pressuring Nick to be perfect and keep up the family’s image. She’s constantly arguing with Frankie, who is adopted and feels the fact that she is black is being erased by her family in this white trash Connecticut town. (All I Really Want)

-Nick’s friends at school congratulate him and encourage him to come to a party that night to celebrate. Frankie and Jo complain about their complicated relationships with their mothers (Jo’s mom does not accept that she’s gay). (Hand in my Pocket) 

-MJ has a prescription for opiates as she had been in a car crash earlier that year. When they are unable to refill the prescription, she gets in touch with a dealer. (Smiling) WARNING THIS SONG WILL BREAK YOU EMOTIONALLY :)

-In class, a student named Phoenix (a good boy 12/10, the only man in the show apart from Steve who deserves rights) defends Frankie’s writing as the rest of the class ridicules it. The two start talking and developing feelings for one another, and they plan to meet up that night at the same party Nick had been invited to. (Ironic)

-Steve calls MJ to say he has to work late again. They get in an argument. Steve loves MJ and wants to work on things between them, but MJ is having none of it. (So Unsexy) Nick consoles an upset MJ who tells him that he’s “the only thing she’s done right.” She asks him to hang out with her, but he says tells her he was planning to go to the party. Nick sings about the pressure he feels from his mom to never screw anything up. (Perfect)

-Frankie and Nick roll up to the party. (Lancer’s Party [So Pure]) Frankie finds Phoenix and the two bond over their complicated home lives. Jo, who was dragged to a church function by her mother instead of being able to go to the party, joins the song. (That I Would Be Good)

-Bella, a friend of Nick’s, had gotten drunk at the party. The next morning the students are circulating pictures of her passed out with her shirt pulled up and talking shit about her. Frankie and Jo go to check on her and make sure she’s ok (despite the fact that they literally do not know her). Bella tells them that another friend of Nick’s named Andrew had raped her the night before while she had been drunk, but that no one will believe her. Frankie and Jo assure her that they believe her.

-Frankie goes home to confront Nick, who she knew had been with Bella and Andrew at the party. Nick brushes it off, citing Bella having been drunk and being known for her tendency to be dramatic. Their argument is overheard by MJ and Steve. Frankie tells Nick that as the only witness, he has to go to the police. MJ and Steve insist that he do nothing, as he had been drinking at the party as well and there could be consequences if that gets out. Also- insert subtext that MJ went through something similar to Bella in her college days. (Wake Up)

-MJ goes to church for the first time in years to pray for help with her addiction, her marriage, and her children. (Forgiven) (No one asked but this is my favorite song in the show, such a powerful moment. Idk if they do this still but at the ART they made it snow onstage, which really added to the sense of isolation the characters were feeling. One of the like 5 points in the show where I bawled my eyes out.)

ACT 2:

-Steve finally convinces MJ to go to marriage counselling with him, where she insists the problem is entirely his. (Not the Doctor) Big argument. Steve is frustrated that they haven’t had sex in almost a year while MJ says they shouldn’t need to since she knows from looking at his internet history that he watches weird porn every day. She feels unheard and unappreciated for all she does. He tells her she doesn’t have to do so much and starts singing a love song to her that gets hijacked by Phoenix and Frankie singing to each other. By the end of the song, the two end up in bed together. (Head Over Feet)

-Jo walks in on Phoenix and Frankie. While storming out of the house she runs into Steve and MJ and tells them what Frankie is doing upstairs. Phoenix gets the fuck out of there, so Frankie's alone to deal with her parents. She gets very upset that her parents aren’t ok with her choosing to have sex while they don’t care about what happened to Bella. She runs away from home, telling them some piece of paper doesn’t make her their daughter. That turns into yet another big fight between Steve and MJ.

-Frankie takes a train alone to NY. (Unprodigal Daughter) She tells Phoenix over the phone that she loves him, and is pissed that he isn’t ready to say it back. 

-Students at the school discus how outrageous they think Bella’s accusation is. Bella comes to the Healys’ house to talk to Nick, but only MJ is there. MJ tells Bella that the same thing happened to her in college (likely the first time she had said it out loud). After Bella leaves, Nick, feeling the guilt of being the only person with the power make people believe Bella, tells MJ the full extent of what happened the night of the party. He had been in the room when Andrew assaulted Bella, but had been drunk and in shock and did nothing to stop him. (Predator) Nick tells MJ that he wants to go to the police and help Bella bring Andrew to justice. She tells him what’s done is done, and the only thing telling the truth would accomplish is ruining his own life. Nick accuses her of only caring because harm to his reputation is harm to hers. 

-Jo comes to New York to pick up Frankie (who ran out of money and became desperate) and ends whatever undefined relationship/FWB situation they had going on. (You Oughta Know) (Holy shit. This one song alone deserves a tony. I cannot stress this enough- Lauren Patten is a GODDESS. I’ve never seen a standing ovation in the middle of a show before this.)

-MJ has overdosed on her painkillers and ends up in the hospital. (Uninvited) Steve arrives at the hospital and the fact that he didn’t know she was struggling rUINS HIM. (Mary Jane) They finally agree to actually put work into fixing their marriage. 

Steve, through tears: “I never meant to make you feel like work was more important than you or the kids. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed, I’m sorry. I’ve made so many mistakes. I’m such a mess.” MJ: “I’m detoxing from opiates. I win.”

MJ admits to Nick that she was wrong, and tells him to go to the police- Bella’s story is more important than their family’s reputation. Nick had already told the police what had happened.

-Everybody attends a rally Frankie throws for Bella, believing her now that Nick had come forward. There’s an important moment between Nick and Bella where he apologizes and she's mad that he gets to be the hero, that her saying it had happened wasn’t enough. (No) (Side note: in the ART version I don’t think Nick had a line in this song, letting Bella speak, and he just held up a sign that said “silence is violence” which was so much better.)

-The time has come for MJ’s next Christmas letter. She decides it will be the last one she writes and is honest for the first time about what had happened in the past year.

She writes about how she is in awe of Frankie, who spent the past year fighting for justice for Bella. MJ publicly admits her own past of sexual assault. She mentions that Andrew is being taken to trial and will not defend himself- he wants Bella’s to be the only story told. MJ and Frankie reconcile. (Thank U)

Instead of discussing Steve’s work again, she talks about how they are both in therapy individually and as a couple. He took up guitar lessons, but only knows how to play one Alanis Morissette record.

She opens up about her overdose and her experience in treatment.

Frankie dares her to send out the letter, and she does. “Merry fucking Christmas!” (Wow MJ Healy telling all her friends she has flaws? We love character development)

-Everyone reflects on what they learned (very cliché but it works). Frankie and Jo rekindle their friendship. Jo has a new girlfriend. Frankie and Phoenix decided to be friends. (You Learn)

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: This isn’t a rom-com 17/17

Author’s notes: So we finally arrived at the last chapter of this fic. I’m really proud of myself for writing something this long and actually getting to the end. I am already planning a sequel and I’d love to hear feedback on this chapter and what you think I could include in the sequel. I also would like to thank everone who stuck around and commented on this. You have no idea how happy you made me. Enjoy this last (for now) chapter!

Summary: Keanu and Lilah meet at the set of John Wick. Rom-com shenanigans ensues

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6  Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Wordcount: 3923

Warnings: bad language; smorking, fighting and some angst

Lilah woke up the next morning with the sound of her father’s car pulling up in the driveway. It made her stomach twist into knots, dread filling her chest because she knew there was no way to avoid it now, they would have to have that conversation. She untangled herself from Keanu and it was clear evidence of how exhausted he was because he barely stirred.

She exchanged her PJs for a pair of shorts and the first t-shirt she could find and went down the stairs. Lilah paused just outside the kitchen, listening to her parents talking in hushed voices.

“He’s out of sedation and breathing on his own,” Frank said with a sigh, weariness and fatigue coloring his voice. “I really thought… for a moment there…”

“Don’t,” Alba said her voice breaking a little. “He’s gonna be just fine. He’s strong.”

“I know, I just…” another sigh from her father. “He had a couple of cardiac arrests during surgery. Turns out amphetamines in his blood were reacting badly with one of the medications.”

“Amphetamines?” Alba’s tone was confused. “Like speed?”

“I don’t know what it is exactly, but yes. He’s doing drugs.”

“It’s not speed,” Lilah said walking into the kitchen and making her parents look over in surprise. “It’s probably Adderall.”

“Adderall?” her mom frowned. “Why would he take that?”

“To help him study for some tests. He promised to stop…” Lilah hated to break Jamie’s confidence like this, but they needed the full picture.

“And you believed him?” Frank snorted, his expression almost scornful. “All junkies say that!”

“Jamie’s not a junkie!” Lilah exclaimed. “He just…” she trailed off, at lost of what to say. “Had a lot on his plate and thought he needed a bust.”

“Oh please!” Frank snorted again. “I worked two jobs all through med school and never used drugs to pass my tests! He’s stupid, that’s what he is! And ungrateful! He was given a golden opportunity and just threw that away! Once the board of directors finds out he was on drugs while working for the hospital, that’s it! His career is over!” He slammed his fist on the table, making Alba and Lilah jump. “Stupid, reckless, idiot…”

“Stop!” Lilah shouted, making Frank’s angry gaze shift to her. “Just stop! Jamie’s in the hospital and all you care about is if he’s gonna have a job when all he gets out? How heartless are you?”

“Lilah…” Alba called in gentle warning, but Lilah was too far gone to pay attention. Between the terror of almost losing her brother and all of the soul searching she had been doing the past couple of weeks, hearing her father talking about Jamie like that made something inside of her snap.

“Do you even care about us? Aside from making sure we’re the poster children you can brag about at the country club?” she all but yelled in her father’s face, watching his blue eyes going wide. “Do you wanna know why Jamie was taking Adderall? Because he was working 80 hours a week in a hospital where everyone knew he was your son. He knew every action he took, every misstep he made would come back to you. He was working in a place that anything less than perfect would be unacceptable. I’m surprised he didn’t snap!”

“All there you go again!” Frank scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m the big bad villain because I want my children to succeed. How awful of me.”

“Not a villain. Just an asshole!”

“Dalilah!” Alba’s voice was like a crack of a whip, making her stand to attention with a start. “You will not speak like that under my roof! Especially not to your father.”

Lilah pressed her lips together and crossed her arms over her chest. She hated how her mom always took her father’s side of things.

“No Alba. Let her speak,” Frank said with a sneer. “Maybe that way she can work out through these daddy issues of hers! Because that’s the only reason I can think of for her to crazy enough to date a man old enough to be her father!”

His words made Lilah stumble back and straight into Keanu’s strong chest. He steadied her with gentle hands on her shoulders and she looked up at him, catching the somber expression in his face. She wondered how much he heard.

“And you,” Frank continued, getting to his feet and walking towards Keanu. Lilah made sure to keep herself between both men just in case. “I’ve been trying to figure out if this is some kind of mid-life crisis or if you’re just a creep who prey on naïve young girls.”

“I’m not a fucking girl!” Lilah shouted, making her father gaze snap back at her. “I’m twenty-nine, dad! A damn adult! Completely capable of making my own decisions about who I date or what I want to do with my life!” she declared stepping up at him and Frank actually backed away. “And you don’t get to criticize anyone about dating younger women. Wasn’t mom 21 when you met her? While you were 36? Don’t you think you’re being a little hypocritical?”  She saw her father’s eyes narrowing and the way he swallowed hard as he glanced at his wife. He didn’t have an argument against that. “You don’t get to judge my choice in boyfriends and you certainly do not get to bully me into being ashamed of this.”

“Is that what I’m doing?” he snorted, arms crossed over his chest.

“It’s what you always do!” she pointed out. “Darling, don’t you think that skirt is a little too small? You don’t want boys to think you’re easy, do you?” she pitched her tone lower, mimicking her father’s voice. “Baby, I’m sure creative writing classes are interesting, but what are you gonna use that for? Be smart about what you spend your money on. Film school? Are you out of your mind? Grow up! You need a real career!”

She could see her father’s eyes widening as she threw his own words back at him. Lilah always wondered if he even noticed how much they hurt. From the corner her eye, she saw Alba staring at them, her expression just as horrified.

“Truth is I do have tons of daddy issues. Jamie too,” Lilah said, her voice returning to normal. “Because you spent all of our lives making us feel worthless unless we were doing exactly what you wanted. You made us feel like unless we were your perfect children, you would never love us. I became a nearly pathological people-pleaser and perfectionist, while Jamie kept pushing himself so hard he felt his only choice was to take drugs so he wouldn’t disappoint you. So, congratulations! You did a great job fucking up your kids.” Lilah turned her back on her father, heading towards the door. “Oh, not that you care because it’s not a career you’d approve, but I got in film school. Starting next year, I’ll be getting a master's degree in screenwriting.”

She walked out the door, without a second look to her parents, but she felt Keanu following her like a silent shadow all the way back to her bedroom. She felt weirdly numb after that shouting match. All the words that had been stuck on her chest for so long finally out there. She dropped on the edge of her bed, staring unseeingly at her own hands.

“Are you ok?” Keanu asked, tone soft and gentle. He was kneeling in front of her, trying to catch her gaze. “Talk to me, please.”

“I don’t know,” she finally replied with a shaky breath. “I think I went too far. I overreacted and…”

“Don’t do that,” Keanu asked, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “You have all the right to be upset. Always. It doesn’t matter the reason; doesn’t matter if they don’t understand it or if they wouldn’t react the same way. It doesn’t make your feelings any less valid, okay?”

And those words hit Lilah in a corner of her heart that had been shoving all the hurt and pain of having her feelings invalidated and reprehended by people who were supposed to love her unconditionally, including herself. Lilah swallowed around the lump on her throat and hugged him tightly, hiding her face in his chest. Keanu maneuvered her until she was sitting on his lap and pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head and mumbling soothing words as he held her through it all.

She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, but after a while, Lilah’s tears finally stopped flowing and she just stayed cuddled in Keanu’s lap, letting him embrace her, keep her safe, away from the harsh reality of her brother being in the hospital or the epic fight she just had with her father. In his arms, none of that existed.

“Can I ask something?” Keanu started, voice low and gentle and Lilah nodded against his chest. “You’re really gonna go? To NYFA, I mean?”

“Yeah,” she replied, looking up at him. “I got the money and you were right; it is my dream. I’m tired of pushing it aside.”

“I’m very happy for you,” he smiled wide, kissing her forehead and Lilah grinned, some of the tightness in her chest loosening a bit. “But just so you know, if you decided to take that job at Oxford, I’d be happy for you too. I just want you to do what is best for you.”

“I know,” she replied, meeting his lips for a kiss as relief washed over her. It was good to know that Keanu would be supportive of her choice either way. “Thank you.”

There was a short knock on her door and Lilah got up to open it. She found her mother outside, her eyes red and puffy, she had been crying just like Lilah herself had.

“I’m going to see you brother. Are you coming?”

“Yeah. Just give me a moment to change?”

Her mother nodded and stepped away, letting Lilah close the door. She turned to Keanu and he just gave her a soft, understanding smile, still on his spot on the floor.

“Go. You need some time alone with your mom.”

“Thank you,” Lilah sighed, bending down for one last kiss before quickly changing clothes and meeting her mother by the car.

Most of the drive to the hospital was made in awkward silence, her mother staring straight ahead, shoulders and arms tense almost like a statue as she drove.

“Mãe (mom)…” Lilah started once they pulled the car to a stop at the visitor’s parking lot of the hospital. She just couldn’t take the silence anymore. “Desculpa (I’m sorry).”

“Não, amor. Eu que deveria pedir desculpas. Eu nunca soube (No, darling. I should be the one to apologize. I never knew) …” Alba choked up in her words, tears springing in her eyes. “Eu nunca soube que você se sentia assim. Nós te amamos, não importa o que você faça ou quem você namore. Eu sei que seu pai às vezes age como se isso não fosse verdade, mas é. Eu prometo (I never knew you felt like this. We love you, no matter what you do or who you date. I know sometimes your father acts like that isn’t true, but it is. I promise).”

“Eu sei (I know),” Lilah sighed, rubbing her face. “Mas saber e sentir são coisas bens diferentes (but knowing and feeling are very different thins).” Alba sighed too and pulled her into a hug.

“Vai ficar tudo bem. Jamie vai ficar bem e nós vamos encontrar um jeito de consertar tudo isso. Todos nós. (It’s gonna be ok. Jamie is going to be fine and we’re gonna find a way to fix everything. All of us).”

As Lilah stepped out of the car, she really wished she could find a way to believe her mom, but after everything that had happened in the last couple of days, being ok seemed like a very distant reality. She kept quiet and followed Alba through the hospital and to the ICU room where Jamie was being kept for observation.

The sight of her brother all hooked into tubes and wires looking small and frail was so jarring it made her freeze at the door. Lilah had always seen Jamie as a force of nature, unstoppable to the point of being annoying at times. But right here, in that hospital bed, under the harsh lights of the room, he looked anything but that.

“You’re just gonna stand there?” he asked, voice low and raspy, surprising Lilah. She knew he was out of the respirator, but she hadn’t been aware he was already talking.

“No, of course not!” she walked in, standing by the side of his bed, unsure of what to do, where to touch. “How are you?”

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck,” he joked weakly, cracking a smile. Lilah snorted. Only Jamie would make such a terrible joke at such a time. “So, I hear you’ve got yourself a sugar daddy? Some famous old fart?”

“Seriously?” Lilah rolled her eyes, glancing at her mom, who just rolled her eyes too. “He’s neither an old fart or my sugar daddy. He’s just older and my boyfriend.”

“I wanna meet him. See if he’s good enough for you,” Jamie said, his eyes fluttering closed. Lilah could only imagine how much effort it took for him to stay awake to chat with them.

“You will. When you get out of here,” she said with a smile. “For now, just get better, ok?” Lilah pressed a kiss on his forehead and stepped outside to give Jamie and Alba a moment alone.

While she waited, Lilah emailed both NYFA, confirming she would be signing up in January, and Arthur Pierce, politely declining his offer. The action released what was left of the knot of doubt that had taken residence in her chest. Lilah was still terrified of course. It was a lot of changes in a short time. She had no idea where her life was going. But for the first time, she felt that, wherever it was heading, it was on her terms and no one else’s. Or so she hoped.

After visiting Jamie, they headed back home and Lilah made a beeline to her bedroom, expecting to find Keanu there, but to her surprise, the room was empty and his suitcase packed, ready to go. The sight of it made her smile fall. She knew he couldn’t stay, but she didn’t expect him to go so soon.

As she was coming down the stairs to search for Keanu, Lilah saw her father heading towards the kitchen. She went after him, knowing they needed to talk. She wasn’t gonna apologize for what she said, but she knew she had cut him deep and someone needed to take the first step.  

She followed him to the backyard, her heart hitting her throat when she saw Keanu was sitting outside, smoking. Her father loomed over him for a moment, but Keanu seemed unfazed as he looked up at the older man.

“Give me one of those,” Frank said, at last, taking a seat on the lawn chair next to Keanu’s. “It’s been ages since I’ve smoked.”

“Not a good habit to have when you’re a doctor,” Keanu commented, and Lilah thought she heard just a hint of tension as he handed one and the lighter.

“I googled you,” Frank said after he lit his cigarette and returned the lighter to Keanu. “Wanted to know what kind of man my daughter was dating.”

“What did you find?”

“You certainly have been dealt a shitty hand in life,” Frank said, and Keanu snorted.

“I guess that’s one way of putting it,” he said, glancing sideways at the older man.

“This isn’t just some random fling for you, is it?” Frank asked, meeting his gaze.

“I don’t just jump in flights to Miami for random flings, Dr. Bennett. I love your daughter very much,” Keanu replied, his tone almost matter-of-factly and Lilah’s heart lunged in her chest.

“So, you knew about this film school thing?”

“That she got in? yes. That was decided to go I learned at the same time you did.”

“Tell me honestly, can she make it?” Frank asked his tone almost pleading. “I know she thinks everything I do is to control her, but all I ever wanted was to keep her safe. She’s my baby girl. I’m afraid of what the world can do to her. How it can hurt her, break her spirit.”

“Dr. Bennett, I can’t tell you if she’ll make it or not. There’s no way to know,” Keanu started, shifting on his chair so he was facing the other man. “I will tell you this: your daughter is amazing. She’s smart and stubborn and she’s stronger than you think. Tougher than you think. Even if she doesn’t make it, she’ll be fine. It’s not like she doesn’t have a backup plan. Knowing her, she probably already has a backup for the backup.”

“Yeah, that sounds like my Lilah,” Frank said with a chuckle.

“Trust your daughter, Dr. Bennett. You and your wife raised an incredible woman,” Keanu said with a smile and Frank snorted, eyes downcast.

“Didn’t you hear? I screw her up.”

“Only if you hold onto that image of who you wanted your daughter to be, instead of seeing who your daughter is and can be. That woman? She’s breathtaking.”

As Keanu said that, he glanced over at Lilah, catching her soft smile and smiling too. Frank followed his gaze, noticing his daughter was there watching them, before looking back at Keanu with a chuckle.

“How long have you known she was standing there?”

“A while.” Keanu stood up and offered him a hand. “It was very nice to meet you, Dr. Bennett.”

“You too, Keanu.” Frank stood up too and shook his hand.

With one final nod, Keanu walked up to Lilah. He paused in front of her, hand on her cheek, just watching her. There was such a sadness in his gaze that she felt her chest tightening.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” he said, pressing a kiss on her lips and walking away before Lilah could say anything else. She thought about following him, but there was another man in her life she needed to focus her attention on right now.

Lilah took the seat Keanu had vacated, hugging herself and keeping her eyes away from Frank. Part due to hurt. Part due to fear. She wasn’t sure what to expect just yet.

“He’s sneaky, that one,” Frank commented, stubbing the remains of his cigarette and Lilah nodded. “But wise and very much in love with you.”

“I’m very much in love with him too,” Lilah said, glancing at her father to gather his reaction but he just sighed.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Frank said, his voice breaking, eyes welling up. “I never wanted to hurt you I was just trying…”

“I know, dad,” Lilah sighed too, struggling to talk around the lump in her throat. “But Keanu’s right. You need to trust me, let me make my own choices. If I screw up, then I’ll face the consequences. That’s how life works.”

“I know,” he replied with a shaky breath. “If I could turn back the time…”

“We can’t,” Lilah interrupted, taking his hand and squeezing it slightly. “We can try to do better from now on.” Frank nodded, drying his eyes on his sleeves.  

“He’s right, you know?” he said with a soft smile. “You already are an incredible woman and I’m very proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she replied, letting him pull her into a hug.

Lilah knew this wound between them was far from healed, but they made steps in the right direction today and that was definitely something. She stayed wrapped in her dad’s embrace for a while longer before they both headed back inside. Frank stayed in the kitchen to help Alba, while Lilah headed to her room, finding Keanu sitting on her bed, all ready to go.

“How are things with your dad?” he asked before Lilah could even begin to speak.

“It’s… not good, but better, I guess,” she admitted, take a seat next to him and letting Keanu entwine their fingers together. “We’ll need to work on it. I need to work on it. Just another thing for the list.”

Lilah let out a long sigh. She didn’t even recognize her life at this point. Not after most of what she thought she was and wanted changed and Lilah didn’t even know if for better or worse just yet. Only time would tell. There was one thing Lilah knew, though.

“You can’t stay, can you?” she wasn’t just speaking about Miami.

“No,” Keanu sighed, voice so low Lilah barely heard it. “You’ll never be sure if you made these choices because of yourself or me if I stay.”

She let out a shaky, strangled breath, tears prickling her eyes again. She hated the fact that he was right. Would Lilah even have considered film school if she hadn’t met him? Would it even have been such a hard choice between NYFA and Oxford if Keanu wasn’t in her life? After everything, Lilah wanted to do this for herself and be sure she was doing it for herself.

“You know, if this was a rom-com, right now would be the part we make big declarations of love and kiss and everything would be magically alright,” Lilah pointed out, her tone a little bittersweet.

“This isn’t a rom-com,” Keanu replied, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “There’s no magic fix, Lil. Despite what The Beatles said, sometimes, love is not all you need.”

“I know,” her voice was cracking, tears making it hard for her to get the words out. “I don’t wanna do this.”

“Me either,” his own voice was rough and choked. When Lilah dared to look his way, Keanu had his head bent low, hair shielding his face. “But you’re figuring yourself, figuring your life and I’m afraid that if I stay, I’ll get in your way because I’ll want to help. Right now, if I could, I’d try to protect you from all harm. It took everything of me not to intervene when you were arguing with your parents. I still didn’t manage to stay out of it completely. I just wasn’t built that way. You need to know that it was all you. Your decisions, your mistakes, your wins… I can’t be part of it. Not yet anyway.”

“K…” her voice died as Lilah didn’t know what to say to that and Keanu let out a small snort, glancing her way, his eyes reddish.

“I like how you call me, K. Everyone else goes for Ke.”

“I’m not everyone else,” Lilah replied, and he smiled, that same sad smile from before.

“No. You’re not,” Keanu pulled her into his lap, hugging her tight, face buried on her neck. Lilah wrapped her arms around him just as tightly, nose in his hair, breathing in deep.

“What time is your flight?” she mumbled against his hair.

“In four hours,” he replied, and Lilah felt his warm breath tickling her skin.

“Can you stay until then?” She asked and Keanu tilted his head up, meeting her eyes.

“I’d like that,” he said, letting Lilah seal his lips with a kiss.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxthe end (for now at least)xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tag list (give a shout to be added or removed)

@toomanystoriessolittletime @meetmeinthematinee @theolsdalova @krazycags01 @beyond-antares @cumberbatchbaps @sgt-morgan @futuristic-imbecile @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day @a-really-bi-girl @fanficsrusz @nonsensicalobsessions @poisonedjoinery @soarocks @kindainlovewithkeanu @ficsnroses @weird-civilian​

[violetsystems]

personal

I’ve been able to sleep until six the last few days.  I’ve been on this miserable eight to four sleep schedule.  I ordered a silent vortex coffee grinder specifically to be less annoying in this regard.   Even if I could literally just grind the coffee the night before.  I also bought a rug cleaner for the first time in my life.  It’s amazing the things you don’t realize you need for a home let alone an office.  Last night I received an email from LinkedIn asking me to weigh in on a conversation about higher education.  The only public facing social networking site I really use actively I pay for.  They bought a service called Linda.com years ago.  It was probably the most important site to me for instructional videos.  These days it is included on the platform so I spend a fair amount of time keeping my job skills plausible.  I learned pretty hard the last six months that my professional network had all but evaporated.  A hard thing to face when you worked with your friends for over twenty years.  But people have to move on.  I sometimes make decisions that seem smarter in retrospect.  You could even mistake it for premonition but I just call it good judgement.  I made the decision to start the process of becoming a LLC.  It was pretty easy to do once you paid the four hundred dollars.  There’s services out there online that will do the legal part for you.  I chose VS consulting as the name which becomes real around mid December if the Secretary of State accepts it.  They asked me to cut the ribbon virtually.  I congratulated myself in silence but this is pretty much the first place I’ve shared the news with.  My mom didn’t quite understand what I had done and my dad is an accountant.  I haven’t told him yet either.  I got the idea seeing some of the people who still work at my old job starting their own side businesses.  Crazy to see people still employed having extra jobs in this economy.  But for the most part I don’t really compare my experience to anyone’s anymore.  So I just look forward.  There are a lot of ways I generate income.  Some of them aren’t very lucrative.  I released another ep Monday.  Three of my friends from across the world I never really talk to bought it immediately.  It makes sense because my music is how they know me.  So that’s how they keep up with me.  From there, Bandcamp revenue share Friday passed with little or no fanfare.  It still doesn’t change the fact I owe taxes on the income above a certain amount if I report it.  We all know how the rich hate paying those taxes.  And the whole world now knows that I work for a LLC on the premier professional social networking site.  It’s a win win for me because I can still look for a job but I appear employed.  It’s also a nice buffer in these times for your resume.  In retrospect, every article I read says the end of December is a perfect time to start your own business.  Mostly because January 1st allows you to start with a fresh balance sheet and good accounting.  So if anything my New Year’s resolution is to be cleaner and more concise about everything.  Even if the rest of society’s ethics and accountability gets muddier as COVID-19 and the election process drags on.  The only things I really have to worry about this next year are documenting my spending, opening up a business checking account, and deducting business expenses.  Sounds like a job to me.

There are tools you need for a job.  I bought a year long subscription to Creative Cloud.  I had it for free for years.  I worked in a visual communications department for ten years.  I saw the most amazing work every morning hung up outside my office.  It inspired me to learn about print making and screen printing.  I even owned Adobe stock at one point because I realized Microsoft Office wasn’t doing my resume much justice.  I shudder to think how many jokes were cracked by the Workday staff over my Chanel submission.  Truth is nobody called back for interviews at any of the places I applied.  And this doesn’t really stop me from keeping my eyes out for a position anywhere.  But if we are talking about generating income, I can do that all by myself.  I can also hire people and deduct more business expenses if I felt that was an option.  Which starts to get into the meat of why the job market and economy is so fucked up in America.  A lot of people didn’t fall in line on a balance sheet when COVID-19 came crashing down last February.  And when the fiscal year came time to start fresh, they thinned their liabilities.  Companies are now thinking in quarters rather than years at this point.  And small businesses like myself also have to think the same because I now owe the IRS money every three months.  The accounting side of it doesn’t really bore me.  I’ve done every IT role in the business pretty much over twenty years.  I guess that’s why LinkedIn calls on me to offer an opinion.  I’ve never had to be this hardcore about the finances.  Another great reason why I spend so much time in spreadsheets aside from writing on the internet.  It’s much easier to approach a professional consultant with twenty years of experience with an invoice than it is to tether them to your payroll with benefits.  I’m always having to think six months ahead myself.  This has an advantage to it insofar that I don’t often look back.  You pay your taxes and you move on.  There are many things I could do to generate income.  I could make a zine and sell it quarterly on bandcamp along with shirts.  I could post flyers around the neighborhood offering after christmas tech support.  I could scour the net for opportunities to audit galvanized IT departments.  I could do all this with more confidence if I could say I am employed.  I could also hire someone to help me.  But I could do none of this and deduct expenses without applying for a sole proprietorship.  And truth be told I already have to claim this for the New York Stock Exchange.  So if you had to put a label on what I do now it isn’t really that much different from any other business.  The state’s richest men started as LLCs.  They’re also the biggest pricks who pay the least taxes.  Trickle down economics is a funny concept.  Businesses offer jobs they deduct from their income therefore paying less to the pool.  This would be fine for small income generating businesses.  But Ken Griffin would say otherwise as he and other rich people benefit from this structure.  They say the American Dream is owning your own business.  So welcome to my personal nightmare.  I hope you don’t mind me taking the itemized deductions after how I’ve been treated.

I don’t actually know how it’s going to work out.  I just know I don’t want to appear unemployed while corporate America expects me to wink and make them more money.  There are investments that have worked out for me as volatile as they might be.  One Chinese company I invested in has made the CEO twelve times richer.  I own four hundred and twenty shares of that company in a brokerage.  My intent is to hold on to them for the long term possibly making someone richer at my own risk.  I could short the entire next year to my heart’s content.  My credit scores have gone through the roof.  Nobody has had any answers for me on what to do.  Nobody has coached me.  I read.  I think.  I come up with solutions to my problems.  And I put money in the right places.  That doesn’t mean anything is a sure thing.  Especially when my government finds it more advantageous to punish other countries while forgetting about it’s own people.  I am absolutely in the dark about everything.  Everything except running my own business in America.  I already have income I have to report over the next three years due the CARES act.  So that is income I will deduct.  This is how it works here in America.  You seize the means of production and you go to work.  If it seems backward for me, you wouldn’t know the half.  My life is so fucked up in terms of how hazy and confusing other people have made it.  People invaded my life on pretenses that I can’t even begin to explain.  And part of being a strong, responsible adult is engineering your way out of these problems.  And for the most part, I’ve engineered myself into a fort that overlooks the CTA train.  And a small portion of that fort can be written off as an office.  Which in some ways if you do the math makes rent and utilities cheaper in the long run.  I don’t make the rules.  This is how America works.  A LLC gets a tax id number.  It allows you better options for retirement savings with a SEP IRA.  You can apply for business accounts and waive taxes on business purchases.  Even the family dollar around the corner has a sign in the window reminding me I can apply for tax free status.  Maybe they’re mostly to blame for planting the idea in my head.  I’m the one who made the call to apply.  Nobody held my hand.  You could also get audited by the IRS.  And I’m sure the IRS would have to figure out how I got into this situation in the first place.  Maybe they’d offer me a job. There’s other fantasies in my life I could imagine happening more than that waking nightmare.  Like actually having money to retire.  I could be travelling around the world cleaning up the mess mark to market accounting has left on big business.  The scars on economies the rich have pock marked on the middle class.  Or I could just keep generating income and be my own boss here in my kitchen.  The one thing I do know is that is sexier to be confident enough to move ahead with your own plan slowly than to short a bunch of stocks disruptively and brag about it on the internet.  You could call it my three year plan.  Don’t ask me how bonds factor in that equation.  I’m not a spy.  What I am is a guy that is trying to be the solution and not the victim.  And that guy doesn’t ever want to be a burden on the people I love.  So that guy is going to keep doing what he does.  And I’m not going to lie that you inspire me to do so.  As sexy and confident as I’m born to be.  <3 Tim

[judgement-free-sideblog]

Cakes and accidents

Don’t you just love meet cuties?? I do, I got this idea in my mind for like a week and finally got the time to write it, I hope you like it as much as I did

Tom Holland x reader

One shot

Warnings: Fluff, maybe cursing

The brown box with a “Congratulations” write on top felt heavy in your hands, you checked the clock and it was 2:15 in the afternoon, your sister won’t be at home at least for another hour, and you had been sitting waiting for the cake to be ready at the shop for like an hour so you choose to walk the Canbury Gardens to the end instead of walk around and take the bus.

The cold breeze from the Tamesis felt nice in your face, it was lovely august afternoon and for once things were going great, not like they were bad before but there was hardly anything that could ruin that moment, until she arrived

The rumor of fast running legs and the voice of a man screaming “Tessa please stop!!” Make you turn around, still holding tightly the box but it was too late a big mass of grey hair and enthusiastic licking was already over you and suddenly you found yourself on the grass and the cardboard box completely destroyed with chocolate and hazelnut filling all over you and the friendly dog.

“I’m so sorry ma'am, are you alright?” A polite voice over your head said and then he talked to the dog “Tessa you naughty girl, I told you to not run away like that”

“Oh please don’t blame her, I’m fine. And please don’t call me madame I feel like a thousand years old” You immediately said and then taking the hand he offered you to get up, surprised by how strong he was, and there he was Tom Holland with a concerned look holding your hand “And I’m only twenty, I’m… I’m…” Your tongue froze in your mouth when you realize who he was, even when him screaming Tessa was a given you could not believe your eyes and considered the possibility that you may be having a concussion and imagine the whole thing"Y/N" you said finally trying to look casual but certain he noticed you staring for a moment to his arms, and you quickly let go of his hand.

“Oh nice to meet you miss” he said with a smile that started in his eyes and extended to his whole face “I’m…”

“Oh no the cake” you interrupted him when you saw Tessa desperately trying to destroy the rest of the box “Fuck! Now I’m never going to make in time” you take both hands to your mouth and look back at him with a nervous smile “I’m so sorry”

“Oh don’t worry darling” He said laughing “But please let me pay for what this troublemaker did, I’m sure your… boyfriend? Won’t mind if you are late with a cake” He said petting the dog and trying to read you reaction.

“Oh no, this was an accident I couldn’t accept, and no he wouldn’t mind” You said now mentally laughing at the subtle disappointment in his eyes “Because he doesn’t exists, it was for my sister she got a fancy exchange to a USA college and we are throwing a surprise farewell party at four”

“Oh” He said smiling again “In that case with more reason there’s gotta be something I can do, where did you bought it?”

“In a Pastry shop in Eden Street, like 10 minutfrom here is not far nut I’ll never make it in time, I have to get out of the garden, then go back and wait for the cake to be ready and then go back to my house” you start listening knowing too well it was impossible to be at home before four. “There is no way I make it on time, I’ll just bought some biscuits on the way home”

“This place is by any chance Glutopia?” He asked taking out his phone, you nod and he started dialing a number, so you take a moment to watch him, he was wearing jeans and a dark grey tshirt and a baseball cap, you can smell a discreet fresh scent and assume is his perfume, he looked as perfect as you can imagine if not better.

You look directly at your feet trying to remain calm and don’t freak out and start asking a million annoying questions that could make him feel uncomfortable, it was nice of him to try and introduce himself, but he was Tom Holland you knew that very well and your other concerns were keeping you from fully acknowledging the situation.

“Thanks man I’ll be there in fifteen” He hung up the phone and looked at you once again with that bright and contagious smile of his “it’s all settled, a friend of mine owns that Pastry shop and he seems to remember your order I asked him to make it again for you, let’s go!”

“Oh that’s so sweet of you, but you really don’t have to…” you start but he was already walking “Go where?” You manage to ask now following and the happy dog that kept trying to run.

“To my car of course, you’ll get there faster if I drive you, is the least that I can do” He said as if it was obvious and you ignore the surrealism of the situation and followed him.

“You lady are going to need a bath when we get home” He said to Tessa once she was comfortably in the back seat and you on the fron of his Audi, Of course he has this car your mind says and you prevent yourself for not taking pictures like a crazy person, thanking god you phone is in your purse. “I’m really sorry, she can be very strong, you are not hurt, are you Y/N?”

“I’m fine really” you said delighted by the sound of your name in his lips “If anything is my fault for being clumsy and getting on her way, we actually have a dalmatian at home and he can be very affectionate at times, so I’m used to”

“Oh that’s nice, what is his name?” He answered and you can feel he is genuinely interested.

“Bones, he was so skinny when my mom rescued him, and you could see his spine under the skin, so we called him that, poor thing had terrible owners before” You answered, and looked at the window sad because the ride was coming to an end so quickly.

“Oh that’s so sad, but I’m glad you and your family take care of him, I can’t live without this beauty right here” he said once he parked the car and give a friendly rub to Tessa’s head.

“Well he is the light of the house actually” You said looking at the entrance of the shop “Thanks for bringing me”

“I actually fancy a cup of tea right now, if you don’t mind me waiting with you, I will give you a ride home if you want, you know make sure the cake gets safe and sound to his destiny” He said taking the dog out and offering his arm to you.

“Sure, that would be lovely” you said taking it, and it was a good thing since your legs were about to not respond by how perfect he was and how sweet and chivalrous he acted.

“So your sister is in college, and you?” He asked once you were sitting in the thankfully empty shop, a pair of hot cups of tea and a plate of biscuits were between he and you and it felt so right and simple that you finally relaxed and were able to talk without fear, he had that effect on you, to make you feel comfortable and like all his attention was on you.

“I’m getting my Bachelor’s degree in English literature at Bristol” You said, with no success in hiding how proud of yourself you were “I intend to become a writer”

“Oh a smart girl, that’s amazing” he said taking a biscuits and giving it a big bite.

“I didn’t mean to brag really, what do you do you…?” Sure let’s pretend I don’t have all your movies at home a phone filled with pictures of your precious face, your mind said but you managed to sound convincing and even dare to ask “I’m so sorry I didn’t catch your name”

A baffled look appeared on his face for a moment, but he don’t seem offended, just surprised, and you were about to stop the joke and simply said that of course you knew who he was but he spoke first.

“How rude of me, I’m Stanley I live nearby and I’m an actor, and you should brag, never be ashamed of doing something you love” he said, and now you were not sure if he was playing along or if he was just relief of having a normal conversation, so you played along.

“Oh that’s so wonderful, theater, movies or telly?”

“Theater, and I’m actually about to start a play in a month, you should come” he said with no sarcasm, now you were sure he was enjoying not being the big star but a simple guy from London and that made you smile even more.

“I would love to, but in that case you should definitely let me invited you a pint after, since you have been so splendid rescuing me from my clumsiness” you said reinforcing your point since a piece of biscuit fall in your cup splattering your blouse.

“That would be perfect” he said and he offered you a napkin laughing, and then took another and to your surprise he started writing his number on it. “So you can call me in case you need to get rescued again” You took it with a foolish smile in your face, holding to it as it was your most precious possession. “So what kind of writer you want to be?” He asked and you keep talking like that for the next 30 minutes until the cake was ready, and as he said he took you home, and you were there with 15 minutes to spare before other people and your sister arrived.

“Well I guess that’s it” he said once you were in front of your house and you were petting Tessa and saying goodbye to her “I umm… I hope I’ll see you again, maybe in a less disastrous situation, I actually live nearby”

“I wouldn’t call it disastrous, more like a friendly accident” you said putting an almost imperceptible extra intonation on the f word, the idea of being so close to your door and back to reality gave you courage to take one last risk, and after you shake his hand and turned to enter your home you add “I’ll see you around neighbor” and run inside without looking back.

“Oh she definitely knows!” Harry said taking a big bite of the pizza Tom had ordered for dinner “What I still don’t get is why you didn’t tell her from the start hey I’m Tom Holland, although she looks hot, and you said she’s got a sister?” He was looking at the picture Y/N had sent him two days later and wich Harry had surprised him smiling at, there was dalmatian looking at the girl with sad eyes and the text said:

Someone’s jealous because I smell like Tessa.

“Well she is a smart woman, and it was nice having a nice conversation with her, and her sister sounds way too smart for you” he said teasing the young boy. “Maybe I’m just reading too much into this, but I still feel shitty about lying to her”

“Well your name is actually Stanley, and you do are about to star in a play, so no lies there, just call her and asked her out, I’m sure miss Bristol alumni here would like you”

He only nodded, even if she knew who he was her face and her laugh kept popping up in his mind in the last three days they had been chatting, so he finished his meal and walked away from the table, writing another text for her, thinking this was the best accident he ever had.

Hey neighbor, dinner tomorrow?

[coldimplord]

Spilled Coffee - Chapter 13

“Everyone hide, I think they’re coming!,” Justin hushed while everyone hurried to a hiding spot.

Y/n crouched behind the kitchen counter next to Chengcheng and held her breath when she heard voices from right outside the door. Not soon after, the lock clicked and Cas and Yanjun entered the house.

Cas dropped her keys onto the shelf next to the door. “Where are my parents?,” she wondered while taking off her shoes, “and why is it so quiet? What is Justin up to this time?” 

When she turned on the lights in the living room, everyone jumped out of hiding, shouting “Surprise! Happy Birthday Cas!” which startled her enough to make her scream and instinctively grab Yanjun’s hand.

Everyone started to laugh at their friend’s reaction and Cia shouted “I can’t believe I got the chance to see something like this again,” earning a loud groan form Cas. 

“I don’t even know if I should be touched or really mad at you,” she said, pinching her nose bridge, “I just got scared to death for a moment okay?” 

“Uh huh, are you still scared then?,” Justin said, wiggling his eyebrows at his sister. 

“No?,” Cas responded cocking her head to the side. A wide grin appeared on the young boy’s face which confused her even more. Mockingly he asked, “Then why are you still holding his hand?” 

With a yelp she pulled her hand out of Yanjun’s and took a few steps away from the boy who was just grinning at her in amusement, “That’s something I could get used to,” he chuckled. Cas just stood there dumbfounded, trying to hide her blushing cheeks with her hands. 

“Now,” Justin said while pulling both Cas and Zeren into the middle of their circle, “it’s time we officially congratulate our special guests.” 

“I’m living here you loser,” Cas snorted. “Okay,” he sighed, “Our special guest and my boring sister.” 

One after another wished their friends a happy birthday with a hug and a small present they prepared. 

Cas jumped and squealed in joy after unwrapping the twin’s gift, “You really got me an Exo Jersey? How did you even get that, I thought they were limited edition?” 

“I got my connections,” Cia winked and finger gunned. “Thank you guys so much,” she said and pulled them into a hug. 

“You better make sure to hug me for this one too,” her brother said, handing her a wrapped box. Cautiously the girl took the box, “I swear to god Justin if this is another prank I will kill you.” 

Holding up both hands he answered, “Wow, I feel betrayed. Is this really how you think of me?” Without even batting an eye she responded, “Yes,” and started to unpack the present carefully. “Chill, it’s from mom and dad too,” he said while rolling his eyes.  

“Oh my god Justin,” she whispered and hugged her brother tightly, “I can’t believe you managed to persuade them to buy this.” Patting her head he answered smugly, “Well, I couldn’t stand it anymore seeing you trying to work with this old-ass laptop.” 

“Even though I always say I hate you, I’m actually really glad to have you as my brother,” she mumbled into the hug. “Love you too sis.” 

“This is so beautiful!,” Cia sobbed, destroying the moment completely. Zeren patted her back with a sympathetic look, “It’s okay.” For a moment they looked each other in the eye just smiling until Justin groaned, “Ew! That’s too cheesy for me!,” in over exaggerated disgust. 

Cas and y/n shared a look, “Did we miss something?” Simultaneously the pair answered, “No?” making Justin raise his voice, “You two call a date nothing?” 

Cia shrieking, “Justin!” loudly, drowned out all the disbelieving “A date?” shouts of the group. “Friendship cancelled,” she said, boxing his shoulder, “I thought I could trust you!” 

“Who would ever think Justin could keep a secret,” Zhengting huffed, “I’d rather trust Cheng than Justin.” “Hey!” 

“Anyways, could you all take a moment and appreciate the god-like matchmaking I did here?,” Justin bragged, “Things I did? THAT!” 

Chengcheng just rolled his eyes and pushed Justin away to hand his best friend the gift he and Yanjun prepared together, “Move Bitch, it’s time for the best present.” 

Cas laughed at Justin’s dumbstruck expression while taking the packet Chengcheng was giving her. “Sorry, but nothing’s gonna be a better present than Justin’s expression just now,” the girl laughed. 

She let out an ugly squeal upon seeing the photo album her best friends had made for her. The cover was showing a picture of the three of them on their first day of school, which also marked the beginning of their friendship. 

“Look at how ugly Yanjun was back then,” Cas laughed hysterically at the sight. “Oh, so you think I’m handsome now?,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at her which immediately made her choke on her laughter. The group laughed at her reaction and Chengcheng patted her back until she stopped coughing. 

The album started by showing pictures of them from elementary school up to them now in university. At the end each of the boys left a cute and touching message, making her tear up and pull both of them into a tight hug. “That’s so sweet, thank you so much. I love it!,” she sniffed.

Letting go of the boys, she found that Zhengting was already offering her a tissue. With a grateful smile she took it and patted her eyes dry.

The friends continued to give out presents to both Cas and Zeren until only Cia was left to give Zeren her present. Justin nudged her with his shoulder, “It’s time.” Cia stared at him with eyes wide open in panic, “No no no no no, I’m not ready. I can’t do this!” 

While the others were already occupied greeting the new guests, Justin and Cia were still bickering around. With a roll of his eyes he grabbed her arm and dragged her upstairs, into his room and locked the door from the outside. 

“Justin! Justin! Are you fucking kidding me right now? Let! Me! Out!,” she shouted while hammering on the door. The younger boy laughed, “Not until you give Zeren your present.” 

A loud groan could be heard from inside the room. She turned around, just to find Zeren standing in the middle of the room who stared at her in confusion. “What are you doing here?,” she stammered. “Well, Justin told me to wait here for him,” he said while scratching his neck, “What’s up with that present he’s talking about?” 

Cia visibly stiffened at the question and her face turned bright red. Immediately Zeren had a worried expression on his face, “Are you okay?,” he asked while putting a hand on her shoulder, “You look like you’re going to faint.” 

“I’m okay. I guess,” she mumbled playing with the letter in her hands trying to avoid Zeren’s concerned gaze. She took a deep breath to calm herself a bit and looked him straight into the eyes. 

“You know what? Screw the letter. Because you’re just as dense as me, I’ll just make it crystal clear for you to understand. I like you. As in really, really liking you. Ever since I saw you at the cafe smiling at me with that most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen, I really wanted to get to know you and then the more I got to know you, the more I realised that you’re the sweetest person on this planet to me. Like, you care for everyone and listen to me and make me feel better, whenever I feel down. Like, to me you’re the cutest and purest person I know so.. I really fell for you and I had countless sleepless nights because of you and I can’t even express how happy I was when you asked me out for the date. I really just wanted to get that off my chest.” Cia covered her face with her hands in embarrassment at the end of her confession. 

Zeren blinked and just stared at the girl who just confessed her feelings for him.

 “I’m sorry if this was too mu-,” Zeren’s abrupt embrace turned the rest of Cia’s sentence into an ugly squeal. 

“I can’t believe this is actually happening. Is this a dream? You’re so cute, oh my god!,” he chuckled into her hair. 

Looking up at his face she breathed, “Does this mean you like m-”

Before she could finish her sentence she was interrupted by a soft pair of lips on hers. The kiss was soft, and incredibly gentle and before she even knew it was already over and Zeren looked at her with the biggest smile on his face, “Obviously! Do you even know how many shifts I changed with Chengcheng just so I’d be at the cafe when you were there? Why would I ask you out on a date if I didn’t like you? I like you so much, I was almost dying overthinking all of this!” 

Now it was Cia’s turn to lean in, tip-toeing a bit to reach his face, and kiss him, this time with all the love and longing that has built up over the last two months. She could feel his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her closer and smiled against his lips in response. 

As they pulled apart, just smiling at each other, Zeren put his forehead against Cia’s, caressing her face with his thumbs he gently asked, “Would you like to be my girlfriend?” 

She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hug, “Of course dummy!” He breathed a relieved laugh, as he held her close to him, “Thank you,” he murmured into her ear, making her chuckle into his chest. 

 ~Masterlist~

[yung-tamale]

How to Pass Your Drivers Exam (and What You Probably Won’t Learn in School)

You’ve finally gotten your drivers permit. Congratulations! 

You are now one step closer to getting your drivers license, which is an important milestone which most people strive to achieve. 

However, there are some things you can do in order to possibly pass your exam, and get that drivers license. 

Here are some tips/tricks which really helped me:

Practice as much as possible. In your driveway. On your street. Practice in an empty parking lot. Since you have your permit, you cannot practice alone, especially if you’re on the road.

Make sure the person who is in the passenger seat while you are practicing has good driving experience. This person should make you feel safe and at ease, because you should feel calm and good when you drive. 

Take any constructive criticism. People want to see you pass, and most of the times, they’re doing it for your own good. If the person in the passenger seat (so like, a parent/guardian) starts yelling at you and makes you feel bad, and they say mean things, ignore the mean things and try your best. Prove everybody wrong. 

Actually go the speed limit. Yeah, it’s cool to live dangerously, but you can jam out and be a law abiding person (ha). It’s lame, but it’s a good habit to have. Don’t mind if the people around you are going 90 MPH on the interstate; they’ll get pulled over and get a ticket one day for speeding. 

It is scary, but practice driving on the interstate. At 9 AM. At 12 PM. Choose high traffic times, and be careful. Learn how to merge onto the interstate, and how to exit. I don’t like driving on the interstate, but you need to know how to drive with a lot of cars around you, especially if you live in an area that has bad traffic (or drivers!). 

Also, try driving at night time. Very early in the morning. As the run rises. Wear sunglasses, if needed, but don’t wear these during your exam. 

Go to different areas to drive. Rural areas with hills and curves on the roads. Small towns (I am from a small town). Suburban areas with narrow roads. Medium sized towns. Big towns, wherever. You will need to know how to drive anywhere. 

You don’t have to be a road genius when it comes to instructions. Use a GPS, and try to memorize the ways to get to certain places. And please, know your home address. 

Parallel parking. The three point turn. Practice these things too. Different states have different requirements, but most states will ask you to do one or two of these things. Practice driving your car in reverse, in a straight line. Practice driving, and then suddenly braking the car, to practice in case if there was an emergency. Also, knowing how to do a two point turn helps. 

Try to keep your car clean and in good condition. This means no dirty windows, having decent tires, and making sure that you check your oil every once in awhile, and ect. I like to keep an air freshener in mine. Trust me, having a clean car is better than a junky one. It will also make a better impression on your test evaluator whenever you go get your license. 

Your mirrors are there for a reason. Adjust them if you have to, and same goes for your seat. When you take the test, it is a good idea to definetely glance at them.

If you’re like me, and get anxiety, try putting on some music that you like while you drive. Of course, you can’t have the radio on during your real drivers exam, but it is a good thing to have whenever you are learning to drive. Have fun, but remember that you cannot always be blaring your music, especially if there are cop cars or ambulances that need to get by.  

Read. The. Book. No, I don’t mean skipping the book the day you go. I mean actually sitting down, and reading every page of the drivers manual. You can get a physical copy at most DMVs, or download one online. Make sure it’s up to date. The book has information on driving laws, and most come with the meanings of all the road signs. Which brings me to ...

The road signs, you gotta know them. All of them. OK, maybe not all of them, but the majority of them. I remember on my first attempt, they made me make a small quiz on 12 road signs (in my state, I believe you had to get at least half of them right to pass). This was AFTER I took the test for my permit. These never go away. 

Insurance! Is lame, but you need insurance. It is not “hip” to not have insurance. No, you need this. Some states will jail or fine you (or both) for not having it if you are caught.The money you or your parents or whoever that’s paying the insurance is more important than your Starbucks drink, a new phone, or some other stuff. This is something you have to pay every month, and something that could save your ass one day. Use it. You will need a paper or a card stating that you have insurance to use as a proof of insurance whenever you go get your license. 

NO BRAINER: DO NOT TEXT AND DRIVE. I REPEAT, DO NOT TEXT AND DRIVE. Your Snapchat or Instagram or a text or what the fuck ever can wait until later. You can reply to those messages later, but you can’t go back and undo a car accident or fatal death. This especially goes during the exam. 

Also, PUT ON YOUR SEAT BELT. I HAVE KNOWN PEOPLE WHO HAVE DIED BECAUSE THEY DIDN’T HAVE A SEAT BELT ON. You know how in movies, people go flying? Yeah, that is what could happen. This also goes for any passengers. 

NO DRUNK OR DRUG DRIVING. Know your laws in your state about this. And in the name of all that does not suck, call a damn Uber or your mom or friend or whoever if you get drunk or high and cannot drive. Hell, sleep over. You might get in trouble, but at least you are still alive. 

If you get stopped by the cops while you have your permit and you are doing some bad stuff, they will probably give you a ticket. This could mean you would have to wait several months or even a year to get your license. 

You must own the title of your car. The people at the DMV need to see it. Don’t have it? Great, people will think you have a stolen car. You cannot forget this!

Check out the reviews of the DMV that you plan on going to. Honestly, don’t go to one that has terrible reviews. Read the reviews (on Google or whatever), and go to whichever one is closest to you that has the best reviews (at least 3/5 or 4/5). Ask people that you know if they’ve been there before, and listen to them. 

Whenever you do go to the DMV, pick a good day. A rainy day with 30 degree weather and high winds is probably not a good day to go get your license. Check the weather ahead of time, but know how to drive in all weather conditions.

Don’t go to the DMV at 8 AM, unless you can help it. Noon is also a bad idea, because most DMVs go on a lunch break and you have to wait for another hour or two. Clear your schedule, and get out of school or work if needed. 

When you go to the DMV, wear something comfortable. If you know how to drive in heels, that is amazing. Though it is best not to show up with those. Make sure the outfit is cozy and uniquely you. If you want, you can do your hair or makeup. They will take your picture, and this picture will follow you forever, so you probably want to look good. But don’t worry, almost everybody that I know ended up having a dank ass picture on their license. I think it’s something about the lighting in most DMVs.

When you get in the car with your test examiner, they will want you to do things like put on your left turn signal, your right signal, and honk the horn. Your windows need to roll down. Sometimes, they will quiz you on every button that’s on the inside of your car, such as the hazard lights button. You can’t expect to pass your exam if you don’t how how your car works. 

Be humble. Don’t act like a dick. Be confident, but don’t be a douchebag. Mind your manners, say “please” and “thank you” and all that.The examiner wants to know how well you and drive, and what you’ve learned. They don’t need to see you bragging about how good you are. Apologize if you make mistakes. Remember: they’re human too, and had to go through the same thing you’re going through. 

Seriously, be nice to the examiner. All the times I went to do the test, I got the same person to be my examiner. He recognized me from before, and at first, he was kind of an ass, but I seriously think one of the reasons he passed me was because I stayed calm and tried to be optimistic.

Nevertheless, there are test examiners that are DICKS. Avoid these if possible (remember what I said about checking out the reviews). Again, prove them wrong. Don’t feel bad if they trick you into doing something you weren’t supposed to do. Just know that they will live a life knowing that they mercilessly tricked people into fucking up on their drivers exams. 

Want to feel better? Guess what? You will not be the worst person they’ve ever gotten. As long as you don’t crash the car, dive into a ditch, or take the examiner out of the city speed limits, you are probably not doing bad, and a lot better than most people. You are instantly better than a lot of the self-entitled assholes out there on the roads. 

Don’t worry if you don’t pass the first time. It is. Not. The. End of. The World. You will have more chances. A drivers license does not prove your worth. Hell, in some places, you can even get by without one. But honestly, you should try as much as possible.

Most states let you try the test again about 2 more times after the first time if you don't pass. I believe that after the 3rd time, you have to pay, and in other states, possibly take a driving class.

Don’t be in a rush to go back if you fail. Give it time, and practice some more. You must be in a good state of mind, and know that you are beautiful and capable of anything. You can do it. 

Those are all of the things I can think of right now, but please feel free to add more/make corrections. 

Disclaimer: I have actually passed my drivers exam and gotten my license. It took me two years and three tries to get mine. 

[grapesodatozier]

okay so I’m watching IT right now for 17th time and i had an epiphany. idk if this is already an idea out there but i just pasted the scene where Eddie encounters pennywise at the well House. do you think you could write a one shot where right after Eddie escapes, he bikes straight to richie’s house for comfort ? ik this is probably an idea out there in the tumblr world bUT I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE REALLY CUTE. thank you for coming to my TED talk, if anyone reads this.

thank you so much for the request!! this is such a cute idea and it was so fun to write omg

words: 2,137

read on ao3 or below!!

Eddie’s legs quickly became sorefrom how hard he was running, sneakers slapping harshly against the pavementwith every step, but he barely felt it. His chest was on fire, and his heartfelt like it was trying to punch its way out. The wind whipping past Eddie feltlike fingers down his arms, breath in his ear; it made him feel sick. His legs,protesting from years of disuse, managed to carry him all the way past hishouse to a blue Victorian. The sight made it a little easier for him tobreathe, despite how overworked his lungs were. He made his way up the porch onwobbly legs and rang the doorbell, near collapse when Maggie Tozier answeredthe door.

“Eddie?” sheasked, concern flooding her blue eyes. “Are you all right, honey?”

“Is Richie home?”Eddie managed to rasp out, his chest heaving.

“He’s in thebasement,” she answered, stepping aside and letting Eddie in. “Do you want aglass of water? You look a little beat.”

“That’s okay,”Eddie called over his shoulder, already halfway to the basement steps. “Thankyou, Mrs. Tozier!” With that he was bounding down the basement stairs.

Richie wassitting on the floor, video game controller clutched in his hands, neck cranedup at the television, his giant glasses reflecting the light of the screen. Hishead whipped toward the stairs at the sound of Eddie’s hurried steps. “EddieSpaghetti!” he exclaimed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Don’t call methat,” Eddie said weakly, frozen at the bottom of the stairs. He wasn’t quitesure why he was here, and he was still pretty terrified, which didn’t helpclear his mind. He kept feeling like if he turned around… it would still bethere, that thing.

“Aw, you knowyou love it,” Richie winked. “So. You come over for a reason? Or are you justgonna stand there looking pretty?” Eddie blushed furiously at that.

“Yeah, I bet you’dlike that,” Eddie grumbled, making his legs move as he walked over to Richie.They practically sighed in relief as he took a seat on the floor next to hisbest friend. Eddie played with the zipper of his fanny pack; it was still open,and missing a pill bottle, which made Eddie’s heart start up again. Ma’s not gonna be happy, he thought tohimself. God, she’s gonna cry and screamand have a whole fucking fit. The thought was scary, but not as scary asthe memory of where his pills were, why they were currently lying in the middleof Neibolt Street. His breathing became a thin whistle, his entire bodytrembling.

“Eds?” Eddie’shead snapped up at the sound of his name, and he found Richie’s magnified eyesnarrowed as he looked at Eddie. “You okay? I made a joke about your mom and youdidn’t even punch me.” Eddie wanted to respond, wanted to yell at him, but hecould feel his throat closing. He reached for his inhaler, but even the sightof his fanny pack had tears blurring his vision. “Whoa, whoa, hey, it’s okay, I’llget it,” Richie rushed to say. He pushed Eddie’s hands out of the way andretrieved his inhaler. Eddie opened his mouth, letting Richie press his inhalerinto his hand and guide it to his face. Eddie inhaled, grateful for themedicinal taste on his tongue. Richie had one hand on Eddie’s and the othercupping Eddie’s jaw. His hands were a little sticky, but Eddie found that hedidn’t mind; they were warm, and they helped ground him. Eddie pulled theinhaler away from his lips, steadying his breathing on his own. He felt hottear tracks running down his cheeks and wiped them away furiously. Richie slidhis hand away from Eddie’s cheek, resting it on his shoulder. Eddie missed histouch. “You okay?” Richie asked in a voice so soft Eddie practically couldn’trecognize it. “What was all that about?”

Eddie consideredtelling him, but the thought had his throat closing again. “Tell me about yourday,” Eddie said suddenly, the words tripping over one another in their rush toget out. Richie’s brow furrowed, and he looked like he was about to saysomething, but Eddie cut him off. “Any good chucks today?” he asked, his voicestill shaking. The confusion on Richie’s face smoothed out, some expressionEddie couldn’t place passing over his wide eyes before he beamed at Eddie.

“Finally pickingup on my genius vocabulary, I see,” he bragged before launching into an accountof his day. Every word calmed Eddie’s breathing, every wild gesture and stupidvoice dried Eddie’s tears. Before long he was even laughing, smacking Richie’sshoulder half-heartedly. “So you really came over just to hear about my day?”Richie asked, toeing the line between humorous and serious.

Eddie shrugged,already beginning to shrink in on himself again. “I just wanted to see you,” hesaid defensively, wishing he’d worded it differently as a shit-eating,bucked-tooth grin spread across Richie’s face.

“I’m pretty irresistible,aren’t I?”

“Yeah, to licemaybe,” Eddie scoffed. But then he was thinking about lice, and things crawlingon him, inside of him, and he startedfreaking out again. What if that thing had touched him? What if he wasinfected?

“Eds?”

“I sawsomething,” Eddie managed to croak out.

“Congratulationson not being blind? Although considering your present company, you’re kindajust bragging.” Eddie shot Richie a look that shut him up.

“You know thehouse on Neibolt Street?”

“The abandonedone?” Eddie nodded. “Yeah, that place is fuckin’ Creep City.”

“Well, I passedit on my way home, and…” Eddie trailed off, his chest already tightening again.For once in his life Richie was quiet, patiently waiting for Eddie to continue.“I saw this, this man, I guess, but he-” Eddie sucked in a breath sharply,feeling himself getting to the verge of tears again. He gripped the hem of hisshorts so hard his knuckles turned white. “He was sick, like, fucking rotting.” He trained his eyes on Richie’sgangly, bent knees in an attempt to ground himself, unable to look into hisfriend’s eyes as his own began to fill with tears again. “I dropped my pills,and then he just fucking appeared outof nowhere. And I ran, but h-he chased me.” Eddie’s resolve broke on theword “chased,” and he began sobbing in earnest. Richie froze for a moment beforepulling Eddie into his arms. The angle was a bit awkward, as they were bothsitting cross-legged, their knees banging together. Eddie crawled into Richie’slap, throwing his shame out the window and following the instincts that toldhim to seek the comfort Richie was offering. Eddie was both surprised andgrateful when Richie wrapped his arms even more tightly around Eddie’s torsowithout cracking a joke. Eddie burrowed his face into Richie’s shoulder,fingers gripping the front of his shirt. He thought that maybe he should beembarrassed, but Richie was pulling him in, not pushing him away, and insteadof feeling embarrassed he felt safe,finally.

“Did he hurtyou?” Richie asked. His voice sent chills down Eddie’s spine; Eddie had onlyseen Richie genuinely mad once or twice in their six years of friendship, butit was so chilling that he’d memorized what it sounded like, and it soundedlike that. Eddie shook his head.

“N-no, I gotaway.” An image popped into Eddie’s head then, a bunch of balloons in anunnatural triangle formation, none of them bopping or blowing in the wind.Then, behind the balloons-

But no, Richiewouldn’t believe that. If Eddie mentioned the clown Richie would think he’dbeen joking, or that he was crazy. He might even get mad at him, and Eddie didn’twant to do anything that would make Richie stop holding him.

“Damn right yougot away from that fucking creep,” Richie said. Eddie thought he was trying tosound light-hearted, proud even, but there was still that harshness in hisvoice, that anger. “No fucking creep-ass hobo is gonna touch my Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie’s arms tightenedaround Eddie, and Eddie kind of felt like he was melting into Richie. It feltnice. Richie took a breath and said in a voice much closer to his normal,jovial tone, “I swear Eds, you gotta go out for track, you’d knock ‘em dead.”Eddie’s chest tightened again, but this time it was different. My Eddie. Eds. He curled further intoRichie, sniffling; Richie was a bony motherfucker, but Eddie had never beenmore comfortable. “Hey,” Richie whispered in Eddie’s ear, “he can’t get you,okay? You’re safe now. He’s never gonna bother you again.” This was anothervoice Eddie had only heard a handful of times, but it was a voice he liked muchbetter than the angry one. It was a voice Richie never used around the others,Eddie had only ever heard it when he and Richie were alone. It soothed him, andsoon his sobs were nothing more than small hiccups.

He reluctantlylifted his head from Richie’s shoulder, wiping at his eyes. “Shit, I got snoton your shirt,” he laughed weakly. Richie just shrugged.

“This shirt’s seenworse,” he grinned.

“Ugh, you’regross,” Eddie groaned, sharing Richie’s smile. He didn’t want to leave Richie’slap, but he felt like he had to, so he did.

“You know youlove me,” Richie winked.

“Yeah,” Eddiesighed, suddenly exhausted. That wiped the grin off Richie’s face, leaving himwith wide eyes and pink cheeks.

“I’m uh, I’mglad you came over,” Richie said. His hand were in his lap, but his Band-Aidcovered knees were bumping against Eddie’s, so he was close enough that hecould run his fingers over Eddie’s calves just by stretching them a little bit.Eddie got a weird feeling in his chest when Richie did that, but it felt kindof nice. “You know, you’re always safe here. I’m not gonna let anything happento you.” Eddie nodded, taking Richie’s hands in his own. His stomach flutteredas he did so, but Richie held on tight, and Eddie didn’t feel like pullingaway.

“Thanks, Rich.”

“Any time.”

“I’m not gonnalet anything happen to you either, you know.”

“Aw, Eds, myfierce little protector, you’re too sweet.” Eddie rolled his eyes, but he didn’tlet go of Richie’s hands. “You okay?” Richie asked after a moment of silence.

“I think so,”Eddie said, deflating a bit. “I’m just- what if I’m sick now, you know? What ifhe did touch me, or what if it was airborne?”

“Well if it���sairborne then you just got me sick,” Richie joked, “so I guess we’ll rottogether, asshole.” He grinned, but it didn’t do anything to calm Eddie’sfears. Picking up on this, he added, “Eds, you’re not sick, I promise.”

“You don’t knowthat.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

Something Eddiecouldn’t quite name passed over Richie’s eyes. Then, suddenly, Richie’s handswere back on Eddie’s face, and he was pressing his candy-sweet lips to Eddie’s.It was brief, and their lips didn’t quite line up right, but Eddie melted intoimmediately anyway.

“There,” Richiesaid when he pulled away, his cheeks dusted pink. “That’s how certain I am thatyou’re not sick.”

“You’re an idiot,”Eddie mumbled, but he couldn’t help the smile that played across hisstill-tingling lips, and he took Richie’s hands in his own again.

“No, I’m adoctor,” Richie corrected with a huge grin.

“I’ve never hada doctor do that before.”

“I’d sure hopenot,” Richie said, making Eddie giggle. “Was that… okay?” Richie asked, hissmile faltering. It came back full force when Eddie nodded. “Awesome! It was…kind of awesome.”

“Yeah,” Eddieagreed. They looked at each other for a long moment, playing with each other’sfingers.

“You wanna play?”Richie asked, breaking the silence as he nodded toward the TV. “I can plug inanother controller.”

“Can I justwatch you play?” Eddie asked.

“Definitely!”Richie nodded enthusiastically. He turned back to the television, and Eddienestled in next to him, resting his head on Richie’s snot-free shoulder.

“You know, youshouldn’t sit so close to the screen,” Eddie said. “That’s probably why you’reso fucking blind.”

“No, I’m sofucking blind because I’ve blinded by your beauty so many times,” Richiegrinned down at him, kissing the top of his head. He then launched into a storyabout how the round was going as he began to play again, and Eddie was happy tosettle in and listen to his spiel.

As he thoughtabout it, Eddie knew Richie was right; he wassafe, and so was Richie, as long as they were together.

taglist: @jane-doe-663 @reddie4thesinbin @deadlighturis @constantreaderfool @reddieloserz

[onisionhurtspeople]

I can't watch this and hold on to this information any longer. I won't give out much information of myself other than that my name is Michael, I went to high school with this guy, and a good friend of mine is someone he cheated on his ex wife with. I also run my own independent technology based business. Greg is a total loser and actually cheated on his ex wife with a friend of mine before him and his ex wife were ever even married. He was doing it for a while too until my friend found out he was taken and told Skye. She dumped his ass and he ended up losing his mind because he got caught and cried like a little bitch and called her every day for two solid weeks to get her back. Let me say that again, SHE dumped him. He'd been caught in school a whole lot of times by other girls doing the exact same thing to them and it was always the girls that dumped him as it was always other girls that ratted him out. I had always wondered what ever had become of this guy since I left Washington and moved on from school. Apparently some people never change. He's been this way for years. There was a running joke among pretty much everyone in school that he was going to be put down in the year book as "most likely to commit a school shooting". He wore a combo of a trench coat, beanie, and tripp pants…every day. In fact if I remember correctly it seemed like he'd been wearing the same clothes for a couple weeks a time before ever washing them. He'd rarely ever talk to anyone and the few times he did he would always talk down to a person. At first we thought he didn't realize he was doing it, but after weeks and weeks of it being a regular occurrence we (pretty much the entire school) started getting the idea that he just hated people. I mean, he had friends, but he'd still treat them like shit. Every since I can remember he's always thought of himself as better or above everyone else. He'd start arguments with teachers because he thought he actually knew more than they did, when he was obviously proven wrong he would completely deny it and act like a pouting child. There was one time, and I remember this because it was just before summer break, where his mother who looked completely cracked out actually came to school and argued with the teacher about how perfect her son was and how he never could do any wrong. He had gotten in trouble again for being caught cheating on yet another girl and her father was doing what any reasonable man would, he was threatening to beat the crap of Greg. I had to drop off some late homework so I went directly to my teachers office to do this and over heard the entire thing. It was the hilarious and embarrassing thing I'd ever been privy to eavesdrop on in my entire life. His mother literally started chanting some wiccan stuff or new age stuff, I'm not even sure what it was, he has his head down, his face is turning red as a beet, and his fists are balled up, while this girls father whole looks like a 250+ lbs Marine is berating him for trying to score with his daughter who he lied to. All the while our schools principal is just sitting there with the most confused expression because he had zero idea what to do. It was surreal, it was as if Jerry Springer had visited our school. To this very day I can't even properly explain what I had witnessed. After that he really just went downhill and never recovered. He was an asshole to just about every single person he met, and started bragging about how we'd all be "thanking him and congratulating him" one day because he wanted to enlist into the military and go over to Iraq. Everyone started to really distance themselves from him at that point. I remember that he started bragging about going into the Navy or Air Force, but at that point I was just too focused on finals and getting into college to even care anymore. One more thing I do remember vividly is how often he'd pick fights he couldn't win after that. He was already known for running his mouth to people about things he wasn't even remotely knowledgeable on, but after the previous incident, he'd start actively provoking people. I can see why he gets so much hate here, Greg's still doing the same thing, even now. He ended up pissing off a few metalheads in our school, if I recall correctly he said something about one of them having a sibling that passed away and them not truly caring about it or something…and well, they just pummeled him into a pulp. Three on one basically. Once again, mom was quick to bail him out of any responsibility for getting exactly what he'd asked for. This didn't happen behind the school or after school hours, mind you. This happened in front of almost everyone. In general, we'd hear about this going on once every couple of weeks. After a while we just stopped hearing about him anymore, my best guess is that is when he secluded himself online and started doing this video sort of stuff. I've seen the video about him creating an online cult like religion, I'm just making a guess here but it seems his problems just intensified with time. I only partially knew Skye through a couple of other people. She was a very nice, but quiet person. She did some cool graphic design stuff. I even thought of asking her out a couple times but then Greg came along and we didn't see or hear much from her after that. That never sat well with me. Other people have said this past and I can confirm, that Greg always wanted to be with her sister more. In the last few days I've taken the time to watch a few of the videos that caused the most stir and its funny to me how much he now seems to whine about "slutty" girls because back then those were always the type he'd go after. It was either girls that were more sexually free spirited, or girls who were very quiet, obviously virgins, and had some types of issues at home or depression. There never seemed to be any middle ground. It was either one or the other and his ideal type seemed to be an impossible mix of both. As I said before, I've watched enough to catch up about this guy; all of the Shiloh stuff, when he decided to divorce Skye for her, all of that up until now. I have to tell, this guy absolutely terrifies me now. He was always off balanced but I figured that with time he'd find his niche in life and things would be relatively alright. That couldn't be farther from the truth. He has never gone anywhere in life since high school. I started my own business, own my house, have a couple of kids and a loving wife and we travel all of the place regularly. He just continues to act like a spastic teenager and he is one year younger than me and can only make money through Google AdSense or heavily taxed partner revenues. He literally displays the same behavior as an online and offline predator now. He has never once changed the way he treats women, or who gives that treatment to, he has just allowed it all to become horribly worse. I think he must also be in horrendous amounts of debt as well. I've seen the way he tries to live and I can tell you that he cannot possibly afford all of that. Greg was always terrible with money. For example, a five dollar pair of sunglasses he'd pay for with a twenty so he didn't have to count the change. He was always broke and apparently so was everyone else in his household. I watched a video just recently where he said he'd paid $6000 to a contractor for his yard who took all his money and never did anyway, and all he did was make a video on it. Obviously not even that has changed. And now he has a child? That's the worst part. The last thing I'll leave you all with is a segment about his inability to care for, and somewhat hatred of children. Around the time this guy started coming around more I remembered him talking about working for a daycare. Another friend of mine also worked at this daycare, which I won't name because frankly I've followed the Chris-Chan saga and I don't think the place would appreciate a ween-overload. She told me that he was close to being fired (and eventually did get fired) because he had applied for a job he no idea how to do. He couldn't even do the most basic things for these kids (mostly toddlers) and whenever they started to get upset he'd be rude and mean to them. Finally when they shitcanned him he apparently lost it, with children there, and stormed out saying like "fuck these stupid kids anyway" or something to that effect. He'd offhandedly made jokes about how he'd just leave a girl who he was with if she got pregnant even if the kid was his because he didn't want children at all. Obviously no one thought it was funny. Watching the Shiloh thing unfold it was just one huge reminder of that. Apparently he caused her to miscarry as well, twice. I don't keep up with many of these people from high school much anymore until something crazy as shit happens for this guy. I'll just say there's the possibility he's got a kid out there he won't ever see or acknowledge and neither his current wife, nor the current movement against knew about it until now. He fucked over his ex-wife that badly. He was forced to pay alimony instead of child support because they didn't even want to chance him seeing the child so they just took it away from him and he was completely fine with it from what I've been told. I was told that he did this video to chase her off YouTube because she was close to spilling the truth about it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R1z_96Q4wVg[Archived Copy] This video was uploaded the day before he was fully served a restraining order (pic related check the date): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6uyvlmpog1c He'd been calling his ex wife non stop being a creep to the utmost maximum. From what I've been told it made his voicemails to AJ sound like someone handling a break up well by comparison. He'd been crapping pants over going to court for it apparently because not only would he have no contact with her, he had to fork over $1500 that day. The video I've linked here is way creepier now that it has some real context. Anyway, that's all I've got for now. Busy day ahead, if people have questions, I'll be back on later. Enjoy, because as obsessive as he is, he's bound to read all of this so things will get pretty interesting over the next few hours if he indeed sees this.

A comment posted on lolcow by one of Greg’s ex-classmates who attended high school with him. Somewhat old, but I just found it for the first time, so I thought it was interesting enough to repost. 

You can read all relevant information about this post here:

http://www.lifeofonion.com/index.php?title=HS_Anon_Account

[auroraknux]

Incorrect Shadow Boom Quotes - Part I’ve Lost Count

Unlike the previous times, I do actually know where most of these quotes are from. However, there are still a few I don’t know the origin of. Also, as always, I have modified some of them.

Anyway, sorry I keep posting these lol. I just enjoy collecting quotes that fit the characters in my AU.

Amy: A strong relationship is built on clear communication and a shared bloodlust.

Maria: I came up with hundreds of plans in my life, and only one of them got me killed.

Rouge: As my mom always used to say, if a cop handcuffs you to a bike rack, there's always something you can gnaw through.

Shadow: Your mom always said that?

Shadow: So, just wanted to double check. How do ethical philosophers feel about murder?

Amy: It's frowned upon.

Shadow: Okay. What if the reason you want to murder someone is to make your life easier? That's okay, right?

Sonic: (holding Pikachu) Don't ever talk to me or my son again.

Shadow: I'm a champion of karate and friendship.

Amy: Your home is on fire, you have sixty seconds. What do you take?

Shadow: A nap.

Knuckles: (holding baby Blaze) What are her stats?

Amy: If you had 5 apples and gave 3 to a friend, how many apples would you have?

Sonic: *tears up* A...a friend...

Sonic: *takes a deep breath* I ha--

Knuckles: Yes, you hate Shadow, we know. You hate Shadow so much. He's the bane of your existence. You hate him so much. You just hate Shadow, we KNOW. You hate Shadow. You fricking hate Shadow. Okay, we know, we get it. YOU HATE SHADOW. WE GET IT.

Sticks: The moon landing was fake.

Sonic, deciding to mess with her: Pffft, you believe in the moon?

Sonic: In case you haven't noticed, I'm weird. I'm a weirdo. I don't fit in. I don't want to fit in. Have you ever seen me without a small Pokemon on my head? That's weird.

Shadow: When I was younger I had a crush on a girl in my class and didn't know how to deal with it, so I wrote her a letter that just said "get out of my school".

Rouge: ...THAT WAS YOU?!

Shadow: SONIC FUCK OFF

Shadow: AND BY FUCK OFF I MEAN FUCK OFF RIGHT BACK HERE AND LISTEN, YOU INSUFFERABLE PRICK

Knuckles: It's so beautiful out here.

Sonic: Yeah, it's just me, you, and the moon.

Amy: *somehow standing on the moon* HEY! YOU TWO SHOULD KISS!

Sonic: And this is Pikachu.

Knuckles: Uh, he has a knife.

Pikachu, holding obvious knife: (in Pika-speak) Wha? No, no I don't.

Shadow: Rouge said I was the most handsome hedgehog in the world.

Sonic: Knuckles said that to me, too.

Shadow: THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE.

Rouge: Hey! What did you get for your birthday, Shadow?

Shadow: I got older.

Knuckles: Want to see an impression of my parents?

Sonic: Sure.

Knuckles: *leaves*

Sonic: How much do you love me?

Knuckles: *cradles Sonic's cheeks in his hands and looks deeply into his eyes*

Knuckles: Hella

Shadow: I'm going to defeat you with the power of friendship and this gun I found.

Rouge: I'll buy us both dinner when you bail me out.

Shadow: It's a post-jail date.

Tails: Don't say some truly stupid stuff like that to me. In a kitchen. Where the knives are kept.

Shadow: You know it's going to be a rough day when you scream "Get fucked" at your alarm clock.

Rouge: I still can’t get over the fact that Shadow thinks I have my life together. That has to be one of the nicest yet most sadly misled things anyone has ever said about me.

Amy: Relax, Shadow. Patience is a virtue.

Shadow: WHY DOES PATIENCE HAVE TO BE A VIRTUE? WHY CAN’T HURRY THE FUCK UP BE A VIRTUE?

Tails: What are you guys dressing as for the costume party?

Shadow: Sad.

Amy: Gay.

Rouge: Sexy.

Knuckles: Minecraft.

Sonic: Also Minecraft.

Sticks: You should feel lucky I'm asking you out. I'm a very sought after girl, I've been kidnapped like twice.

Amy: I'm sorry, are you bragging about being kidnapped?

Sonic: *has just gotten done explaining his tragic backstory*

Shadow: I'm sorry, I didn't know.

Sonic: How would you know that? You don't even talk to me.

Shadow: I do talk to you. I just say mean things.

Rouge: Red is such an edgy color, but it's also the color of love and cherries and Valentine's Day and it's so lovely and fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love you, Shadow the Hedgehog!!!!!!!!

Knuckles: You had me in the first half, not going to lie.

Shadow: She had you in the second half too, you fucking coward.

Sonic: My problem is that I push people away and then get mad at them for leaving me.

Sonic: What were you planning to do with the rest of your night?

Knuckles: Probably watch cooking videos and fantasize about pie.

Rouge: Wait, Shadow had a stoner phase? How high did he get?

Amy: He asked me if I ever met a talking rock and when I said no, he looked me dead in the eye and said "Today is your lucky day" then curled into a ball and started talking...that high.

Rouge: Anyway, at least being paid in opium makes a cool story.

Sticks: Are you inviting me to ice cream?

Amy: The subtext of everything I say to you is inviting you to ice cream.

Sonic: (to Shadow) Did we seriously just get in a fist fight over Kit Kats?

Knuckles: Glitter fights sound a lot funnier in theory.

Rouge: I can handle him. I'm made of spite and hot wings.

Infinite: Don't worry, I have logic...just not morals.

Shadow: But there's so much I want to do before I have kids. Like die.

Shadow: All I heard was Rouge saying "I swear it'll be funny" and then we were in jail.

Shadow: I'm sorry I tried to stab you. I just really want those mozzarella sticks.

Infinite: Well, personally I like to keep my blackmail in well organized folders.

Knuckles: When I asked you to bring me back something from the beach, I meant like a conch shell!

Sonic: *struggling to hold a Wingull* Fucking say THAT, then!

Knuckles: The echidna life is a strained and tense one. I envy the life of a smooth rock resting on the beach…warmed by the sun…unaware of the trials and tribulations of sentient life…

Sonic: Do you need to talk?

Knuckles: I wish I was a croissant.

Sonic: Hello 911? Yes, hi, I accidentally stepped on my Pikachu's tail and I need to be arrested.

Beaver Policeman: Mr. Hedgehog, we’ve talked about this.

Shadow: Dad, I’m ready to go.

Black Doom: Hi ready to go, I’m Dad.

Shadow [tearing up]: Did you just make a dad joke?

Black Doom [sobbing]: Did you just call me Dad?

[at an amusement park on the teacup ride]

Shadow and Rouge: *spinning calmly while talking*

Sonic and Knuckles: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

Amy: Why is your report card on the ceiling?

Sonic: You told me to bring my grades up.

Amy:

Amy: I did say that, let me have a look--

Sonic: Thanks, Mom.

Amy:

Sonic: Why is everyone staring at me?

Knuckles: You just called Amy your mom. You said "Thanks, Mom".

Sonic: What? No I didn’t! I said "Thanks, man".

Amy: Do you see me as a mother figure, Sonic?

Sonic: No. If anything, I see you as a bother figure, ‘cause you’re always bothering me.

Shadow: Hey! Show your mother some respect.

Sonic: a romantic poem for you:

hella cute

hella fine

be my hella valentine

Knuckles: i’m swooning how are you still single

Knuckles: Awww! Congratulations on the baby!

Shadow: *actually smiles for one in his life* Thanks.

Rouge:

Shadow: Darling, aren’t you going to say something?

Rouge: You know, congratulating someone on a new baby is basically congratulating them on having sex.

Rouge: Are you a cuddler?

Shadow: I AM A MACHINE OF DEATH AND DESTRUC--yeah, I’m a cuddler.

[nickrbockr]

Simon Vs Fan Fic: Chapter 4 - Trust your Gut

I landed early and Leah was there to pick my tired butt up from the trip (I can never sleep on planes). I told her it had to happen in Shady Creek and she was on board with it and that made me feel better. Our first day back was filled with catching up in between first day boring syllabus reviews in classes.

Freshman are forced to live on campus their first year and I had an interesting, but forgettable roommate. I have friends in the theatre department here, but starting sophomore year, Leah and I lived together in a nice (and affordable) apartment. Mom and Dad helped us with the rent, Dad being happy that it was the last year he had to pay. People kept telling us we were crazy to live with a friend, but since we’ve been friends for so long and Leah is…well Leah, who always spoke her mind, we never had any issues.

Luckily for both of us, we are great cooks at exceedingly different aspects. I am a stovetop master and handle dinners and savory breakfasts and Leah is a baking champion and handles sweet breakfasts and lunches. Yin-Yang of food: I wake up to waffles and Leah comes home to stir-fry. It’s a match made in love handles.

Ever since my best friend in the department caught on, Ian would come over from time to time to eat both breakfast and dinner, and we swore lunch because our peanut butter would mysteriously be consumed at a fast rate. Ian’s a diamond in the rough in the sense that is he one of the only straight men in the theatre department. This makes him a perfect ladies man because everyone assumes he’s gay when we go out together, girls talk to us, I tell him ‘Oh, my boyfriend’s calling me,’ and that opens the conversation to his heterosexuality and he leaves me with a wink and a finger gun.  I’d give it the ‘ol Leah exhale if Ian and I hadn’t perfected it so much.

Outside of that aspect of Ian, he’s a great actor and has, on the hateful occasions, defended me against some drunk country boys at the city bars. Leah calls me his ward and Bram found it too funny. It’s not that funny, but Ian is a guy I know I’ll be friends with for the rest of my life.

“Aaaaaaaaayooooooooo Si-Si,” Ian yelled as he busted in the door and bear hugged me.

“Ugh, I regret it giving him a key already,” Leah said, not standing from the dinner table.

“What’s on the menu tonight?”

“Chicken BLT with pesto mayo and rice.”

Ian glanced over at Leah, “The TA checks musta kicked in with a two course meal, Le Burke.”

Leah and I both paid equally for the food, but Leah was the one who did the shopping. Because she loved it. Also, she actually doesn’t mind Ian’s nickname for her because he gives it a French pronunciation. Also, and she’ll never admit this because it’s against everything she believes, but she maaaaaay have a slight crush on him.

“It’s our last year Ian, may as well live it up, right?”

We all ate and caught up from the summer. Leah regaled us of her TA duties by day, and wine-infused studying by summer night, I bragged about Bram & I’s historic Splash Pad attendance since Bram saw my minute abs I formed junior year and wanted to show me off, and Ian explained his summer back in South Dakota camping every weekend with his high school buddies.

“Dude, have you ever seen the stars without light pollution?” Ian asked, in a serious tone.

“Yes, Ian, Si and I have the capability of turning our head up.” Leah said sarcastically.

“Yeah, but when you did, were you within or outside of the yellow light of the city.”

“Come on, Ian, Midwest dudes aren’t the only dudes who can see stars,” I validate. It reminded me of when Bram and I took a trip this summer with Nick & Abby to an AirBnB beach house. All days were spent as a group, but once the sun finally set, it was hard to not sneak into our bedrooms at opposite ends of the house and do what couples do. I try not to tell Leah about too much as she gets mad FOMO (fear of missing out).

“Okay, so you know what that looks like when the sky comes to life and you see the billions of other starts that you normally can’t see and all it took was unplugging and going out on your adventure.”

“But you don’t need just to see stars to feel that way, Ian,” Leah claims.

“Okay Le Burke, fine, but we all have that place we can go that makes us emotionally unpack, and not in the lets talk about our feelings way, but in the I feel less pressure from society and what it expects of me way. Where’s that for you?” Ian points at her.

“My bedroom.” Leah states.

“Your bedroom? Really?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

“I dunno, seems trapped to me.” Ian answers, helping himself to the last BLT.

“You’re an extrovert, I’m an introvert, I don’t see a cramped room, I see a space in the entire universe that is built specifically for me and my liking and it relaxes me!”

Ian took a big bite and replied with a mouth full, “You know what, you got a point Le Burke.”

“Enough time around me, you’ll find I always know what I’m talking about.”

“What about you, Simon?” Ian asked.

I hadn’t been listening the conversation. When Ian asked about the place where we can emotionally unpack, all I could think about was that night on the Ferris wheel with soft eyes Bram Greenfeld in his strong arms next to his soccer calves. Though many people were around us, that little carriage built for two felt the most weight lifting experience.

“Si? Earth-to-Si,” Leah said in a robot voice.

“The ring,” I start. “Would it be tacky to get a ring that looks like a ferris wheel?”

“I didn’t take you for the man jewelry type, Si” Ian laughed, taking another bite that was probably a bit too big.

“A ferris wheel would just look like a merry-go-round on its side and I don’t think that’s cute.” Leah replied. “Besides, it would be a statement engagement ring and Bram isn’t really a statement jewelry person.”

“Engagement ring?” Ian muffled out of his mouth. “Are you proposing to Bram?”

“Oh, shit. Yes, Ian, I’m proposing to Bram in January.”

Ian spit out the food onto his plate to the lament of Leah and powered over to me to give me another bear hug.

“Fuck yeah Si! That’s so fuckin’ cool congratulations!”

Ian is obsessed with Bram. On the occasions Bram visited me up here, Ian steals him away so they can talk about soccer. Bram loves it because it’s hard to talk soccer in Baltimore, so I usually have to peel Ian off of Bram. Ian always asks Bram jokingly if he has a sister and Bram always lets him know she’s only five.

He finally let me go and went back to his spit out food and put it back in his mouth to finish.

“Are you fucking serious Ian?!” Leah screamed.

“I don’t want to waste food on such a beautiful evening. We have to celebrate.”

Celebrating turned into shots and beers and the rest of the night we spent talking about the show line up for our senior year and which roles we’d want verses the one we may be assigned. Leah explained her classes and we got into brief sociology based debates. Around one A.M., Ian was asleep on the couch and Leah and I were in my room, head to head, just like in high school.

“So I was thinking and you’re right, I think the ferris wheel ring maybe too much.”

“Maybe a little.” Leah replied in a slight slur. “It could have been worse, you could have suggested an Oreo ring.”

She’s right, unfortunately. We both laughed a drunken laugh.

“Know of any cool ring shops in New Haven?” I ask. “I wanna start looking.”

“Si, don’t rush this. Let the ring find you. The one ring-”

“TO RULE THEM ALL!” We both finish.

“When I brought it up to Dad, he just said ‘do you trust me’ and so I don’t know if he’s helping me or not.” I explain.

“Maybe trust your Dad. You’ll be proposing in Shady C anyway, take a chance on your Jack Spier.”

We both chuckle and talk a few more minutes until Leah goes to bed and I’m left staring at my ceiling. I grabbed my laptop and began some drunken Google searching for engagement ring ideas and of course they’re all the most un-Bram like options.

But…like what could I get Bram that will scream us, but at the same time be elegant and show how much I love him? I am leaning towards no stone…I think Bram and I are simple folk with simple tastes. Bram tastes like…no, focus, get my hand out of my pants.

Should I put the ring in a sleeve of Oreos and have him open it? I mean, it know how tacky it sounds because it’s so tacky, but would Bram like how tacky it is and just think it’s cute? Where is the tipping point!?

Bzzz

Bram I hope you had a good first day! I’m assuming Ian’s passed out already? ;)

And just like that, my ring anxiety began to dissolve.

                                                                                               I did and he is!                                                             For a bro, he’s not much of a drinker

. .. … If you talk about soccer, he’ll drink you under the table. He runs on pure adrenaline when you bring up Argentina.

                                                           You know I tried, and it didn’t work                             I think I’m missing the Bram-factor in my conversation

. .. … I’m missing the Simon-Spier.

                                                           Strange, I thought you had my heart                                         Be sure you don’t lose it, it’s the only one I have

. .. … I keep it in the space mine was because you seem have taken mine.

                                                                                                                 <3              Above is evidence I have yours, show me mine so I know it’s safe

. .. … <3 It isn’t going anywhere. Oh, also, I almost forgot. Mom is going to be in New Haven guest lecturing for the...ugh, Women Sexual Studies Class.

Holy shit, this is perfect. I was going to call her but this is a thousand times better. In person, somehow, seems easier because I can see her reactions. Bram’s Mom and I get along great…I think. She allows me to call her by her first name, Tracy, so that’s a start. I just don’t think we’ve ever really had a chance to talk about anything but Bram, so our relationship is just a little one-note, but think we’re both okay talking about Bram that much.

                        Even after four years, Ms Every Time Including Oral strikes again!                                               That’s great, I’ll call her tomorrow to get the details.                                                                                                 I’ll make her dinner.                                             Remind me, her favorite dish is baked salmon right?

. .. … Yes. Simon, you’re too kind. You don’t even like salmon.

                                                                                               Yeah, but I love you.

. .. … <<33 That’s your big heart, still with me. I love you more.

                                                                                                             Impossible.

I fall asleep and wake up to my alarm and more textual love from Bram. I roll out of bed, shower, and get Ian’s ass up for class. Leah already had an egg bake on the table with a note that said ‘Warm me for a minute in the microwave nerds.’ Ian stuffs an extra large portion in his mouth and straps on his bag. I pull us out the door and we jump into Ian’s beat-up Buick to Acting IV.

At lunch I call Tracy and she let’s me know she’ll be here Thursday night for a full day of lectures on Friday. She sounded excited to be asked to lecture and hopefully a good mood enough to hear me wanting to marry her son.

Tuesday comes and goes (for dinner it was just Leah and me and I made us homemade pizza with a cauliflower crust and actually. Actually it wasn’t half bad. Normal crust is always better, but it wasn’t bad).

Wednesday night Leah and I are in the library, me searching for monologues and she posting up to help the Intro to Sociology class students write a big surprise essay assigned by a notoriously hard professor.

“I hope the sociology professors see the irony in making me slave away helping their students cause they’re too lazy.” Leah scoffs, chewing a big piece of pink bubblegum.

“Isn’t that the gig of a Teacher’s Assistant?” I’m burning through stacks of books I stole from the shelves and have a few to photocopy of already earmarked monologues from actor’s past.

“Be on the right side of history, Simon. I’m supposed to assist the teacher, not the student. I got the salmon, by the way, I pulled it from the freezer this morning.”

I gave her a puppy dog smile and head tilt. “This is why you’re the Queen.”

“Damn straight. Know what you’re going to say?”

“No,” I reply. “But I’ve landed the best people in my life by going in without a plan…pretty much my entire life is that.”

“I’m not here to be your English professor, Google how to set up a works cited page!” Leah shouts at a baby freshman. He runs off and frantically types away at his laptop. “Trust your gut, Si, trust your gut. All of it except the part that thought a ferris wheel ring, though, throw that part in the trash.”

I scanned copies of the chosen monologues to work on and we went home. Abby and Nick Skyped us and we all caught up since leaving each other this summer. We planned trips and talked about classes and how Abby and Nick saw Benedict Cumberbatch walking in New York. I fell asleep that night as a usually do, texting Bram, and woke up Thursday morning to cook Leah and I omelets. The rest of the day flew by because before I knew it I was back at home prepping dinner.

I tidied up the apartment as Leah left to study at the library again. She was worried the students would still be there and ask her for helps so she, honest to God, wore a wig to throw them off. I chuckled as she sashayed out the door. Even though I don’t like to eat salmon, I’m a natural when it comes to cooking it and I had all the food ready as soon as Tracy knocked at the door. We hugged and exchanged kisses on the cheek as she presented a bottle of red wine. Then she flew past me into the kitchen and she checked the salmon.

After a deep inhale, she smiled. “Simon, I must say you know how to season.”

“Practice makes perfect, Tracy.”

We made small talk about her trip up here, which evolved into her career taking off. That quickly transitioned into the points she was covering in her lecture during the classes until we both finished eating, but she saw me playing with remnants of potatoes with my fork.

“So, Simon, what are your plans after college?”

“Oh, you know,” I started. “Bram and I were talking of living in New York for awhile. Professors here have some connections to companies there and if I pay my cards right I can get some steady work right away. Bram said he’d love to write for the New York Times, so it’s a perfect move. He mentioned a professor there is on the staff and wrote him a great letter of recommendation, so that’s exciting. Hoping to focus on having fun this year too before we have to be full-fledged adults.”

“Sure sounds like the planning part of Bram rubbed off on you. He gets that from me, trust me.”

“Yeah, Bram is, the greatest, Tracy. I actually wanted to talk to you about Bram.”

I swallowed hard and set my fork down. I was still formulating the words, so I covered myself quickly and picked up the bottle of wine. I got the nerves I felt right before an audition. This audition, however, I couldn’t afford to screw up.

“Refill?”

Tracy nodded with a raised eyebrow and I topped off her glass.

“Seems you want me a little buzzed for this, Simon.”

The audition started. “Oh, no, no, not buzzed. It is custom to have a drink if you’re celebrating something.”

“Oh? What are celebrating tonight?”

Bram…Bram…Bram. Saying his name calmed my nerves. Picturing his lips and remembering his scent centered me.

“Tracy. I am so madly…deeply…overwhelmingly in love with Abraham. My life has been nothing like I could have imagined it or deserved it and it is because of him. I want to always be with him and, because of that, I wanted to make you aware of my intentions. Tracy, my intentions are to ask your son to marry me and before I do, I wanted to ask for your blessing as his mother.”

Tracy tilted her head in the way Bram does and covered her mouth with her right hand. A loud inhale through her nose told me she had an emotional reaction to the news, and I was hoping it was tears of joy. She dropped her hand and a large smile crossed her face (Bram got his smile from her. Definetely).

“Simon Spier. The fact that you...that you gave my son the courage…that you make my son happy…that you cooked me dinner and asked me…I see the way you look at my son and I see the way my son looks at you and even Elijah and I never looked at each other they way you both do. My goal as a mom was to give Abraham a great life and a better one than mine and it looks like this will be just another strong foundation to that claim.”

Tracy put her hand onto mind and squeezed it.

“Simon, you absolutely have my blessing.”

YES, YES,YES! With tears in both our eyes, we hug each other. I pour the last of the wine between our glasses and we chees to me, to Bram, and to us.

“Thank you, Simon. I know you didn’t have to do this, or ask, and it means a lot to me that you did.” Then she became serious for a minute. “Do you intend on asking my ex-husband?”

Is that…a trick question?! Audition not over.

“Yes,” I start wearily. “I wanted to be sure I can tell Bram both of his parents gave me their blessing. I wanted to be sure that you both know how much I intend to love and care for your son. I’m not sure I can fully explain or find the right metaphors to show to what capacity I care for him, but I will spend the rest of my life trying to perfect it into a simple phrase that, when I figure it out, I will tell you.”

Tracy smiled and burst into a happy, crying laughter.

“Simon, since the moment we met, I never had a doubt that you would marry my son. I’m so happy and excited for both of you.”

A tear dropped down my face. What an enormous compliment from a mother to another about her son. I smiled and went on to explain to her when I was planning on proposing.

“Of course, how perfect! Do you have a ring?”

“Funny story, Tracy. Dad said that he’d help me with that, and I’m going to put my bet that he will deliver. After twenty-one years, he has yet to let me down.”

“Wonderful, I can’t wait to see it.”

“Yes, so I was still arranging how I wanted to propose and one scenario has me doing in front of my parents and you and Elijah.”

“Such an old soul in a young man. Why so formal?”

That’s a good question. Maybe…maybe it’s because Bram and my middle school and high school experience wasn’t conventional. And that maybe there is a comfort in being a part of a conventional process. Plus, it’s respectful and is bound to earn me brownie points with the possible new in-laws.

“I trust my gut, Tracy. My gut told me formal.”

“Trust your gut, Simon. It’s made all sorts of great decisions. But I have one, very important question for you.”

I clear my throat. “Uh, yes, of course.”

“Do we have more wine?”

We laugh and Tracy explains it’s getting late and excuses herself back to her hotel room.

When I check my phone, I have a few missed texts from Bram.

Hey! I hope Mom is going easy on you. Be careful, she will try to judge how you seasoned the fish, but I’m confident you’ll pass. I taught you well. I can see you both eating the food right now and I’m super jealous I can’t be there. Well, not super jealous if Mom talks about her lecture, which she will. Text me when you can! I know you’re being courteous and won’t check your phone while she’s there. I’m so confident in that fact that I’m going to send you a picture.

Below that text was a well-curated picture of Bram’s nether region.

                                                                                                Bram! Scandalous! Though you were right, Tracy just left. We finished a bottle of wine, sorry I got her tipsy! You’re right, she did talk about her lecture, but it’s focused on female anatomy, something we needn’t worry. I love you Bram. I love you so much. And that picture, you better be careful or it may start something.

 . .. … Start something, huh? I’m not afraid. Show me what you got! ;)

You can imagine what the rest of the night turned into.

[acsversace-news]

1957, Calabria. Gianni Versace's mother fits a dress to a client as, in a corner of the shop, little Gianni watches and works on a sketch of the dress. After the client leaves, Mama confronts Gianni: she sees him observing her, and "there is no need to hide." She asks to see his notebook; seeing the drawings inside, she smiles fondly and tells him -- in English, idiotically the language in which this and the other Italian scenes take place, leavened only with the occasional "ciao" and a handful of offensive Chef Boyardee pronunciations, which we will get to -- that as a girl, she hoped to become a doctor. Her father told her that's not a job for a woman, so she became a dressmaker, and promised herself she would never tell her children what job they should do. Gianni should do what he loves, what he feels in his heart. Not how I think parents talked to their kids about their future careers in the fifties, but okay. She goes on that it will take hard work, practice, educating himself about sewing and the fabrics…she'll teach him if he wants her to. Gianni nods happily.

In a classroom, a teacher is reviewing Latin verb conjugations, and naturally she's using the verb "to love," which is both the standard and on the nose. Less standard, again, is that a language lesson in an Italian classroom would be conducted in English, which might explain why young Gianni is doing another dress drawing instead of paying attention. Walking the rows of desks, the teacher spots Gianni's sketch and snatches it up, Super-Mario-ing, "What arrrre you, a perrrrverrrt?" Fuck's sake, show. "Not a pervert, miss -- a pansy!" another kid chimes in, because we could have assumed a pervasive homophobia and claustrophobic gendering of everything in this time period, but sure, underline it, if only to distract us from the Hey Mambo caricature of Italian accents. The teacher tears his sketch in four and puts it on his schoolbook as the class continues droning the plurals. "We love; you love; they love."

At home, Mama gets Gianni to admit that he's downcast because the teacher called him a pervert. Mama sternly reassembles his drawing, tells him it's beautiful, and hands him a piece of patterning chalk: "We make it for real, yes?" He starts to trace, then stops, saying it's too hard. Mama takes his shoulders and gives him the Jimmy Dugan "the hard is what makes it great" speech from A League Of Their Own, basically, the script emphasizing that success is special because it comes from hard work to point up the contrast between the lessons Gianni learned as a child and the lessons we'll see Andrew Cunanan learning. …Just in case you didn't get it, which I'm sure you did, because the whole scene was in English. Mama tells Gianni to try again. He does, with more confidence this time.

1980, San Diego. Modesto "Pete" Cunanan is presiding over the family's move out of a modest house on the edge of town, and by "presiding" I mean he's expounding on how they can save five hundred bucks doing it themselves, a five hundred he can turn into ten thousand, while his older children heave items into a truck and roll their eyes at him. Mary Ann and her mom jeans chuckle indulgently. Pete asks where Andrew is.

Andrew and his teddy bear have parked it in a lawn chair in his room to read Brideshead Revisited. Very interesting choice, given what I remember of the Waugh, including but not limited to a barely subtextual relationship between Charles and Sebastian; the narrator on the outside looking in, at a family, at a system of inherited influence, and feeling like he could, and also must, belong to it; Sebastian's teddy bear. It's been a long time; mostly the beautifully evocative prose stayed with me, so if you've never read any Waugh, quit hanging around my workmanlike shit and go get you some Decline And Fall. Andrew finally responds to his father's calls, marching out of the room with that odd Starman gait -- the casting of Edouard Holdener as young Cunanan is stellar, and Holdener and episode director Matt Bomer have done a great job capturing certain bits of Darren Criss's portrayal, but just enough of them -- and is told to say goodbye to their squatty home. "This is not for you."

The rest of the family is then closed into the back of the truck. Andrew and his Izod shorts and his bear get to ride shotgun with Pete.

The truck pulls up at a noticeably grander home, Benzes arrayed on the street out front. Pete takes Andrew's hand and leads him upstairs as, outside, the others haul their belongings off the truck. Mary Ann wonders where Pete is. "With Prince Andrew," Christopher snarks. "He's being given the tour," Elena adds (she's played by Isa Briones, daughter of Jon Jon, the longtime Miss Saigon actor playing Pete here). Mary Ann's smile fades, but she only urges the other kids to keep unpacking. Upstairs, Pete is introducing Andrew to the biggest bedroom, the master bedroom -- his new room. It's his because he's special. Pete wants him to remember that he's special every night before he goes to sleep, and every morning when he wakes up. If he feels special, "success will follow." Pete will need the closet "for all [his] suits," but otherwise, it's all Andrew's. The camera moves to a ground-level shot to show them surveying it in all its empty, beige-wall-to-walled glory.

Nighttime. The other kids sleep crammed head-to-foot in another, tiny bedroom. Mary Ann, kneeling by a twin bed in a spartan room, says a rosary (I think? she's holding one, in any case), then cries. Alone in his king-size bed in his king-size room, Andrew sits waiting, then clambers down to investigate a noise: Pete, raising the American flag in front of the house, up a pole lit by little spotlights. I was under the impression that this was Not Done, but according to a quick Google, it's okay to display the flag after sunset if it is lit, which it is. Pete spots Andrew watching him and salutes. Andrew salutes back. A breeze picks up the flag and blows it out straight, in reverse, obscuring Andrew from view. Nice shot comp, Bomer. I see you.

After the title card, we find father and son laying out their suits, then carefully armoring up with jacket, fancy cufflinks, neatly tied neckties, and suspenders. They're both en route to interviews, Andrew at the Bishop's School, Pete at Merrill Lynch. We cut back and forth between the paternal and filial hustles, Pete taking in the founders' wall of photos, Andrew the case of athletic trophies; Andrew contemplating his hopeful future classmates, Pete the forbidding row of dark-suited white dudes who want the same job he does. Mary Ann covers Andrew's hand with hers, though he doesn't really respond. Pete corrects his interviewers on his name, the Americanized "Pete" and not the other-sounding (and inaccurate) "Modesto"; he's told they don't call in many prospective hires like him, night-school bootstrap-pullers. As Andrew's called in for his interview, Pete says he knows there's a long line of Ivy Leaguers waiting to talk to them, but he's unique in that he came from nothing.

Andrew's asked why he wants to come to Bishop's. He chirps that it's the best school in the state, one of the best in the country. "Who told you that?", one of his interviewers asks skeptically. "My father."

Said father isn't trying to hear the interviewer who wants to talk more about business and less about his biography. Business is biography, Pete slicks, starting a showy self-selling monologue with, "My life is a tale told in dollars." Good line, but that's what it is, and he goes on about his poor upbringing in the Philippines, serving in the Navy so he could live and work in the U.S., etc. The interviewers suppress eye-rolls and thank him, as they clearly feel cornered into doing, for his service, but Pete's all, nooooo, I thank this great country, and talks about going from a 12K house to an 80K one: "Now, is that biography? Or business?" It's boring and studied, is what it is, but Pete goes on about growing investors' money and taking it to new lands.

Meanwhile, his equally studied son answers a question about what he'd do with one wish. A house with an ocean view, two Mercedes, four "beautiful children," three "beautiful dogs," and a good relationship with God. The ladies interviewing him know that smell.

"Is that one wish or five?" one of them asks gently. Andrew immediately asks if he made a mistake. No, not at all; she'll give him another crack at it. It doesn't take him long to come up with a single wish, which he delivers with that signature arrogant chin tilt. "To be special."

Andrew and Mary Ann come home, Mary Ann teaching Andrew some rudimentary Italian, to find Pete scowling at a pizza. Mary Ann's confused that he heard so soon, and says she's sorry, and Pete whips around, glares at each of them briefly, then busts out a scary ringmaster smile to say that he's joking -- he did get hired. It's Andrew he hugs, congratulating himself on his arrival in corporate America and bragging about his salary. He unveils a luxurious spread, including lobster, and announces that every night from now on, "we eat like kings." Mary Ann is also celebrating, but Pete's ignoring her to serve Andrew. Well, until a couple of the other kids wander in to ask what the commotion is and Mary Ann yodels that Pete got the job. Then Pete's like, but you didn't think I did. You believed my joke. There's no right thing to say here, which Mary Ann clearly understands, but she tries to put her hands to his face and say how happy she is. Pete swats her away and continues setting the table for Andrew, saying Andrew knew, before Pete even played his "joke." He sits down and begins loading Andrew's plate, wondering if maybe he shouldn't check Mary Ann's medication again, "see if your thoughts are confused." They don't want her going back into the hospital, do they? "Modesto," she says, and takes a breath. The older kids watch nervously. Mary Ann settles on "let's celebrate," waving the other kids towards the table and grabbing plates for everyone else outside the charmed circle. "Like kings, just like you said," Mary Ann says breathlessly. Andrew studies his father.

At bedtime, Pete resumes reading to Andrew from Amy Vanderbilt's Complete Book Of Etiquette. Andrew asks if they have to read the whole thing. Yes, Pete tells him. "It's not enough to be smart. You need to fit in." He begins to read about the art of conversation -- "there are two types of conversation: polite, and real" -- but Andrew blurts, "What happens if I don't get accepted to Bishop's School?" Don't be ridiculous, Pete says, adding that they moved to that house so Andrew could be close to Bishop's, so of course he's going to get in. This failure-is-not-an-option answer isn't comforting, and Andrew stares into the middle distance as Pete digs into the topic of polite conversation.

Andrew does get in, but only after a typically self-absorbed display of snatching the mail from the letter carrier, dumping items not addressed to him on the floor, and ripping the envelope open like an animal. He's so relieved to have gotten accepted that he's weeping, a reaction Mary Ann somehow doesn't understand despite the abuse Pete's evidently heaped on her for years now. Pete comes in, snatches the letter from her, reads it, and breaks down in an unsettling mixture of victorious laughter and tears, and kneels to kiss Andrew's feet, literally. Andrew tolerates this, expressionlessly, a tear still clinging to his cheek.

Pete comes onto the trading floor at Merrill; he's feeling the pressure, having beaten out 500 other guys for the job, but feigns cockiness to a colleague. It doesn't translate to his sales call, which is more of the same hitting the Navy-service button, then following up with a self-help money-management book cliché, to wit: if the customer feels comfortable about a stock, it's probably one everyone already knows about. The customer's like, good point, but no thanks, and hangs up. Pete pretends he still on the line and performatively bellows over the din of the floor about needing to get started with the customer's financial information, a "HEY LOOK LOOK AT ME NOT FAILING" look we've seen on his son many times in the series to date. Nobody hears the ernh ernh ernh of the disconnected line in Pete's ear, but then, nobody pays Pete much mind at all.

To self-soothe, Pete comes in to undermine Mary Ann's authority while she's helping Andrew with homework, and to show Andrew the gold Datsun ZX he's bought the prince. Andrew is still a tween in these scenes, mind you, but is notably not terribly surprised that his father has bought him a car. Mary Ann's like, fuck out of here with that, he's like eleven, and Pete grits that he's "not an idiot," he knows Andrew can't drive it but he can learn to dream, which is just as important. "You can't give him a car!" Mary Ann exasps. Pete advances on her; she backs away, babbling that he should think of Elena and Chris, who are old enough to drive. Focus pull to Andrew watching from the driver's seat as Pete ask-snarls if Mary Ann has gone mad again; when she makes the mistake of asking what the car is a gift for, that getting into Bishop's is a beginning, not a goal, Pete grabs her around the neck and tells her he's trying to make sure Andrew doesn't end up like her. He releases her with a shove, and she falls between a couple of hedges. "Don't overreact," he mutters, then turns back to Andrew with his customary showman's grin.

He hops into the passenger seat all, "Let's play!" Neither of them acknowledges what just happened. Pete muses that, while he loves the other kids, they aren't special like Andrew, who is the best friend Pete ever had. Andrew blinks, discomfited, and if this is what it was between them, it goes a long way to explaining how Andrew became what he did: inordinate pressure to live up to his father's ideals, no ability to manage normal setbacks or disappointments, set against/apart from the siblings who could otherwise integrate his expectations but understandably have little use for the little one-percenter in their midst, and taught that the way to meet any challenge to your version of reality is to cow the challenger, not to adjust your own thinking. Pete is still talking, poisoning Andrew with tales of Mary Ann's post-partum depression cast as a "weak mind." Pete looked after him when he was an infant. "I was your mother and your father." He fiddles smugly with the radio as Mary Ann comes around to Andrew's side of the car and rests her hands on the windowsill. Without looking at his mother, Andrew rolls up the window against her, nearly catching her fingers in the mechanism.

At bedtime, Andrew works a Rubik's cube -- a comparatively unsubtle signifier, for this show -- and asks if Pete always wanted to become a stockbroker. Pete half-answers that he took the opportunities that came his way; he's "the world's greatest opportunist." It's the only way to get ahead, he says mostly to himself, taking off his pants. Andrew says he likes reading, and stories: "Maybe I could write books!" Pete snorts that if someone gives him a million dollars to write a book, that's one thing; otherwise, no. He turns off a bedside lamp and sits in his underwear beside Andrew, whose grip on the Rubik's cube has tightened. Pete pries it out of his hands and croons that, when Andrew was little, he burned his foot on a heater. "I picked you up, and kissed you better. And you didn't make a sound." Pete reaches for the other lamp's switch. "Not a sound." Click; darkness.

If the implication is that Pete molested Andrew, a theory I haven't seen elsewhere (although some sources suggest Andrew was assaulted by a priest, during his time as an altar boy), I'm even happier than I'd otherwise be to linger on the next shot, a mouth-watering row of vintage Benzes in the Bishop's parking lot accompanied by the opening strains of the Bangles' version of "Hazy Shade Of Winter."

When the guitar kicks in, we're told it's 1987, and Andrew wheels into a parking spot in the Datsun and alights, in slo-mo, slinging his blazer over his shoulder with a little Foley whoosh. It's picture day at Bishop's, and Andrew's being a noisy theater kid in the line for the photographer, wake-up-sheeple-ing showily to his schoolmates about all doing the same thing for their photos. A football douche wheels around to eye-roll, "Shut up. F**." Andrew is unfazed by this, unbuttoning his shirt and snitting, "If being a f** means being different." He brushes to the front of the line and seats himself in front of the camera, tie still tied but shirt open. "Sign me up!" He strikes a pose. "Take a photograph, my good man!" he shouts at the photographer, cocking a hip. Sixteen: it's exhausting. Not least for the 16-year-old.

Pete stews in the car, then goes in to his current office, a boiler room operation running out of a repurposed furniture store. A wan piano line follows him into a cube warren to his desk. His cubicle wall is festooned with pictures of Andrew, and Andrew only. He gets on the phone, using the same patter that clearly didn't work at Merrill, only this time he's apologizing for "world events" fouling up their last trade and selling the client on liquidating her late husband's pension. The client, hooked up to an oxygen tank and frowning silently as she listens, is in her nineties, and her grandson comes upon the conversation and is not having it. Pete hangs up hastily when the grandson gets to the threatening part of the kiss-off. He wrenches his jacket off, his eyes darting, looking for a way out…or up.

Mary Ann puts down a plate of food and asks when she gets to meet Andrew's "special lady." She's no fool, she knows Andrew doesn't "smell this nice" for her. Andrew, leafing through a Vogue, weighs whether to scandalize Mary Ann, then asks what if "she's" "older than thirty"? Mary Ann pours him a glass of milk and says a young man should "always be" with an older woman. She teaches him how to be a man, Mary Ann adds, asking how they met. "Babysitting?" Andrew lies.

Later, he puts a Samantha Fox tape into the stereo and blasts it while guzzling from a flask and dancing self-consciously around the master bedroom he's still occupying. He goes through a few shirts in the closet, then comes upon an outfit that makes him twinkle.

Cut to Andrew emerging from the house in a black raincoat, which he's clutching around him to hide what's underneath. He climbs into an older man's Benz coupe, and is greeted with a smooch, but refuses to show what he's wearing underneath. There's a gift for him in the glove box, a bottle of cologne, and Andrew stagily announces that he knows the guy buys him things, but that's "not what this is about" for Andrew. The guy's like, Andrew, chill out, and asks where they're headed. To the IMDb and Google image search, in my case, because the screener I'm working with doesn't have end credits and the guy playing his boyf cannot be Michael Badalucco, yet really looks like him.

Y'all tell me who this is, it's driving me nuts. Andrew, meanwhile, isn't telling Fauxdalucco where they're going, and Faux isn't happy when he finds out it's a house party. It'll be fun, Andrew tries to shrug, but Faux isn't about it; he's married. "We're a secret." Andrew doesn't want them to be a secret anymore, and Faux has to tell him how shit is, namely that their thing is "strictly on the side." Did Andrew think it could be more, Faux asks kindly, just as a couple of dingles on their way into the party pound on the hood, at which time Faux has had enough, and hands Andrew some cash and tells him to get out, now. Andrew ignores the money and stalks into the party, whipping off the trench to reveal a red pleather sweat-suit/suit situation underneath. As Devo orders him to "whip it, whip it good," Andrew does so, sending the trench into the bushes next to the driveway, and stalks into the house, where he finds the dance floor and grimly and immediately dominates it, driving the other partygoers to the sidelines with his big movements. As the friend we saw in the first episode, the one who tried to sell Andrew on being with a nice guy like him, tells another friend that he's gearing up to ask Andrew out and worries that he doesn't have the right look, Andrew continues dancing, not-that-surreptitiously checking to see who's watching him and why.

The friend, Jerome, watches him with an eloquent combination of terror and turgidity. Elsewhere in the room, Lizzie Coté comes upon this performance and pulls a "well will you look at this guy" face, but the longer she observes, the clearer it becomes that he's drowning out there,

so she plunges in to join/save him, telling him he looks fabulous. "What, this thing? This little thing?" Later, on the couch, they bond, although she has a secret to share. "Can we only ever speak in secrets?" Andrew asks, probably not entirely joking. Lizzie reveals she's an impostor -- a married lady the owners of the house, the DeSilvas (hmm), asked to keep an eye on things. He's fine with that, saying he gets on far better with older people; they can still be friends. She confides that she missed this whole scene thanks to being home-schooled, but Andrew can't wait to get out of school. What will he do? Seek out his heroes, he says: Basquiat, Keith Haring…Versace.

At Pete's job, a secretary who seems to have a crush on him gets up to tell him, "They're waiting for you." In a conference room, Pete tries to joke with his three interlocutors about whether he's getting promoted, but it's actually about an accusation from the grandson that he took Nana's life savings and, well, just took it, telling her he'd lost the money on a non-existent stock. That's illegal, Pete is reminded, and his protest that it's just a misunderstanding doesn't go over well either; there have evidently been quite a few of those over the years, not to mention his frequent job changes, and the fact that guys don't tend to come to this outfit from Merrill "voluntarily." The feds are on the case now, and the company is cooperating, because they have nothing to hide. Does Pete? He says that he does not. He walks as casually as he can to his cubicle, then begins frantically shredding, crumpling, etc., although it seems like if the issue is that the equities didn't exist, he should be creating a paper trail saying they do, not destroying spreadsheets that are irrelevant in that case, but what do I know. The shredder jams on him anyway, and when he realizes his colleagues are prairie-dogging in his direction, he sinks into his chair and freaks out quietly to himself, trying to come up with a plan. What he lands on: booking a flight for that day.

The FBI -- not the SEC? You know what, who cares. It doesn't matter which agency "should" show up to handle the Pete situation; the point is, one of them is coming in the front door, and Pete, tipped by his crush at the front desk, is bolting out the back.

At school, Andrew is basking in his yearbook triumph:

He's thrilled. His friend teases him that nobody cares about yearbook awards. "Says the man that didn't get one," Andrew shoots back, but he's not mad. The friend looks at Andrew's real page, not the semi-shirtless Most Likely To Be Remembered snap, and asks of the caption, "Apres moi, le deluge?" "After me, destruction," Andrew translates, shrugging that it sounded cool.

Pete screeches up to the house and dashes inside, then upstairs, where he pries up a board in the closet and grabs a Ziploc of cash and passports from underneath. Mary Ann comes in to ask what's happening, and is shoved to the ground once again as Pete dashes towards the front door…only to find the FBI already there, announcing a warrant for his arrest. Back up he goes, out what I guess is an upstairs porch door, and over a side wall into a neighbor's property. Outside, Andrew pulls up and gets out down the street, frowning at the FBI cars and commotion, as Mary Ann opens the door to the agents, who demand to know where he is. She just stares at them. Andrew, walking back to the car, sees Pete hurdling a fence. "Dad…?" Pete grabs Andrew's car keys, tells him not to believe a word they say, and takes off in the Datsun. Andrew watches him peel away, completely unable to incorporate this turn of events into his understanding of the world and his life.

Mary Ann is telling Andrew the extent of Pete's deluge: he emptied the bank accounts, sold the house out from under them and transferred the money…he knew the feds were coming. Andrew stares into space, in forlorn shock…

…then does the same at the ceiling in the master bedroom that night, before getting up and packing. He's going to find Pete, he grimly tells Mary Ann, who wails that he's gone -- he fled to Manila, "like a dirty rat." She goes on that she knew he was stealing, and should have said something, but Andrew quickly writes a note and holds it up to shush her: "They're listening." He scribbles that "Dad has money hidden," with "hidden" underlined, and she has to tell him that there is no plan, no secret stash. Pete left them, left them with nothing. Andrew isn't going to believe that, and when she starts screeching that he can't go, Pete's dangerous, she's scared, he clamps a hand over her mouth and tells her she's "wrong about him." He pushes past her…

…and after the break, he's getting a cab at the airport in Manila. The driver's like, you sure you want to go to this address? Maybe a nice hotel? Andrew's sweatily insistent, even when they pull up to a nondescript and overgrown address on a dirt road; he doesn't even ask the driver to stay, just gathers his nads and knocks on the front door. His uncle answers. He's thrilled to meet Andrew, but Andrew's focused on finding Pete, so Tito directs him through heavy underbrush to an outbuilding, just as overgrown…with metaphor, what with the palm fronds and mosquito netting obscuring everything, nature too strong to keep at bay. Andrew knocks the door open and steps hesitantly inside his father's lair, which is sizable and well kept under the circumstances. Pete is behind a newspaper, and gets up to hug Andrew, laughing, "I knew you'd come." Andrew relaxes into his embrace.

Pete puts down a plate of chicharrones, apologizing for their frumpiness, "but with a cold beer…" Andrew is rigid at the table. "Long flight?" Pete asks. Andrew nods. Pete says Andrew must have questions. "Mom says there's no money," Andrew blurts. Pete grouses that Mary Ann has "a weak mind," always did, and explains selling the house by saying he had to move assets "out of reach" so the feds wouldn't get it. "So, there's money," Andrew confirms. "Millions!" Pete says. Andrew's like, great, so…where is it? "I told you," Pete says, beginning to darken. "Did you?" Pete glares. "Out of reach," he repeats. "Oh," Andrew says, his face falling. Pete exclaims with a salesman smile that he's so happy Andrew's there.

Andrew's not; he can't sleep. He gets up and turns on the light next to Pete's bed; Pete startles awake, into a defensive posture, and says he's not surprised Andrew can't fall asleep. His "body remembers" the heat there, but Andrew isn't used to it, didn't grow up in it, playing in it. Pete doesn't move his gaze from Andrew's as he says that you can pretend you belong somewhere else, "but the body knows." There's no money, is there, Andrew grunts. Pete allows that no, there isn't. "No plan. No…millions," Andrew snarks, and is told to watch his tone; Pete's still his father. "My father. My father," Andrew muses, and here's where the dialogue gets rull stagey and over-externalized, so I'll boil it down: Andrew calls Pete a thief and a liar; Pete delivers a monologue about his "real crime," that he didn't steal big enough, that if he'd stolen hundreds of millions they'd have given him a corner office but the grubby amounts he took meant he didn't get it, didn't belong (and this is not a bad insight; nor is his note that, actually, going to America with nothing and making it big is a lie too; this is just a little Death Of A Salesman in the execution, and in a way that's landing more "needed another draft" than "homage" to me).

"I can't be this," Andrew says bleakly. Pete is offended that Andrew doesn't want to be him, but Andrew points out that he bragged to his friends about Pete -- and it turns out everything he said was a lie, and he can't "be a lie," he just can't. He's nothing but, of course, and nothing about that is going to change for him, but it's how badly he wants to be a true thing, one of substance, that turns everything upside down for him and his victims. Andrew then delivers a monologue of his own, not terribly credible in my opinion at least as far as 1) how people are with damaging information they've found or 2) how kids deal with their parents' humanity, about going to the library to research Manila and finding out that not only is Pete not in the top 500 stockbrokers in California; that list, as I posited in a previous recap, isn't even a thing. Criss acts it very well, but is told to pair it with a bit of business chopping up some fruit or something that's a little much, and mostly an excuse to get a knife into the scene. Pete doesn't respond to the accusation, turning Andrew's tears around on him instead and calling him weak, like his mother -- who, Pete bitterly notes, didn't care that he stole "as long as there was money." Why didn't Andrew bring up the book earlier? Because he thought there was money. He's not upset that Pete stole; he's upset that Pete stopped. Not a bad point, but not one Pete really has standing to make, either. Pete must have not finished that polite-conversation chapter, though, because he snarks that now Andrew has to work, "a sissy kid with a sissy mind!", and punctuates it by spitting in Andrew's face. Andrew doesn't get to come there and judge him; he judges Andrew. He's ashamed of Andrew, his "special sissy boy."

Andrew couldn't get from one street to another, never mind from the Philippines to America. "And back again!" Andrew snits, and gets slapped across the face, so he grabs the knife, but Pete has his number: "Do it. BE A MAN! FOR ONCE!" Andrew flinches away from him; he's clinging to the knife, the blade slicing into his palm, his face a childish mask of pain and paralysis. No, Pete smugs as Andrew sobs. "You don't have it in you." Blood drips onto the floor, and Andrew drops the knife and whispers that he'll never be like Pete. Pete stares at him, utterly disgusted.

Back in San Diego, Andrew arrives to find the house getting packed up by a collection service. He slowly counts out the cab fare with a bandaged hand, reluctant to part with what's left of his money. Looky-loo neighbors watch the movers. Andrew heads inside, ignoring his mother, to find the master bedroom emptied, except for the bare-mattressed bed and a few stacks of books. He stands at the window for a moment, then attacks the books, strewing them about. The Amy Vanderbilt undergoes an especially vicious attack, as he rips it apart and hurls the pieces around.

At the pharmacy, Andrew asks for a job application. Mercado asks if he's Filipino, and presses him on his family name and where they come from; Andrew is barely polite, but that doesn't stop the quizzing, and when Mercado asks what Pete does with his days, Andrew lies blandly that Pete owns "multiple pineapple plantations." Mercado is skeptical, but merely says, "Is that so." "As far as the eye can see," Andrew says.

[lady-bluebird-luv]

Chapter 94 First Reactions

The images in this post are from Chapter 94, “The Boy Inside the Walls”. The images in here are actually of this translation, but I’ve covered my bases. The information is reliable. We have a lot to cover, so let’s get cracking.

The chapter opens with the Marleyian warriors returning from the front. According to Gabi, they’ve returned from their hometown. Is this the same hometown that Reiner and Bertholdt have spoken so fondly of? Looks like it.

The town is named Rebellio. As in “Rebel?” Well, well, well.

The chapter goes on to explain that Reiner no longer risks getting his powers taken away.

Reiner actually seems to be doing quite well for himself. He’s the Vice Commander, whatever that entails, and he’s clearly a senior member of the warriors. What failure did Reiner take responsibility for? Probably the failure to capture the coordinate. Whether or not Reiner deserves responsibility for that failure is debatable. He didn’t act alone - although, to be fair, it’s not as if Marley can punish Bertholdt, who’s dead, and Annie, who’s out of reach. In any case, Reiner has made up for his failure since then, probably with actions like shielding Zeke on the field of battle.

The chapter cuts to Falco, who wonders exactly how loyal Reiner is. He recalls the conversation the two of them had at the end of the previous chapter, when Reiner told him to save Gabi. The fact that Reiner choose to speak to Falco, saying dangerous things, makes Falco wonder if Reiner isn’t completely loyal. Falco himself also isn’t completely sold on the cause, and the fact that Reiner would choose to speak to him makes him wonder if maybe Reiner knows.

Interesting. Falco isn’t exactly erupting into rebellion, but that sentiment sounds awfully like he’s questioning the Marleyian government and their mission. Zeke is up to something - although I’m not sure what, and if it benefits the Eldians - and he doesn’t want the government to know. Now Falco (maybe). I can’t see Galliard turning traitor, I don’t know enough about Pieck to say for sure, and Colt is too close to Zeke for me to think he would, either (whether Colt gets roped into Zeke’s own plans is another story).

More importantly, is Reiner thinking the same thing Falco is? I think so. Reiner won’t rebel against Marley. He’s been too loyal time and time again for that to be probable. However, he spent time on the island and got to know the “devils” on a personal level. My guess is that he no longer agrees with Marley’s policy towards the Walldians.

The warriors return to the Eldian district. There are a really sweet couple of panels that show the warriors being welcomed, including Pieck and a man that presumably is a family member - a father, or grandfather?

Zeke greets his grandmother and grandfather. They’re glad to see him returned safely, and they tell him they’re happy that he completed his mission. This is how Zeke responds:

Zeke strikes me as a bit of a wild card. I’m not sure of his agenda, but he definitely has his own goals. His own mission, maybe. What it is, I don’t know.

Gabi meets her parents, who tell her they’re proud she could save the lives of Marley’s soldiers while she was away at war. They tell her that she’s going to be the greatest warrior. As in, ever. I find it sad that members of a group that their country loathes so much would be so willing to protect said nation. The Eldians within the walls are locked away, branded with armbands and set aside for “privileges” that lead them to early graves. It seems to me like the Eldians within Marley should criticize their own country instead of fighting the Walldians and whatever wars Marley becomes involved in. Then again, the Eldians in Marley see the Walldians as demons, not kin.

I’m interested to see what happens to the Eldians when the titan technology becomes obsolete. Without titans, they can still serve as foot soldiers, but their main purpose no longer exists. What will the Marleyian government do with them?

There are some Marleyian soldiers waiting for treatment outside a hospital. There’s a theory that one of them might be Eren on a mission for the Walldians. At this point it’s mostly speculative, but I don’t put anything past Isayama at this point.

Gabi and Reiner have dinner with their family. Gabi brags about her adventures on the front. Reiner doesn’t say anything while her family congratulates her. He maintains a stormy expression. When Gabi’s Aunt Karina (Reiner’s mom) asks Reiner if he thinks Gabi will become a warrior, he says that he’s sure she will inherit the Armored Titan.

If Reiner really thinks that, he’s not confident in Falco’s abilities to become his successor. Or maybe he thinks Gabi is just better. If Reiner wants Falco to Inherit the Armored Titan badly enough, maybe he’ll take matters into his own hands.

This is both sad and frustrating. Gabi’s aunt says that if the Walldians are eliminated, the Eldians will be happy. honestly, that’s far from the truth. Again, what happens when the Marleyian government decides there’s no use for the Eldians anymore?

What makes these Eldians “good” and the Island Dwellers “evil”? That’s one side’s perception of another. Gabi might believe that it’s true, but does that give her any right to kill the Walldians? Is that justice? Is that doing the right thing? She might think so, but something tells me Eren and co. disagree. In fact, as far as they’re concerned, she’s probably one of the people in the wrong. Or is the Marleyian government in the wrong for spreading their propaganda and brainwashing their soldiers? I think you could take every character in this godforsaken story and say that they’re somehow “in the wrong”, but whether or not they actually are is just a matter of perspective. Ultimately, everyone in SnK has done some horrible things to someone else. Everybody is somehow “evil”‘ from somebody else’s perspective. It’s one of the reasons I love this story so much.

I hope the characters realize that they’re all at least partially “evil” and try to move past it, but that’s not realistic. Maybe someone will try to rise above the petty fighting. At this point, my money is on Zeke, if only because his plans seem to be the most impartial.

Reiner doesn’t seem to pleased about this whole exchange. He’s definitely not jumping in to agree with Gabi. I would say the Walldians aren’t devils in his eyes.

Fear is powerful. Force enough of it down someone’s throat, and they’ll do just about anything. Fear doesn’t even have to center around something very big to be effective. A fear of spiders can seem just as crippling as a fear of the devil. If the Marleyian government encourages enough fear of the Walldians, it doesn’t matter how silly the conflict is.

I like getting a look at the regular Eldians in Marley. These aren’t the restorationists, or even really the warriors. This is a family living in a cruel world, finding some joy around the dinner table and having a conversation.

Finally, the conversation turns to Reiner. Gabi says that it must be hard to talk about the Walldian devils when Reiner spent time living with them. Reiner ends up discussing some of the “devils” he saw, including Sasha.

Reiner acts like he discounts his old teammates. Sasha’s love of food is her gimmick, but that’s not the only thing she has. Jean doesn’t only care about himself. Connie isn’t just an idiot. Marco, in the end, begged for his life - he didn’t only care about other people. Eren might have started out only thinking of revenge, but he’s not just some angsty, loud little kid. Mikasa won’t follow him blindly. If she thinks he’s being stupid, she’ll let him know.

The fact that Reiner’s descriptions are so out of touch show two things. First, he knows them personally, and he’s creating a slightly ridiculous pretense. Second, it demonstrates how silly the Marleyian persecution of the Walldians is. They’re not clean-cut, purely evil devils, and they have to grasp at straws and skewed interpretations to defend their opinion. The way Reiner words his argument actually makes it seem like he includes Annie, Bert, and himself with the devils.

Reiner actually slips up a bit and calls the group “diverse”. Gabi corrects him by asking what that means - aren’t all the Walldians exactly the same, pure evil? Reiner quickly assures her that they are, but he isn’t fooling us.

There are a few things I want to address here. First, it’s hard for the Walldians to try to right wrongs when they don’t know what they did wrong in the first place. Granted, they’ve reached the basement, so they have some backstory, but for a long time they were completely ignorant of the world they lived in. Of course, the Eldians in Marley don’t know that. If they did, it might be harder for them to hate the Walldians. Nobody knows the full story, and so they create suffering for everyone involved. Again, it brings up the question of who’s really in the wrong. Is it the Reiss family, for keeping the Walldian population ignorant? Once again, that’s a matter of opinion.

Additionally, I don’t think the world gives a flying fuck about whether or not the Eldians are good. That might be what the Eldians believe, but it isn’t true. The world probably has their own opinions about the Eldians, but there’s no proof that those opinions mean anything. Besides, the idea that the whole world would come to a consensus that the Eldians are good is hard to believe, especially when Marley uses them as weapons. I doubt that the Mid-East alliance thinks the monsters they fight on the battlefield are good. This is just another example of humans trying to convince themselves that they’re moral, just people, when in reality they aren’t.  

It seems to me that time and time again, we see governments ruining their people for their own benefit. Marley instills fear in their population for soldiers and to quell Eldian rebellion. The Reiss monarchs keep their people complacent at the cost of valuable information.

The chapter continues with Reiner’s backstory.

Reiner’s mother expresses a wish to be Marleyian, and Reiner says that this served as his motivation for wanting to become a warrior.

We see a couple panels of Reiner’s training, where we see him struggle to keep up with the other warriors in training. He does ultimately pass, however, and is selected as a candidate for a titan.

A lot of the major characters in the story are trying to move towards freedom. Eren and Co. want to be free of the walls. Reiner, Gabi, and the other warriors want their people’s name to be wiped clean. However, their searches leads them into conflict with each other. The Walldians and the Eldians clash. In trying to claim their own freedom, they threaten each other’s. This comes up a lot in the real world, too. Look at every competition ever: In one person wining, another has to loose. It’s a sad truth of life.

A young Zeke mentions that they will soon inherit their titans. However, of the seven cadets, only six will be chosen. Reiner is confident until Galliard reminds him that he’s the weakest of the warriors. What is he good at? Annie is already the best at hand-to-hand combat. Betholdt has Reiner beat when it comes to markmanship. Marcel is the strongest. Pieck is smarter than Reiner.

We learn that Reiner’s best scores come from a test on which he wrote about his loyalty to Marley. This is another reason why I find betrayal improbable. Reiner has always been so deeply set in his loyalty. Between that and his wish to be Marleyian, I find it hard to believe that he’ll turn against the homeland. And then there’s this:

Woah angel, take it down a few notches. To be fair, this is a flashback from years ago, but Reiner is loyal to the point of paranoia. He’s scared, and maybe looking for a way to distract everyone from his inadequacies.

Galliard punches Reiner, and Marcel has to hold his little brother back. Galliard yells some more and tells Reiner that he’ll have to wait alone in Marley for thirteen years. He implies that Reiner won’t get a titan, so he’ll have to wait until one of the warriors expires before he can take their place.

Galliard was hardass even before his brother died. The Jaws titan is loyal but he’s also a bit harsh. To be fair, if my first name was Porco, I’d be a bit pissed too.

The warriors walk away. Bertholdt stays behind to offer Reiner a hands up. Annie also stays behind. Reiner laments that Galliard is probably right. Bert, always the optimist, says that Reiner’s loyalty shouldn’t be underestimated.

Bertholdt seems rueful that they only have thirteen years. He asks Reiner if he’ll be able to handle all his aspirations in such a short amount of time. Reiner is confident that in thirteen years, the warriors will be heroes that saved the world from the Walldians.

The irony is that Marley seems like a bigger threat to the world than the Walldians. The Walldians aren’t starting wars with other nations. Until recently, the vast majority of them were willing to stay within their walls, and their military was ineffective against the titans. Marley, on the other hand, is an industrialized nation with machine guns and child soldiers that wreck havoc on the battlefield.

The chapter ends with a young Eren, siting by the river and wishing something will happen. Armin runs up to him. This is interesting, too. There are a lot of Reiner/Eren parallels in this chapter.

All in all, I’m pleased with this chapter. It isn’t action-packed, but there’s a lot of information squished into relatively little space. I’m happy to get some of Reiner’s backstory, and maybe a hint at the RBA beginnings. I still have plenty of questions I want answered though (Where’s Levi? And Hange?), and I want to know if some of the rumors are true (Jean in charge of the survey corps, Connie growing his hair out), but overall, I’m sated. Nobody is dead, which is a blessing.

[kymkral]

the sixth one:  Tom Made Me 1/29/17

My father, Tom, was a complicated man. Colorful, some might say. He stood about six feet, four inches tall and had the kindest eyes. They were hazel, small and a little bit beady, but kind. He was thin all over expect for a prominent beer belly which often reminded me of what a pregnant man would look like. He terrified me. When my mother left, or he kicked her out, that story always varied depending which of the two you asked, he was granted full custody of me. Thus began the ballad of Tom and Kym. 

He was praised my entire life for stepping up to the plate and raising me when my mother was otherwise unable to. Something that back in those days was not too common. Usually the father leaves. Not mine. Mine stayed. I’m not sure if that was a good thing. 

Tom made me a tomboy. I always suspected Tom wished I were a boy, maybe more athletic, or maybe just normal, I was none of those things, and I still am not. He always wanted me to play basketball. My grandparents got me a basketball hoop for one of my preteen birthdays. We would spend a lot of nights practicing. I was terrible. I couldn’t run very fast, couldn’t steal the ball to save my life, and to top it off, I really could care less. One summer he made me do ten layups before I went to bed each night. If I missed one, I’d have to start over. Each night would result in me complaining with “I don’t want to play basketball!”  Which he would always follow with a stern “You’re tall, you have a knack”. I didn’t. In his defense I did develop a pretty mean layup and I’m pretty certain I could still pull a good one off now.  After his passing, I look back on nights like those, when he took an interest in me and I wish I were more grateful at the time. These were some of the good memories that weren’t painted over with abuse, alcohol or things I was too young to really comprehend. Nights like these are the bright spots in an otherwise shady childhood.

Tom made me self-sufficient. My first flat tire happened to be in our driveway when I was sixteen. I went inside to tell him. He looked up from his scotch and TV, as he often did, and said, “I don’t know why you’re in here, you have a driver’s manual, don’t you?” I marched outside and I changed that tire. Before you think he’s a total monster, he did come out and check the tire and gave me a few pointers on how to do it more quickly and efficiently the next time. Years later, when I got a flat, I changed it with no problem and no help from AAA on the 405 freeway, in high heels. Something I definitely called my father to brag about, but really with just the intention to get the validation I always sought after from him as a kid. No dice. He always expected me to be self sufficient, so things like this, things I was supposed to be able to do, came with very little validation. Between you and me, it broke my heart every time.

Tom made me cool. Freshmen year of college my dorm’s RA contacted everyone’s parents to ask them to send their kids care packages for Christmas our first year away from home. All the kids on my floor had moms, therefore they all got cookies and candy and whatever a mom puts in a care package. They all got loving notes filled with excitement of their child’s return home for the holidays. Mine was the smallest and by far the blandest. Tom didn’t even wrap it in Christmas paper. No card. Just written on the brown paper bag that he taped around my gift in a black sharpie: “Kym- Love Dad”. I was sad at first but that quickly passed as I was used to getting different things than my peers due to a lack of having a mom. I laugh out loud thinking of this now. I could have had a single dad that didn’t try at all, but he always tried. Since his passing I wish more and more I had told him how much that meant to me. I opened my small paper bag present to find The Beatles “1” CD.  It had just been released and most people didn’t even know it existed yet. Everyone on my floor dropped their cookies and cards and gathered around in complete jealousy. I was cool. I had the cool dad who taught me about cool music. I still have that CD and I play it on my archaic CD player while thinking of that night every single time, and I feel cool.

Tom made me love the Broncos. We’re from Denver, a place where 99.9% of the population bleeds orange and blue. I see John Elway on TV and I’m hardwired to cry. I went to so many games with Tom.  I remember sitting in the living room with Tom, my aunt and uncle with their kids watching the Broncos beat the Packers in the Super Bowl of 1997. That day will go down as one of my favorites and one of the days that wasn’t sprinkled with chaos. 

For Christmas Tom almost always gave me a Broncos jersey. I’d open it up and it was always so big I could wear it as a dress. I’d give him a funny look, he’d respond casually with “That’s Champ Bailey”. I would blankly look at him with “I know, but they make women’s jerseys now Dad”. His reply was always “nah, women don’t like football, you’re an anomaly”. Hey, I never said he wasn’t misogynistic. 

One season when I was working at a sports bar in Hollywood I got a package from him in the mail.  Inside were mustard yellow and black striped football socks. Enclosed was a note on a Post-it written in a black sharpie “The Broncos are going to wear these on Monday night for the game.  Wear them to work. They’re ugly-Love Dad”. 

When I was back visiting him in the days before he died he told me that the weirdest part about dying is that he wasn’t going to get to see how things were going to turn out. He was watching pre-season and he had no idea how the Broncos were going to do that year, and he never would. One of the biggest arguments he and I had was that win or lose he wanted a good game. Not me, I always wanted to blow the opposing team out of the water. A complete fucking blow out made me so happy. As I sat there looking at my deteriorating father, both of us with a cigarette in one hand and a scotch in the other, I told him I would dedicate each game to him in the upcoming season. That year, not only did the Broncos go to the Super Bowl and win, but I actually got to go to the Super Bowl. That was the first time I felt close to him after he had passed. Since then, I have become an even bigger fan than before, if that is even possible.

Tom made me feel ashamed. This isn’t really the sort of shame you are thinking, though there was quite a bit of that sprinkled throughout my childhood, I’ll save that type of shame for another day. This type of shame came from Tom wishing I were more popular, I think. He never came right out and said it but I had an inkling that it disappointed him. I didn’t get his popularity gene.  I got my mom’s weirdo gene. They rarely go hand in hand during one’s high school years. I was however a cheerleader. A total oxymoron. A nerdy cheerleader involved in theater. 

When it came time to take my freshmen year cheerleading team photos my dad, like the other moms, tagged along. We did our team photo and then our individuals. On its own the individual photos were a total nightmare as at the time I only stood five foot six inches tall (not tall to me as I’m now pushing six feet) and was all legs. In fact the cool kids used to yell, “Kym’s riding a chicken!” when I passed them in the halls. My hands and feet were huge-they can best be described as how a puppy has gigantic paws until he grows into the gargantuan Doberman he’s supposed to one day be. I had cheaply dyed blonde hair, more orangey and brassy, that was stringy and halfway curled despite my hard work with that damned curling iron. I still have no idea how to work those things.  I was completely flat chested, I mean literally and completely. I wasn’t even qualified to wear a training bra and I probably weighed about 85lbs. To top it off, I was missing the better part of my front teeth at the time.  See? Total nightmare. I have those photos buried in a locked trunk somewhere. No power on this earth will ever get me to show them to anyone.

I awkwardly got through the individual photos pretty unscathed, as my teammates had little to no interest in me. Next were the buddy photos. The girls quickly started plotting who would take pictures with who, while I silently sat there horrified that they wouldn’t ask me. It was elementary school gym class all over again. If you don’t get that reference, you were probably popular, congratulations. Tom watched the whole thing. I can only now as an adult imagine how embarrassed he was to have the nerdy daughter.   You’re probably thinking he wasn’t embarrassed, he loved you, trust me, I knew Tom better than anyone, and he was embarrassed. I finally got the courage to ask our team captain Brit if she would take a buddy photo with me. Brit was one of the most popular girls in our grade and although we definitely didn’t hang out with the same crowd she was always kind to me. She was beautiful and athletic. She had long brown hair, with brown eyes and a perfect smile. She said yes. I could tell it was out of pity and obligation, but I didn’t care, “I’ll take it!” I said to myself. 

On the way home that day Tom and I were quiet for most of the ride. Tom broke the silence with a tone that was a shade too insensitive, “So you don’t have any friends on the squad, do you?”  I have no idea how I responded to that question. I mean I wish I had said, “No shit, Tom, but thanks for pointing it out and rubbing it in.” Instead I felt the deep shame that I might have let him down. I wanted him to be proud of me. I wish I was more popular, more cool or whatever quality he definitely had in his youth. I didn’t. That killed me. 

Tom made me face reality. The year following the Columbine massacre my high school had their students wear nametags at all times. I grew up in Littleton, Colorado and attended a rival school just 10 minutes away from Columbine. The school told us these nametags were a tool to protect us. We were told that it would help the staff identify us if someone wasn’t supposed to be at the school. Our parents were told something entirely different.  The principal had a separate assembly for the parents where he explained that after the Columbine shooting it was very difficult to identify the bodies. Since my school had received so many death threats following that shooting they wanted to make sure, in the event we experienced the same tragedy, that the parents of my high school wouldn’t have to go through the same excruciating wait as the Columbine parents did. They were also instructed to keep this from their children, as the principal didn’t want to incite fear and panic among the students. In keeping with his honest form of parenting, he told me everything. I’m grateful for that honesty looking back now. He treated me like an adult that deserved a straight answer. At the time, in keeping with my tough daughter form, I acted as if this didn’t completely terrify me. It did, but I didn’t want Tom to think I wasn’t strong or capable of hearing the truths he so often exposed me to. That night I wrote out a little will on a small piece of notebook paper with a purple pen and kept it in my back pocket for the remainder of my high school career. Don’t think that’s too sad, it mostly consisted of who I wanted to distribute my elaborate Buffy the Vampire Slayer collection to, and how I loved my parents, my grandparents and my dog. That wasn’t the first, nor the last time he gave me the harsh truth about reality. It never made me angry or wished he was a normal protective dad, it made me feel capable and loved. Which writing that out now sounds so fucked up. I wish I had asked him why he chose to go that route. Now, I will never know.

Tom made me invisible. I always wondered why he married my mother? Were they ever in love? I have pictures to prove they once were. I did witnessed it in elementary school on Halloween nights. My mom would come over and the three of us would get me ready to trick-or-treat. They didn’t fight on those nights for some reason. I will always remember the image of them, one Halloween, linked arm and arm in front of me holding an umbrella due to the crazy, unexpected blizzard. The streets and sidewalks were covered in snow and we could barely see in front of us. I was a witch that year.  My mother painted my face green and Tom made sure I had plenty of layers under my black cloak.  They topped the costume off with a stringy long black wig with a tall pointy witch hat. I was marching behind them when I looked up and saw them linked together. They looked in love. It was what I imagined having normal, happy parents would have been like. Even just for a little bit.  That image was ruined when they dumped the snow on the umbrella behind them straight on to my witch hat. I guess I was an after-thought, even then. 

Tom made me grow up too fast. He never shielded me from who my mother was. My mother was beautiful. She always had a way about her that drew men and even women in. She was funny and charismatic. She stood about five feet and eight inches tall, dyed bleach blonde hair, big round green eyes with a perfect nose. She was athletic and slender. I could tell why my dad fell for her.  However, when she would climb into a bottle, which was most of my youth, she changed.  Struggling with alcoholism and bipolar disorder she was unpredictable and quite often scary. He never kept me from her. He always said, “I don’t want Kym to not know her mother” to people who asked why he still let me see her. She had a lot of dark days and I was along for the ride in a lot of them. 

Tom would drop me off at whatever random living situation my mother had herself in every other weekend without so much as walking me to the door to make sure it was safe. She once told me that when he did that it confused her. One weekend she was supposed to pick me up from his house and take me to our family farm. She told me she started the day off with her usual 2 cups of wine, yes cups (think big gulp, her words, not mine) and proceeded to the car. She was later woken up by a confused Tom knocking on her window asking her where the hell she had been. She didn’t even make it out of the parking lot. Her response was “wow, I must have passed out”. One thing I always admired about my mother, she never was dishonest about her alcoholism and quite funny about it to boot. She said he accepted this answer followed by an “I’ll pick Kym up on Sunday night.” Then he left a 7 year old me standing outside of her car holding my tiny suitcase.  She later told me that she thought, “that’s fine but I’m definitely going back inside to drink some more”, we went inside and she did. 

One of the grimmer memories from that era was when she lived with a man named Scott. Scott was a much scarier man than any boyfriend she had had to that point. He drank too much and was abusive towards my mother and referred to me as “Buggard”. Funny enough, I never hated that guy, I respected that he was who he was and seemed to own it, no matter how fucked up. Tom would drop me off there without so much as a peek inside. It was terrifying. I didn’t find out until years later that he had known what was going on in there. I guess one Sunday my Papa (P-pa, Tom’s dad), picked me up. I climbed in the car and was quiet for several miles until I broke the silence with a shy “I never want to go back there again”. When asked why, I told P-pa that my mom and Scott had sex and would make me watch. My grandparents pleaded with Tom to fight for sole custody. He never did.  I confronted him about this in my adult life as I thought I had never told anyone this was happening because I assumed that if I had, someone would have done something about it. I now know that the court would have brought up more questions on his parenting side too and I might have been taken away. I’m glad he didn’t. It was scary and it sucked but I came out the other side. As a result of a lot of these memories I can handle almost anything thrown my way. Glass half-full, right?

Tom made me feel loved. When my mother was mostly out of the picture he did everything he could to make me feel like I was having a normal childhood. He signed me up for soccer, ballet classes, and anything that a normal kid who had two parents would get to do. I was lucky. 

Tom put me in girl scouts at an early age, I was in the same troop throughout my time in the scouts.  We were really tight, us twelve girls. Following the tradition of playing Mr. Mom, Tom involved himself fully becoming close with the rest of the girls’ moms. I never questioned where my mother was, in these moments Tom was enough. We’d go on camping trips as a troop and Tom would come along. He was the only male and blended better than I think any dad in that situation would have.  It was cool. During these camping trips, Tom would play a game with the girls in my troop and me. We would line up behind a long, fallen down log in the middle of the mountains, each one of us with a few watermelons and Tom would stand about 6 feet away from the log and we’d spit seeds at him. Whoever got the most won. We never kept track, we just laughed as he danced around dodging each seed. I’m so grateful for these silly memories.

Later our troop leader wasn’t able to keep up with the commitment, and neither could any of the other moms. Our tight knit troop was on the verge of breaking up. Tom stepped forward and volunteered to lead. The Girl Scout Association said that men weren’t allowed to lead the girl scouts. He was heartbroken. This was the one thing he couldn’t change, cover up or save me from despite a lack of a mom figure. Luckily one of the girls’ mom said she’d do it on paper but Tom would be the actual leader. We were elated. 

Last year, when going through his things after his passing, I found a letter of acknowledgement and certificate of gratitude from the Girl Scout Association thanking him for being one of the only dads to take an interest in their daughter’s troop. 

He didn’t have to do those things. He didn’t have to be involved. He could have just sent me off to the scout meetings and been apathetic like the rest of the other fathers were. He could have paid the dues, bought the uniform, and returned to his scotch and TV, as he often did, but he didn’t. He was there in a way I don’t think most girls can say their fathers were. I’d give anything to thank him for that now, absolutely anything.

Tom made me stick up for myself. The house I grew up in laid directly center of a cul-de-sac in the middle of Littleton, Colorado. The house was pretty big for just Tom and me. When my parents bought it there was hope of a long marriage and many kids to go along with it. I guess life doesn’t always turn out the way you want it to. The house was bright yellow with brown trimming. Sounds awful, I know, but it really did look nice. There were three bedrooms and three bathrooms. I got two bedrooms and my own bathroom. I was spoiled. The back yard was huge. I had a tetherball quart, a basketball hoop, a garden and a shed. The house was beautiful. The cul-de-sac was filled with other kids, mostly all boys. I was the oldest and usually in charge.

As we all got a little older and I became more of a girl the boys started having less interest in playing hide and seek with me, and more interest in picking on me or playing pranks. You’d think it was a crush, but considering my description of myself from earlier, it’s highly unlikely. One summer afternoon I was hanging out in my front lawn minding my own business when I was pegged with several water balloons. The ambush was calculated and mean. I couldn’t get to my front door fast enough. Those boys were relentless. I ran inside crying, explaining to Tom the whole story, probably a shade too dramatic I might add. Again, Tom did what he often did, he looked up from his scotch and TV and said, “I don’t know what you’re doing in here, you have a hose don’t you?”  I did have a hose. I went around the back put one of those spray gun attachments to it and cranked that sucker up. I pulled the hose around the front yard and had an ambush of my own. Those idiot boys were sitting in one of their yards basking in the glory of the ambush they had just won and were not expecting my retaliation. It was glorious. 

I hated Tom a lot of the time for making me “figure it out” or “handle it on my own” but looking back on that day and how good it felt to enact revenge on my own, I’m happy he did. He was hard on me so I would be hard on myself and in turn I can handle just about anything this life throws at me.

No matter how complicated our relationship was, and the time we took apart from each other, he is still one of my favorite people. Which is a complicated feeling. A feeling that has brought me guilt and shame. He was a bully, he was charismatic and he was terrifying. I never felt quite normal or at ease alone with him. A relationship between parent and child is always somewhat complicated. I guess we were no different. I miss him though. A lot of my best and worst qualities came from Tom. They are often the same. I usually get asked if I’m from the east coast because of my directness and lack of beating around the bush. You never have to guess how I feel about you. I’m charismatic and people tend to gravitate towards me. Something that actually both of my parents possessed. I’m very opinionated and I am willing to get into a fight over my beliefs. When I put my mind to something I rarely back down. I’m stubborn. There is so much more that Tom gave me. A sense of humor. An open mind. A love for scotch. A love for the Broncos. A love for life. I’d like to think I have kind eyes too. Though it was a difficult life it made me the woman I am today. I’m proud of her. In Tom’s passing I got the validation I always sought, he was proud of her too. 

[yas-surveys]

162. // THEN, THEN, NOW

Then: December 18, 2014 Then: December 18, 2015 Now: January 13, 2020 (Damn it would be cool if i answered this last december anyways)

1. Where was the last place you went to hang out? Do you hang out there often? If not, where do you usually go? THEN: i can’t actually remember HAHA. maybe 7-eleven or something, yeah. THEN: at the mall i guess, well not really often, but for the christmas time i guess, since i go shopping with enzo NOW:i have literally no idea, the last time i was out was to go to school, and i dont think that counts as a hangout, DAMN IM BORING

2. When did you last speak to your best friend of the opposite sex? What did you talk about? THEN: - Friday, his love life. HAHAHA. THEN: - yesterday; all kinds of stuff, lol, HAHAHA, but we last discusses about the gift his friends gave him and he was too lazy to read the instructions so i read it for him lol NOW: yesterday! we were talking about going to the beach

3. Would you rather be called ‘beautiful’ or ‘sexy’? Why? THEN: - beautiful bc when you say beautiful, it’s kinda all in all, your personality and stuff THEN: ^^ NOW: WHY PICK ONE, WHY NOT BOTH? 

4. Do you think someone is attracted to you? THEN: probably??? THEN: i honestly have no idea NOW: yeah

5. When was the last time you used public transport? THEN: last Friday THEN: yesterday NOW: the last time i went out? january 8

6. Are there any flirty messages in your inbox? THEN: - noooope THEN: nope NOW:

7. What age do you think is the right age to lose your virginity? Do you think people are losing it too soon these days? If so, why do you think people feel the need to lose it at a very young age? THEN: - idrk, maybe when you know your emotionally ready and you have a job bc you need to support your child yourself. yeah, bc sometimes teenagers don’t think about what’s going to happen to them if they got pregnant, what they have in mind is the happiness while doing it or something, idk, maybe bc being not a virgin is a huge part of your life and stuff and they like to brag to others and stuff THEN: ^^ NOW: hOLY SHIT IM ACTUALLY CRYING AT MY ANSWERS HAHAAHAHAAHA ANYWAYS, LOSING YOUR VIRGINITY DOESNT MEAN GETTING PREGNANT MARGARET, THERE’S CONTRACEPTIVES. OH MY GOD. But sorry for my past self, I won’t say that there’s a right age to lose your virginity? Some who lost them in such an early young age are probably thriving right now? It doesn’t matter? As long as it consensual and you’re in the right mindset of what you’re doing then I don’t see why it’s supposed to matter? Like they say virginity is a social construct, which you just fucking call when you first had sex. I do think people are losing it too soon but I don’t think that’s such a bad thing? It’s a fucking normal thing that humans long. What we should talk about the issue of unwanted pregnancies and sex education. But not the point that wherein really young people are doing it? I really can’t say, I don’t have much statistics. But I do feel like that CERTAIN people need to lose it since being a virgin is now such a big word. Which is what we need to demolish. If we just unhinge that word from it’s meaning then I don’t think everyone would make such a big fuss about it? You’re just another person to have sex for the first time? Congratulations, now everybody, move along?

8. Do you make an effort to be nice to people you dislike? Would you hang around with someone you disliked, if your other friends liked them? THEN: - yeah. well, me and my friends, dislike the same people so we’re fine THEN: ^^ NOW: yea, i actually do since i believe that even though you hate somebody else, it’s no excuse to be not nice to them? so i don’t get this plastic thing tbh

9. What’s the closest thing to you that’s green? THEN: - the couch i’m sitting on right now THEN: like a placemat i’m sitting on lol NOW: pillow

10. How exactly are you feeling at this moment? Why do you feel this way? THEN: - It’s so fucking cold, idk maaaaan. i’’m just rly feeling cold. HAHAHAHAHA. there’s this typhoon in our country and it’s just so cold THEN: OH GOD, i feel really sick and hot rn and i’ve been coughing all day :—( NOW: tired, my heart’s kind of hurting from the ashfall probably?

11 So, tell me a bit about your best friend of the opposite sex. Are you strictly just friends, or is there something more between you? THEN: - ooh, enzo, just in the past question we’re talkiing about his love life bc he broke up with this girl but i think they’re coming together again since they always talk and stuff. so we’re strictly just friends, and i don’t really like to be with him since i think it’s going to destroy our 3 years friendship THEN: still enzo, i mean this girl i’m talking about, enzo ended finally this may of this year, after lots of on and offs, and he’s not been with anyone since and it’s been the same for us, just friends, we cOOL bFFS 4 lyf NOW: OH MY GOD. THE GIRL WAS ESTER FUCK ME HAHAAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHA HOLY SHIT, but it’s cool that enzo’s still my best friend

12. When was the last time you felt severe physical pain? What was the reason for your pain? THEN: - ooooh, i hit my knee on the edge of my bed. GOOD. it hurts a fuckin lot THEN: i can’t exactly remember, like severe sooOOoo idk rly NOW: idk tbh HAHAHAHAHAHA 

13 . In your opinion, what makes someone attractive? Be as general or as specific as you like. THEN: - appearance bc you know that’s the first thing people see and the personality THEN: well i guess now, it’s kind of both, i mean, sometimes, you look at what he’s doing and and his personality and just look at the appearance next and you can actually consider it sOooOOo NOW: ummm his mIND OH MY GOD. tbh now that i’m thinking of it very deeply, that’s where his intentions come from, what he thinks of you, what he wants to do for you, how much he loves, IT ALL COMES FROM THERE. SO DAMN. IF YOU’RE BOY A GENIUS. KEEP HIM. BUT LIKE EMOTIONAL AND INTELLECTUAL GENIUS.

14. When things in life start going wrong, are you the kind of person who tends to fall apart, or do you try to stay strong and hold it together? THEN: i’m kind of mixture of both. HAHAHA. THEN: ^^ still both lol, depends on the situation NOW: FALL APART LMAO.

15. Someone tells you that you’re beautiful/good-looking. Do you agree with them? THEN: - depends on who the person is THEN: ^^ NOW: i’d say thank you

16. If I came round to your house to have dinner, what would you make for me? THEN: - oh god i don’t cook soooo. THEN: ^^ NOW: but who are you? 

17. How did you meet the last person you added as a friend on Facebook? THEN: - i haven’t add anyone on fb so idk THEN: i haven’t added someone for a long long time, prolly a teacher in my school for school purposes too NOW: i have no idea who i last added on facebook. damn. so that’s still me after 5 years wow.

18. What is your relationship with your mother like? Is it a close relationship, or do you distance yourselves from each other? Why do you think your relationship is the way it is? THEN: - my relationship with my mom is great, i can talk to her about anything and stuff THEN: ^^ NOW: yea i guess, we are pretty close but not to the point where i tell her EVERYTHING, that’s just creepy

19. Can you remember the very first conversation you had with the last person you texted? THEN: - it was kirsten and i met her at 2nd grade bc it was the first day of 2nd grade and i was new andit was a big school, i didn’t know anyone so i cried and she went up to me and asked me why was i crying HAHA THEN: it was danice, and i honestly can’t remember tbh HAHAHAHAHA, we met in 4th grade NOW: it was my mom and ofc i can’t remember our first conversation

20. Do you keep up to date with the charts? Are there any songs that are kind of old now, that you still like to listen to? THEN: - nah, bc, i kinda listen to everything that makes my ears happy. HAHA. yeah. THEN: ^^ NOW: oh, hell no. i don’t even know what are the bops these days. i’m a grandma when it comes to music.

21. Who or what has been on your mind the most today? THEN: - christmas. christmas. christmas. THEN: yes yes yes ^^^ NOW: aw,,, i really do like christmas,,, hehehe, um nothing tbh

22. At what age do you think you’ll be ready to think about having children? THEN: - maybe like 24-26? THEN: as long as i’m financially stable then i’m good NOW: never. having kids.

23. Put your iPod or any music player on shuffle and give me the first two lines from the first 10 songs selected. THEN: - ‘Some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luck; Some nights I call it a draw’ - ‘Cecilia, you’re breaking my heart; You’re shaking my confidence daily’ - 'First thing’s first, I’m the realest; Drop this and let the whole world feel it’ - 'Give me more lovin’ than I’ve ever had; Make it all better when I’m feelin’ sad’ - 'Baby, when they look up at the sky; We’ll be shooting stars just passing by’ - 'It’s just another night; And I’m staring at the moon’ - 'It’s probably what’s best for you; I only want the best for you’ - 'Saturday morning jumped out of bed and put on my best suit; Got in my car and raced like a jet, all the way to you’ - 'When your legs don’t work like they used to before; And I can’t sweep you off of your feet’ - 'so let’s sing na, na na na na, hey ya; cmon and sing na, na na na na, hey ya’ THEN: - ‘I am not that kind of girl, who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion’ - ‘And i hate to say i love you, when it’s hard for me’ - ‘Your love is bright as ever, even in the shadows’ -  I was born in the arms of imaginary friends, Free to roam, made a home out of everywhere I’ve been’ - ‘ My heart is sinking, As I’m lifting up’ - ‘ Wise men say, only fools rush in’ - ‘ Come on skinny love just last the year, Pour a little salt we were never here’ - ‘ He said, “Let’s get out of this town, Drive out of the city’ - ‘ Hush, don’t speak, When you spit your venom, keep it shut I hate it’ - ‘ I can taste salt water , And if I blink again’ NOW: OH MY GOD IM LAUGHING AT THOSE ANSWERS OKAY HERE’S MINE -  She's got a family in Carolina, So far away, but she says I remind her of home - You’re white dress, sparks words spontaneous -  Ain't never felt this way, Can't get enough so stay with me - After the war, I went back to New York, A-After the war, I went back to New York -  Darling, darling, doesn't have a problem, Lying to herself 'cause her liquor's top shelf - I wanna pick you up and scoop you out - I've got a secret for the mad, In a little bit of time it won't hurt so bad - Mr. Vice President, Mr. Madison, Senator Burr - You keep saying that you’re alright, but I can see you through your fake smile you’re not - 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9, There are 10 things you need to know

24. The last time you went for a night out, who did you go with? THEN: - i don’t rly go on night outs but maybe the last one will be last october 28 wt my friends THEN: i still don’t go on night outs, well i mean, the latest i came home this month was 10:30 and i was out christmas shopping with enzo so NOW: my college blockmates i think?

25. Do you know anyone who doesn’t use Facebook, or dislikes it? Do you like or dislike it? THEN: - yeah, one of my best friends, laya, she hates it HAHA but we need to use it for school stuff. and laya actually keeps an eye on things, she wants not to be noticed on fb and stuff HAHA. i don’t really dislike it but i don’t love it either THEN: well laya has not been ranting about fb and she’s been using it a lot for chat purposes so, as of now, i don’t know anyone NOW: i don’t think so, neither

26. Have you ever mistaken a complete stranger for someone you knew? THEN: - yeah, but i think, i haven’t came to them (*i came to them, 2020) and said hi HAHA THEN: yeah NOW: yea

27. What did you have for breakfast this morning? THEN: - just bread and peanut & butter, and i’m rly hungry rn THEN: well i got out of bed like 3:36 or something, and there was no food so i ate this good large bread HAHAHAHAH and just some nerds and chocolate and that’s all the food i’ve eaten today and it’s 8:40 already and i haven’t had a proper meal yet, i’m really hungry NOW: tocino

28. Have you ever made a promise to someone that you didn’t keep? THEN: -  yeah, i think we all have THEN: yeah NOW: yeah

29. Are you ever afraid to show how you feel? THEN: - yeah, i’m always afraid THEN: ^^ yep, i am still NOW: depends on who i am with

30. Have you ever been blamed or got into trouble for something that wasn’t your fault? THEN: - yeah THEN: yeah NOW: yeah

31. Have you ever wondered what death might be like, and what might happen afterwards? It’s depressing to think about I know, but do you have an opinion about it? THEN: - yeah, oh my gods, it’s just so confusing; what would the people feel if i died and stuff, and what would happen to me, would i still see my friends and stuff THEN: i’ve been reading a lot of books associated with death, i guess, and it’s making me think more, and i guess, it’s just sleeping forever and it’s quite creepy NOW: yea of course, i don’t really have an opinion about it? but i do wonder what happens next? do you really lose unconsciousness and just drift away? 

32. Tell me something you like about your life, and something you dislike about it. THEN: - oh god, it’s gotten pretttty chaotic, i’m miserable and depressed and confused than before THEN: my life rn has beeeen a complete mess, GOD, i don’t like it. i really feel down and i mean being on christmas break is actually heping me a lot sine there NOW: i honestly can’t think of one things that’s going in the right direction at the moment, yesterday I was fucking crying my eyes out and promised myself to get checked as soon as I can.

33. Choose 10 people at random. THEN: 1. Ysabel 2. David 3. Enzo 4. Ester 5. Laya 6. Earl 7. Pamela 8. Nica 9. Kirsten 10. Kris THEN: 1. Kirsten 2. Enzo 3. Laya 4. Danice 5. David 6. Hannah 7. Pamela 8. Ricafort 9. Ysabel 10. Vito NOW: 1. Kirsten 2. Raphael 3. Enzo 4. Kate 5. Derick 6. Aly 7. Cely 8. Miki 9. Joui 10. Vanessa

34. Do you think 1 would ever help you out if you were in trouble? - i hope so NOW: yea

35. Would you swap places with 2 for a week? - sure, HAHAHA NOW: HELL NO. 

36. What would you say if 3 asked you out? - yea sure HAHA NOW: sure

37. Who is taller, you or 4? - i have no idea, i think she is NOW: she is

38. Do you think 5 has ever lied to you? -  yeah, probably NOW: i dont think so?

39. Do you think 6 will ever get married? - yeah, why not NOW: yea

40. If you had to cook a meal for 7, what would you make? - i did the numbers random, and it ended up on pamela again HAHAHAHAA but still, bacon HAHA, the only thing i can make that she likes NOW: PANCIT CANTON HAHAAHAHHA

41. Do you think 8 will ever get married? - yeah. NOW: yea

42. If 9 turned up at your door now, what would you do/say? Would you let him/her in? - YA YA YA NOW: yea

43. When is 10’s birthday? - o god, i’m not rly sure lol, prolly april???? i’M SO SORRY VITO NOW: september 18

44. Have you ever felt jealous of 1? - yeah, i guess, but not that much NOW: yea i guess at some aspects like being rich lmao.

45. If 2 decided never to speak to you again, would you care? - OH GOD YES NOW: OF COURSE I WOULD OH MY GOD

46. What colour is 3’s hair? - black and brown NOW: black

47. Do you know what colour 4’s eyes are? - black NOW: black

48. When was the last time you talked to 5? What did you talk to him/her about? - yesterday, not much NOW: january 7 in chat, january 11.

49. Who has kissed the most people, you or 6? - we haven’t kissed anyone yet HAHAHA NOW: OMG I ACTUALLY HAVE NO IDEA!!! i feel like me? but still no idea

50. What is the age difference between you and 7? Who is older? - she’s older. but i’m still taller HAHAHAHA NOW: she is

51. Describe 8 - what does he/she look like? - oh, he’s dark brown, laya and i LOVEEEE his legs, it’s smooth, he has a pretty strong feminine side and he has a subtle curly hair, his teeth are quite crooked and HE’s REALLY FUNNY NOW: REALLY SMALL GIRL WITH A SMALL FACE and long hair and such a petite frame

52. Is 9’s house within walking distance? - no, it’s near our school and our school is 30 minutes away without traffic from our house NOW: NO WAY

53. What if you found out that 10 had sex with the person you love/like? - OH MY GOD well, starting they’re not gay and stuff but if it happened, i would just be shocked NOW: HOLY SHIT THAT IS PRETTY AND VERY UNLIKELY BUT HOLY SHIT. THAT’S VERY WEIRD SCENARIO TO PICTURE

54. Do you like your teeth? THEN: - i don’t love them but i don’t hate them either THEN: i hate it NOW: hate it

55. Have you ever been to the cinema to watch a film, and ended up walking out because you hated it? THEN: - nope THEN: i have never done it, it’s just like wasting money and why watch a film when you know you wouldn’t like it NOW: UGH NEVER, if you don’t like it then just sleep? it’s cozy in there

56. The last person you held hands with, is that person single? THEN: - it was carl, but we’re just friends, and it was a joke, and yes he’s single THEN: i can’t even remember NOW: no he’s not

57. How about the last person you messaged on Facebook, are they single? THEN: - yep THEN: yes NOW: nope

58. How old is the 11th person in your phone’s contacts list? THEN: - i have no idea THEN: - still have no idea NOW: i don’t know tbh, her late 20′s?

59. Does it bother you when people ask questions about your love life? THEN: - nah THEN: not rly since i have non HAHAHAHA NOW: not really

60. Does the last person you kissed have freckles? THEN: - nope THEN: i haven’t kissed anyone yet so NOW: nope

61. Is it easy for people to tell when you’re upset, or are you good at hiding it? THEN:  i have resting bitch face so people always think i’m mad or something THEN: ^^ NOW: I DONT HAVE A FUCKING RBF WHO WAS I KIDDING!!! OH MY GOD. i’m not good at hiding when im upset.

62. Have you ever thought about joining a dating site? THEN: - oh gods, idek. i really have no idea HAHAHA. but yeah lol THEN: sure why not lol, but i always thought about it being very awkward NOW: already did

63. On a scale of 1 to 10, how you would you rate your own appearance (going on how you look right now)? THEN: probably 6 lol. i look oily and my hair looks awful right now THEN: prolly a 7, because i feel like ‘I LOOK REALLY OKAY AND THIS IS NOT WHAT I LOOK LIKE WHEN THERE’S PEOPLE AROUND NOW: OH HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD A SOLID ZERO. 

64. On a scale of 1 to 10, how happy are you right now? THEN:  a 5, i just found out that my crush wants to bring evrything back gdi (Oh my GOD, HE DID NOT WANT EVERYTHING BACK, 2020) THEN: a 6, i guess NOW: 7????

65. On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate this survey? THEN: - like a 7? THEN: ^^ NOW: ^^