#and i was sick on and off all semester which is not a good combo

[little-paper-man]

FINALS ARE DONE! \〒▽〒/

time to crash for a week until my poor poor braincells recuperate

[shibazoid]

Legacy of Manwich {3.4} The Forbidden Zone

It's getting weird. It's getting weird, stupid, and bad, and I don't know if I can be funny enough to compensate. Val really did a number on this Legacy, invoking Asmodeus like that. Worry not, the archdevil himself comes to collect what's his soon enough.

I've sent the girls and their cousins off to University, because Gen 3 was shockingly uneventful. Let's see their beautiful faces!

Ophelia: "Valeria and Portia are boring. My mom should've been heir."

At this point, I'm not sure I disagree.

Two of Cordelia's biological children made the cut by virtue of being absurdly good-looking and also kinda funny. Up top is Rosaline, a Knowledge/Romance sim, and below is her younger brother Julius, who is a Romance/Grilled Cheese sim, which is a wonderful combo.

And the final cousin who came to Uni is Yorick. I was sitting here watching him skill, when who should come up to the balcony but Portia. What could possibly be so interesting up here, I wonder!

LOOKS LIKE INCEST IS BACK ON THE MENU, BOYS! I know they're not blood-related, but it SQUIGS ME OUT SO FUCKING BAD! I'd also like to note that Portia was probably going to be heir when I sent the girls to college. Yorick had other plans for her.

Valeria: "You better not be doing what I think you're doing."

Portia: "SHUT UP, SKANK, YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS I GOT HIM FIRST!"

Valeria: "Hey, Mom? YOU'RE NOT GONNA FUCKING BELIEVE THIS!"

Valeria: "PORTIAAAA MOM SAYS YOU'RE DISINHERITED IF YOU DON'T STOP GETTING FUCKED BY FAMILY MEMBERS!"

Portia: "MOM CAN SUCK MY ENTIRE ASS!"

Welp, that settles it! Congratulations, Val, your demon pact's working as intended. Your patron came through.

Valeria: "COOL NOW I CAN CAST ELDRITCH BLAST!"

No you can go get a fucking boyfriend is what you can do

Valeria: "Please set me up with a man so I don't end up like my sister!"

PLEASE BE A GOOD ONE PLEASE BE A GOOD ONE

WELL THAT'S FIVE GRAND DOWN THE DRAIN

Huh? You just fucking got here?

Old Professor: "I know when I'm not wanted."

Matchmaker: "Another job well done!" *celebratory jerk-off dance*

THIS IS EXACTLY WHY I USE THE CHEATY CRYSTAL BALL TO GET DATES FOR EVERYONE. Let's see who's in the stars for Val!

ABSOLUTELY NOT

Valeria: "Are you guys seeing this shit?"

GOD I WISH I WEREN'T

Matchmaker: "BY THE POWER OF SCOLIOSIS YOU WILL HAVE A MAN!"

Better than whatever Necronomicon sex magic bullshit she'd get up to otherwise.

Date Number Two: Human Centipede Edition

Fun fact while Val's getting her first kiss: this guy here, Jordan, is who she ended up marrying in a previous version of the neighborhood. Knowing what I know now, I had her keep looking after this. He was boring, his kids were boring, everything was boring. I CRAVE EXCITEMENT AT ALL MOMENTS OF THE DAY.

Yorick: "Ugh, I'm sick of their PDA. Can't they do that in private?"

Can't you shove your head in a garbage disposal?

Weeaboo Niles: "WOAH GROSS WHAT AN UGLY BITCH!"

Thank you for your opinion, Grown Adult Man In A Kimono, I'm sure these college girls really give a shit what you think.

It's the FIRST SEMESTER and you still couldn't keep yourself alive? God maybe you deserve to be dead.

Yorick: *squealing and crying*

Too bad she died on the hour, so all her actual mourners immediately went to class lol. She got the dregs of sympathy after that.

Valeria: "UM EW, HAVEN'T YOU EVER HEARD OF A SHOWER??"

She's dead, Val. Corpses stink.

Valeria: "I CAN TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN DECOMP PURGE AND PIT STANK AND THIS BITCH SMELLS LIKE A LOCKER ROOM!"

Why do you know what decomp smells like? You're an art major.

Valeria: "The scent of decay heralds the arrival of my beloved Asmodeus!"

Oh, good, as long as it wasn't murder-related.

Valeria: "We'll get to that."

This guy moved in and Portia really likes following him around and talking about sex and video games. He cannot stand either subject, so they hate each other as a result.

Portia: "I swear to God, it tastes like mint! The first time it happened I was like 'Oh my God, this is delicious!' and he was like 'Oh, for real?' and so I snowballed him, and-"

Guy: "Pause that excruciating story, would you? I need to talk to your sister."

Guy: "VALERIA MANWICH, THIS IS YOUR DEMONIC PATRON, THE PRINCE OF HELL, THE ARCHEDEVIL ASMODEUS. I WILL MAKE YOU ANOTHER DEAL: IF YOU SACRIFICE SIX DEPRAVED SOULS, I WILL BE ABLE TO ASSUME MATERIAL FORM AS A MORTAL MAN AND CLAIM YOU AS MY BRIDE!"

Valeria: "SAY NO MORE HOMEBOY I GOT YOU!"

Regan: "Oh, hey, Val! How's college?"

Valeria: "Not right now mom! Do you still have that cowplant? I really need to use it."

Regan: "SAY NO MORE HOMEGIRL I GOT YOU!"

Regan: "You sure showed up fast! Anyway, here it is! I hope it brings you as much joy as it did to me!"

Valeria: "Thanks Mom! You have no idea how much this means to me!"

Regan: "Promise me you'll kill Yorick first, I'm so tired of Portia calling and telling me about his penis and balls and butthole."

Valeria: "I know, Mom. We're all tired."

GET VORED, COUSIN FUCKER

Bye guys, see you next time when Valeria improves her K/D ratio.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

How did reader react to being pregnant again with Aaron. Her telling Steve😏

pairing: steve kemp x dark!reader

warnings: 18+ topics (under 18 year olds do NOT interact/reader)

part of toxic

Today was the most awful of days. She usually was quite good at avoiding illness during the winter, after all after having seven children and catching all of their colds, she was proud to say she had built herself quite the immune system. However, today she had the worse headache of all time and felt like at any point was going to be sick. Just her luck, she couldn’t even drive home and hide it from her overprotective husband as she’d let Daisy borrow her car to drive to school for her last Winter semester day. This meant, the moment her boss got the hint that she was not feeling well, Steve was called in. She stood at the exit door, waiting for his car to arrive which appeared to be done in such quick fashion, she wondered if he was waiting for a call like these to come. He opened the door for her, allowing her in before returning to the driver’s seat.

     - Not an overprotective word, Steve. - she rose her finger as he tried to speak. - I am not in a coddle mood. 

     - I just wanna know what you’re feeling, my love.

     - I’m nauseous and my head hurts and before you rush to coddle me, I have stuff to do. I still need to go and gift wrap before the school holidays begin. 

     - The last time you were this grumpy, at least you were pregnant. 

She was about to give him the side eye when her brain processed the last word. He was right, the combo of nausea and headaches usually had come around the first trimester of her pregnancies. She couldn’t be pregnant, well, she could, she hadn’t gone through menopause yet and considering how fertile she’d been, she could be pregnant. Specially considering that despite all these years, Steve was just as much of a nymphomaniac when it came to her as he was when they first met. The point was, she could be pregnant. 

     - Don’t give me the silence treatment, my love.

     - Steve, I’m pregnant. - he remained speechless for a while, merely stunned at the idea of it. Mostly because she had made him promise no more babies after William was born. 

     - What?

     - I’m not sure but you’re right, last time this happened I was pregnant. In fact, it only happens when I am pregnant. 

     - I didn’t know you could get pregnant. Weren’t you on birth control?

     - I was on birth control when you knocked me with triplets. 

     - Oh god, you don’t think it’s triplets again, do you?

     - I hope not or we might as well become the von Trapp family of singers.

     - Should we get you a pregnancy test?

     - Yes.

She’d been pregnant four times, at this point she’d gotten to the point where buying pregnant tests was an exact science; specially because she didn’t want any bored housewives to go gossiping about her possible pregnancy. The two rushed home and she locked herself in the bathroom, walking around in circles as she thought about the possibility of another baby. Her first baby was about to go to university and the second was three years away from it and her last baby was about to turn ten next year. She couldn’t get a new baby now, Daisy would think she would trying to replace her. After the time set off, she grabbed the pregnancy test, her hand over the result as she prayed for a negative. Her prayers were not heard as once she moved her hand, there was a very bright positive. 

      - Congratulations. - she opened the door, showing the test to Steve. - You’re gonna be a father again. 

      - I know this is not ideal baby, but I gotta say that we’re really good at this getting pregnant thing. 

      - I am pregnant and our first daughter is off to university! 

      - That means nothing will change in our routine. Still seven kids in the house.

      - At this point, once they all get married, if they stick around here all the kids are gonna have the last name Kemp. 

     - Please, this town would be lucky if there was such thing. - she wrapped his arms around her waist. - Come on, love. It’s another baby. Aren’t you happy?

      - I’m stressed. 

      - You’re gonna do just great, love. You always do. 

      - We’re gonna need a bigger car.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] 100 Days - Shaw (Day 51 - 100)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for e-mails which have not been released in English servers! 🍒

What’s the 100 Days Companionship Event?

Day 1 - 3: here

Day 4 - 30: here

Day 31 - 50: here

Day 51

Learnt a new card magic trick and will leave you wide-eyed today. You coming?

Day 52

Instead of thinking about raising koi to change your fortune, why not buy a can of cola. As compared to nothing, at least my mood will be good.

Day 53

I have two tickets for an e-sports competition. It’s at 8pm. We’ll meet at the entrance of your place.

Day 54

The competition yesterday was pretty bad. I may as well have participated myself. Let’s not go for today’s competition. We’ll level up at home.

Day 55

Sign in. Come to think of it, you’re pretty amazing - you can come up with so many topics to talk about every day.

Day 56

I heard that you have plans to try jigsaw puzzles. I’ve sent you one with 30,000 pieces - it’s completely white. No need to thank me, and I wish you an early completion.

Day 57

The professor keeps complaining that his snacks go missing. Placing the snacks in a laboratory where people walk to and fro - he deserves it. Don’t you agree?

Day 58

I found the snacks thief - it’s a big fat crow. Whoa, it’s awfully sly.

Day 59

Jensen has been working hard on practising his rap. Today, I even heard a flow in his snoring, and recorded it. Want to hear?

Day 60

It’s the day of Frost’s Descent. Of course you have to eat marbled beef with me.

[Trivia] 霜降 (“shuang jiang”) translates to “Frost’s Descent”, which refers to the last solar term of autumn. Shaw’s use of “marbled beef” is a play on words because in Chinese, “marbled beef” is “霜降肥牛”!

Day 61

Even three-year-old children know that they have to wear more clothes when it’s cold. Looks like you’re only one-year-old.

Day 62

There’s a small stall on Westmoon Street selling Double Ninth cake. It’s tastier than those in other places. Come out quickly, I’ll take you to taste the delicacy.

Day 63

Head to the hotpot shop first. The Old Man wants me to meet some of his old colleagues. How troublesome. Remember to order a plate of tripe for me.

Day 64

You want to compete to see who can replicate the most number of animal sounds tomorrow? You’ll definitely lose.

Day 65

Fine, I lost… But why do you know how to imitate the sound of a hippopotamus?!

Day 66

Are you really angry today? In that case, if I wear a pompom hat next time, I’ll let you tie a knot too.

Day 67

That song you shared with me before - its orchestral arrangement is still passable, but its effects will be ten times better with the bass. I’ll record a section for you later.

Day 68 (Halloween)

Title: Costumes

This is what you called an incredibly amazing costume? Wait at home. I’ll show you what’s truly “incredibly amazing”.

Day 69

A performance without an audience is pretty fun too. It’d have been even better if someone were around to record it. I think you’re pretty suited for it.

Day 70

Today’s challenge: To sneak away under the eyes of the professor.

Day 71

I signed in late today, but you can’t blame me for oversleeping. It’s all because the sun didn’t appear and head to work today.

Day 72

Unlocked a new breakfast combo. Even though I don’t see a need for it, I can recommend it to you.

Day 73

There’s a bad ending to that drama you haven’t finished watching, so I’m giving you a heads-up. I wasn’t wrong when I said fairy tales weren’t believable, was I?

Day 74

Feels like you’ve been busy for several days. Want to sneak out to relax for a while?

Day 75

Realised that my phone battery is running low, and can’t slack off and send you messages anymore. How unlucky.

Day 76

I’ve been busy preparing for exams recently, but you can still send me messages at night as usual. At most, I’ll reply you the next day

Day 77

There’s a sports meet in school next week, and I’ve been dragged in to fill the numbers. Come watch if you have time.

Day 78

Let’s compete in a round of “flash sale” tonight. The loser will buy whatever’s in the other person’s shopping cart.

[Note] Shaw is talking about 秒杀 (“miao sha”), which directly translates to “seconds kill”. It’s a term used in online shopping where once popular items are placed on the Internet, dozens of them are immediately snatched up, sometimes in a single second.

Day 79 (Single’s Day)

The rain in November is pretty cold. I’ve decided to shower and sleep early today, so don’t disturb me after 12am.

Day 80

I can brush off how you added ginger ale to Cola the last time. But this time, what do you think you’re doing by adding indigo woad root?

[Note] Indigo woad root, also known as the root of Isatis tinctoria (板蓝根 - “ban lan gen”)is a traditional Chinese herb used for flu relief

Day 81

Horror techniques like inserting a jump scare in a comedic clip is too elementary. Next time, please come up with something new.

Day 82

Are you awake? Head out once you’ve signed in, or what I taught you about the skateboard will be completely forgotten.

Day 83

The graffiti wall I brought you to the last time has been torn down. I found a new unfinished building, and you can practice here.

Day 84

No one can be certain of the future. I can’t be bothered to think about it either. As long as you run in the direction you want to go, it’s enough.

Day 85

This semester’s elective course is almost over. There are some assignments I haven’t finished. If there’s anything, come to the library to find me.

Day 86

I don’t feel like writing anymore, and am prepared to head out for a stroll tomorrow. Give me two recommended locations from your collection of reviews.

Day 87

One principle applies to both ice-skating and skateboarding - you won’t learn it if you don’t fall a few times. In the worst case, I’ll catch you when you fall.

Day 88

Watched as someone failed to stick a straw in after three tries, and didn’t allow me to laugh out loud.

Day 89

That hook you hummed today was a little familiar. Did you watch the live performance of that very popular underground band recently?

Day 90

Call me along the next time you go to a Live. Relax, I’m on pretty good terms with the bassist from that band. I’m not going there for a surprise brawl.

Day 91

The Old Man’s a little sick, so I’m bringing him medicine. Since it’s along the way, I’ll bring the umbrella you left at my place to you.

Day 92

Didn’t expect you to grasp the move I taught you today so quickly. I’ll award you with a can of Cola.

Day 93

The punishment for today’s game are biscuits filled with mustard, and the person who loses will eat them. Do you have the guts?

Day 94

Have I been infected with your bad luck recently? Even the things I get in blind boxes are duplicates.

Day 95

Not just old antique shops - I can also find all the old game shops, old phonograph shops, and old appliances shops in Loveland City.

Day 96

Adam forgot to take the pot away the last time he had instant-boiled mutton hot pot in Live House. We could use it again today.

Day 97

Instead of believing in some “Mercury Retrograde”, why not come along with me to pray to Emperor Yang Gu, so he’ll save you from calamities.

Day 98

It’s become a habit to chat with you every day. If there are such challenges in the future, look for me too. Got it?

Day 99

It’s the second last day, and we’ll soon see the outcome of who has won this round. Are you sure you’ve been signing in every day?

Day 100

If there any other bets or challenges next time, I’m always ready and waiting.

[thealphabetmurders]

Irises

Pairing: Prinxiety

Word Count: 2522

Summary: Virgil knows exactly 3 things: 1. He is stressed about finals more than a normal person would 2. Impressionists are the worst 3. The barista at this new coffee shop has the prettiest eyes

Triggers: anxiety, insomnia, implied/referenced drug-use, lack of self care

Authors Note: I wanted to challenge myself and write a fic with a pairing that I don’t normally do. I am definitely more privy to Logince, Analogical, and Moxiety, but I gotta love Prinxiety, how could you not?  

(Read on AO3)

Virgil tugged off his earbuds as he walked into Monet’s, an unfamiliar coffee house and a new experience for Virgil. Virgil hated new experiences. The smell of vanilla filled his senses as he walked in a dream-like state to the counter (standing a little bit away to let the employees know he wasn’t ready), rubbing his eyes from exhaustion, getting his fix here because he did not have the energy to go out and buy more grounds. He knew that it was most likely extremely unhealthy for him to have only consumed Takis, coffee, and Adderall the past couple days, but it was finals week, which meant it was crunch time. 

Virgil tells people he is a bit more anxious than most people, and by a bit, he means a fuckton. So, of course, finals week has him questioning everything in his life, from his study methods to his career path. Virgil is a smart guy, so he doesn’t actually have anything to worry about, as long as he studies, right? Wrong. As a fine arts major, not all of his classes are just knowing that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, you have to apply the skills you learned into a creative piece, and while Virgil is a talented artist, he was always second guessing everything he created. Which is why, in the 11th hour, Virgil decided he hated the medium he was working in, completely scrapped it, and had 48 hours to create 3 completely new “transformative” pieces. Sleep was not an option until it had to be. Which, it seemed it had been, when he fell asleep on the bus after class, missing his apartment by 11 stops. Coffee seemed necessary at this point. 

Pulling his hoodie off his head, smoothing out his hair, he looked at the pretty standard local coffee shop menu with some lunch items as well, and just looking at those made his stomach grumble. 

“Suppose you cannot create on an empty stomach.” Virgil thought. “And while I’m here…”

 As he was reading, he noticed each combo had a quirky name relating to Monet’s works. Berry spring salad with bagel was Luncheon on the Grass, sesame soba was The Japanese Footbridge….

“Give me a break…” Virgil muttered, before finally deciding on what to get. The shop was completely empty, so Virgil didn’t feel too bad about taking his time, though he did feel a bit nervous looking like a mess in front of the handsome barista. 

His olive colored skin tone with black wavy hair made Virgil feel a bit woozy, but he became dazed when he looked into his beautiful emerald eyes, almost forgetting why he was there, until he asked, “What can I do for ya, man?” 

“Uh, yea, can I get the tomato soup and grilled cheese with a medium espresso frappuccino,” He looked around the empty store, “For here, I guess,”

The barista turned around and looked at the two other employees behind him, one on their phone and one inspecting their nails absentmindedly, “Does anyone want to make a frap?” 

They both looked up and looked at each other before turning back to the one taking Virgil’s order. The one with a large scar on the left side of his face put his thumb down while the other one who looked very similar to his cashier blew a raspberry, shaking his head. The handsome cashier turned back to Virgil, and shrugged, “Sorry, gonna have to pick something else, no one want to make it,” 

Virgil sighed, rubbing his eyes, “Okay, whatever, is an iced flat white with some espresso okay?”

The three looked at each other then back at Virgil, before the cashier said, “Dude… It was a joke,” 

“Yea man,” The barista with a scar said, “We can’t just say no to what you order,” 

“What kind of business would that be?” The third one piped up. 

“Are you okay?” The barista, Virgil looked at his nametag, Roman, asked. 

Virgil merely sighed, “I’m kind of going through it,” 

Virgil pulled out his card, but Roman put his hand up. “On the house,” Normally Virgil would protest, despite the cheesy food names it was still a local business,  but being so stressed and depressed he honestly could bring himself to care. He choked out a thanks and sat down by a window, leaning his temple against the it, cool condensation comforting and making him a bit more awake. 

His food and his coffee eventually arrived, Virgil thanked Roman, who then proceeded to sit down across from him, elbows on the table and hands folded. 

“Can I help you?” Virgil asked, probably being harsher than intended, it was just his natural speaking voice. 

“Probably not, I wanna see if I can help you,” Roman shrugged. 

Virgil frowned, “Help me?” 

“I have been told I am good company and good at advice, and you, Brad Pitt-iful, seems like you are falling apart at the seams,” 

Virgil chuckled dryly, “Trust me, I hardly think you are qualified to handle hearing about all my problems,” 

Roman sat up straighter, looking into Virgil’s brown eyes against his gorgeous green, “I work as a barista by day with a bunch of dysfunctional idiots and I am a bartender at night, there is nothing I haven’t seen before, I am probably more qualified than some therapists”  He crossed his arms and cocked his eyebrow, “Try me,” 

Virgil, intrigued, took the bait, and spilled. He talked about his anxiety, the insomnia, the fear of failure, the days where he debates dropping out, his nerves going into overdrive everytime he thinks about what he is going to, how he abandoned his final project, how he has to start on a new one- essentially everything that has been swirling in Virgil’s mind the past semester. 

“Hmm, okay, so you are pulling all nighters to finish all your work, and you only had one piece to do before you were completely finished with your final, and you then decided it looked all wrong and scrapped it?” Roman recapped and Virgil nodded, “Might I give you a suggestion?” 

“You can try,” 

“When you get home, go to sleep. Sleep for at least 9 hours, in a row, look at your old project again, and see how you feel,” Roman shrugged, “Maybe with a clear head you will feel differently about your project, maybe even get some inspiration,” 

Virgil gripped the bridge of his nose, “Roman, I do not have the time to sleep for a full 9 hours, that is ridiculous, I have to do so many projects,” 

“You’ll have one less to start from square one in if you end up actually liking what you did,” 

“It is a nice thought, I appreciate it, but I probably won’t be able anyways, not after the coffee,” Virgil took another sip, as to prove his point, but Roman just smirked. 

“That’s actually just a frozen hot chocolate with coffee flavoring in it,” 

Virgil eyes flew open wide, “Really?” He stared at his drink for a bit before looking at Roman, “They taste exactly the same, I cannot believe I let you fool me like that,” 

“Janus, Remus, and I made an executive decision, you do not look good,” Roman frowned, concerned, most likely looking at his swallowed out skin and circle under his eyes. 

“Well-” Virgil half-chuckled, “Not a lot of people look good compared to you,” Virgil would later wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat because of his flippant flirting that he never engages in, but for now he doesn’t care. 

“Charmed.” Roman said, a fond smile present on his face, “I am sure you are a catch as well, when you don’t look like a skeleton” The door opened and a gaggle of people walked in, dressed in the local high school’s uniform. Roman sighed, “That’s my cue,” 

He stood up and frowned, quickly patting his front and back pockets before pulling out a sharpie. He grabbed Virgil's arm, the other one yelped, blushing slightly at the contact. “I would do the cliche ‘write my number on a napkin’, but now I know if you don’t text me it’s because you don’t want to, which is okay too.” He capped his pen, “Message me about what you decide to do, if you want. Would love to see your art,” And with a flourish of his hand, Roman walked away to the counter to take the many orders of the teenagers. 

Virgil looked down at the 9 numbers on his arm, swallowing thickly, feeling a bit sick, though it is not just from Roman’s number in bold, black ink. God, he was tired. 

His body was not attached to his brain as he walked to the bus station, got off, and walked up to his studio, unlocking the door and banging his head against the wall (not too hard, though, these walls are so thin they might as well be made of rice paper). Virgil looked at the numbers on his arm, remembering what Roman said. 

Virgil shrugged off his jacket and jeans,  throwing them on his ‘stuff’ chair and pulled on a pair of sweats, collapsing on his bed. He looked at his phone, the time reading 3:35pm. 

“9 hours from now… That’s midnight. Is he mental?” Virgil muttered to himself. He attempted to pull himself out of bed to get started to study for his history of art final, but his body would just not cooperate. How long has it been since he has had a proper sleep. 

If you have to think about it, it’s been too long… 

That tomato soup and grilled cheese combination was beginning to make him sleepy. Virgil groaned, face-palming. He went on his phone and set an alarm for 6:00pm. 

“Fine, a short nap,” He said to himself. He hit the lights and it took maybe two minutes before he was sleeping, dreaming of impression paintings and emerald eyes. 

***

this is Virgil. 

i didn’t end up sleeping for the 9 hours like you asked

i ended up sleeping for 13.

i hate you. 

And how do you feel, now?

……….…

much better actually. you were right. after my coma i looked back at my final and realised it was a lot better than I remembered. 

i even ended up finishing it. 

That is fantastic! I am soooo glad I could help. What did you end up doing?

Can you send me a picture? 

oh uh

idk if that is a good idea

i don’t want you to think i am weird

Virgil. 

I beta read my twin’s fanfiction. 

I am so desensitized, I do not think I am allowed to be weirded out. 

ok...

img.cm/1029483

Incoming call (Roman- Monet’s)....

****

Virgil yelped when he saw the incoming call. He doesn’t like phone calls at the best of times, but especially not now, not after he showed Roman his final piece. Stupid, stupid, STUPID! He should have just said no, people don’t press about that kind of thing. But Roman is clearly a liar because he said he wouldn’t be weirded out and he is, and Virgil just met this guy and he already messed everything up, why does he have to be such a fucking weirdo all the time, goddamnit, everything is falling apart, Virgil may have gotten sleep but he can’t fix himself. He groaned and snatched up the phone on the last ring, attempting to put on his best, most positive voice. 

“Hey, Roman, wha-what’s up… Bro?” 

“Hello!” Roman answered the phone, not sounding angry or upset, which calmed Virgil a bit, “I apologize, I should have prefaced that I loved the painting. I understand why you might have been worried, but it is absolutely wonderful.” 

“Really?” Virgil let out a breath, “I was really worried that-” 

“Are you kidding?” Roman almost shouted through the phone, Virgil having to pull it away from his ear, “A profile of just my eyes surrounded by roses and irises, in the style of the impressionists, even though I know you hate that style,”

“I don’t hate it,” Virgil muttered. 

“You ranted about Renoir, Degas, and Monet for longer than anyone I have ever met, and one of my closest friends is a curator at the art museum,” 

Virgil sighed, “Yea, you’re right, they suck. Sorry about that…” 

Roman laughed, “Ha, are you joking? That was the highlight of my day. But all that aside, how could you even fathom me not liking the piece? 

“I mean,” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, “I just met you yesterday, it’s not exactly something people do for someone when they do not even know their last name.” 

“My last name is Perez, my middle name is Thomas, my twin brother is Remus who you met yesterday, I am left handed, my favorite food color is red, and I love attention, it’s why I have done theater for 20 years. Does that help?” 

Virgil grumbled, “I guess it does,” 

Roman laughed, “I love it, Virgil, trust me, it is now my phone background,” 

Virgil’s heart swelled, “Really?” 

“Really. Honestly after us talking for like, 45 minutes yesterday, I would have been more offended if I wasn’t your muse, I mean, what about mean isn’t inspirational?” Both Roman and Virgil laughed at that, “But I could have told you all this over text, I called because I don’t like texting to ask pretty boys out on dates,” 

Virgil’s heart leapt into his throat, he felt as though someone dropped a ton of bricks on his chest. How was he supposed to respond to that? Roman first impression of him was a literal dead man walking and he still wants to go out with him?

“A date?” Virgil responded, still shocked. 

“Unless the pride pin on your jacket was just as an ally, and you just spent hours painting my eyes in a straight way, I would like to, if you want,” Roman said simply. Before Virgil could respond, Roman started speaking again, “And don’t say no just because I saw you at your rock bottom, I can see where this is going,” 

Virgil smacked his lips together, “You got me,”

“What do you say,” 

Virgil smiled, genuinely, for the first time in a while, “Let’s do it,” 

Virgil was only speechless for a full minute when Roman laid out an entire romantic picnic, scheduling it perfectly to watch a matinee Shakespeare in the Park production of Much Ado About Nothing, both of them happily munching on the brownies and sandwiches Roman had made that morning. Virgil only complained for 3 minutes when Roman wanted to take him to the art museum, the blushing lasted for 4 times that long when Roman confessed it was because he wanted to hear Virgil about the paintings, his voice being one of the most pleasant he has heard. When Roman grabbed Virgil by the waist, pulling him in for a kiss, Virgil responded with equal passion and emotion that Roman was, not even noticing they were in front of Monet’s Irises. 

[kevindayprotectionsquad]

A comprehensive list of everything Kevin Day missed out on.

We all know Evermore and Riko fucked up Kevin’s life in more ways than one, but no one talks about what he missed out on. Everyone talks about everything Neil missed out on, but he at least had some normal human interactions. Kevin missed out on so many experiences every kid should have. Such as:

Snack time followed by nap time in elementary 

college Kevin would also appreciate a set nap time (let Kevin sleep)

Recess 

Rock wars on the playground (you cannot tell me that Neil wasn’t one of those kids throwing rocks at people on the playground. I refuse to believe he wasn’t)

Playground games (four square, red rover, freeze tag, telephone, etc)

MONKEY BARS

Field trips 

the colonial farms with petting zoos would be his favorite

The drama of birthday parties 

sleep overs

“Everyone is invited, but only x, y, and z are allowed to stay the night so don’t say anything!”

bouncy castles 

Hawaiian Punch, hot dogs, and birthday cake

Camping on someones trampoline

Staying up past bed time to watch cartoons 

and not immediately regret it

Swimming literally all day in the summer

sunburns and pruny fingers are guaranteed 

having to wait 30 mins after eating before getting back in the pool

not listening to the 30 min rule and getting stomach cramps

TRICK OR TREATING

Kevin was at prime trick or treating age by the time he went to Evermore so its safe to assume he never got to

Getting a puppy or kitten

then getting to grow up with that puppy or kitten!!!!

EMO PHASE

(Although it could be argued all of his raven days were an emo phase)

Passing notes in class

getting caught passing notes in class and having to read the note in front of the class

The flip phone drama

He would be the type of person to dramatically slam it closed after every phone call

Middle school PE

the very first locker room experience for most and not a pleasant one

not knowing how to use the stupid combo locks and making someone else do it for him for a week

the ONE uniform that was supposed to be taken home at the end of every week to be washed but most defiantly wasn't

body spray instead of showers

BRACES

Playing board games 

winning monopoly and everyone hating him and getting the board thrown at him

losing monopoly and hating everyone and throwing the board

Playing group video games

yelling at others through the headset and waking the whole house at 2AM

losing a game being the end of the world

The excitement of getting a week or two off for Thanksgiving and Christmas

just meant more practice time for Kevin

did he even get to celebrate those holidays? probably not

his first time celebrating is with the Foxes and he wont admit it but he loved it

He never got to be a TRUE high school jock

carrying his racquet to every class

wearing his jersey on game day to flex on everyone

be in a pep rally

going to the only restaurant open after a home game with the ENTIRE school

homecoming!  

letterman jackets!!!

The first girlfriend

annnnd the first breakup that may or may not have broke his heart

(the first time he started questioning his sexuality)

Late night drives with his bros

street racing on the back roads

blasting their favorite music

everyone posing like a d-bag with their vehicle

PROM

all the girls fighting over who he would ask

not know who to go with and having a crisis over it

his group pre-gaming on natty lights someone stole from their dads garage

everyone getting sick from shotgunning as much as possible on the way there

SENIOR PRANKS

which may or may not have ended in some slight vandalism of the football field and the exy team having to spend their Thursday night cleaning the field

The stress of college applications

and the pressure to make the summer the best one ever

going to the beach with all his friends for the first time, graduation parties, random trips

packing his entire life into a tiny dorm room

The typical first semester experience 

being so homesick it hurts 

parties, parties, and more parties

getting black out drunk of fireball and waking up in a strange dorm room with no shoes and no memory

(although he gets pretty good at getting black out drunk with Andrew, but he always crashes somewhere familiar and with his shoes)

never being able to even smell fireball again without getting sick 

TAILGATES

more drunk activities this time in broad day light in front of the whole school

the freshman 15 and freshman depression 

Kevin missed out on so much growing up, but he tries to make up for it with the Foxes as he gets more comfortable around them and with being a normal functioning college student. And the Foxes are more than willing to bust out monopoly when Kevin says he has never played.

[stimstriders]

the one where he's not popular

davekat - high school au

Player, charismatic, funny, outgoing, hot, desirable, popular.

Dave Strider is unmatchably full of character and coolness, except that he’s not. That’s online, on a computer screen, thousands of miles away from him in three directions and only three directions. Over a chat client Dave likes to think that he oozes cool from every pore if only to distract from the fact that it’s obvious he doesn’t.

His friends might be onto his game a little bit but that’s all clouded by the miles and miles of distance between the four of them. They could very well all be perfectly aware of just how uncool he is (I mean, look at their conversations) but there’s a hella thick layer of plausible deniability bundling him up like a safety blanket. They don’t see him every day, they only know what he shows them, he’s been wrong before about people’s impression of him.

That last bit of criteria in equal parts unnerves Dave and comfort him because yeah, he may be hella bad at reading people (especially through the internet,) but it stirs the whole situation in the unreliable narrator’s shitty brain. My friends all hate me and think I’m annoying here, I’m just thinking that because my brain is fucking weird there, I could be excusing them actually hating me with my shitty brain but in reality they really, really do hate me there.

Damn, when did this all get spun from “uncool” to “hate?”

Either way Dave shakes the thought from his head like he’s whipping a pesky gnat away from buzzing in his ear. There are some ways he could alleviate these concerns in a, like, healthy manner. But most of them get swept under the rug and he settles into familiar albeit anxious passivity all over again.

Dave Strider isn’t classic cool, isn’t popular, and honestly isn’t even often noticed. That’s probably a good thing for a multitude of reasons, ranging from the sunglasses he wears when he’s allowed all the way to his general physical state. Bruises that would be harder to hide if he had more contact than just brushing up against people in the halls, the way he scarfs down gross school meals like nobody’s fucking business because he’s probably, definitely not going to get a meal even half that substantial at home. Much less as fattening or having any significant nutrition. The jury’s still out on whether or not school food actually satisfies his super necessary food-pyramid (or whatever they’re using now) needs, but it’s a better bet than the shit he eats at home.

It’s probably good that he isn’t popular. Which is a huge stroke of fucking luck.

Not like he just struck unpopularity as a fluke and he’s really a super cool guy or anything, but he clearly remembers when arguably the most popular kid at their school rolled his ass into this institutional hellhole in the middle of the spring semester freshman year. Hell, he still sees him fucking daily and even has a few classes with him, plus the same lunch period. It��s not a small school or anything, but they run into eachother a whole fucking lot.

Day one, Karkat had just moved to Texas from Washington State (why was completely beyond him) and had absolutely no one, just like Dave. Karkat had planted his ass at Dave’s reject lunch table for about a week before scooting out to a more respectable one.

Dave's overly chatty, make no mistake, but... not publicly. Yeah, it'd be nice to have someone to talk to outside of his phone and his computer, but that's a whole lot of reaching out and extending himself that's just all kinds of not cool.

Needless to say, they didn't say shit to eachother in the first week or so that they sat together. For the most part they just pretended the other wasn't there. It's always been that way, it's kind of their thing, Dave likes to think. They're pretty comfortable with eachother, right? Like silent bros, silently acknowledging their broship from a respectable, silent distance.

Nah. 'Cause with Karkat's real friends he's talkative as hell. Even with the people he doesn't like he shouts up a storm or rambles on about something to keep the air free of awkward silence. Karkat's just treating him like everyone treats him with a few more sideways glances.

Dave isn't so broken up about it. Karkat isn't even the cool kind of popular with Daddy's money and shitty high school parties pumped full of alcohol. Karkat's the kind of popular that has him flush with project partners and people to get him in trouble for talking too much. The kind of popular where it's easy for him to rope two or three people per class period into after school events, student council meetings, book fair organization, debate team spots...

Karkat's the nerdy, uncool kind of popular that has him flittering from clique to clique without a second thought because to him, cliques are a myth.

Dave sees them. Sees the sports kids and the camo-decked red-necks, the hipster druggies and the trailer-trash druggies, the theater kids and the band kids, the Advanced Placement kids and the weebs.

And then he and Karkat, who are outliers in completely different ways. Karkat, who can sit with everyone. Dave, who's cool enough to have his own table.

Don't get him wrong: he's not bitter about it. Honestly, he's above all of that grouped up trash. Yeah, sometimes he thinks about how it'd be neat to be able to bounce between the hipsters and the trailer-trash, (he'd probably fit in just fine with both,) nabbing a joint or a cigarette when he could, but he didn't need it. Especially when the cell-phone ban got lifted and he was free to kick up at the back of the cafeteria and shoot the shit with John, Rose, and Jade looking properly fucking insouciant.

School was just a better place to be at than home, and if he made a habit of not going to school it might get Bro in legal trouble. He went to school sick, bruised, tired, mentally vacant - and saved the off days for when he really needed them.

Today’s a combo day: bruised and tired. Approaching the bus stop, Dave’s already thinking on walking right past as he thumbs the contact-case in his pocket. A big factor here is that he hasn’t put his contacts in yet and he’ll probably have to be late to first period in order to slip away and put them in.

Karkat shuffles up to the bus stop next to Dave and boy does he look like shit. He’s slumped over, eyes half-closed, dark circles bruising up under his eyes and a deep furrow to his thick eyebrows. Dave shifts his hands in his pockets, giving the other boy a quick once-over before looking back to the cars passing on the city road in front of them.

A few minutes pass before he looks back, thumbing the pause button on his music app. “You look like shit, dude,” are probably the first words he’s ever said to this guy.

Nah, they had a project together at the beginning of sophomore year for some bullshit class. Geometry? Karkat’s shit at math, probably one of the only non-advanced classes he has.

Karkat squints back at Dave, and if possible the deep-set furrow in his brows only squishes deeper. It takes some effort to swallow back the laugh bubbling up his throat in response to that. “Gee, thanks for your completely fucking unasked for opinion. That sure is the one thing I needed to hear at 6 o’clock in the morning on a fucking Monday. What a fantastic way to start my week!”

At that Dave does actually snicker. “No one looks good this early on a Monday,” he points out, “you know, except me.”

“You look like shit, too, dick-for-brains. Don’t delude yourself. I shudder to imagine what’s under those tacky glasses you insist on wearing before the sun’s even properly up.”

Time for a curve-ball. “Let’s go down to 19th street.”

Karkat is satisfyingly shocked. Dark brown eyes widen and thick eyebrows smooth out long enough to lift comically high. His lips part into a little ‘o’ and damn do they look weirdly girly with how full and soft they look.

Wait. Dave mentally shakes himself back into awareness. Curve-ball rebound, damn.

For once Karkat doesn’t even seem like he knows how to respond at first. After a few more seconds of being stunned, he manages. “Are you asking me to skip school with you? I’m competing for valedictorian, I can’t just miss school for no reason.”

Dave pulls his earbuds from his ears and winds them around his phone before sliding it back into his pocket over his contact case. “You can more than afford it, dude, don’t bullshit the king of bullshit. You clearly feel like crap, that’s more than enough reason to say screw it for one day and skip out. Plus you, like, never miss school.” Hiking his bag up higher on his shoulder, Dave leans over to press the cross signal on the pole beside them. 

“We’re gonna get caught,” Karkat cautions as the signal blinks green and Dave leads the way across. As Karkat jogs up beside him to fall into pace with his long strides, Dave’s chest shivers with a foreign tremble of relief.

“Nah, I’ve done this before. Nobody outside of school gives a shit who you are or what you’re doing.” They hit sidewalk and swing right, starting down toward Yale. “You think everybody knows you’re skipping, but plenty’a kids could be out for plenty’a reasons. We could be college kids for all they know. Nobody assumes you’re not doing what you’re supposed to and nobody asks. As long as you stay away from the school.”

They lapse into silence and Dave bumps his shoulder into Karkat’s every time he tenses when someone walks too close or a car drives by too slow. When they come up on 19th street Dave pulls his camera from his bag and loops the strap around his neck, grinning when Karkat sidles a few steps away from him suspiciously.

“Chill out. You should be all about my delinquent ass whipping out some school work while we’re misbehaving, shouldn’t you?”

“Keep your fucking voice down?” Karkat stage-whispers. Or maybe that’s him actually whispering. Fuck, that would be gold. “And who the hell refers to themselves as a delinquent outside of anime? You’re not some fucking hentai trope.”

“Dude, did you just say hentai? You- you know that’s not synonymous, right?”

Dave leads them into a coffee place, Karkat’s complaining shifting topics to the heavy scent of smoke lingering in the cafe from the cigar bar next door. They order coffee and Dave buys them both breakfast before Karkat can shoulder him aside to pay for himself. Karkat makes fun of him for taking a few pictures of their mugs and Dave babbles over his embarrassment. 

They hit the record store and Karkat’s ribbing intensifies until Dave gets some revenge in a hole in the wall bookstore that they slip into. Both of them walk away with a reasonable haul and banter their way to an arcade down the street. 

Guitar Hero and a shitty DDR rip-off eat up some time. Dave really tries not to seem like he’s showing off or anything, but even stiff from ten layers of bruises he does better than Karkat’s willing to loosen up for. They turn up about even in the racing games, if only because Dave intentionally spins out and turns it into a game of bumper cars.

Karkat laughs a lot. It’s really nice.

They end up in a cramped ice-cream shop with Karkat still struggling to shove an ugly rainbow teddy-bear in his bag alongside all his school shit and the books he bought earlier. Dave picked it out for irony’s sake as a blaring wow, look how gay it is joke, but once Karkat started expressing that he genuinely liked it he... lightened up.

“I had a really good time today,” Karkat is mumbling around a spoonful of Chai Tea Coconut ice cream - (seriously, what the fuck) - his cheeks flushed up, and it takes everything Dave has in him not to lift up the camera hanging around his neck.

Tuesday, Karkat smiles at him from across the aisle on the bus. He’s already two thirds of the way through one of the shitty romance novels he picked up on their trip. At lunch he sits down at Dave’s VIP table followed by three other people and Dave swallows down his discomfort, keeping his eyes locked down on his phone until Karkat starts elbowing him and asking his opinion about shit.

Wednesday, repeat. Thursday, repeat.

This might’ve been a big mistake.

[thoodleoo]

hi! I'm also a person that has gone through high school by natural intelligence and some good old acting like I know what I have no idea about, but I have no idea how am I going to manage university? I somehow got through first semester quite well, but I feel like I'm already so behind bc of all the things I didn't catch in lectures and never bothered to study? do you have some tips for a slighty panicking perfectionist? (UR SO COOL I ADMIRE U SO MUCH U HAVE NO IDEA!!)

man let me tell you i’ve been faking this shit for so long BUT i’m starting to get pretty good at it so i do have some tips that you might want to try out

1. get a study time buddy: i don’t mean a study buddy, because not everyone studies well with other people. literally just someone to hang out while you study and hold you accountable. my friend and i do this all the time. we might goof off for a bit but we’re really good at making each other actually do work. you don’t even have to talk much- once we get settled into our work, my friend and i are basically silent while we get shit done.

2. plan your studying: studying can get really, really overwhelming when you’re not used to it, so i literally sit down and plan out my studying like i’m a three year old. just make a list: first i’m gonna do my book readings, then i’m gonna read over my notes, etc. plan breaks for yourself, too. for example, when i study latin, i usually give myself a line number that i want to get to, and then i let myself dick around for a little bit. studying is SO MUCH BETTER when you don’t try to do it all in one uninterrupted go.

3. start that shit early: i’m extremely bad at following this advice myself, so i get it, but if you’ve got a lot to get through, don’t make yourself do it all in one day!! this has a combo effect of making your studying less terrible and also (if you’re an anxious person like me) making you feel less bad for putting it off.

4. try a variety of different study locations: listen, we’re not all gonna be coffee shop or library studiers. some people need absolute silence; some people need white noise; some people concentrate best when they’re around other people. i used to try to study at home, but it drives me nuts to just sit in my room and try to work, so i usually go to a library or to my department’s conference room if i can.

5. whatever you do, get a good amount of sleep before you take a test: when i first started my latin classes in college, i felt a huge amount of pressure to do well, do i would pull all nighters before every latin exam i had so that i could go over the material three or four times. and let me tell you, that shit does not work. make sure you give yourself enough time to study throughout the day so that you can sleep for a least a few hours. nothing is worse than staying up all night and making yourself sick from all of the caffeine you have to drink to stay awake (which i have done, and it is horrible and does nothing to help you out)

6. don’t be afraid to ask your professor/TA for help: not every professor is going to be approachable, and i sure as hell know how stressful it is to talk to profs sometimes, but use these motherfuckers’ and their knowledge to your advantage! go to office hours or talk to them after class or shoot them an email if you miss something or don’t understand something! when you have questions, write that shit down so you don’t forget it (and bring it with you because talking to profs is way less scary if you have a gameplan for what you want to say). don’t let the idea that they’ll think you’re stupid or that only you could have missed something like that hold you back. for one thing, they probably aren’t going to remember that you asked two days later, especially if it’s a big class. for another, the chances that you’re the only person who missed it are extremely low. don’t let yourself miss a question on an exam because you were worried about asking someone about it. i mark everything i didn’t understand before i take a latin exam and i spend the fifteen minutes before class pestering my prof for answers.

[hellisntreal]

short story- icarus down

Wordcount: ~1500

Since I got my first semester grades up, I can finally post some schoolwork. here’s a nice short story about a boy on a long train ride.

Elliot Reed’s phone is stolen about half an hour into the longest train ride of his life. Oh well. The signal is probably shoddy this deep into nowhere.

He’d only taken a short nap, curled up over two seats, shaken by the car’s jerky movements to a half sleep. Still, no phone. He’d given his train car a quick look over at first, ducking below the seats and rifling through his bags approximately seven times.

At some point he’d given up, and now he is in the observation car, clutching his belongings with five am fierceness well learned on New York’s subways. He wishes to be alone, but he’s joined on this adventure by several hundred others, and in this very car are six human beings. They cling to the windows, camera phones in hand. The sun is rising, and it’s as orange as the countryside.

Anything scenic must be far from here, Elliot thinks. He’s seen enough sunrises that he feels entitled to dismiss them as boring. After all, they do happen every morning. Always.

This land is flyover country, desert topped with dust, far off mountains that surely someone has climbed. Sometimes there’s a wheat field, and Elliot’s heart starts to ache, just for those moments. Sometimes they flicker on and off, gaps for ugly little houses and power lines, and Elliot’s heart stops and starts each time.

Thirty two hours left until San Fran. Elliot gets up and makes his way back to his seat, his backpack tight against his chest. At the intersection between cars, a contained room that still lets half a harsh wind in, the train enters a dark tunnel. So Elliot leans here for a while. It’s cold, it’s pitch dark, and he thinks: I ought to be introspecting about something right now. Ought to be having some deep revelation.

He does not.

The train leaves the tunnel and it’s the brightest thing in the world. Elliot returns to his seat and pulls out his laptop, but he can’t get on the Wi-Fi. His frustration prompts him to leaf through his laptop for something to do, but all he finds is an abandoned novel and a single game. Chess. Elliot does not want to play chess. In fact, he’s alarmed to find such a foul thing preinstalled on his computer.

He shuts it in disgust and curls up on his two seats. There’s no one sitting on this side of the car, so when he lays back like this, all he feels and all he can know is the shudders and sighs of the train on the rails.

It’s seven am and a boy comes over to him and asks, “Have you seen my phone?” It’s going to be a coincidence, but all at once Elliot falls in love with fate (something he doesn’t believe in) and this boy (who is simply not his type).

Elliot sees him approach because his eyes were wide open, having been staring at the plastic/fabric combo of the train car’s ceiling for a good while now. The boy is likely Elliot’s age, but somehow he seems younger, too soft-faced to be called a man.

“Believe me, I haven’t seen any phones,” Elliot says, sitting up. “Someone stole mine a bit ago and I nearly tore the car apart.”

“Oh. Do you think there’s a phone thief or something? It was on the seat one moment and gone the next, and I thought it might have slid down here.” The boy stands around for a few moments after saying this. His posture is stiff, one arm in his varsity jacket, the other against his side.

“I’m- um, sorry.”

“Weird,” The boy says, looking away. He most likely meant this about his phone’s disappearance, not Elliot. He walks away. Elliot realizes this will likely be the last conversation he has on this god-awful eternity of a train ride, and watches him leave with remorse he wouldn’t have felt otherwise.

The train sways. The sun is higher now, but the car remains quiet. Elliot spends a while looking out the window, again. His heart is sick with that wheat field feeling, and he wonders how many hours of watching it will take before something in him is ruined.

He might lose his mind out here. He misses his phone dreadfully, and the Wi-Fi still isn’t working.

The train passes through another tunnel. Though Elliot doesn’t know it, Wi-Fi returns. He heads off to the café car, stomping just in case someone has yet to wake up. He orders hot chocolate instead of breakfast, and the boy is here.

“Find your phone?” He says, ten minutes after it would have been appropriate to speak.

“No,” the boy answers.

A hearty conversation. The train whistles. Someone orders a pre-made sandwich.

Elliot’s sitting behind a woman and reading her texts. His styrofoam cup is long empty, and the boy is gone.

This woman is texting over Wi-Fi, and he is reading:

‘Just heard what happened! Are you alright? Are there riots?’

Something in Elliot feels very uncomfortable, even though the country was always erupting into riots, and something was always going wrong.

‘The next stop won’t be for hours. I think I’ll be too late to catch a flight...’

It’s probably nothing, but Elliot’s right arm trembles. He finds comfort in tapping a nail against the plastic of the table. Looking outside doesn’t help: an old train yard blurs past. Elliot has to wonder, sometimes, if anyone ever walks this part of the desert, or if it belongs only to the trains.

‘I’ll try to get there.’

There. Not home. Elliot really, really, really does not like this. His stomach turns and flips and boils. The woman he was watching stands up and leaves, and at a certain point he’s the only one left in the café car. Even the attendant had rushed out.

Something has happened. Elliot misses his phone. He misses his friends, and a good part of his gut wonders if they’re somehow dead. He’s not sure, suddenly, what he’ll do in San Francisco. If the world is changed, will he really want to step off this train?

There’s still more than a day left, and his nails are quickly reduced to nubs. He bites at his cuticles, and tears at the skin. He gets blood. Hours later, he will rip open his scabs.

[End grading- Below is included for context]

He returns to his train car, and he knew something was wrong, but now he can nearly smell it. People are stiller than when they were asleep. Moribund, he feels ready to talk to the boy again.

He’s sitting next to a girl. “Hey,” he speaks first, “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Elliot says, “You?”

“My family’s in San Francisco, so I guess I’ll stay... there,” the boy says.

There’s a somber moment, and Elliot still doesn’t know why. He feels it, though, a shudder of something, a dim sort of cavity in the depths of his blood.

Maybe this is because the train just faltered again. Had it just sped up? Elliot had never been properly conscious of its speed before, but he stumbles, clinging onto a chair.

The boy grips the hand of the girl.

“Are you from the city?” The girl asks, fearful.

“No,” Elliot says. “But I suppose that’s where I’ll be.” He leans against the empty chair which he is gripping and then falls back, watching the ceiling. There’s another shudder, but the train carries on.

There is nothing Elliot would be more pleased to hear than another word. The grinding and screeching of the train is wearing him thin, the finality of each of his conversations feels like an omen. What he wants, Elliot thinks, is for someone to acknowledge him. For the boy to say, ‘I live here, would you like to visit?’ or for some weary observation car goer to ask him, ‘hey kid, what’s your story?’

Because he has one. He has a good one, if only someone would wonder.

Still twenty-nine hours until they arrive at the station. Someone screams from another car down, and it blends with the whistle of the train for a moment. Then the whistle stops, but the crying continues.

Elliot Reed is watching the ceiling at the end of the world, and mostly he’s wondering who stole his phone. That bastard.

The train car is dark, again.

Another tunnel, maybe.

[savinspain-blog1]

A Series of Unfortunate Events Which Ended Up Causing Fortunate Events - My Weekend in Madrid

So this weekend I was supposed to go to Salamanca for a day trip on Friday and then to Toledo for a day trip on Saturday. Long story short, I woke up at 4am on Friday feeling super sick so couldn’t go to Salamanca and then I found out the forum we had to use online to sign up for the school trip to Toledo didn’t work so my name didn’t make it on the list by the deadline and I couldn’t go to Toledo. Sad day. Nonetheless, I ended up in Madrid for the weekend and it turned out being pretty lovely!

On Friday, I spend the day hydrating and sleeping but I did get to go for a quick walk by the Madrid Río and goodness is it gorgeous down there!

On Saturday, I was feeling more ambitious and figured I should make the best of my weekend in Madrid. So I opted to head over to the Reina Sofía Museum that is the home to a lot of 20th century art, including works from Picasso, Dalí, Domínguez, García Lorca, etc… Before I came to Spain, I knew they had amazing culture but now that I am living here and learning as much as I am, I am slowly becoming obsessed with how influential their culture was and upset at how much more influential it could have been if Franco had not been able to with the Spanish Civil War and put so many restrictions on art, literature, music, theatre, etc…

While I was visiting the Reina Sofía, I proceeded to internally nerd out immensely so I am going to share my nerd thoughts with all of you! So I present to you - a quick Spanish art history lesson/nerd session with Savannah!

The 20th century was a big deal for Spain. The Spanish Civil War started in 1936 and when Franco won the war in 1939 the country was run by a strict dictator who banned most art and literature. The genius works of Federico García Lorca (like Yerma, La casa de Bernarda Alba, and Bodas de sangre - which were all written right before the Spanish Civil War) were banned and he was assassinated by the Franquistas for his liberal ideals that he portrayed in his works. García Lorca’s works were first performed in South American countries, not in Spain, which I think is such a shame. And García Lorca wasn’t the only one assasinated! What a shame… Nonetheless, there were tons of writers, poets, and artists who created AMAZING works that helped influence modern art and literature in ways I never really realized until I got to Spain.

Now let’s talk about “Generación del ‘27.” The Generation of 1927 was an influential group of mainly poets that arose out of Spanish literary communities between 1924 and 1927. These incredibly influential artists/writers/poets were all friends and they studied together and they lived together (and Federico García Lorca and Salvador Dalí have been rumored to have a fling). It is incredible to me because these influential men were already amazing on their own BUT THEN they were surrounded by the inspiration and the passion of all of these other phenomenal artists - no wonder they made such a dent in history and created such beautiful masterpieces! I suppose when you put Federico García Lorca, Pablo Picasso, Salvador Dalí, Rafael Alberti, Luis Cernuda, Emilio Prados, Óscar Domínguez, etc… in the same residence of study and they all become friends you are bound to find spectacular creations. The best were inspiring the best!!

Long story short - please visit the Reina Sofía Museum (and the Prado) if you are ever in Madrid… The Reina Sofía has the largest collection of Dalí works in the world, a HUGE collection of Picasso’s work (including the Guernica), and lots of works by Óscar Domínguez.

Natura morta - 1926^ (Salvador Dalí)

Naturaleza muerta - 1924^ (Salvador Dalí)

Los esfuerzos estériles - 1927^ (Salvador Dalí)

El hombre invisible - 1932^ (Salvador Dalí)

El enigma de Hitler - 1939^ (Salvador Dalí) [This was one of my favorites]

Paisaje cósmico - 1938^ (Óscar Domínguez)

Picasso - part of a series of sketches done by 20th century artists. One of them was actually done by Federico García Lorca!

Mujer con abanico - 1916^ (María Blanchard)

This semester, the Reina Sofía also has a temporary exhibit of the works of an American artist named Bruce Conner. He is from California and was creating art around the time of the Cold War. I was 100% blown away by his work. The variety of methods he used and the different mediums was incredible! He had a never ending amount of work displayed. He made amazing 2D and 3D collages, which stood out to me the most. One of the collections was supposed to represent the fear Americans felt during the Cold War. The sculptures and collages featured a lot of black wax and they were super dark and daunting. They were gloomy but breathtaking. Some of his works featured a lot of mushroom shapes meant to represent the obsession the world had with nuclear weapons. 

He also had a lot of art from when him and his wife moved from California to Mexico City out of fear during the Cold War. It was super neat because you could see the hispanic influences in his works. He also had work inspired by the punk-rock culture of the 1970s. Lots of photography was used and it was cool seeing the combo of that with his collage work. 

He also has an exhibit where he used high exposure paper and light to create shadows of himself. They ranged from being very “normal” looking to looking very distressed and discombobulated. Apparently it was meant to represent birth, life, death, mourning, etc… VERY cool. 

Finally, he had a ton of intricate pen designs. I. Couldn’t. Stop. Staring. At. Them. I was THAT person that has their face right up to the work of art… Oops… There were SO MANY and they were SO DETAILED and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much time each one took but yet somehow there were two rooms filled with them!!!

My favorite collection of his I liked so much because of the message it portrays. There was a room with 9 canvases in it. 8 of them were exposed and were plain cream with black small text in the middle that said “Do Not Touch.” Then there was another identical canvas on a lone wall but this one said “Touch Me” BUT it was protected by a glass case so you couldn’t touch it. According to Conner, it’s supposed to represent the absurd nature of the art world. He believes art should have no rules and should be interacted with. I liked that a lot.

He didn’t consider himself of be one kind of artist but rather one who liked to experiment with different mediums and different artistic styles. I admire that a lot!

(LOL so remember at the top of this blog post when I said this would be quick? I’m sorry... I had a lot to get off my chest......)

After I left the museum, I was able to go drink iced tea outside in the sun, read my book, and listen to a saxophone player improv down the street. So I would say it was a successful day in Madrid :-) 

Today (Sunday), I got to drink café con leche, catch up on journaling, and walk down by the Madrid Río again but this time with Meta. We got ice cream, saw a herd of people heading to the Madrid Atlético vs. Barcelona game, and then went to H&M and tried on ridiculously sparkly dresses that made us look like disco balls! Overall, it was a very solid weekend!