#and i’ve learned to never take optional online summer courses ever again

[alexfierrosupremacy]

ahh finals time

[najatheangel]

genre: fluff, drama, and comedy. high school au!

pairing: Choi San x Reader

author's note: apart of the Ateez Summer Collab hosted by @bangchan-fairy My first official posted collab please let me know what you guys think. Enjoy your summer! ✨

word count: 5.3k

summary: After slacking off junior year and struggling to juggle responsibilities, you're stuck retaking your math course in the summer. With your future on the line, you were stuck with San to work together with you so you both can pass this summer course as seniors. You two seem to have a hard time focusing on your studies. Is it because you don't understand the work or a certain someone that's distracting you

taglist: @purplepsycho03 @melonmochimoon @neptunehobi @soleilsuhh @dundun-baby @kpopsnowball (Send me a message if you want to be added or removed from the tag list.)

Your stepmom Maria seemed to be very disappointed in you once again for letting her down this year. She had planned so many family trips, vacations, and hangouts for the whole family to enjoy this summer, but thanks to my failing this dumb math class, I have to be stuck in this school until July.

“You better be lucky I can afford for you to retake this class. Your reckless behavior has gone on long enough.” Your mom walks beside you upstairs inside Walnut Hills Highschool making sure you don’t skip out on the first day of summer school.

“Mom, you know you don’t have to walk me to class. I know what I’m doing!” You groan at her as she links her arms with you in the hallway.

“Clearly you don’t! If you did you wouldn’t be stuck here retaking this class. Now we’re almost there so keep your head high and lose the tude.”

There it was class 2A once again. This class was an absolute nightmare. I took a deep breath and slid the door open slowly with my eyes halfway open anxious to see who was sitting in the classroom.

“Welcome back miss Y/LN! Good seeing you again.” Mr. Harris said with a smile. This sucker, you had a love-hate relationship with Mr. Harris. You loved the fact that he was super nice and helpful when he was your English tutor freshman year, but you hated how he had a crush on your mom and how weird teacher-parent conference meetings would get when they would sneak off with each other in his office.

“Good morning Mr. Harris. Good seeing you again.” Your mom blushed to try to contain her excitement, but it was too obvious. “Anyways I’ll be heading my way out. She’s all yours for the summer.” Your mom gave you one last hug and kiss on the cheek before she left.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, fanning yourself already sweating from the classroom’s lack of cold air blowing. You complained again by saying.“Mr. Harris, are we staying in this room all summer? I’m sweating like a fat pig.”

“Unfortunately, yes. The PCs in the computer lab have been shut down and the school plans on replacing them with apple PCs by august. So these are the cards we’ve been dealt with. Let’s get started shall we.”

All the students in the classroom sighed, taking sips of their water bottles as Mr. Harris took attendance.

“Let’s see...We have Angela, Oliver, Chris, Yui, Y/N...Who’s missing? Choi San?”

“Here.” San slams the door open, arriving 20 minutes late with his chocolate milk in one hand and a glazed donut in the other. “Sorry Mr. Harris, I’ve overslept.”

Mr. Harris sighs, shaking his head, chuckling to calm himself down. “As expected. Just glad that you’re here, please have a seat.”

There was only one seat left which was in the front next to you and that would of course be his assigned seat for the rest of the summer.

You never heard much of San except everyone saying that he dropped out sophomore year.

You remember having a crush on him during freshman orientation when you both were shadowed by this kid named Lee Know. The whole time you were quiet, but you remembered staring at the handsome devil strutting in his uniform the whole time.

So to see him once again took you and everyone by surprise.

“Class, make sure you remember your partner’s name sitting next to you for this summer because you will work together in order to pass this class.”

“Say what?” You look over at San, who was making origami at his desk. “Good seeing again kid.” He smirks at you leaving you speechless. “Want a donut?” He reached out, handing a piece to you.

You were slamming your head on the desk thinking to yourself. “Mom, I know I promised I would finish this class, but I don’t know if I can...”

Mr. Harris had you paired up in groups of two to complete a series of word problems and online on this website called Pearson. On the bright side, walnut hills provided MacBooks for students that didn’t have their laptop, but of course, if they tried to watch Netflix, facetime with their friends, or search for something inappropriate, their laptop will be shut down for 24 hours until further notice.

The first two weeks were pretty quiet between you and San because both of you aren’t necessarily the best conversation starters and whenever San would ask you something it would only just help him cheat on an assignment or help him make up an excuse to skip class. Up until the third week hit you had enough of his excuses trying to avoid doing the work.

The third week you were assigned to work on three hours of pre-cal on the computer and you had the option to locate to a different classroom of course if you couldn’t focus in a cramped room full of sweaty students. So you and san decided to work in the math lab across from class 2A and try to work out a plan.

“Listen San I know this class is our worst enemy, but I promised my mom I would graduate next year and If I have to restart my junior year again I would die of embarrassment. So please try a little harder.” San sighs nodding to your proposal looking deeply into your eyes.

“Fine. I guess I’m in the same boat. I figured retaking junior year would make my mom mad too.” He reaches his hand shaking it with yours smiling.

Your heart starts pounding pretty fast as you're exchanging the agreement with San and you gaze your eyes back at the computer again clearing your throat.

“So, all we have to do is remember the methods Mr. Harris taught us and we'll be alright. What section are we on?” San scrolls through his laptop trying to login into his Pearson account. “I believe it's section 3.A. 20 questions which are due this Friday?! Man, Mr. Harris won’t give us a break.”

You giggled at his surprised reaction. Sometimes he can be soft which makes you melt inside even more. It made you wonder why he was always hanging around with the rebels with no future at school. Maybe life at home was rough and he didn’t have a lot of friends. All these questions were running through your head, which made you not realize that San suddenly moved closer to you.

“You need help with that problem? You were staring blankly at the screen for the past 10 minutes. Here let me show you how to do this.” San wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer to writing the answer problem step by step to help you understand it better, but that wasn’t exactly helping.

All you were doing was admiring his beautiful face to face. It made you remember the first time you saw him with his glowing melon skin, sharp jawline, the way he can pull off a white collar and a striped tie it just seemed impossible.

On top of that his knowledge in math made him 10x more attractive, but you couldn’t understand why someone as brilliant and essential as him set himself up in the wrong crowd and stuck in this situation that cost him his high school diploma.

“So that’s how you get y= 18 + 15x. Any questions?” “Yeah, why the hell are you so fine. Forget Mr. Harris, you can be my tutor.” Would’ve sounded better in your head, but you accidentally said it out loud.

San looked at you with his eyes flashing open and then he burst out laughing. “Well Ms. Y/LN if I knew you were having this much fun, I would’ve signed up for this a long time ago.”

“Same here. You know I didn’t think math was your thing. How come you're so good at it?” He sighs, leaning looking up at the ceiling as his mood changes very quickly. “My dad is an entrepreneur and a CEO of his own company.

He’s very good at math so he taught me at an early age so someday I can take over his company someday. He’s never home at times either so I’m pretty much always helping my friends with their math homework as a side hustle.”

“That must be tiring. I know that must be a lot of pressure for a 17-year-old.” San nods his head in agreement and says “It is, but hey that’s what I’ve been dealing with all my life. We got to finish these questions so we can go home early.” With the both of you panicking you turn back to your computers finishing the last set of problems.

You were having so much fun at school with San that you forgot you had to make it to dinner on time with your wicked stepmother. Ever since you’ve started your sophomore year at Walnut Hills your father was keeping his dating life a secret until he unexpectedly announced that he wanted to marry Maria. Your dad was always the playboy so it always would irritate you whenever he brings another woman into the picture.

Your father planned on marrying Maria by the time you’ve graduated high school, but that all ended in tragedy when your father one day died in a car accident on the way to your volleyball game. This is why you quitted sports, fell out with your best friends, and flunked almost all your classes. Maria has always shown tough love even when your dad was around, but that’s because she never knew what it was like to raise children and she wanted to learn to become closer to your family, but your relationship with her was always rocky.

Arriving late at night you’ve run to your house sweating and panting to your angry stepmom in the kitchen tapping her foot.

“Y/N, do you know what time it is? School ended at 5. Why are you late for dinner? This better is good missy.” You caught your last breath and then rolled your eyes at Maria’s snarky comment. “Me and my partner in my class took longer than expected to finish our assignment. Sorry, okay?”

You’ve slammed your backpack on the back of your chair and grabbed a plate of yong chow rice to eat with your family. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me? I just asked a simple question. Don’t tell me your working with that Choi San guy?”

You shook your head as you started to feel yourself explode at the dinner table, but you let her finish. “I know that because Mr. Harris told me. Look all I’m saying is you better stay concentrated on getting out of summer school and don’t fool around with these boys. Got it?”

You’ve finally snapped and stood up slamming the table with your fists. “You know what, I don’t understand why you're nagging me about every little thing going on in my life. You can’t just be proud that I finished my assignments for this week. But, no you keep finding ways to complain to me about me not working hard enough or messing around. I’m getting really tired of it. That’s why I hate it here!”

“Y/N! Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you.” She followed you all the way upstairs until you closed the door and locked it in her face. You were too tired and frustrated to be dealing with her constant ranting so you’ve just sat in your room, put your AirPods on, and blocked her yelling from the background. “We’ll talk about this another day. Psh teenagers.”

For the rest of the night, you smush your face in your pillow crying yourself to sleep. You look back on the polaroids of your dad around your room and through your phone missing his presence in your home. “Dad, why did you leave me alone with her? If it was just the three of us, things would be so different. I miss you.”

Your partnership with San seemed to improve drastically which was surprising, to say the least. All the other kids in the class however didn’t seem to improve. Some were either cheating or missing the deadlines. Mr. Harris was not pleased by the results so he found other alternatives.

“You know what class, here’s what we’re about to do. To make this a lot more fun, how about we do class activities for extra credit. Since some of you are glued to your devices nowadays we can play games like Kahoot, Jenga, and Tetris to answer questions. I can even narrow down the questions on the assignments. How does that sound?” Everyone in class chants and cheers loving the idea which keeps them even more motivated to continue working.

“Alright everyone the games won’t start today, but next week. This is the last week of June and summer school so that means we’re halfway there from finishing. You cannot screw this up. Try acing this week’s quiz with 90% everyone or no games for those with below 70%. Got it?” “Yes, Mr. Harris!” You’ve become closer to the class since it was only nine of you, but your best friends are Angela, San, and Chris. The four of you stopped for ice cream after school to study for this week’s big math test that covered five sections.

“Gosh, Mr. Harris put 40 questions on the test! What the hell is he on crack?”

Everyone laughed at Chris complaining. He would always try to find shortcuts just so he can finish playing PubG, but he always ends up getting in trouble because he procrastinates too much. The only reason he’s somewhat doing well is because of his girlfriend Angela.

She was always a straight-A student and a bit of a geek at school, but outside of school, she was a baddie. She ended up having to retake pre-cal because she wanted to offer to help Chris with homework but ended up failing with him. “Oh hush it’s not even that bad. If you would’ve done those practice problems like you were told, you wouldn’t be complaining so much.” She slaps the back of Chris' head making him spat out his dip cone.

San looks at them admiring their silly dysfunctional relationship and then looks at you mesmerized. He leans in whispering in your ear saying “Why can’t we be more like them. They’re cute together.” You turned to him, slapping his shoulder softly giggling. “We shouldn’t. We agreed to only focus on school, remember?” He looks at you pouting “Does it have to be strictly about work? Like Mr. Harris said, we can have fun with it. We are partners after all.”

You look to the side trying to avoid his gaze as you take another spoonful of mint cocoa. With your sloppy spoonful of ice cream leftover on your face, San quickly grabbed a napkin from the table and whipped your face. “Be careful, you had a little mint chocolate on your face.” He kissed the side of your lips and smirked at you right afterward leaving everyone shocked.

“You guys are hot together.”

Chris with no filter shouted out leaving you a blushing mess. You quickly grabbed your ice cream and backpack as you heard your stepmom pulling up at the dairy parking lot. “You know what duty calls. I’ll meet you guys at the same time tomorrow at San’s place just like we planned. I gotta shave my legs. Later!” San wanted to grab your arm real quick to give you a proper goodbye, but you already beat him to it by sprinting to the car.

“Honey, why did you run in the car so fast? You would have finished your ice cream-”

“No time for that, just drive Mom.” Maria laughs looking at you covering your face with your cardigan and looking at San’s pouting face playing with his spoon he just ate from his ice cream. “Reminds me of the good old days when I was in high school.” Your stepmom cranked the engine and drove all the way home.

When you arrived home you flopped your body on your bed trying to focus on finishing studying for your test by yourself, but all your thinking about San’s kiss replaying in your head over and over again. “Ugh that San man, why did his lips have to be so soft? I'm supposed to be finding the formula for x, not the formula to get into San’s heart.” You’ve pulled out your laptop attempting to send an email to Mr. Harris said that you wanted to switch partners, but you prevent yourself from pressing send through your mouse.

“There’s no point. We only have four more weeks plus he would be upset if I do that. I just need to calm down.” You’ve closed out of your email tab and finished your homework sinking in your thoughts.

“Dad, hey it’s me again, I just wanted to leave a voicemail letting you know that later on today I’ll be bringing my friends over to work on studying for our big test. It would be nice for you to meet them, but of course, I know work is more important. Anyways please come visit again sometime soon. Love you, peace.” San sighs, hanging up the phone as he sets the table up getting ready for you, Angela, and Chris to come over. San has always learned to live basically on his own growing up.

His father is always running off on business trips, his mother left him at a young age to marry a wealthy man and his older brother was already out of the country to join the Navy. His brother was the only person he can count on for family events when it came to birthdays, Christmas, and even father’s day. At least his brother could attend and catch up with his crazy high school life.

Snapping out of his train of thoughts he opens the door as soon as he hears the doorbell ring. “Coming!” He fixed his Pikachu long sleeve and parted his hair before he opened the door. He was smiling so wide after seeing it was you, Angela and Chris.

“C'mon in you guys. Welcome to mi palacio. Let’s study in the living room.”

Everyone ran to the living room pleased with the smell of pina colada candles filling the house. You were shocked that San got to live in this huge nicely decorated home yet you seem to notice that his family is not present.

You see picture frames of him when he was younger in a monster inc sitting on the fountain at Disneyland.

There was also another cute family photo of San’s best friend named Wooyoung that he met since kindergarten, but sadly they ended up cutting ties since they went to different schools.

A picture that stood out from all of them was one of him sitting on his mom’s lap when he was five smiling super hard with his pretty white smile. You’ve never seen him smile that hard and you were always curious more about his past so the family photos have shown a nice glimpse into his past “Hey y/n cmon I made some ramen. We have to pull out the flashcards so we can study.” “W-wait, but your baby pictures I want!” “No time we can look at them later.”

He winks and gently holds your hand and walks downstairs with you.

“Here goes the love birds. We have to try San’s famous spicy ramen dish before it gets too cold.” Everyone sits down at the dinner table clasping their hands together ready to dig in until the door opens.

“Surprise brother! Sorry I’m late. Did I miss dinner?” San’s brother Jinhyuk walks in with veggie wraps and steak bulgogi in his hand. San runs up to his brother hugging him super tight happier to see that he finally made it home. “Guys this is my brother Jinhyuk. Jinhyuk this is Chris, Angela, and Y/N.”

Jinhyuk smiles at everyone greeting everyone. “So what’s been going on with you guys? I know you have been stuck in school together, but what have you guys been doing outside of school?” Angela started by saying “Well so far me and Chris have been seeing each other every day. We always go to the park or the carnival when we get the chance for dates. We have also been hanging out with these two right here.”

Chris joined in saying “Exactly right. You can say we’re like the Scooby-Doo gang of course without scooby.” San laughs adding on “No way you’re definitely Scooby. Angela is Velma, I’m Freddy, and Y/N is Daphne.” Everyone at the table laughed as they enjoyed San’s ramen catching up with each other.

Jinhyuk elbows you as he chats with you in the kitchen. “Hey, I noticed that you were sitting there staring at my brother. What’s going on with you two.” Your eyes flashed wide open as you were surprised by Jinhyk’s sudden question. You faced him scratching the back of your head not knowing how to answer his question. “Well, I honestly don’t know. I think he just likes teasing me. One minute he flirts with me, the next minute he treats me like one of the guys. My mom also doesn’t want me getting distracted so I’m trying to keep my distance.”

Jinhyuk laughs and then pets your head. “Well, you both already failed at keeping your distance. I think he likes you, but since you keep running away or avoiding him too much, he feels like he’s making you uncomfortable and that you strictly want to stay as friends. I wouldn’t give him the wrong idea to be upfront about how you feel about him. You got this kid.” He grabs your empty bowl for you and washes the dishes giving you that boost of confidence. “You know what you're right. Mama didn’t raise no punk. I’ll tell him after we finish studying. Thanks, Jinhyuk I owe you the next time you visit.” You give him a thumbs up and skip happily out the kitchen looking forward to seeing your friends.

After hours of studying flashcards, everyone finally studied feeling confident in themselves about the final test of the semester. Everyone packed their things and was ready to head home since their parents were outside. You were the only one that still felt confident about your process throughout the class so you’ve decided to stay an extra hour to study with San.

“Are you sure this is right?” You put the pencil down crossing your fingers as San checks your work. “Wow yes, that is correct. See you’re doing just fine. You only got 7 wrong out of the 40 questions. Just keep using that method I taught you and you’ll be just fine.” San smiles at you pinching your cheeks. “It’s 10:30 pm. Your mom is going to be worried about you. You should start heading home. I'll drop you off.” San started putting his notebook and laptop back on his desk getting ready to leave his room, but you pull on his sleeve bringing him back down on the couch with you.

“Wait, um why don’t we watch a movie or something. My mom is out with Mr. Harris anyways they won’t be back until the morning. I kind of told her I was spending the night at my cousin’s house.”

San smiles, shaking his head gulping, sitting back down next to you. “That sounds nice and all, but I don’t want to get you in trouble. Plus you do realize you’re staying over at a boy’s house at night.” You lean your head on his shoulder holding his hand yawning. “I know I trust you. You wouldn’t do anything unless I told you I wanted to. Just for tonight please San?” San sighs, lifting your chin patting the back of your head. “Fine, but next time let me meet your mom. I want to know everything there is about you okay?” You nod linking pinkies with him. “Deal. Now let’s watch Money Heist Shall we?”

The next morning you wake up in San’s arms as you share a blanket on the living room couch. You woke up fixing his messy black hair struck by his sleeping face. “Gosh you're even more dreamy when you're sleeping.” You checked the time on your phone and realized what time it was.

Pre-cal normally starts around 10, it was 11:20. “San gets up, we're late for class! We can’t miss this one Mr. Harris is giving us get extra credit today.” San woke right up alert as he wiped the drool from the side of his mouth.

“Dang, we gotta go. Here brush your teeth real fast, brush your hair and let’s roll.”

The two of you got ready as fast you could and hopped right on his motorcycle speeding through the traffic throughout the city.

You wrapped your arms around San the whole time scared you’ll fall on the motorcycle. San felt so happy whenever you depended on him for anything. “God I love this girl. I know they say I’m too young or going too fast, but I can’t help it.” He mumbled under his breath as he arrived at the school.

“Well well if it isn’t San and Y/N. You better be lucky you didn’t miss the test. We just got done playing Kahoot.” The two of you poured with your heads looking down feeling ashamed as you walked to your seats. The two of you took one last glimpse of each before Mr. Harris handed out the test.

This was it after everything you’ve been through this past month with San and your friends. The hard work was going to determine if you actually made it through or not. Mr. Harris gave you a whisper of encouragement you never heard in a long time except for your dad. “Y/N no matter what happens I’ll always be proud of you. Finish this strong.”

Mr. Harris' words almost moved you to tears as you smiled and nodded your head right back at him. Now you understand why Maria loved him so much he was always passionate about teaching and cared about your well-being.

You grabbed your pencil and your laptop as you started getting to work. The whole time you were nervous and a few questions caused you to slip up, but in the end, you remembered how to do most of the work. San seemed to be holding up just fine so you weren’t too worried about him, Angela would always double-check her work before turning it in and Chris was surprisingly focused the whole time.

As everyone finished their tests Mr. Harris checked everyone’s grades one by one slowly seeing their process.

He stands up taking off his glasses and says. “Class...congratulations on becoming seniors! Everyone has passed summer school. See you in the fall.”

Everyone screamed cheering as the paper was flying and everyone in the classroom cheered. “Yeah, you guys hang out at the carnival!” Chris screamed and everyone followed him out.

Before catching up with everyone you called your stepmom to tell her the good news with Mr. Harris next to you.

“Mom, I finally passed. Dad’s face right now you know he’s probably crying. It was all thanks to Mr. Harris too, he's the best teacher ever.”

You can hear your mom’s voice on the other end as she gets teary-eyed. “Your dad would definitely be so happy that you passed, but also pissed because he never wants you in summer school ever again.” The three of you laugh together as you share the happy news.

“I’m so sorry I doubted you and was super harsh y/n. I love you and just want you to succeed. Your my only banana muffin I got in this world so don’t pull off any dumb crap like this ever again.”

“Yes mom, you know I will. I made a promise to dad after all. I will graduate and stay close to you if it’s the last thing I do. Love you, I'm going to the carnival with my friends.”

Maria makes kissy noises back and says “I love you too. Don’t stay out too late. Matter of fact I’ll meet you there since me and Harris have a date anyways. See you there.” You hang up feeling emotional as you hug Mr. Harris.

Mr. Harris pats you on the back saying “Didn’t I tell you she’s very proud. Now I think you need to catch up with your friends before he leaves without you. I’ll meet you at the carnival.” Mr. Harris leaves the classroom giving you one last smile and heading out.

You walked in the hallway looking all around the school for San, luckily you found him in the science lab where he’s sitting by the window with a sad look on his face.

“San. We’ve gotta meet up with everyone at the carnival. Why are you here by yourself?”

San sighs, crossing his arms.

“There’s no point in celebrating. I tried reaching out to both of my parents to tell them about one of the biggest accomplishments in my life and as usual, they didn’t answer.” You sat right next to him at the window petting his head. “You know what, how dare they? Forget them.

You have a supportive big brother, an amazing group of friends, and the best teacher a school could ever ask for. You have a family right here and we’re proud of you.”

San lifts his head up as he sees your bright smile that always makes him helpless.

“You always know exactly what to say. What would I do without you?”

He links pinkies with you. “I really can’t wait for you to meet my stepmom. She gets on my nerves sometimes and we always tend to bump heads, but we always come right back together. Dad would’ve also loved you. He was always straight to the point and never held back. I loved that confidence he always had.”

“Oh yeah he did get into that accident last year, I’m so sorry about that.”

You shake your head “It’s alright, I’m still holding up just fine. I’m just happy to have you here with me plus I get to be seniors with you and everyone else.” San looks up at you one last time slowly leaning his face close to yours until your noses touch.

“Gosh, I wonder what would happen if I made out with Y/N in the science lab? The janitor would for sure catch us in the act.” You giggle flirting with him back.

“The only thing he would have to worry about cleaning up is the kiss marks that are going to be on your neck.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you were this playful. I love seeing this side of you.”

The two of you finally exchange a short yet sweet kiss in the orange sunset peeking against the window. It was going to last longer until Angela and Chris crashed the party with a loud knock on the door.

“Hurry up Freddy and Daphne the Scooby gang has to pull up at the carnival together. You guys can finish eating each other's faces off in the car. We can’t miss the flight of fear!”

The two of you looked at each other shrugging and walked together hand in hand out the classroom. “Well, I guess we will have to finish this on the carousel.” “Indeed, that sounds more romantic than making out while being surrounded by jars of disinfected frogs in the science lab.”

The two of you catch up with the rest of the seniors of class 2021 as you look forward to your last summer as juniors together. Today was going to be the day where you go all out and live like you're gonna die young.

[sergeantsporks]

Summer School

Rating: General Audiences, Gen

Part 3 of Camila is Hunter’s Mom Now

You know how there was always that one kid who was smarter than everyone else, and then they transfer to a new school, and suddenly they're not the smartest one there anymore? Yeah. Hunter finds out that nothing in the Boiling Isles prepared him for a human high-school education.

Ao3

“Hey. Thanks for meeting up with me, I know you’re busy.” Camila sat down in a chair, motioning for Hunter to sit down next to her.

An old man—the nameplate on his desk pronounced him “Principal Hal”—sighed. “Yes. Of course, Miss Noceda.”

“I’ve found… alternate schooling methods for Luz, but I’ve enrolled my two other children, Vee and Hunter in school.”

“I know.”

“Eheh. Right. The thing is… Hunter hasn’t ever… had any kind of formal schooling. So… he’s never taken higher maths, or sciences. He doesn’t know algebra, or chemistry, or…”

Principal Hal heaved another sigh. “So, what exactly does he know?”

Hunter crossed his arms. “I know thirteen different ways to kill you where you sit,” he snapped.

Camila shot him a look. “He can read, and write, and do basic math—it’s just high school, really. Oh, and history, he hasn’t ever taken a history course.”

“Well, we have summer school options—it’s a bit late, but we can look at squeezing him in. And Vee?”

“Vee went to summer camp, and she did very well there, she should be just fine.”

“Hm. Well, I’m very sorry that Luz won’t be joining us this year—”

“No, you’re not,” Camila muttered.

“—but I’m very glad she’s found a schooling system that… works better for her.” Principal Hal scribbled something down on a piece of paper, and handed it to Camila. “Take that to the front office, and they’ll get you the textbooks Hunter will need for his summer schooling.” Principal Hal looked like he’d bitten into a lemon. “I… look forward to having you as a student here, young man.”

Hunter inclined his head. “Thank you for your time, sir.”

He followed Camila out of the office. “I don’t think he likes me.”

“You threatened to kill him thirteen different ways. I don’t blame him. That was very nice at the end, though, thank you.”

Hunter felt a warm glow in his chest at the praise. “How come Luz isn’t coming?”

“Luz… never did well in school. And she’s determined to go back to Hexside, so I’ve enrolled her in some online courses so that she won’t fall behind on human studies, and if she can get through the Boiling Isles, I’ll… let her continue her education there. If she promises to check in frequently, and hide the portal very, very well.” Camila stopped in front of a wide desk, handing the secretary the piece of paper that Principal Hal had handed her.

The secretary disappeared and came back with a stack of books that she pushed to Hunter. “First class is Monday, you’ll be with the sophomores retaking algebra. Welcome to the family.”

Hunter picked up the books gingerly, trailing behind Camila. “Why does this book have a lizard on it if it’s a math book?”

Camila unlocked the car, climbing into the driver’s seat. “Great question. I don’t know.”

“What’s a sophomore?”

“Second year of high-school. You’ll be a junior, a third year.”

The lower class. With the students who’d failed algebra the first go round. Hunter’s ears burned, and he cracked open the algebra book, staring at the numbers. “I can read this outside of class?”

“Sure, if you want to.”

By the time they got home, Hunter was deep in. He kept reading as he walked inside, going straight to the kitchen table and setting the books down. He could figure this out—and then he could move up, at the very least to the regular second year level. He still had time before he officially started school—he could learn all of this.

Luz came bouncing down the stairs. “Amity responded! I have no clue how this thing works across dimensions, but I am so glad—hey, whatcha reading, Hunter?”

He didn’t look up. “Algebra.” He flipped the page, and neat, numbered rows of problems faced him. “Hey, they give you practice problems!”

“Blech, I thought you were my brother, Hunter. Math? When you don’t have to?”

“I’m behind. I need to catch up, or I’ll be stuck in lower grades.”

“Oh, right. Prodigy with extreme fear of failure. I forgot.”

Hunter tuned her out, digging out his old sketchpad and copying the first problem, flipping back in the book for the solving process. “Mhm.”

“Anyway, now that I can contact Amity, we’re going to work on opening a portal from their end.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She has the titan’s blood and ingredients on her end—hopefully it won’t be long before she can figure it out.”

Hunter frowned, checking over his work. “Mmm.”

“Watch out, there’s a deadly monster behind you.”

“K.”

Luz heaved a long-suffering sigh and left him to the book. Hunter re-read the lesson, then flipped back to the problems.

I can do this.

The day passed by in a blur, Hunter plugged through the book, slowly but surely. At least this made sense—everything had a logical, calculable end. It wasn’t like magic, where intent and emotion played factors.

“Hunter—Hunter, it’s time for dinner.”

Hunter barely heard Camila, glaring at the quadratic formula. He kept misplacing a negative, he was pretty sure.

A hand reached over and closed the book with a thump. “Hunter. Give your brain a break and eat something, mijo.”

Hunter struggled to pull the book open against Camila’s hand. “I’ve almost got this one figured out—I can get it—”

“Dinner. Math can come after.” Camila cleared the book away. “I’m glad you’re taking school seriously, but it’s important for you to do other things, too. Don’t worry—you’ll catch up, you’re a smart kid.”

“I need to—”

“What you need to do is take a break and eat. Come on, help me set the table.”

Hunter slowly got up and opened the drawer for napkins. His stomach growled at the smell coming from the stove. Alright, maybe it was time he took a break. Look at you, Golden Guard. All… domestic.

“Luz! Vee!” Camila called, “Dinner!”

Vee came bounding down the stairs, but Luz was nowhere to be seen.

“Luz!” Camila called again.

“She’s looking at potential wild portal spots,” Vee explained.

“Ayiyi. One won’t put down his math textbook and the other one won’t stop looking for a way into the demon realm.” Camila thumped up the stairs, and Vee poked at the algebra book.

“Algebra can be tricky. We did a lot of math-y stuff back at camp. Where are you?”

“Quadratic formula.”

“Already?”

Hunter shrugged. “I’m a quick learner.”

Luz bumped down the stairs, Camila shooing her onwards. “You and Hunter are going to get healthy eating and working habits if it kills me!”

After dinner, Vee started on the dishes, and Hunter opened up the math book again. I am going to figure this out.

After a while, Luz and Vee disappeared upstairs. Camila put a hand on his shoulder with a yawn. “Don’t stay up too late, ‘kay?”

“Mhm.”

Camila flipped off all of the lights except the kitchen one.

Red fluttered down to his shoulder as he yawned, chirping that he ought to go to bed.

“I’m so close. Just one more lesson.”

Xxx

Camila blinked blearily at her alarm as it beeped at her. She yawned, changing into her scrubs and heading down the stairs. The kitchen light was still on, Hunter slumped on the table, his algebra book open next to him. Camila gently slid the pencil out of his hand, scooping him up and moving him to the couch. He nestled into the cushions with a sigh, Red landing on his chest and closing its eyes with a sleepy cheep

“Oh, what am I going to do with you?” Camila sighed. She glanced at the textbook, then grabbed a few sticky notes, writing ‘remember to take a break’ on them and sticking them in the book every few lessons. She shook her head, grabbing her keys and flipping off the kitchen light. “Buenos noches, mijo.”

Xxx

“Hunter. Hey, Hunter. Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuunter.”

Hunter snapped awake, sitting up so fast he nearly head-butted Luz in the face. Red slid off of his chest, flapping its wings frantically to right itself.

“Wow, you’re twitchy.”

Hunter yawned. When had he moved to the couch? He didn’t even remember falling asleep! “Hngh—what time is it?”

“Nine-o-clock, sleepy-head! Hey, you know a lot about titan’s blood, right? You think you could look over some stuff and tell me which you think is most likely to be a wild portal?”

Hunter rubbed his eyes. “If you can see the demon realm in the water, it’s a wild portal. Oh, or if the water is boiling hot.”

“You mean like a geyser?��

“I wouldn’t recommend jumping into one of those, but yes. Like a geyser.”

“Hmmmm.” Luz picked up his sketchpad from the table. “You need any help with math? Can’t say I’ll actually be ABLE to help you, but—”

Hunter snatched the sketchpad away. “I don’t need help,” he snapped.

“Yeesh. Okay. Have fun with your numbers.”

Hunter shuffled to the table. A single sticky note was stuck to the cover of the book.

Don’t forget to eat breakfast, it read cheerfully.

Ah. Camila.

Hunter went to the pantry and shoved a protein bar in his mouth. There. Breakfast. He opened the math textbook again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Alright. Three quarters of a math book, one day to go before summer school. He could do this. One more all-nighter.

“Whoa.” Vee peered over his shoulder at his sketchpad. “Hey, why don’t you… come on out with me. I’ll introduce you to my friends from cabin seven. You need to touch grass.”

Hunter scribbled through a line of numbers. Wrong. “Nope. I’m busy.”

“You know that you’re supposed to learn this stuff at summer school, right? Not two days beforehand.”

“I’m learning it now, so I’ll be prepared for what they want me to do there.”

“Uh… that’s not how it’s supposed to—”

“I can’t be in the class with the failures!” Hunter blurted.

Vee blinked. “Oh.”

Hunter flipped the cover of the book back and forth, his other hand tapping on the table. “I’ve got to learn this now, so that they’ll move me up to the next subject—I’m two years behind, Vee, and don’t even get me started on history!”

“That’s not your fault.”

“I can’t fail here—being here in the human realm is my second chance, and I can’t blow it! Camila thinks I’m smart, and I can’t prove her wrong!”

Vee sat down at the table next to him. “Whoa. Okay. Calm down, Hunter. You are smart, and that has nothing to do with how good at math you are.” She gestured to his sketchpad. “Look at how far you came in a day by yourself!”

Hunter slammed his hand down on the table. “It’s not enough, I’m still way behind!”

“Hunter. Hey, Hunter. Listen. You… don’t have to be the best at everything, okay?”

“Yes, I do, that’s how this works.”

“No. It’s really not. You don’t have to be the best. As long as you’re doing as well as you can… that’s what matters to Camila, okay? Even if you don’t succeed. Camila thinks you’re smart because you are. You don’t have to prove it to her. And you don’t have to pull all-nighters and learn the entirety of algebra in two days to be smart. C’mon, you need to quit focusing on school for a few hours.”

Hunter ran a hand through his hair. “Just a few more lessons—

“No.” Vee snatched the textbook away. “I’m going to keep this until you take a break. And maybe a nap, you look like you didn’t get any sleep.”

“What? No, I didn’t mean to, but I did fall asleep.”

“Hunter.”

“Fine, fine, you win. I’ll just steal it back later.”

She yanked his hood over his head. “Good luck. Just a couple of hours not doing algebra, Hunter.”

“Fine. I guess I can do that.”

“Good. Come on, let’s go meet up with my friends, they’ll predict your future with hexes hold ‘em cards.”

“I understood all of those words separately. Are your friends…okay?”

Vee grinned. “Trust me. They’re gonna love you.”

[skrltwtch]

Silverware

Prompt: on a first date and A is a werewolf and doesn’t know the cutlery is silver (Source in master list)

Word count: 4,897 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘���✧──────✧₊∘

I buried my nose in the bouquet of lilies and roses Jake had bought for me. It was the perfect emblem of summer with its warm, sunny hues and fresh, tangy scent — and the perfect segue to the next part of our date. The first part was a visit to the local farmers market, out of which we were now walking. Coming here had been his suggestion. It was something different from the usual first date stuff like coffee or a movie, and I liked it a lot, notwithstanding my initial reservations. I liked him a lot after what I’d seen of him at the market. I felt like the place helped bring out a certain spark between us. For one, there was constant talk about planning for date number two using what we’d seen and bought. If that wasn’t promising, I didn’t know what was!

‘Thank you, Jake. I love it,’ I said about the bouquet.

‘You’re most welcome,’ he said, a broad grin brightening up his face. ‘And thank you for the flavoured olive oil. Makes me kind of wish we didn’t have this dinner reservation …’ His grin turned sheepish in nature. ‘But that’s what’s making me look forward to our next date.’

See?

‘Do you want to call for a taxi or walk?’ he said.

‘What time’s our reservation?’

‘6:00 p.m. on the dot.’

My watch came alive with a flick of my wrist. ‘Let’s walk, then. I want to walk off all the cheese I sampled.’ I’d sampled a lot. In my defence, it was almost that time of the month — and that other time of the month. ‘Do you know the way?’

‘Google Maps can teach me.’

The route Google Maps recommended was scenic. London Bridge looked lovely at this time of day. Its appeal was heightened tenfold with Jake by my side. Could you believe we met on Tinder? It still felt unreal to me. Getting this match used up all my good luck for the year, and we were only at the halfway point. Well, if it meant burning the roof of my mouth most of the time I ate to be able to quit the dating scene for a reasonable amount of time (“once and for all” seemed a little ambitious, though that would be nice), who was I to whinge about the hand fate had dealt me?

The restaurant was located within the Four Seasons. We had been overdressed for the market. Now we were … dressed. I was flattered as fuck that he picked such a lavish place for dinner for a first date. I hadn’t the faintest clue what it was about my profile and our conversations that made him think of a high-end French restaurant helmed by a Michelin-starred chef in a five-star hotel. I did try to talk him out of it (gently). It wasn’t about the cost. Food was one of the things I was more than happy to splurge on. It was just … I never had anyone think this highly of me before, and I wondered if that’d change if … and when … he knew the truth about me.

The host led us into the main dining room and to our table. An amuse-bouche and warm bread came together with the menus. The prices were as expected of the type of establishment this was. Everything sounded good, though this was my first time coming across some of these words. Looking up what each one meant would add to the time something would take to reach our table, and my stomach would sooner eat itself out of desperation.

‘Please don’t hold back,’ said Jake, sensing my indecision. ‘The price is not an issue.’

I did have to hold back. The coincidental timing of this month’s full moon and crimson tide amplified every-fucking-thing I could possibly feel to a divinely hellish degree in the days leading up to them. As it was, I could easily polish off a five-course meal by myself. If Jake wanted this date to go in a less chaste direction after dinner, hell would freeze over before I’d even dream of talking him out of it, first date etiquette be damned. Was the fact that he was such a goddamn catch helping anything? Absolutely fucking not.

‘No, it’s not that. I can’t — I can’t decide what I want,’ I said. It was technically true. I was torn between the beef (never mind that it was £98) and veal … and both of them at once. ‘What are you having? Maybe I can get some inspiration from you.’

‘I was thinking the turbot … or the pigeon. Yeah, I can’t make up my mind either. I’m leaning toward the pigeon …? No, the turbot. Or the scallops …? Fuck. I need an adult.’

‘Let’s choose for each other.’

‘Promise not to hate each other’s choices — or each other?’

‘Pinky promise.’

We locked our pinkies together. I hoped touching him would never grow old.

Once our promise had been sanctified and we separated from each other, Jake signalled for the nearest available waitstaff. One came over almost instantly. The restaurant was bustling with activity, a far cry from however long it had been since we arrived. She took our order in a cordial fashion, not making a bigger deal of how we were ordering for each other than it should be. I chose the scallops for him; he chose the veal for me. I convinced him to start our evening with the langoustine; he sweet-talked me into ending it with the rhubarb. The waitstaff validated all our choices with a knowing smile.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask — and I hope I’m not stepping on your toes here,’ Jake started when our table was just the two of us again. ‘How did you get that scar on your arm?’

It was a matter of time. And bless him. I would never be offended by being asked about the memento of what’d changed my life forever. I would be offended by an adverse reaction to how exactly my life had been changed forever. I raised my arm, giving the scar in question its time in the limelight: brownish-pink, leathery circles arranged in the shape of a crescent, the ones at both ends abnormally large and ragged-looking.

‘My ex-boyfriend’s dog bit me,’ I said. More like my ex-boyfriend was the offending canine. ‘That’s not why he’s an ex, in case you were wondering.’ I’d wanted to be turned. He’d been more than happy to lend a helping set of fangs. Sadly, the idea of us being cute werewolves together was yet another one of those things that simply sounded nicer on paper. It wasn’t all sour between us. We’d sometimes meet for romps. It got lonely sometimes, and it wasn’t like there was an online forum for werewolves to socialise or whatever. I doubted he’d have known of one anyway: he was literally an American werewolf in London.

‘Did it hurt? It’s such a huge scar. Did anything happen to the dog afterward?’ He held up his hands. ‘Am I being nosy? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.’

I smiled in the hope that it’d soothe his worries. ‘You’re not being nosy. It was … okay for what it was.’ Euphoric. ‘The dog’s fine. It wouldn’t be fair to punish it for an instinct thing.’ Yup.

‘That’s good to hear. I think it’s a bad-ass scar. And I didn’t think it’s why he’s an ex.’

‘Thank you. Most people did. Yeesh. Give me some credit.’

‘I’m not most people … I hope.’ He smirked. The apples of his cheeks turned pink.

He really wasn’t. And I wanted so badly to tell him the truth there and then to see if that’d still hold true in the face of a bombshell like that. I had yet to tell anyone about my lycanthropy: if movies, television shows, books, etc., were anything to go by, I’d assume most people would react with fear or disgust, or both. Chris had been thoroughly flabbergasted when I reacted the way I did to learning why he always turned down my suggestions to go stargazing on nights with full moons. I got what I wanted … eventually.

Maybe I should tell Jake sooner than later. Separate the wheat from the chaff. Then I wouldn’t have wasted my time having pined for someone who thought I was some kind of freak of nature.

That conversation — or rather, thinking about that conversation would have to wait, as our starter, bearing a strong resemblance to a flower arrangement with colours befitting the season, had arrived. Food was always the perfect diversion. So would the inevitable back-and-forth about who could have the third and last langoustine. Splitting it was not an option, for one piece was as big as my thumb. I loved the portion sizes of frou-frou fancy food. So much bang for one’s buck.

‘Bon appétit,’ said Jake. ‘That’s one of … four French phrases I know. The other three are “bonjour”, “omelette du fromage”, and — I can’t say the last one in a public place.’

‘Is it by any chance … “voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir”?’ I made no effort whatsoever to lower my volume — or maintain a straight face. Brazenness blazed through my cheeks.

He put a hand on his chest, feigning surprise. ‘Well!’ He tittered. ‘Since you asked ever so nicely, and in French … This is why your choices tonight have been shellfish, isn’t it?’

‘You got me.’

‘Looking at their portion sizes, I don’t think your plan’s going to work very well. Not that I’d need the help of — shut up, Jake.’

‘Keep going, Jake’ was what I’d have said and wanted if my stomach hadn’t started getting on my case for letting good food get cold. (‘Rubbery lobster? Gross!’) There was something hot about someone like Jake — a posh, proper Englishman, the polar opposite of Chris … okay, no, stop bringing him up, stop thinking about him, goddammit — talking openly, confidently, about his prowess. Such words … coming out of his mouth … in that accent … I quickly pressed my legs together to quell any desires. Which hunger of mine was responsible for this?

Wanting to satiate the one appetite I could at this very moment without earning myself prison time for my troubles, I said, ‘Bon appétit, Jake’, and picked up my fork … which promptly fell onto my plate with the fucking loudest clang. The smell of burning flesh tickled my nostrils — my burning flesh. My fingers were sizzling where the fork touched them. Sizzling! I prayed it was only my nose that could pick up this delectable aroma.

I stared at the cutlery. Trust a high-end French restaurant helmed by a Michelin-starred chef in a five-star hotel to use real silverware, not that cheap silver-plated shit. I prodded the fork handle — and withdrew my finger immediately. Not one of my finer moments. Please don’t tell me Jake saw it.

‘Is everything okay?’ said Jake.

Ah, fuck.

‘Yeah,’ I said, examining my palm. Good news: the burn hadn’t healed and wasn’t healing as quickly as my wounds and injuries (not that I had many of them) did after I was turned, so that was one less question to dodge. I didn’t want to keep lying to Jake. I didn’t like that I had been. How would I explain the absence of a second-degree burn that existed mere seconds ago anyway? Bad news: was this never going to heal because of what caused it? I had been so careful with silver since I was turned. How would I explain a perpetual second-degree burn? Would it out me as a werewolf to people who knew what to look for? Was now really the time for Twenty Questions?

Noticing Jake had been waiting on me to provide some kind of elucidation on my well-being, I said, ‘I guess I have a silver allergy. Can you believe it? Who’s allergic to silver?’

He didn’t need to say, ‘What kind of allergy burns someone?’ for me to hear it in my head.

‘Can you eat, then?’ he said.

I shook my head. As far as I was concerned, silver was lethal. No ifs, no buts, no maybes. If a perpetual second-degree burn was the worst thing to come out of fleeting contact with the metal, so be it. I’d consider myself a lucky lycan indeed.

‘Pardon me,’ Jake said to the waitstaff who’d come with our entrées, ‘would you have any disposable cutlery perhaps? My lady’ — he did not — ‘is allergic to the silverware.’

The waitstaff did an excellent job of not acting like this very dashing gentleman had just dropped the barmiest string of words on her during her entire employment in this line of work. Even I didn’t quite believe it myself. ‘I’ll see what we have, sir, ma’am,’ she said, cool as a cucumber. After she finished setting down our food, she collected all the silverware on my side of the table and left.

‘I don’t think whatever she comes back with would help with your veal. I could cut it up for you?’ said Jake.

Oh, my God. Getting burnt by silver must be the universe’s way of course-correcting the unusual jackpot I’d hit with him. Good Tinder matches were a myth!

‘No, it’s fine. Thank you. I’ll manage … somehow,’ I said. The wooden cutlery the waitstaff had returned with didn’t inspire confidence in me to not fling a piece of meat or a utensil at someone while cutting into my food.

‘We could swap dishes. I’d be fine with the veal. It was in my top five earlier.’

I suffocated a sigh. His scallops looked more like an appetiser than a main. But what choice did I have? I could either eat the veal like the animal that put me in this position or go through the restaurant’s entire supply of wooden cutlery with nothing to show for the effort in my belly and possibly injure someone in the process. Neither option would do any favours for my image in the eyes of the guy I liked and whose bones I’d like to jump at some point, enhanced animal lust or not.

So, I agreed. I tried to draw out the meal for as long as I could. Between the teeny serving and the unwieldiness of the wooden cutlery, I was having a miserable time. Dinner had become a silent affair, a far cry from everything prior to this point. Contrary to the vibe I was putting out, the food had nothing to do with my dour mood. For the first time since I was turned, I wasn’t happy about what I was. Could I never truly lead a normal life? Did I have to lie to every potential suitor and fret about whether they’d accept that other side of me on top of all the intricacies of dating?

There ought to be a dating app for verified supernatural creatures.

‘How’s the veal?’ I said. I had to speak up: I wasn’t being fair to Jake by acting like a sullen teenager over something he had zero control over, and the silence was deafening.

‘It’s — I might’ve done you a favour. How about my — your scallops?’

‘As good as three bites can get. I can’t tell if it tastes funny because of the wooden fork.’

‘This has been a disaster, hasn’t it?’ He flashed a wry smile. ‘Can I be honest? I have no idea what possessed me to pick a place like this for a first date.’

‘It’s a nice place. And it hasn’t been a disaster.’ If anything, I was the disaster. As always.

‘How was the market?’

‘The market was great. I had an amazing time.’

‘Thank God. I’ll take one out of two.’

I reached across the table and placed my hand on top of his. He made things extra saucy by interlocking his fingers with mine. ‘Jake, it’s fine. Today has been wonderful. I should be sorry for making things awkward with my … allergy.’ Nope, that still sounded silly.

‘What? No, don’t be. It’s not your fault.’

It … kind of was.

‘How about ice cream after this? My treat. I’m certain the rhubarb will be so very pretty and so very … nothing.’

He hit the nail on the head. The food we had would do wonders for my Instagram feed while having done nothing for my diet. I appreciated his offer, though I was afraid it would take more than ice cream to fill me up properly … Then again, that was a problem that rested solely in my dominion, not his, and it was one I intended to solve by trawling the likes of Deliveroo and Uber Eats in the comfort of my underthings at home — the one true way to enjoy food.

I asked for the bill the second dessert arrived. I wanted to leave here as soon as possible. I had quite enough of the wooden cutlery. I felt like a child using them. And like I told Jake earlier, I was on the fence about whether to attribute the food’s slightly off taste to them or my unrefined taste buds. Even the rhubarb wasn’t spared. Dessert was supposed to be my safe space, dammit!

I footed the bill in its entirety despite his objections. It helped that the waitstaff presented it to me because I’d been the one who asked, and that I was quick with my card. Sisters watching out for each other, everyone. The plan was then to go about the rest of the evening as if it had slipped my mind to ask him for his half or even bring it up in the first place. It was the least I could do for putting a wee damper on dinner with my … me-ness. He was going to treat me to ice cream anyway. There. We were even now.

The best-laid plans of mice and men often went awry: Jake snatched the bill folder and, taking out his phone, said, ‘Do you have Paym, Pingit, or PayPal? Why am I only noticing now that they all start with P?’

I admitted defeat: ‘Paym.’ It might be harder for him — or anyone — to believe I had none of those apps than that I was a werewolf. Did I want to put that to the test? No.

My phone buzzed with the confirmation that my plan had been a dud. ‘Thank you. Now let’s blow this popsicle stand and head to a real one.’

We left and worked on our next destination outside the restaurant. The staff had to want us out of there as much as we wanted ourselves out of there. The time of day meant we had limited options: ice cream parlours in London seemed to think people would lose the mood for sweet treats the moment the sky turned dark and the air cooled. Inanity. We had to return to where our date started for the one place that was open at this hour. It was just as well: I needed the walk this time to clear my head after what happened at dinner. It hadn’t seemed to dull the shine of his opinion of me, at least. He was as chipper as ever. Unless he was a good actor and paid up as soon as he did so he could ghost me after this and find himself a date that didn’t have some bogus allergy to silver …

Me? Over-thinking things? Never.

‘Do you want to do takeout or eat in?’ I said when we found ourselves less than fifty metres away from the parlour tasked with plying us with ice cream for tonight without a say in the matter.

‘Let’s do takeout and walk back to Borough Station. Full circle.’

The place was crowded: the most logical outcome for the only ice cream parlour open at this time near a tourist hotspot in the middle of summer. Customer turnover was quick, however, and we left with our orders within fifteen minutes. As tempting as their sundaes and waffles — towering, decadent creations of sugary indulgence — looked, we went back to the basics after our overly sophisticated dinner. Unlike before, what we wanted came to us in a snap: for myself, a speculoos gelato; for Jake, a gelato, too, but make it salted caramel.

And this time, we could help ourselves to each other’s food. With permission, of course.

‘A fraction of the price, but infinitely better,’ I said.

‘I hope the same can be said of our second date.’

‘And what would that be?’

‘Dinner at Chez Walker. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?’

‘I do think so.’

‘It would have to be the weekend after next, though.’

‘Why? Got another date next Saturday?’ I had a firm enough grip on reality to recognise and accept that a guy like him had to be neck deep in matches.

‘No … next weekend’s the full moon. I thought you’d know.’

I stopped dead in my tracks. ‘Why would I?’ I buried my stammer under a bemused scoff. Like, why would anyone — any not-werewolf, which, as far as Jake was concerned, was what I was — care to know when the full moon was?

He, too, stopped walking and looked me dead in the eye. ‘Imogen, I know what you are.’

I wiped my palms on the front of my dress. They were suddenly so sweaty. So sweaty. Why were they so sweaty? Could he see that they were so sweaty? I tried to defuse the situation the best — and maybe only — way I knew how: ‘Are we quoting Twilight? I’ll have you know that I liked the book when I first read it in 2007. And I thought the movie wasn’t too bad either.’ This was true, and I wasn’t ashamed of it. Any female millennial who said they had felt nothing for Edward Cullen was a filthy liar.

‘I’m not ashamed either to say I read the book and watched the movie. But I’m serious.’

‘Okay … say it, then. Go on.’ Was that how the line went? I wasn’t going to look it up now. On a list of things that mattered in this moment, accurate movie quotes was nowhere near the top twenty.

‘You’re a werewolf. And I know how this sounds, so don’t humour me or —’ His tone had taken on a jittery lilt, uncharacteristic of someone who ought to be humoured, ridiculed (what his next word had to be), or — my worst-case scenario — feared.

‘How did you know?’

His mien changed in a manner that suggested that wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. Fuck it. Chris had trusted me enough to tell me the truth after a handful of dates, and he did it because he liked me a lot and he wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible so that we could move on in some way. (Me asking him to turn me was the real curveball of that conversation.) The least I could do, really, was to extend that same courtesy to Jake. I liked him. I liked him a lot. If he had a problem with what I was, it was better that I found out now that he did than many months down the road. There was no element of compromise to my … condition.

‘You mean I’m —?’

‘Right? Not crazy?’ I showed him my palm. The burn had taken about an hour to reach the healing stage normal people would reach in a week or so. ‘Yeah.’

‘Damn …’ He cleared his throat. ‘How did I know? I was brought up on a steady diet of horror movies and read way too many young adult supernatural books in the day, more than I’d care to admit. That, and my ex-girlfriend’s second uncle was killed by a werewolf.’

‘Shit.’

‘I’m kidding — about the last part. The first two are true. My ex-girlfriend was a vampire, and one of her uncles — I can’t remember which one; it could’ve really been her second — was with a werewolf when we were together. Vampires and werewolves get along quite well, actually.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

‘How the tables have turned … I’m not.’ He went through his phone with his free hand and, upon finding what he’d been looking for, passed it to me. ‘Look.’

On the screen was a photo of him with his arm around a hazy figure in clothes that were otherwise in focus.

‘Drove me quite mad at first, thinking something was wrong with my phone. Then she went a little … overboard once, and the rest was history. She shared everything about her world — your world — with me. And I’m also in several online paranormal communities, so there’s that. It’s not all as hush-hush as one might think. It just takes an open mind.’

I returned his phone to him. ‘How did you figure me out?’

‘Your “allergy”. I had my suspicions about your scar. Your reaction to the silverware confirmed them. Allergies … don’t do this.’ He took my hand and stroked my palm. The sensation of his fingers on the raw skin was … electric. ‘I’m sorry I put you in an awkward position and you weren’t ready to tell me. What I said … just slipped out. I understand. It has to be fucking terrifying. It’s okay if you don’t want to see me again after this. But I want you to know that what you are doesn’t change a thing about how I feel about you. How you were turned is none of my business. The whole thing is, really. I did an arse thing. I’m an arse. First with the goddamn restaurant, now this. Way to fucking go, Walker,’ he said to himself quietly.

I flung my empty gelato container into the nearest bin, and then my arms around him. I helped throw away his for him, too. ‘You’re not an arse, Jake. This doesn’t change anything about how I feel about you, too. I like you a lot.’ His cheeks flushed deeply under the moonlight. ‘I was freaking out about this whole thing during dinner because I like you a lot. I am so relieved that we’ve gotten to lay our cards on the table.’ I fanned myself with my hand. Don’t cry, Imogen! ‘And because I don’t want there to be any more lies between us, it was my ex-boyfriend who turned me, and he did it because I wanted it.’

‘Oh. Yeah, it still doesn’t change a thing.’ His lips landed on my forehead in a peck. ‘Okay, I never imagined the topic of our exes would come up so often during our first date. Oh, well. Guess they had more of an impact on us than we’d like to think.’

‘Yeah’ — I chuckled, ‘let’s keep walking.’

I peeled myself off him. Our hands remained intertwined. Like dinner, the remaining walk — as short as it was — to the station was a quiet one. Unlike dinner, it was more so that we were simply basking, revelling, in the afterglow of our attraction to each other and each other’s presence. The world felt right again, just as it did at the farmers market.

The next time we spoke was on the train platform. ‘Thank you for the lovely time,’ I said, ‘and for being such a sweetheart.’ I waved my bouquet at him. It still looked pristine despite all the walking we did. ‘For everything.’

‘Thank you, too. I had an amazing time with you today. I can assure you that Chez Walker will serve larger portions than what we had earlier.’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘The weekend after next, then?’

‘Yes,’ I said, grinning. ‘I’d be down for any time before the weekend, too, if Chez Walker is open then.’

‘I’ll speak with the chef.’

He moved in for a goodbye kiss, which I seized wholeheartedly. His smell and the sound of his heartbeat flooded my senses. I could feel his heart beating against his chest under my touch, thumping, thumping away for every second our lips lingered on each other’s. I had to contain myself and keep things G-rated and light, as such kisses were wont to be, though my instincts were screaming, baying, at me to get to satisfying at least one craving tonight. I was the one to break off the kiss for fear of going too far.

‘Just in time,’ said Jake, his eyes doing that thing they did whenever he smiled. ‘My train’s here. I’ll see you next week?’

‘I thought you said you’ll speak with the chef about next week.’

‘I realised I don’t care what the chef thinks. He’ll be fine with it anyhow: he doesn’t have to bust out the good silverware.’

‘Goodbye, Jake.’

‘See you, Imogen. Message me when you get home?’

‘I will.’

We waved at each other, right before the train doors swallowed him up. My train came soon after, too. I spent the entire ride home wondering not what to fill the void that was my stomach with, but what fresh hell the universe had in store for me in return for scoring me a guy like Jake.

[sideblog-666-thousand]

Samoth and Tyr (ex-Borknagar) Interview, 1999. Ft. Samoth being a massive cunt. Part Two.

Here’s the sequel to «Samoth and Tyr (ex-Borknagar) Interview, 1999. Ft. Samoth being a massive cunt. Part One».

I like to start these usually with some background information on the source, but any background information I could possibly offer was already inserted into the first part, you know? It doesn’t feel right to just copy-paste, or transcribe, something of someone else’s and post it online, even though I do it for free, and mostly for myself*. I still want to do something kind of creative with it. The proposed drinking game was probably about as creative as I could get with this though...

Okay, so! I actually saw Emperor live. I got to see them front row, in fact. It was a really good show— I’d love to see them play again.

Any possible commentary is in (parenthesis) and bold. Asterisks below and optional.

Without further ado:

I: Can you tell us anything concerning Thou Shalt Suffer? [Death metal band Thou Shalt Suffer can be seen as the predecessor to Emperor, having both Samoth (Samot) and Ishahn (Ygg) in its line-up. After the band split up, Ihsahn kept the name for his clasically inspired synthesizer project]

S: Yeah, well Ihsahn is still working on it and I mean it seems like an endless project. I don't know when he's actually going to finish it. He's been saying every year, like: "This year I'm going to finish it.", but it's still not finished. I have already heard a little bit, but he's always like, skipping material and making new songs, I really don't.... I'm just gonna check out the album when it's coming out, if ever*...

I: What about the former members, like Ildjarn? Is he still working on his own project, Ildjarn?

S: Well Ildjarn is... I see him now and then. He has a new band - it's a keyboard kind of thing - more atmospheric music, but I don't see him that much. He's a pretty weird guy. And our old drummer [Thorbjørn - ed] is actually our sound engineer for our latest album.

I: For a while you were in many different bands, for a short while - will you do that sort of thing again? Did you leave Emperor to join Burzum in '92?

S: I don't have the time anymore. At that point we had no drummer with Emperor and everything went really slow. So I just had to play something and I joined Satyricon and I played with Gorgoroth and stuff like that. It was just because things was going really slow with my main band. I've never left Emperor. All I did with Burzum was being in the studio for a few hours to do the bass and do drums.

I: About Arcturus - what do you think about their musical development? [Samoth used to play guitars in Arcturus a well. He recorded the legendary "Constellation" demo with this band, which was originally issued in 500 copies on MCD through NAP - later there was also issued a vinyl edition with three bonus tracks, namely the "My Angel" 7-inch and a re-recorded version of "Morax" - Samoth does not appear on these bonus-tracks]

S: I think it's excellent, especially... they made a remix album now a well of the previous album. there's a lot of weird beats and drum and bass samples on it. It's coming out in April, on Garm's label Jester, the same as Ulver.

I: I had heard that they had split up - is that correct?

S: Yeah, I think so, but I think they have been discussing about doing a new album, I mean, I don't know.. these guys are a bit slow...

I: In the "Reverence" video there is a line, "Honour commanded no longer as virtue*", it's part of the lyrics, but it's shown in words on the screen. Why? It seems like an unobvious statement for Emperor. You used to state that honour was really important.

S: It is important to have honour in what you do and it's important to honour and respect the people you ...respect.

I: Then it would be a virtue, wouldn't it?

S: Well... what was the line again? But it is Ihsahn's lyrics, so it would be better for him to explain it in a bigger complex, but I think it has to do with people not putting pride and honour in what they do anymore. People just don't care about nothing.

I: OK...In some earlier interviews you've shown a strong anti-christian attitude...

S: I still have an anti-christian attitude, but it's not something I think that much about these days, anymore. I don't really bother that much about Christians, they're not a big problem for me in my personal life. But to me it's just as normal as eating breakfast to be anti-christian, so I am*.

I: There have been times that you had more radical views, for example what did you want to achieve with the church burnings?

S: Well, I didn't want to achieve anything really. It was just like an extreme statement, I would think. I didn't think it would make any difference in society. It was a destructive act, both for me and everybody else in a way. Probably more for myself...

I: How did the jail sentence influence you as a person and as a musician?

S: Well, I had a lot of time to be for myself for once... But I think of the whole thing as a good experience. I think actually for a lot of people it could do good to be in prison for a while. It kind of puts your life into the good perspective and it's kind of interesting to see life from a different perspective. To be in prison it was totally meaningless - that's the whole point of being in prison: to take away the joy of life and lock you in for a time.

T: You made the instrumental (below) in prison.

S: Yeah, "The Wanderer" from "Anthems...", that was made in prison. And that's completely different from what I usually write.

I: You had a guitar in prison?

S: Yeah, sure.

I: I thought they weren't allowed, because you could hang yourself...

S: No, it was not that extreme...

I: So we might expect more Dissection material as well - as Jon Nödveidt is allowed to have a guitar in prison. What do you think about this whole case?

S: I think it was really stupid actually, because Dissection really had something going. They even had the studio booked and the material finished... and he just had to do this...

I: Do you feel any remorse about the churches and stuff?

S: No.

I: Do you feel any remorse at all about things you do in life?

S: I mean, I do have feelings of course, but I don't see any point to regret the things I did. I'd rather see it as an experience and learn from an experience rather than "Oh, why did I do that - if I would have done differently..." there's no point. (In other words: no.)

I: It's not some code of honour not to feel remorse?

S: No. It's just a waste of time to feel remorse. I see no point in it to regret the things I've done. I mean you just bring yourself down by feeling too much remorse. What happens, happens - you can't change the past, so.

I: In an interview you made this statement that "you have to be a ruler and think for yourself" and in an interview with your wife Nebelhexe*, she made this statement that the Count had had this big influence on you and that he had got you involved in the church burnings - how do these statements match?

S: Back in '91 and '92 all the people in the so called Black Metal Circle or whatever, were pretty young, so we all were pretty easily influenced. And Vikernes was also very influenced by Euronymous, in the first place. So I think a lot of the stuff that happened back then.. it was like: everybody had extreme ideas and everybody just wanted to be more and more extreme and we all got influenced by each other. And of course Vikernes, he has a very strong personality and he was the one who started with all the extremes, like actually going out and doing it in practice, so I guess he was influential to a lot of peolpe.

I: Was it an important reason to join Burzum - because you were looking up to him?

S: Well I mean, I respected Burzum and I saw this like an honour to join something I respected, but it was not: Wow, I'm playing with Varg Vikernes or something.

I: Are you still in touch with Mortiis? His departure from Emperor wasn't completely 'as friends'...

S: Yeah, he's been living in Sweden for many years, actually. I don't see him often, but his parents are just living a few blocks away. We phone now and then, and the whole is coming along just fine. Concerning his departure, he had a bit of an attitude back the, I guess. And he and Faust also didn't get along that well so it was best thet he would leave and for a while it was maybe a bit touchy, but now it's completely good.

I: What about your future plans?

S: Well the most immediate future plans is to finish this tour and we have a gig in Norway in May and hopefully we're going to do some more Scandinavian shows in Sweden and Finland...We have an offer for the Dynamo-festival in Holland as well, but I mean so far... I would like to - I wanna play a lot more live, but I mean, not everybody in the band is too keen on playing live, so we have to make comprimises. So we are probably going to do an American tour in the summer for three weeks with Dimmu Borgir - that should be a good experience I think. We' re starting to do pretty well in America as well now.

I: Comparing your first gig in Holland in 'de Baroeg' in Rotterdam and the one tonight, I think you have really improved a lot. What do you think yourself?

S: Well that's good to hear. We can still improve a lot I think. I mean when I watch these guys of Morbid Angel, I go: 'Wow, these guys are really good.' I just hope we get the opportunity to play more live and I don't know, improve our live act.

I: Goals for the future?

S: That's difficult. With Emperor we usually make the material for one album and we don't think too much ahead. The latest album has been doing well like all albums and better than expected. In the beginning I guess and we try to support the album by playing live and get more professional. So for the new album we have no new material, really nothing... and Ihsahn is also pretty busy with Peccatum and Thou Shalt Suffer. Peccatum will start working on their 2nd album when the tour is finished.

I: What do you think of Peccatum?

S: I think it's a good album, but I mean it's not an album I wanna play myself on. I think it could have been a lot better with a much stronger production. The production is weak.

T: I think it's... the drum copmuter, I prefer the live drummer feel.

S: Limbonic Art is a band in which I like the use of a drum computer. They do it in a special way. They don't pretend, like... they don't to try to get it to sound like a real drums, they just use the opportunities they have with a drum machine.

T: ...[about Peccatum again] but I still like their live performances. The theatrical style...

S: Yeah, I think Peccatum is actually better live than on CD*.

T: Better singing... more powerful.

I: They have this session guitarist. Didn't Ihsahn consider you to play the guitar for Peccatum?

S: No.

I: You wouldn't want to do it?

S: Well, I'm not sure if I could do it. I mean some of the stuff is pretty like... technical. I am not adepted to all this technical stuff. I think Peccatum is more technical than Emperor actually.

I: There have been a number of books coming out lately about the years 92-93, like for example "The Lords of Chaos" - is there basically any truth in these books?

S: Well I mean, "The Lords of Chaos" there is some truth in it of course, but I think that book emphasizes a lot on right-wing side of the whole thing - there is a lot of Varg Vikernes in there and also the author [Michael Monian], he is very interested in the political thing. I think he made the black metal thing look much more political then it ever was. Yeah, I can understand that to the outside world, it nearly sounds like mythology, of course - for a young teenager who gets this book it's like: "Wow, this is amazing..", but to me it's like no big deal. I don't think that much about it. People expect me to wake up in the morning and think about this stuff all the time, but I mean it happened many, many years ago...

I: But you wouldn't want the whole scene to turn back again to like it was back then?

S: No, I mean the whole scene has changed and I think people think more individually these days and just do what they feel like and are more honest about themselves and I think that's a good progression. I think it's a bit stupid to think that, "now we are grown up and are descent guys" - that'd seem silly in a way, but I mean back then we were very young and it was kind of obvious that we would have to change. You don't stay eighteen forever. But I am totally respectful to Darkthrone who still represent the essence of true Norwegian black metal, I guess.

I: What is Darkthrone doing these days then? Isn't Fenriz to busy with his other activities - I heard his deejay-ing in some club?

S: I think they actually are getting back together and doing an album this spring. They even have booked a studio and anything. It's true, he's deejay-ing, but he's changing all the time so all of a sudden is like: "OK, we're doing a Darkthrone album now and that's what I do."

I: What is it with all the cover albums you're participating on? Is it just good fun?

S: Well, we get so many offers. So we say like: OK. We have plenty more offers as well, so we just thought like.. when we were in the studio for the new album we recorded a Mayhem one, we did the Thorns vs Emperor, we did a Darkthrone one, so when we are in the studio it's no big deal to just do a cover as well.

I: I also heard you tried out the new studio by recording over tracks. Was the Hellhammer track the first to be recorded there?

S: Yeah it was kind of like that in a way to check out the studio and make sure it was good enough. No, the Hellhammer song wasn't recorded there. It was recorded in our old rehearsing room, just on a four track recorder. We just did that on an evening, we didn't even have a drummer at the time - we just had a guy from Gehenna [Dirge Rep, ed], coming down for a weekend and we said, OK let's do a cover, now and we just did it and they put it out.

I: What do you think of the fact that bands from Italy and France are using Norwegian lyrics?

S: Well. I think it's pretty comical.

I: Do they make sense?

S: Well most of the time they don't make sense. A lot of these countries have quite interesting mythology themselves, so why not use those?

I: Any small bands you could recommend us?

S: There is one called the Myrkskog - they've just signed to Candlelight now actually and they are a pretty good band. [Their guitarist was playing live as a session member with Peccatum, ed]

I: Is there anything you would like to add before closing off?

S: Not really... these carrots are good, that's my final comment! (God, this is so cute but I don’t know why)

T: Not really, no - Just that I love to be on tour and stuff like that... Before I joined with Emperor I had just played out for five times, or something...

  That’s all! :)

*I do it because I’ve noticed how many great interviews I’ve lost over the years, due to websites being taken down, or something. Whilst some interviews have been re-shared over numerous platforms and accounts, I like to have my own copy because I know nothing will happen to it. The reason I share it is because I might as well, since I have nothing better to do.

*The mythical ‘Thou Shalt Suffer’ album was released— a year later, in fact. Ihsahn had been talking about it in interviews all the way back in ‘96 too. It’s called ‘Somnium’. It’s not my thing, to be honest. However, I think it’s nice that Samoth let Ihsahn keep the name. ‘Into The Woods of Belial’ was cool though.

*This is such a ridiculous question. It’s very obvious what Ihsahn meant and I feel as though Samoth must’ve been distracted if he was unable to answer it. It’s the latter half of the lyrics that stands to be questioned. 3:17 for lyric, though you’ve likely heard it before: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=4FYwz2-_G_4

*I have this strange mental image of Samoth just casually eating cereal with milk that he dyed red with food colouring......

*Funny enough, they divorced a little after this interview too— around the next two years or so, I don’t know exactly when. Samoth later goes on to marry his girlfriend, who was a photographer whilst he was touring with Zyklon back in 2001. In an interview (which no longer exists, unfortunately) Nebelhexe goes on to make a few comments that make it sound like a certain somebody may have had his fingers in a few too many pots....

*The thing about some bands sounding better live than on CD is really true! I once saw this band, ‘Havok’, live (I was at a metal music festival) and I thought they were incredible, but when I listened to their studio releases, I thought it was very weak and boring.

Legal disclaimer: I am not, in anyway shape or form, claiming that Samoth literally cheated on his wife. What I am, however, saying, is that it’s very sus from my very narrow field of vision. This is just a bit of comedy. However, if you are Samoth, or a representative of Samoth, feel to sue me regardless. Please, daddy, it’s all I’ve ever wanted since I was fifteen. I’ll do anything, daddy, ruin my fucking life— take a chainsaw and literally RIP MY FUCKING GUTS— okay, I’ll stop now before anybody thinks I’m being serious.

[loquaciousquark]

I hope you're doing well! I know you posted about a stressful situation last month, and I hope it's resolved itself. Sending good wishes you you and Hamlet!

Thank you so very much for checking in on me! I really do appreciate it. An update to that post under the cut.

Carol, who moved in with me on May 28, is still here. Right now, we have set a tentative move-out goal of the first or second week of August, but this is pending an apartment application that she hopes to finalize on Monday and a job situation that is a complete mess.

Basically, according to my limited understanding, Carol is licensed to teach in Florida. Alabama has a reciprocity clause with Florida, but it must be applied for. Carol has recently begun this process, but her teaching license(s?) is (are?) set to expire in December unless she passes certain exams. She’s already passed one for...general middle and high school teaching, I think, but failed a math exam. She has an art history exam Monday afternoon and expects to pass. I hope so, because she’s been doing nothing but watching Netflix and shopping for houses for the last few days in her new 2017 Jeep Cherokee.

I remain unspeakably grateful to my parents for teaching me financial literacy, because until I witnessed Carol’s decision-making, I had no idea how hard it was for some people to not spend money unwisely. 

As a reminder, Carol is dead broke. She has $153,000 in debt across student loans, medical bills, Czech and US taxes, and some personal loans she would like to repay to friends for helping her. She is unemployed and has no support from her family and has relied on couch surfing at friends’ and acquaintances’ homes since last summer for housing. Since moving in with me, she has been trying to find somewhere to live that would accept her with all her debt and her nonexistent US employment history for the last ten years. Based on what she’s said, I think she has about $9k in the bank--or did, until last week.

In short, she needs a car, a job, and a home, and as far as I can tell she doesn’t care which order they come in.

Two weeks ago, she was offered a position in a rural town about 30 minutes from where I live. It’s a small, very country town which desperately needs a special education teacher, something I think Carol really does have a passion for. However, because she hasn’t finished the reciprocity licensure application yet, they’re having a lot of roadblocks with her paperwork, compounded by the fact that when she left Prague last year, she left all her important documentation behind: things like her birth certificate, her social security card, and her letters of recommendation, which for some reason she did not have electronic backups of. The principal has been trying to get what she needs from Carol for two weeks. Carol is constantly saying that things are “in process” but has nothing to show for it.

As far as we can tell, the job is still hers, but the school year starts August 13th and she still hasn’t been approved by the Board of Education because the paperwork is still not finished on her end. She did not attempt to replace her birth certificate or social security card until they needed it for the application. (Her friend in Prague--and I am beginning to realize she uses the word “friend” for anyone she’s met longer than sixty seconds), who frantically packed up all her belongings when she realized she would not be able to go back to the city, cannot ship her belongings or go through them for the important paperwork until next summer, as she and her husband are currently vacationing in Rome for a year.

Carol decided last night she is also going to apply for some online Department of Defense position--I didn’t understand the details and don’t really want to know, except that it’s also teaching and some administration. We’ll see how it works out. She is growing increasingly annoyed at the principal’s requests for paperwork completion, which baffles me.

So, job: shrug? Maybe?

Car next, then, but this whole mess also goes back to the financial literacy thing. My parents have always been extremely frugal (pennywise, as my dad would say), and from childhood they made it very clear to us to not buy things you couldn’t afford. They’ve never had a car payment in my memory, and they paid off their house about ten years ago. This means they drove a lot of junkers for a very long time, and for a very long time we had very few vacations, but now they’re fully financially stable and debt-free and my mom has a car that she drove off the lot brand new that they paid cash in hand for. 

If I had been in Carol’s situation, I would have found a cheap, mostly reliable used car that probably wasn’t going to explode on me and drive that as long as I could while saving up for housing. I did in fact drive her to look at several used cars, most of which would have been even outside my expected budget (hers, as it happens, is larger even than that, because one of her overseas friends was willing to contribute $5000 to the cost of a vehicle). (I paid $6500 for my current car, a 2004, in college in 2012 with 70,000 miles on it at the time, and have driven it ever since.)

She rejected all of them because they did not have good “energy” and “feelings.” One she was willing to buy at $3700, but told the seller to go pay for his own inspection (once I explained to her what mechanical inspections were as a concept), so they ghosted her. She also is extremely afraid of head gasket failure--I don’t know why, since she knows nothing about cars--and has assumed all vehicles she has driven are on the verge of it, so after the first week she refused to even look at a vehicle without a warranty.

This means she exclusively limited herself to used dealership options, which I’m just going to come right out and say was monumentally stupid. I don’t know if any car dealers follow me, so I’m sorry if I am misperceiving this, but in my experience almost every dealer I’ve gone to has been aggressive, manipulative, and extremely predatory in their interest rates. I cannot think of a riskier course of action in abject debt than to try to cut a deal with a car dealer for the sake of a warranty I doubt will cover that much truly expensive failure in the long run anyway.

On Thursday, Carol bought a $20,000 2017 Jeep Cherokee from a dealership down the road. I don’t know what she put down. I do know she did not use her friend’s money (why not??) and I know her interest rate on the car loan is 4%, which she is extremely proud of and which horrifies me. She also “persuaded” them into a limited warranty that will cover the vehicle up to 100,000 miles (currently at 42k, and they ~only offer it for cars under 40,000 miles~). I can’t tell you how bad an idea I think all this is.

Thursday night, as she was regaling me with stories of her negotiating prowess, she also tells me she has decided to buy a house. She’s sick of renting, and somehow, someone somewhere managed to get her approved for up to $120,000 in a home loan. She already has $150k in debt, another $20k from the car, and now wants to buy a house. She was delighted that she could make the minimum 7% down payment, even though it would wipe out every cent she has left and leave her less than $500 to her name for moving expenses, utilities, food, title registration, etc. afterwards.

She doesn’t even have a secure job yet.

However, this plan seems to have fallen through. She went out with a realtor several times this weekend and came home the last time in great, heaving sobs, because she can’t find the 3bed 2bath she wanted in her price range. (For reference, most homes in this area go between 200k - 250k right now for 2-3bed 2ba, and the closer you get to the city--I have about a 20 minute commute--the higher it gets. My next door neighbor sold her 3bed 2.5ba for >300k three months ago, and Carol knew this.) She was absolutely devastated that the only things in her range were “tiny little ugly flipped houses” and “the ghetto.” The realtor basically said she wasn’t going to waste any more of her time. Carol repeatedly told me how grateful I should be that I got in at the price point I did a few years back, because no “normal people” could ever afford to break into the market again.

I tried to tell her that it was because I lived in with a roommate in very cheap housing and then a cell of a 1bed 1ba apartment for eight years while I saved money, but if nothing else, I’ve learned I’m not allowed to compare our situations or histories or offer advice of any kind except “go ahead and buy what you want,” because that only makes her cry harder. In the end, she has decided to give up on the house for now and settle for the absolute last thing in the world she wanted, an apartment with a lease.

To be honest, until she has a signed contract in hand, I half-expect this lease to fall through as well. I have tried to offer what I think is sensible advice and been ignored or rebuffed. I have tried to offer a sympathetic ear and ended up with her sobbing uncontrollably on me--heaving, body-wracking sobs--over and over again with me trapped in my own home, providing endless emotional support for a girl I don’t even like. I have tried to encourage her to do the things she wants to do, since she’s going to do them anyway, and when she gets “negative energy” after the purchases (buyer’s remorse, I think, that one little inkling of sense saying maybe it wasn’t a great idea to buy a $20,000 car or an $1100 brand new iPhone without a job), she blames it on the exact thing I said I thought might be good and makes me feel like I have now directly contributed to a negative outcome after poor decision-making.

For the record, when she says these things to me she is not saying, and has never said, them directly at me. She has never blamed me in any way for a negative outcome. She is not consciously trying to manipulate me or abuse me or take advantage of my help. She has never once asked me for money or job connections or for me to use any of my stability to unfairly or unethically get her something she needs. She is just completely absorbed in her own (rightfully absorbing) mess of a situation, and I think just completely unaware of how much of an emotional black hole she has become. There are no problems except her problems. There are no needs except her needs, and everyone around her has to understand how hard she has it at all times. 

So, we’ll see. I am praying that the apartment works out next week. The owner seems to want to work with her, which is a hopeful sign. Good thoughts would be appreciated.

--

Aside from all of this, work has gotten extremely complicated. I’m not going to go into all of it now, but one of my jobs is to create an extremely detailed schedule for students in clinic. This is used to schedule patients in each service--if we have this many students, we can have this many patient slots per half-day, etc. Last week, two students were out unexpectedly, one who broke her arm the day before she was supposed to begin, and one who had a terrible anxiety attack and thought the symptoms were actually COVID. That student was tested and cleared negative, but Student Health requires a two-week quarantine anyway, so she was not allowed to return.

This meant that we now had multiple patients per day with no one to see them. We tried to reschedule as many as we could, but we still ended up with multiple overbooks. This is extremely stressful for me as both a provider, an instructor, and a human being who hates having other people wait on her in a professional capacity. We got through the week, but not without several painful bumps, and it’s looking like there will be more soon.

I also woke up to an email this morning that one of my favorite students (yes, I have favorites, I’m sorry), had a completely unexpected death in the immediate family and had to rush home. This is a very, very sweet, very smart girl who has worked unbelievably hard over the past year to do well in this program and in my courses, and I am just devastated for her. One of her friends is willing to cover her clinic, so the impact will be minimal on that side, but to have this happen during this country’s hellhole handling of this pandemic...I can’t even imagine it.

All of this isn’t even touching COVID. The President’s side has won in that sense--I don’t even register the numbers anymore--but as of last week our dean sent out messaging that implied that with our state’s failure to contain the spread, new discussions were going to be happening soon regarding our August start. We already had committed to full hybrid scheduling: all lectures online, in-person labs only where absolutely necessary to continue advancement in the program, and those labs limited to two per room with full PPE, but if they decide even that can’t happen, I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do. I cannot make competent doctors over Zoom. I can’t. At some point they have to touch other people and look at other people’s eyes. They have to be able to check real, in-person blood pressure. They have to look at genuine eye movements and ocular surfaces in person and I cannot and will not let them enter clinic until they have the practice and the time and the practicals behind them. I fucking refuse to endanger the public for sixty years because someone in an office somewhere decided a timetable is more important than a patient keeping their ability to see, and I’m ready to fight administration on this if they try to push it.

But if I win the fight, what next? They just...don’t enter clinic next year. They don’t enter my program. I don’t know what they do in the meantime, as this lab meets four mornings a week and the lecture twice. The course is delayed until next year or whenever we have the virus under control again, and suddenly my fall semester sure looks like I’ll be being paid to stay at home and count carpet fibers. I don’t think they’ll fire me--no one else wants to teach my course anyway--but if I win this fight I might put myself right into furlough in the process.

I could be borrowing trouble, I know. They could come back and say that after review, our system and safety protocols (all extremely conservative) are indeed safe enough and we can proceed as we want. They could say that our limited in-person option for lectures (we have several gigantic lecture halls that could easily socially distance) is the only thing that needs to go. They could say that we just need to have smaller lab groups--hellish on me, but doable.

But it’s one more element of stress in my life that I just can’t handle worrying about right now, which is why I’ve been bouncing back and forth between random fics and oneshots (that mermaid one was feverishly written on a single evening Carol spent at her mom’s house) and pouring an ungodly amount of hours into Animal Crossing. At least there I have some control over what happens next.

Sorry, guys. I know this is not the happy update I was hoping for. I’ll try to check in again next month and we’ll see where things end up.

[hank-mcdankblade]

I Know A Bottom When I See One Princess (Part 3)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary

Chapter 1: You and Dean have been pals for as long as you can remember, practically raised together. Are things still the same as you remembered when you reconnect with him after a couple years apart? Well there is one thing you see differently and you’re about to call him out on it.

Chapter 2:  After you flirt back with Dean you start to rethink all of your life choices. Why did you flirt back instead of making fun of him? God it would be so much easier if you were just a genderless blob. Hopefully the new supernatural case a friend of your mom’s gives you will distract you from all this romance mumbo jumbo.

Chapter 3: You and Dean both start to realize your feelings are not what you both originally anticipated them to be. If only you two could actually talk like adults instead of bantering like childish 8 year olds. The case picks up when you see a certain someone’s name over every case, a certain boomer’s name.

Chapter 4: You and Dean do some sleuthing into Chrissy’s apparent death. After learning the truth your trip to Wendy’s/Jack in the Box gets interrupted by Chief douchebag. Rick takes the three of you on a nice drive to the mountains to introduce you to his daughter.

Word Count: 5,041

Warnings: Many, Many swear, Dean being a little shit, pg-13 thoughts from a certain green eyed hunter.

  ______________________________________________________________________

      The car was quiet. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you were the cause of it. You reminded yourself that there were a million other reasons as to why the drive was silent. Hell there were hours spent in this car with nothing but the sound of guitars and dig of the tire against the road as background noise. All you needed was each other’s company and nothing more. The rational part of your mind was scolding you to shut the hell up about it and stop worrying, pointing out multiple pieces of evidence disproving your original theory. Meanwhile your much less rational side disagreed. She was a bit of a dumb bitch, but very persuasive. It was practically her superpower to ignore all the facts and blindly believe in her opinions.

        “Hey, sorry about springing the whole relationship thing on you. Just thought it’d be easier to fly under the radar as a couple….” You clenched your hands and wrung them together. Your eyes glanced at Dean to your left, quietly gauging his reaction. 

       “Don’t apologize, it’s ok. It was quick thinking. And who knows how suspicious detective douche would’ve been if you hadn’t.” Dean only took his eyes off the road for a moment to look over at you, lying through his damn teeth.

       “True…guess Jen was right about the cops being jumpy here.” Finally, with that off your conscience you could relax into the leather seats with ease. Things were fine. You were just putting way too much thought into this flirting with Dean thing. It was just how your relationship with him was and everything was ok. 

       You were fairing much better than Dean though. Dean’s grip on the steering wheel could be described as vice-like. The insides of his fingertips could feel the stitches in the fabric of the wheel. It felt like he had cotton shoved into his head, there was only one thing consuming his thoughts. Was he really interested in having you the way you spoke of the other night? Bent over and vulnerable while you took advantage of him? Thank god that his right foot was preoccupied with the gas pedal or his entire leg would be bouncing. 

        To you his face looked stoic, and void of emotion. Dean’s eyes were painted with a foggy filter. Mentally he was miles away from the Impala. Every couple of minutes or so he would come back and hyper focus on a different part of the reality in front of him. Dean sometimes focused on the way his joints bent or how his skin felt, and other times focused on how you were too close to him and too far away at the same time. Dean’s hand was shaking, aching to have it on your leg, give you a good squeeze or anything just something to feel you and your skin on him. He wanted to feel your firm grip on him, on his legs, his hands, around his throat. He wanted so badly for your hips to be driving his into the mattress, coming up and down bouncing on his cock until he came closer and closer…

        “Ready to head in and get some info.?” Your delicate voice slowly reintroduced him to the present. Dean looked in front of him and saw a beige building that looked like it was built in the 60s and was never remodeled since. The black letters on the brick wall by the front door read, ‘Grand Mesa County Libraries Central Library.’ His body was slowly returning to its normal temperature as he stepped out of the car. 

        “Yeah, let’s do it.” Getting back on track Dean prepared himself for the first step in every hunting trip you two took, do some re-con and get info about the case. He was gonna have to put his thoughts of you on the back burner for now, which was easier said than done. Once you passed the threshold, the smell of old carpet and moth balls slapped you in the face. It was a nostalgic potent smell that reminded you of your kindergarten years and would haunt you for the rest of your life. Looking around, the place did not seem too busy. There were a few people scattered across the building casually mulling through books and movies to check out.

        “Wanna check the newspapers and I’ll look into local lore?” You two nodded to each other and went your separate ways diving deep into yellowed paper and books with broken spines. Soon enough you could no longer hear the soft thumps of Dean’s boots.

        After scanning the isles you checked out a couple books and started a nest by the computers. The first thing you knew you had to check out was the case at hand. You tapped away at the very out of date computer keyboard.

        Disappearances Grand Mesa National Forest

        There were about a thousand hits online for disappearances. The hard part would be finding information from a reliable source. The first few minutes into researching changed your posture as your spine straightened up and mind shifted into its case-mode. Everything in the world went blurry except for the books and screen in front of you.

~~~~

        ‘Newspapers…newspapers.’ Dean’s fingertips brushed over the tops of age softened newspapers. Once you spend months in different libraries you tend to pick up what their usual lay out was, so the newspapers were an easy find. Thankfully instead of having to search through the records by hand, this library had a computer to search key words in to find articles. If Dean ever went to hell, he was sure that being forced to dig through newspapers by hand would be his torture. 

        ‘Newly-Wed couple from Illinois vanished without a trace. Last seen in Grand Mesa National Forest.’

        ‘Scouts No Longer Holding Summer Camp in Grand Mesa National Forest After Four Scouts Lost to the Curse.’

        ‘The Grand Mesa Curse strikes again with the disappearance of a family of three.’

        Seeing the pictures from the crime scenes made things real. Of course Dean knew the hidden reality that the supernatural world truly was, but sometimes it was easy to forget. It was easy to forget that there was true evil in this world, that there was evil more than just a greedy billionaire or corrupt politician, but pure evil that only sought to drag as many souls to hell as possible. There were so many families that had their loved ones ripped from them without a reason, completely unknowing of the darkness that lurked so closely to them. They would be driven mad with the lack of ‘logical’ facts in their eyes, cursed to never know what really happened and given answers that felt bitter to the taste. Others had their eyes opened unwillingly, shown what was behind the curtain before they could even sputter out an answer. Dean wondered what he would’ve chosen had he been given the choice. Would he rather know what killed his mother and spent his life fearing those that hid behind human faces? Or would he rather go on with his normal apple pie life never finding closure in the death of his mother? Neither option had more pros or cons than the other. He could spend a lifetime mulling the answer over and never find one that felt fight.

        “Excuse me, are you looking for something in specific? You look a little lost…” Dean turned his attention upwards and saw a young librarian. She looked like she was probably a couple years older than him, a native here for sure.

       “Huh?” Dean blinked a few times before really processing what she said to him while he was on autopilot. “Oh, no. I’m alright but thanks.” Dean offered her a smile before going back to flipping through the stacks of old newspapers. 

        The librarian nodded before looking at what headlines he was choosing. She raised a brow as assumptions about who this mysterious man was filled her head. “Interested in the Grand Mesa Curse huh?” Now there was something useful that he needed. 

        “Uh…yeah. Somethin’ like that. Know anything about it?” Dean leaned his arms on the newspaper stand. Any info you two could get would make this whole operation go smoother. 

       The woman let out a short breath of a laugh and shook her head. “It’d be impossible to live around here and not know about it. Around this time of year nobody really goes up into those woods, and especially near the mine shafts.” She paused for a beat and then continued. “My name’s Shan by the way.” Shan looked at Dean with an eagerness in her eyes. The gesture fell on deaf ears and Dean simply smiled back at her.

       “Dean.” He held out his hand to hers, and gave her a firm shake. “Well, I’ve got all I need for now.”

       “Feel free to call me if you need anything.”

        “Will do, thanks.” What a nice lady. 

~~~~

        After collecting a handful of articles from different newspapers, Dean headed back to you ready to get down to business. You were hunched over a loud keyboard like a goblin, typing away all the notes you were compiling for future use. There were probably about 15 tabs open on one browser and 17 pages from various books that had been dog eared. From the looks of it, Dean could tell you were already on a roll. Not wanting to disturb you, he silently pulled out a chair next to you and started to flip through and score the articles he had. 

        About an hour later you two felt confident enough in your information to start piecing something together. 

       “Hey.” An unfamiliar voice interrupted your work process forcing you out of your thought bubble. When you looked up you saw what you assumed was a librarian who worked here looking right at Dean with some form of recognition lighting up her features. “Thought I’d check in to see how you were doing with the Grand Mesa Curse.” There was something in the tone of this girl’s voice that really put you off. Instinctively you tried not to reveal your true thoughts with your facial expressions. There was nothing on her, or within her, that was tripping up your Slayer signal, so she definitely was not a monster. Regardless, something was feeling weird as you looked between the two of them.

       “Pretty good actually, just getting some basic information.” The two of them chatted for a bit before the girl eventually left to actually do her job. Ok there was a possibility that you were being harsh, but this girl was interrupting your research session so regardless she’s being a bother. Human or not.

       Ok…

                Deep breath….

       You took a moment to restart yourself in a sense. She was human, and she wasn’t even at your table for too long so why were you so on edge around her?

        Next to you, Dean felt something in the air shift and looked over to you. Your eyes were still glued to the computer screen but your vibe felt different, more ridged, and that worried him. Still looking at you, Dean nudged you with his elbow.

        “Hmm?” You hummed, still focused on your research.

       “You ok? You seem…upset.” Damn him for knowing you so well. Hunting together had given him the skill to pick up on all your tells. You didn’t know whether this was a blessing or a curse.

        “What? No I’m ok.” You spared him a moment of your attention before returning to work. Dean slowly narrowed his eyes at you. The slightly higher pitched bubbly-ness in your voice was not genuine. You were lying, but he wasn’t going to press you on it in such a public place. 

        The moments drew longer and blurred together as you two eventually got back into the swing of things, but there was something that caught your attention as the hour flew by. It happened every fifteen or so minutes when you would catch a glimpse of that girl that talked to Dean. She would linger by the book stands and rearrange the books there, giving herself an excuse to look at Dean while she ‘worked.’ With each time she stalked near, her act became less and less convincing and it was starting to tick you off. You had work to do and she couldn’t take the hint with the piles of books you two had. Not to mention how little Dean seemed to pay attention to her advances. If she was a monster, she was a very poor one at that, but if she was a human then you had an idea of what she was after. Either option made you want to pull Dean’s chair closer to you, look over his shoulder to see what he was working on even though you already knew. A burning feeling started to ignite with every trip she made past your table. 

        Annoying woman aside, you two had found some important information. The history of the Grand Mesa National Forest was pretty plain. The forest was created by President Benjamin Harrison in 1892. No amount of digging brought up any supernatural affiliation. No massacres of any kind, no Native American burials, and no cults made that forest their home either. So this meant no large scale hauntings, which honestly relieved you. This narrowed the field down. Looking over articles from books and online and newspapers brought to light what was commonly known here as the “Grand Mesa Curse.” 

        It started about two decades ago when a group of college kids traveled up into the mountains for Christmas break. According to their parents they only planned on staying for a couple of days. Things took a turn for the worse when it had been three days after the kids were supposed to be home and no one heard from them. Entire search parties of police officers, family and friends, and many other volunteers combed the forest the best that they could. No bodies were found but their campsite was destroyed and barren. The press and police chalked this up to be the fault of the bears that roamed around, and the same was happening with the most recent case. Luckily this time around there was one girl who survived the attacks, Chrissy Hamilton. 

        There had been a couple cases before this particular one as well that dealt with bear attacks and missing people, but the thing that made it stand out was that the disappearances grew in number afterwards. They were all around the same time and similar location. Something that caught your eye immediately was that a girl from the group of college kids had the same last name as the sheriff you and Dean saw. 

        Lydia Sullivan, daughter of Rick Sullivan, went missing two decades ago and was never found. Her mother, Emily Sullivan, passed away soon after not being able to handle the death of her child. “Ok so if his daughter got merked, why is Sullivan Chief of Douchebags so lax with all these cases? You’d think he’d take his time.” Your tone of voice was low and gravely coming out slowly. That ass hole’s name was popping up everywhere. Rick Sullivan oversaw every single disappearance case in the Grand Mesa National Forest district since his daughter went missing. The man was seen as a determined father that wanted to keep Colorado’s kids safe. He may not have worked every case personally, but the records stated that he went over the paperwork and guided his officers. 

        “Maybe he’s luring kids into the forest? What purpose would he have to cover all of this up though if he wasn’t involved?” Dean leaned his forearm on the back of your chair to get a closer look at what you had. 

        “Doubt it, on all their suspect lists they show alibis too and his checks out. So that means that all of this is coincidental. He could be overseeing every case because he feels guilty for letting his daughter down?” 

        “Like a coping mechanism?” Dean sat back in his chair, eyes focused on a blank part of a wall as he tried to process everything. 

        You nodded. “Yeah, those things that normal people have.” You gave Dean a smirk knowing full well that both of your coping mechanisms included heavy amounts of alcohol and repression. Dean rolled his eyes at you with a smile that mirrored yours, remembering all the countless nights where you two would stay up far too late with a bottle of whiskey. Many times at the end of those nights the thoughts and pictures that kept you up at night would tumble out from your mouths. Subconsciously the space between you two would shrink, physically and emotionally. Dean could count on his left hand how many people he trusted and felt safe enough around to be vulnerable with. After all the shit you’d been through and years you’ve known each other, if he didn’t trust you he would never trust anyone. 

        “Hey, me again. Wanted to let you know that I found a couple of stragglers for the paper you two are putting together.” Jesus Christ this librarian really couldn’t see a moment when it was right in front of her could she? You had had enough of this girl’s talking. You thin string of will power snapped and opened up the lines from your direct thoughts to your mouth.

        “Why are you here?” Your eyes narrowed. Dean was taken aback. He had seen you lose your temper before, but only on those who truly deserved it. I.E. bar assholes, clowns/mimes, and religious nuts trying to convert you. This wasn’t the usual anger he was used to seeing before you knocked someone out, it was a silent subtle kind that would creep up on you if you didn’t watch for the signals. He was seeing all of them in slow motion. 

         Your jaw was clenched, no doubt thinking of biting her head off if she didn’t scamper off back to the corner she came from. What was usually a smile was replaced with a thin line that showed no welcome. But the thing that scared him the most was your eyes, cold and distant. Those eyes had never been directed him, eyes void of compassion. 

        Shan flinched just the slightest, brows pulled together not expecting such a reaction. “Uh-um, I’m here to help. It’s kind of my job.” She bit back at the end of her sentence, though her stare was not nearly as intimidating as yours. When she talked to Dean earlier she assumed that the two of you were merely classmates or just friends, but she had a bad feeling that she barked up the wrong tree. Your aura seemed dangerous, like a crazy jealous girlfriend. 

        “It’s your job to creep around the patrons and watch them from afar while you pretend to do your job?” One brow was quirked as you leaned back with your knees open and arms crossed. The attitude you were throwing was one that would rival middle schoolers and mothers looking to talk to the manager. It was very out of character for you to be petty, it always made you feel sick afterwards.

        Shan narrowed her eyes back, cheeks flushing a deep red. “Excuse me-”

        “Listen sweetheart, my boyfriend and I have a lot of work to do and you’re being a bother. So how about you get back to your real job and stop making googly eyes at my partner huh?” Your bite was sharp as a knife, cutting deep into Shan’s emotions. She took one look at Dean, who was currently preoccupied with staring at you, and quickly scampered off. You shut your eyes and opened them with only one goal in mind. The faster you knew about this case, the faster you could get the hell out of this library.

        Those thoughts that Dean were having to put on the back burner suddenly moved to the front. “So…..was she somehow endangering our hunt that you had to cover for us again?” The smug bastard was referencing what you did because of Detective Sullivan.

        “Yes. She was endangering our efficiency.” Your fingertips flipped through a book closest to you, anything to not look at Dean. In the tone of his voice you knew he was pleased. 

        Dean was more than pleased, albeit a little confused about his feelings but pleased nonetheless. He loved hearing the commanding tone of your voice, telling some other girl to back off of him. Telling that girl to back off because he was yours. A needle pricked at the back of Dean’s mind as he replayed the rollercoaster of emotions he felt. He liked that moment. He liked your tone of voice, but why? It was because of the insinuations he could make. You wanted him. You wanted him to yourself, there was a possessiveness to what you said and how you said it. It was dominant and commanding. 

        No. Dean liked it because it meant you wanted him. He was not a bottom, and he did not like that interaction because you were possessive and domineering. 

        ……

        “Mmmhhmmmm,” Dean hummed, his inflection rising up and then down. Now it was his turn to lean back into his chair. His perfect lips were pursed with a small smirk, one brow quirked with intrigue. “You sure someone wasn’t jealous of a pretty lady giving me attention?”

        “Sorry but the only pretty lady I see in this library is me,” Your voice attempted to make you seem preoccupied with cleaning up your space. Your fingers moved a lightning speed as you emailed yourself all the notes you had taken and shut down all the programs you had opened. “So I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your facial features moved in a comical way depicting a dramatic expression of confusion, with a hand on your hip. The table was finally free of all your possessions, the last notebook was zipped up into your backpack.

        Dean had you right where he wanted you, embarrassed and caught. He knew you would dodge and change the subject as quickly as you could if confronted with a topic you didn’t like. “I’m gonna remind you of this!” He shouted to you with his hands cupped around his mouth.

        You were already speeding off to the car, desperate to run away from this conversation and what it could come to. If anyone was going to be in control of a situation, it was going to be you and you’d fight anyone and everyone for that control with your bare hands. 

        “I’ll forget it!” You yelled back at him over your shoulder, bleaching your mind of any itchy feelings you were experiencing. 

        “Constantly!” Dean yelled back, only to receive the bird from you. He laughed and tumbled after you, happy to finally have some new material to ruin your day with. 

~~~~

        After five minutes of Dean looking like the cat who got the cream, white all over his smug stupid whiskers, you arrived at a locally owned diner. If you rolled your eyes anymore you were certain that you would go blind, and yet it would still be worth it just to let Dean know that you were mildly inconvenienced by his existence. The hum of the impala came to a soft halt. With the combination of Dean teasing you and your hunger, you may have strangled someone if you didn’t get fries in you soon. 

        A bell attached to the door rang out once you two stepped foot inside. Only the waitress on staff bothered to look up from her post behind a counter, the other employees were too engrossed in just making it through another eight hour shift without losing their minds.

        “Seat yourself wherever you like, I’ll be with you in a second!” She flashed a bright smile before dipping into the back of the kitchen. You and Dean nodded before following her directions and finding the corner booth in the back, cause that’s where all the cool kids sit. And with you two sitting there, only the coolest of kids sat there. 

        Dean leaned his chin on his hand and gazed at you. “So do you wanna talk more about how you secretly have a crush on me?”

        “No.”

        “Maybe about how you were totally going to duel that hot librarian for my hand?”

        “Rot in hell.”

        “Oh! Oh! Maybe we can discuss your feelings on a certain other topic that’s definitely unrelated.”

        Your unamused eyes continued to look at him, giving him no response hoping that he’d take the FUCKING hint. “Oh yeah? And what topic would that be?”

        “Me, and my cute face.” Dean winked and did his signature blue steel look. With a loud bang you hit your head on the table, laying your arms on the table around your head limp.

        “Deaaannn, I swear to god I will strangle you until the last breath from your lung is used.”

        “So what you’re saying is that you want your hands on me? You want to touch me?” Dean leaned closer and dropped his voice as low as he could go with every word that came out of his mouth just egging you on to do something. “You wanna put your hands all over my body?” 

        You whipped your head up, eyes wild and craving revenge, and you were just about to open your mouth and verbally destroy this stupid boy’s whole career when your waitress popped herself in front of the table. 

        “Hi! I’m Audrey, and I’ll be taking care you guys tonight. Have you been here before?” She had the whole speech memorized and recited it off as she handed you both a menu. 

        “Why no we haven’t! Darling aren’t you so excited to be here?” Dean grabbed your hand across the table affectionately with a huge fake smile. The weird vibe Audrey got from this table was throwing her off but regardless she had a job to do. 

        ‘Some of us will never eat again…’ You thought to yourself, thinking of all the places you could stab Dean with a fork. 

        “Thrilled.” You stated, pointedly glaring at Dean and his boyish charm getting the best of you. Audrey smiled to herself and started to understand what was going on and dismissed her earlier thoughts. After getting you two started with drinks she left you to look over the food options. 

        “Can I guess what you’re gonna get?”

        “As long as I get serve you cyanide afterwards.” 

        Dean settled into the booth and looked off into the distance to pretend to think very hard. “You are gonna get a cheeseburger with everything on it, as rare as they serve it. Side of fries and a large lemonade because even at age 23, you’re still an 8 year old.” 

        Damnit he was right. 

        You shared Dean’s smug look, ready to dish back what you were served. “Ok fine, you’re going to get the most overloaded bacon burger in order to cash in on that heart attack you’ve been waiting for forever, but hold all the vegetables because we want this one to be a big one. Side of fries and a shitty great value coke.”

        Dean nodded slightly and clapped quietly for you. “Right you are.” A moment was spent in silence, just the two of you laughing at each other smiling like love struck idiots. Your eyes tore away first, landing on a newspaper that was from today. The headline was the real reason you decided to pick it up.

        Local Crazy Believes Creature of the Night Kills Friend

        You flipped through the pages to find the story. It was published today and showed a picture of your sole survivor, Chrissy Hamilton.

        In a sad attempt to get some attention, Chrissy Hamilton offers her break out story. 

        “It was like my friends’ voices were coming from two different directions!”

       “This thing was too fast to see…”

       Clearly this is just another example of our country’s failed mental health system…

        “I wouldn’t spend too much time reading that malarkey…” Audrey said with her eyebrows pulled together, eyes cast down as she refilled your water glasses. 

        “Do you know her?” You asked, laying the paper flat on the table for Dean to see too.

        Audrey sighed as she stood back up, water pitcher straining her left wrist. “She’s my best friend. I’m not sure what really happened up there, but the newspaper doesn’t have to ruin her reputation like this and publish a drag story.” Her jaw clenched at the mention of the newspaper.

        “Does she have any enemies at the newspaper, maybe that would want to defame her?” Dean spoke up. Audrey eyed Dean caught up in her own thoughts.

        “We’re trying to run a counter story to get the Denver Times to redact the article.” You butted in, if this girl was going to give you anything it had to seem like she wasn’t gossiping with customers but giving info to fellow truth seekers. 

        Audrey pursed her lips in thought for a moment. “No, but the police chief doesn’t seem to like her. I don’t have any evidence to back it up, but I’m pretty sure he went to the head news correspondent and told him to run the article.” As more information poured in, the two of you couldn’t seem to figure out what the hell this cop’s problem was. He seemed to do everything in his power to derail this investigation, the dude was definitely hiding something. 

        “You’re pretty sure?”

        “Yeah…they’re drinking buddies so it wouldn’t surprise me.” Audrey’s attention was pulled away when the bell at the front door rang again. “If you guys have any more questions I can answer them after my shift.” 

        You and Dean shared a look. “The same voice coming from two different directions and super fast? I think I have an idea of what we’re looking for…”

        “Can we please talk to that Hamilton lady first, I’d very much like to drag this out before I freeze my balls off…”

_______________________________________________________________________

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[punkpoemprose]

I Hate You (And I Hate That I Don’t Really Hate You)- A Kristanna Oneshot

Universe: Modern AU Length: 3432 Rating: M (Mature, because there’s some sexy bits)

Notes: Happy Unbirthday @thesvenqueen! Sorry it took me a while to post yours. I’ve been rewriting and deleting and rewriting it all day. Enemies to lovers man, it’s just got to be perfect, you know? Hope you like it!

Her distaste for Kristoff Bjorgman had started early, when she was just five years old. He was the boy next door, with messy blonde hair and spirited brown eyes who was always playing outside, earning freckles on his nose from the sun. She’d despised him more than anything because he could do all the things she couldn’t.

She’d ask her parents, “Mama, Papa! Can I go ride my bike down the street?”

And in return they’d given her hundreds of reasons why it wasn’t an option. She was too small, it was too dangerous, what if she fell and hurt herself and they didn’t see? What if one of the other kids was mean to her?

No, they always said, better for her to take her little bike with its training wheels up and down the same short stretch of hallway in the house where they could keep an eye on her, or up and down the driveway for a few short minutes when her father could tear himself away from work long enough to watch her. And in the meantime, Kristoff would ride by the front bay windows, like he was taunting her.

He was three years older, he was a boy, and he wasn’t their son. Those were always her parent’s reasons when she saw him doing something she wasn’t allowed to do, and after a while she started hating him for those same reasons. He was older than her so he was able to do things that she wanted to do without having to have training wheels of any sort. He was a boy so he was allowed to get messy and do the things she and her sister could not in their nicely pressed little dresses. He was the neighbor’s son and that meant that all his rules were different than hers.

It was unfair, how he’d wave to her through the window with a smile on his face, telling her to join him like she had a choice, and walking away disappointed when she didn’t come out. She wanted to play in mud puddles and pretend to sword fight with sticks. She wanted to catch bugs and ride her bike down the road. She wanted to leave the house. She wanted to play like the other kids did.

She didn’t hate him so much on the days where Elsa felt well enough to play, the days where they’d play with their dolls in the front window and wave to the other children as they walked by. Those days his smiles and waves seemed a little kinder, almost like he meant he wanted to meet her.

She did meet him when they went to school. He was in Elsa’s grade, not that Elsa went to school very often. Anna hadn’t understood then, just a little thing herself. She didn’t know that being nervous could keep someone from living a life, for her being nervous was something that she just got over. Being angry though, being so angry she couldn’t think of anything else, was something she could understand.

She understood it when she would see him through the classroom window, playing on the playground with the other kids, and heading inside when it was her turn to go out with her class. They were polite enough to her, her classmates, but they didn’t pick her for kickball. They treated her like a china doll, not to be played with, but to be looked at in her little pretty dresses and perfectly shined Maryjane’s. She’d longed for clothes like Kristoff wore, jeans worn at the knee, t-shirts from the discount store with dinosaurs on them that were meant for playing in, that were meant to get dirty.

She’d see him get on the school bus at the end of the day when her parents would send a car to get her. Other kids would be talking to him and they’d laugh. She always felt like he was laughing at her.

When Anna had turned twelve, she’d been allowed a little garden in the backyard to grow flowers and strawberries. It was ladylike enough work to please the housekeeper and governess their parents had hired for her and Elsa when Anna had turned six. Gerda was a kind woman, but a strict one, with very specific thoughts about what Anna should do with her life. Those thoughts included a preparation and boarding school, but her mother hadn’t wanted to separate her daughters.

She’d go out to weed and neaten and harvest every evening in the summer months, and when school rolled around, she’d tended to it after finishing her homework. It was the dirtiest work she’d ever been allowed and she’d been so proud of it. Everything was meticulously neat, the opposite of the way she liked to keep her room, and she’d done such a good job of it that the house staff and even her parents had noticed and gave her a few quick words of admiration. It had meant everything to her.

One day when she returned home from school and finished her homework, she’d had her heart crushed to see the whole thing destroyed. Apparently, the neighbor boy had gotten a dog and he’d gotten out without them noticing and had dug up all her hard work. She’d cried over crushed plants, holding broken little flowers in her hands and blaming him, blaming Kristoff for what had happened. Afterall, she thought, if he’d just been better at training his dog, if he’d just kept track of him, she’d still have her garden. It had been her only comfort as Elsa had been locked in her room most days and her parents had been increasingly preoccupied with doctors, trying to figure out what had happened to her that she’d just stopped speaking.

He’d come over to apologize, but she’d made someone else answer the door. She hadn’t thought that she could accept his apology without telling him that she hated him and never wanted to see him again, and she knew that if she had been that rude, her parents really would have had her sent off to a boarding school to learn manners befitting a young lady.

So she kept on hating him, but she’d been quiet about it. The grounds staff had seeded over her destroyed safe place, grass growing where her flowers had to “beautify” the place that she’d once loved, and it was all his fault.

Her parents died in a car crash when she was fifteen. It had been bad weather, they’d slid off the road and hit a tree. She hated Kristoff for it.

Not because he caused the rain or because he told them to go out driving because he hadn’t. He had had nothing to do with the death of her parents, but he’d come to the funeral with his parents. He’d come through the receiving line where Elsa had stood shaking at her side, Anna’s broken sister and legal guardian at the tender age of eighteen and fresh out of a mental health counseling program that had only succeeded in making her functional, not the sister that Anna remembered from their childhood years.

He’d shaken their hands solemnly, eighteen himself and barely a man even in a legal sense. She still saw that little boy of eight in his face, in his eyes when he’d touched her. She’d hated how he still had his parents. How he still had someone who loved him while she and Elsa were all alone in the world.

He went off to college that fall, and Anna hated him for being able to leave while she was stuck in a too-dark too-quiet house with Elsa trying to manage the family business and go to school online and spend more and more time away from her and in her psychologist’s office.

She hated him for leaving. They hadn’t been friends. She’d hated him since she knew how to hate someone, but there was a comfort in seeing him through the window, a comfort in seeing him walk through the halls in school, and it was gone.

She was twenty-one when she saw him again.

Of course he’d come home, she’d seen him summers and on holidays walking into his parent’s house and down the street like he’d never left, but she’d tried her best to not pay him any attention. She hated him, and it should have been easy, but she’d really needed to put the effort in after he left to pretend that she didn’t care whenever he came home.

More accurately, she was twenty-one when she saw him in any context other than him visiting home. She’d been a senior in college, just finishing up her degree, and out at a bar with friends celebrating. She’d seen him, two beers in, and all the hate and pain and fear from an entire childhood spent hating him welled back up in her, but his hair was tousled just right and he was watching hockey on his phone and she was willing to pretend for a moment that it wasn’t him. Because of course she knew that he lived in the town she’d gone to college in. It had been an accident. She’d picked the school then heard through the grapevine that he lived near it and she’d just had the good fortune to not run into him in nearly four years.

But that was a lie and she knew it. Because she’d gotten into every school she’d applied to and she’d accepted the offer after she heard he lived there, and she’d looked for him in every shop, in the movie theater, at the gas station ever since. She’d told herself that it was because she hated him and she wanted to tell him as much, but that wasn’t why she crossed the bar and sat next to him, daring him to look at her, to see her, with her thoughts as she finished beer number three.

She hadn’t been drunk when she’d kissed him in the back corner of the bar. Not really anyway, at least she was sober enough to blame it on the beer. She kissed him with her mouth open, with something slow and soulful playing over the speakers as he swayed with her to the rhythm. She didn’t know the song, but he’d been humming it and she’d asked him to dance.

Waking up in his bed had been an accident. At least she told herself as much when the morning light found them both fully clothed in his bed with a dog, the dog that had destroyed her garden, at her feet. She’d slipped out while he was pretending to sleep, and she hated him for it. She hated him for not holding her tight and telling her not to go.

She’d patted the dog, Sven, on the head on her way out though.

The second and third times she’d wound up there, staying the night in his arms and waking up fully clothed, were mistakes too. Because she hated him, and she wouldn’t seek out a man she hated at the bars, she wouldn’t ask him where he worked so she could accidentally pass by wearing her Wonderbra under a tight shirt, so it had to be an accident.

It was an accident now too, with his mouth on hers, totally sober, pulling him toward his bedroom.  It had to be an accident, because she couldn’t put want and hate in the same room in her head and stay sane unless it was a mistake. She knew, she’d known for over a week, that she didn’t hate him anymore, but she was having a hard time letting go of it.

As she tried to pull him towards his bedroom, her motion was halted by his large hands scooping her off the floor. It felt all to natural for her to wrap her legs around his waist and let him carry her to his bed. Her fingers fisted into his hair as she resumed kissing him.

A groan in appreciation came from the back of his throat and his hands squeezed her bottom as he knocked the door open and then closed behind them.

She cursed when he dropped her to his mattress and immediately descended to kiss down her neck. Her fingers were already fumbling against his belt, tugging his shirt out of the waistband. She hoped that he’d unbutton it himself, because if not she thought she might just tear it off him.

He’d grown so much since they were young. His jaw had taken the set of a man and his beard scratched against her skin as he mouthed across her skin to the place where her dress’s top gave the slightest peek into her cleavage.

When his hand went for the zipper on the back of her dress, she leaned up into his kiss, giving him access and encouraging his mouth to dip down as far as her could under the fabric to kiss the tops of her breasts.

They’d been on a date. An honest date, because he’d said “we have to stop meeting this way” at a bar, and she’d understood it as “I need to stop bringing you home drunk because I want to do things to you I can only do sober.”

The dress was thrown to the floor quickly, along with his shirt and her bra and then her panties.

It wasn’t long before he was asking her, begging her, to let him go down on her.

She writhed under his attentions, his tongue first, and then his tongue and his lips, and then his tongue and his lips and his fingers curled in her just right. His beard had certainly helped the matter, and she wished she had been able to get a better look at him when he was between her legs, treating her so reverently, pulling the pleasure from her in waves. It had been over before it started. In fact it had been over twice within minutes. She thought that maybe he’d want to try for a third, but she’d pulled him up for air, feeling shaky legged and overstimulated.

His fingers in her had been so much better than her own, her own experimentations had been nothing compared to his abilities. She almost wanted to ask if he was experienced, but somehow she knew that the answer would be no, that this, all of this, had been just for her.

He’d licked her from his fingers, he’d kissed her open mouthed, letting her taste herself on his lips. It was as debauched as it was gentle.

In the aftermath he’d covered her with his bedspread, turned the lights out, and curled around her tightly. He hadn’t asked her to reciprocate, he hadn’t said anything. He’d just kissed her and held her for what felt like forever and no time at all until the mood shifted from heated to simply warm.

He’d kissed the crown of her head, and then down to her neck and shoulder, he’d pulled her in close, and then when he seemed content himself, he spoke.

“You hated me. I could always see it in your eyes. You hated me so much.”

It wasn’t accusatory. It was spoken like a fact, and she nodded to confirm it.

His fingers carded through her hair gently and she cuddled into his side. She couldn’t change the past, but she realized that she was starting to remember a hundred little things she’d made herself forget.

Kristoff at age eight slipping a paper airplane through her mail slot, and the pair of them playing, Anna tossing the paper plane out the window and him catching it, walking it back to her mail slot and repeating the process over and over until it started to rain. Kristoff at age fifteen leaving a potted peace lily for her as an apology for her garden, a lily she’d mourned the death of her freshman year of college when it had lived out the last of its longevity on her windowsill. Kristoff at eighteen holding her hand a little longer than necessary at her parent’s funeral, bringing her a glass of water and a slice of lemon cake at the wake, inviting her to his grad party. She thought about Christmas cards from his family every year, and how she’d watch him from the window, hand delivering them through her mail slot. She thought about the way he always looked for her in the windows and how his smiles and waves really had never been teasing or mean, but honest and hopeful.

“I had to make myself hate you,” she whispered into the stillness of the dark room, “Because it hurt too much to know that we could never be friends.”

His lips found her bare shoulder and pressed down gently, like it was natural, like they did this every night before they fell asleep.

“Because of your parents?” he asked quietly, pulling her back into him in a gesture she read as protective. She wondered how long he’d known she was unhappy, how hard he’d tried to do what he could. She wondered what might have changed if she’d just gone to his graduation party years before, whether finally being free to see him would have made her happy. She couldn’t quite imagine a whirlwind summer romance. She’d been too young for romance, but she could imagine him in that crap truck of his bringing her for ice cream or down to the lakeshore or them not going anywhere at all, watching crap movies in his living room. She could imagine a summer where she’d made him her friend, and then months of letters and texts and emails. She could imagine a few years of friendship, him coming to her graduation, him helping her pick colleges, him realizing that he was falling in love with her, and her picking her college because he’d be there to love her.

She nodded. “It wasn’t really their fault I don’t think… or at least I don’t think they meant to keep me indoors so much. It was just Elsa was sick, and then she had the mental health problems, and they had the business and her to think about all the time… it was just easier for them to keep me safe if I were inside and proper and… I think they would have been different if the situation was.”

His beard scratched against her skin, reminding her of the way his mouth had felt elsewhere. She only felt a little bad thinking about how he’d made her see stars now that they were having a serious conversation.  

“I can understand why you must have disliked me so much. Even though I was adopted I always had family, I didn’t have much for friends, but I had a few and I had Sven… and I can see how you probably wanted that.”

“I did… I do… A lot’s changed since we were kids, but not that. Elsa’s family now. She did her best for me those three years, she’s gotten better now. We talk a lot.”

He hummed, like he already knew. She wondered if he’d been checking in on them. His parents had always been good neighbors to them, especially after her parents passing, so she imagined that his mother had been able to update him on how they were doing.

“And I have some friends now, at school… and… I just I guess I’m realizing that it’s not too late.”

“Too late for what?”

She took a deep breath, taking in the way it felt easy to breathe for the first time in a very long time. She hadn’t realized how much baggage she’d been carrying around until she’d seen him that first night in the bar.

“I don’t think it’s too late for us to be friends.”

He chuckled and pressed his lips to her neck again, his body warm and solid against her back.

“I don’t mean to be crass Anna… but I think we might be a little more than friends already.”

“Lucky thing,” she said, blushing as she pressed her rear into him a little closer, feeling the press of his cock against her, “Because I think I want to get a little friendlier with you… it’s only fair after all.”

A growl of appreciation had her letting out an easy and warm laugh.

She felt light and warm, and for the first time since she could remember, she felt like everything was alright.

[shannonbussberg]

Shannon Marie Bussberg is a psychopath who caused me great harm in many ways. I'm writing this as an explanation to warn off any who come in contact with her. I'm not trying to exact vengeance on her. The only thing I want from her is the money that she stole from me. A sincere and deep apology, of course, would be nice, but she would never do that. The first part of the writing below largely comprises something that I sent to Shannon recently, and the rest is addressed to you, the reader. Please keep an open mind.

***

(Note: I sent an earlier version of this writing to Shannon, hoping that she would make restitution. She said that she wouldn't, and that she came here to live with me to help me with my depression. Complete BS. Shouldered no blame at all.

Shannon,

As you know, you stole, through forgeries, all the money I had, and you put me in deep shit, not to mention throwing me into tons of debt from all the credit cards you took out in my name. I was in trouble with the IRS over the documents you forged, my credit was nonexistent, and I was psychologically destroyed. You put me in a space that I would never trust anyone ever again. You know all that you did to me, and you never tried anything to make it right.

Although you cost me so, so much pain and suffering, I’m willing to let most of that go financially. But I want recompense for the money you stole and the inflation on that money. Also the damage caused to my teeth when I was unable to afford repairs because of your thefts. Steve might lend you the money--he helped you out financially when you got in trouble for taking money from credit cards under my sister's name. So maybe he'll do that for you now.

(You know, you used to tell me that you're going to Hell. I of course assumed that you were exaggerating. Now I wonder what all other things you're done. An aside: you used to tell me that you would never pay back your student loans, and that as a result you'd have to go to school periodically for the rest of your life to avoid paying the loans back. That did bother me, because it basically meant that you'd be stealing from other students in the future. More recently I saw that you'd somehow got a master's degree. That seemed strange, since you're not a good student--having me do as much as your school and work stuff for you as possible when you were here. So I assumed that you got the degree from online courses, as part of your loan payback avoidance plan. Sure enough I see that your school has optional online coursework.)

If you don’t try to make things right, here’s what I will do. First off, I’ll tell the truth to your whole family. (It was so horrible to have to listen to your mother try to “explain” to me that you were living with me in order to try to “help” me--a lie you told your parents in order to cover the long period while you were not working, while living on the stolen money. Apparently you told her that you were my caretaker of some sort. I'm definitely going to set her straight on that.) My story will be a complete one, and you know that I don't lie. Plus I have *tons* of documents to back me up—everything from police and post office documents, to the forensic document examination report, to copies of the actual documents that you forged. (Plus I became something of a document examiner myself, so that people could see with their own eyes that you’re a forger. For example, doing your school years, you changed the way you form a particular letter--for example, in the forged signature for my last name--in a way that is nearly completely unique in this day and age. And the documents you created have all the hallmarks that document examiners know about forgeries.)

But I will use the internet as well. Social media of all kinds, of course. Forums, relevant sites. Anyplace I can find, with, as before, documents that back me up. People need to know who they’re dealing with in their lives.

***

To the reader: Shannon Marie Bussberg and I live in different states, and met online through a kinky match site. For a long while, we communicated with email and text. Then she told me that she was entering summer school at a prestigious university near me. This was a total lie, as I later learned from them when I was contacting them for writing samples for the document examiner. She ended up living at my place while she pretended to go to school. Then she stayed here with me after school supposedly ended for the term, and lived here for years, meanwhile stealing everything I had (except for a half ownership in the family house). She worked for a little while, but soon stopped, preferring to bleed me while she destroyed me. I loved her, which was a huge misjudgment on my part. In my defense, she hid her lies very well; she is a very good psychopath, and I never noticed any lies while she was here. After she used up all of my money and more, she stole from my sister, who was not in love and less gullible and vulnerable than I. That put the police on her tail, and Shannon, seeing a bleak future ahead for herself if she stayed, went back to Indiana. She, no doubt hoping that everything would blow over and she'd be able to return to continue parasitizing me further, perhaps taking the house (she had wanted to marry me, and I suspect that was the house was her objective for that). I truly thought she was innocent, for way too long. But since she was now back in Indiana and no longer had access to my mail (though she wanted me to send my mail to her, for her to "sort"), a letter from the IRS, telling me about taxes that I knew I didn't owe, was shocking. I still thought that, somehow, she was innocent, but before long I realized the truth. Looking back, I know that she only came to live with me for two reasons: my trusting vulnerability and her unusual sexual proclivities. She never loved me. The bottom line, for readers that encounter her, is that Shannon is a psychopath, is a very convincing liar, and neither looks nor acts like a psychopath. You should skip first impressions, and observe her for a while. I'm particularly concerned for her son, and the effect her behavior has on him.

On to my tidbits directed to Shannon.

⦁ 00, which was our code for a particular form of sex practice. I'm certain that's the main reason that you came to this city. The practice was disgusting and dangerous for me. And you should know that I’ve suffered permanent serious physical damage because of it. Maybe I should describe it in detail, but I'd truly like to avoid sharing it in public if at all possible, even though it gives a great insight into your evil. I'll probably wait for a little while to see whether you're going to make things right, and if you don't, give a more full account. There’s so much related info to tell people, such as the time you tried to drown me in the bathtub. Keep in mind, Shannon, that the story makes you look far worse than me.

⦁ You told the police—TWICE—that I sexually abused you. The irony, of course, is that our roles were exactly reversed. It’s interesting that, when I told the detective that I wanted to press charges against you, he predicted, matter-of-factly, that you would make that claim against me. At the time I didn’t believe him, but he was right. By his statement I guess that many women lie a lot about such things when claims are made against them.

⦁ When you stole the car (yes, OF COURSE I have documents about that as well—and I talked to the prosecutor later), you left a lot of my CDs in there. Then, when I got furious with law enforcement and the judicial system for picking on my poor, innocent (sarcasm), girlfriend, I persuaded you to go to your home state with me so that I could try to straighten things out for you. I don’t know why you agreed to go there, because of course you wouldn’t let me talk to the prosecutor and thereby learn the truth. More important these days is that you wouldn’t “permit” me to go to the police to pick up the CDs from the car, obviously because you were afraid of hearing the truth from them. The result is that I not only didn’t get the CDs, but I didn’t even remember all of the artists and titles, so that I couldn’t replace them. Of course, that's just one of many messes you left behind for me to try to straighten up, such as the reader you stole from the library, the tons of library fines over books you stole, all the services you secretly attached to my landline, and the bill that you ran up on the cell phone that was under my name but that you were the one that used.

⦁ When you decided to screw me over, you knew that any letters and such sent to my address increased your chance of being discovered. So you went to a nearby town's post office, and opened a post office box there. You even added my dead mother's name to the box. I still have the forged federal application in your handwriting.

⦁ One of the writings you left behind was a letter to my money fund, telling them to make you the beneficiary if I die. You sucked up my money so fast and thoroughly that you never had an opportunity to actually send it in, but of course I still have it, with your handwriting. But the take-home message is that you were hoping for my death. Or maybe planning it? If you had played it straightforwardly, you could have just asked me to write it myself.  Back in those innocent days, I would have done it for you eagerly.

⦁ When you knew that time was running out between you and the police because you also stole from my sister, you prepared, behind my back, for your departure. You hid all kinds of your stuff in the attic behind the costumes you and I had gathered. That’s how I got so many writing samples for the document examiner to use. Previously I had written to your former employers for any scraps. Treasure trove, afterward.

⦁ When you left, we stayed in contact for a while, before I knew the full truth of what you had done. You asked me to mail your sewing machine to you, while you encouraged me to drink a lot of vodka so I’d finish the task. And you even had me send you money for food. You used me like a parasite does, knowing full well that I was going to have to go through total financial hell in the near future. What kind of human being does that to someone else? A psychopath.

⦁ I noticed that you were looking for a car right after you left. Which is really, really wrong, because I had no car at this point and you left me with no money for a car of my own. Which makes me wonder: there was a lot of money that we could have used to buy a car before, but instead you insisted on continually getting rental cars (supposedly paid for by your father, but really paid out of the money you stole from me). Why did you do that? Buying a car outright would have made my money last longer, so this makes no sense, even for a psychopath. Is it because it would be more obvious that I alone was paying for the car for the both of us?

⦁ I emailed with your former roommate or friend (was her name Elizabeth?—I can’t exactly remember, although I can dig it up if necessary). She said that you were the most deceptive person she’d ever met. I will give you that—you certainly don’t have the *appearance* of a psychopath, shy and quiet acting and all.

⦁ Afterward, in an email to Stacy, you said that my sister and I were totally screwed up. But neither one of us hurt anyone, while you stole from both of us and destroyed one of us.,

⦁ I remember when we were first started off with emailing back and forth, I was online, both day and night. Later I asked whether it seemed strange that I was always available, and asked what you’d thought about that. You said that you’d assumed I was a genius child, keeping school hours. I was shocked, because we were conducting some seriously kinky conversation. Didn’t you worry about damaging the kid psychologically? Nope, you said.

⦁ An aside: In college, you ran away without telling anyone, leaving people thinking, for a long time, that you were dead. (Documentation is available in newspaper copies online.) When you told me about it later, you showed me a picture of your father during the time your parents spent searching for you. He was exhausted and depressed. But instead of that making you feel bad about what you had caused, you were proud that you had evaded detection. At the time, I assumed that I was reading your emotions wrong. But I now know better.

⦁ I just remembered: Once you and I happened to be driving behind a strip mall after hours. A cop car started following us. You were cool. You suggested to me that I should get out and pretend to be examining the tire tread for a stuck rock. That worked fine, and the cop moved on. I told you that I had been nervous. You told me that you hadn't been, because you always assume that you are smarter than the police. That seemed incredibly arrogant to me. True, you might be smarter than some individual cops. But you don't have their training and experience, the capability to call other police on the radio for backup, and weaponry. Every once in a while you'd let such incredible arrogance show through.

⦁ I remembered this as well. Once you joked, about a woman whose child had been killed, that it was no big deal since she can always make another. After you left here, I read a lot of books about psychopaths, to try to figure you out. The author of one of the books told the exact same joke, as an example of how psychopaths have a lack of empathy. I always wondered whether you told the joke because you had read in the same book, while you were reading to try to understand your own self.

⦁ After the police went to Indianapolis to interrogate you, they told me that you'd agreed to pay me back everything you stole. But you never sent me anything at all. I aim to change that. Please don't make the mistake that if you just ignore this email, I will simply drop it all.

[lolacism]

i just had my university graduation party.

online, of course, in our newly imposed digital age. 

it left me feeling in awe of just how much we can simulate nowadays but also what we fail to recreate sans physical proximity of human companionship.

festivities can be celebrated together despite the distance although there are, undoubtedly, limitations. no organic small talk with strangers, lovingly garnished with a dash of awkward silence. in fact, you won't experience a similar quiet among the spectators anywhere else, save our now safely locked up movie theatres perhaps. only secret texts to your friend and meaningful grimaces on screen as opposed to the classic stolen glances, the poorly suppressed snickering and the knowledge that you've made a genuine connection en route to your degree. 

i just had my university graduation party and the organisers went out of their way to make it enjoyable but i left the zoom meeting with a perturbing emptiness in the pit of my stomach nonetheless. surely, it would have been just the same had i been on my way home with my close family in tow, leaning against the mixture of glass and faux mahogany wood panelling of the old metro carts in an evening dress beneath an equally faux fur coat. whenever i've entered a new form of schooling beyond primary school, i never had the heart to picture myself leaving this newly found ecosystem with a degree as proof of my exploits. graduations equal endings and i'm not skilled at those despite the large number of them that have washed over me throughout my two and a half decades of life like the waves of an unruly sea. the ocean's waves are endless, unravelling in an infinite cycle of repetitions with slight alterations again and again and again – endlessly, endlessly, endlessly. 

why can't i live in endless abundance within the certainty of my happiness being infinite? 

why can't i be the ocean? a reckless, untameable force mindlessly consuming everything it craves and discarding of the unpleasantries at the very bottom of its being?

but even the ocean's right to thrive is no longer certain in these uncertain times – and, in my mind, that says enough.

i just had my university graduation party but it only released me into further bouts of uncertainty about my future, just like any other ending before it, and i am tired, so tired of anxiously awaiting yet simultaneously dreading new beginnings. 

on the couch in my granddad's dimly lit living room, i start to reflect on my life in academia during bouts of silence. 

"what are you going to do now?" he has just asked me and the answer is wait.  just wait, sit it out on hot coals, like a spirit trapped between spheres, stuck between the dimension of the living and the sweet relief moving onto the afterlife appears to promise.

all i can do is wait and be terrified of making more mistakes and it's even further out of my control than it has ever been before. 

i'm waiting, just as i was waiting for my life to begin once i started university, though i should have been aware that things do not simply change for you overnight unless you are willing to make adjustments. that those can be necessary, i had to learn the hard way when i broke down crying in my mother's bedroom over how much i loathed my major whereas my minor felt like a heavenly gift that got me through the darkest winter days. more often than not, it’s best to take the leap and opt for the riskier option because the safe choice might appear logical at the time but is almost guaranteed to leave you feeling washed up and dried out in roughly a year’s time. 

i'm waiting, just as i was waiting for the longest summer term of my academic career to pass, the air weighed down by the sickening sweetness of anticipation laced with fear of my transfer application potentially falling through. 

i'm waiting, just as i was waiting for the lovers i desired to become the bold instigators of our shared destiny while i was left with an abundance of unwitting, unwanted yet unrelenting suitors i was eager to dispose of. 

waiting, waiting, waiting, just you wait.

'before you apply for the postgraduate degree of your dreams, it's best to wait until you've reached the tender age of 25 in these parts or your chances of admittance are abysmal', they told me, and so wait i did, dragging out my degree as though i hadn't had a headstart for two years. better to be able to move right onto the next degree instead of biding time because you're too young, just a pitiful child in her early twenties with her not yet fully developed brain dreaming big and getting ahead of herself.

wait i did and now here i am, forced to carry on playing the waiting game because culture and the arts have been forced into hibernation.

culture is hibernating but work experience is expected but the arts are hibernating and there was money that needed to be earned and people who needed to be cared for but culture and the arts are hibernating now and there is nothing to gain other than an exemplary exercise in patience.

i just had my university graduation party and i teared up on the day of and the day after because as overwhelming as change can be, there is nothing more frightening to me than being at a standstill. 

still, so still.

still, fear is preferable to numbness. 

if you still feel fear, you still have something to lose.

something to fight for once the battlegrounds reopen.

i just had my university graduation party and if there is one clear takeaway from my academic career thus far, it is that, in spite of the odds, it all comes together in the end.

[lunawings]

This is something I wrote a couple months ago one night when I couldn’t sleep.

I’m probably going to delete it, but something inside me thinks it’s important for me to get it out in the world before I open my ask box again and whatnot. 

So I mentioned in a previous post something like “a chain of events from spring 2019″ made me realize that I needed to leave Japan. A significant part of that was actually... Aqours 5th Love Live. 

Of course this had nothing to do with the girls or the concert itself. Seeing Aqours really was a dream come true and I wouldn’t give up that experience for anything. It had to do with... other people.

I’ve mentioned before that the men at Love Live events usually treat me like a ghost. This is not unusual or unexpected. Not only am I an outsider there because of my gender, but the grand majority of Japanese people often avoid foreigners when they can anyway. There’s that “oh lord what does she want I can’t speak English” look of fear and/or annoyance they get on their face even before I open my mouth. There’s the seats left open next to me on trains. 

However, this was life. Generally speaking, strangers in Japan don’t really interact with each other in public anyway, and I was used to it. 

But then there was Day 2 of Aqours 5th Love Live. Day 2 was the day I cheated myself into an amazing arena seat via the foreigner hotel plan that I technically wasn’t supposed to be eligible for. Thus, I was also seated in a row of other foreigners in what would otherwise be a sea of Japanese people. 

The difference was... astounding.

People acknowledged each other when they sat down. They made friendly and welcoming small talk. Complete strangers who had never met before. What. What is this!? I was actually too scared to talk to anyone because I felt guilty about taking a space in the foreigner hotel plan and didn’t want my secret to get out. Instead, I just kinda sat there bewildered, soaking it all in. 

After the concert, most of the row I was sitting in got on the hotel plan shuttle bus to go back to the hotels. I didn’t go for that option because it was expensive, and I figured it was unnecessary since I can take the train back to Tokyo by myself just fine. So instead I headed down to the train station like all the regular folk. But since the entire Saitama Arena was flooding the same train station at the same time, as you can imagine it was even worse than the worst of Tokyo rush hour. However, this was Day 2, so I knew the drill and I waited for a train to leave and then stood first in line to make sure I got a seat on the next train even though I would have to wait a bit longer. The train came and I zipped on it and sat down. Nobody sat next to me. More and more people got on, until the train was too squished for anyone to move. Still, nobody sat next to me. It was one of the most crowded trains I had ever been on in Japan, and nobody sat next to me. 

None of the Japanese Love Liver boys could bring themselves to sit next to the gross Love Liver white girl. 

And as I sat there awkwardly, I couldn’t help but think of the friendliness of the foreign fans. I wished I had talked to them. I really REALLY wish I had just talked to them. I thought about all the similar events I had been to in the past in which I had talked to no one and no one talked to me. I thought about how different my experience would have been if I had been going to events in America this whole time instead of Japan. I thought about how many years of socialization I’d lost and how deep the hole I had dug myself into had become.

Japan is both the best and worst country to live in if you have social anxiety. You really don’t have to talk to people in public almost ever. Strangers do not interact. Everyone has their own bubble around them. Even when you go to restaurants you can order by just buying a ticket from a machine or pointing to a picture on a menu. Heaven. Or so I thought. The longer I stayed, the more I let myself get used to it. A bit too used to it.

The day after the concert I decided to swing by Numazu on my long journey home. While I was sitting at a train station waiting for a transfer with a bunch of my Love Live gear on, a dude came up to me and asked me in English if I knew how to get to Numazu. He was one of the people from the foreigner hotel plan. Cool. But when he first called out to me, not only did I nearly jump out of my skin, I was actually pretty rude to him in my response. 

But why did I act that way? 

Why?

Maybe I could have even made a friend. 

But I didn’t. 

This was something I thought about for hours. And I realized something. The reason I acted the way that I did was because in Japan strange men never approach me in public. And when they do, it’s usually sexual harassment. So when this guy came up to me, my subconscious must have automatically labeled him a threat. It took me over a full minute after I had already raised all my shields and entered full bitch mode to realize he just wanted a friendly conversation and directions to Numazu. He had no ill intentions at all. In fact he was incredibly nice and I was a total jerk for no reason. 

I didn’t use to be this way. I didn’t use to be this way at all. I had plenty of male friends in high school and college. What happened. What happened to me.

I didn’t like this cold, anxious, closed-off person that I had become. I wanted to learn to talk to people again. To be open and friendly. And I didn’t want to admit it yet, but I knew that probably the only way to make things better and to get myself out of this hole was to just leave Japan and start over. 

And besides, I’d just seen Aqours, FROM THE FRONT OF THE ARENA which was such a HUGE dream come true. I’ve also been going to Tales of Festival for almost a decade. I’ve seen the King of Prism boys multiple times. And countless other things. The only other thing on my mind I really wanted to do was go to the Nebuta festival again, and to a few other things up north like Hakodate. And I did that over the summer. What’s left to do when you’ve already lived all your dreams? Rearrange your priorities, was the answer I came to.

Coming back to the states was really refreshing at first. It’s so bizarre to be out in public and have people actually start conversations and be friendly and expect me to know the language and treat me... normal. And I am getting better... kinda... or at least I was.

That was of course... before things started shutting down for coronavirus. Things have gone backwards and now I have basically been living more or less the same secluded life I had in Japan, except worse since I haven’t had a steady job. (And PriChan was just replaced with SIFAS.)

But what’s really awful is... I don’t particularly want it to end. Can’t they just keep streaming all events online forever? Can’t I just stay here playing SIFAS/LLSIF and not have to deal with the world?

How terrible of a person am I for feeling a little bit of joy when things I couldn’t go to anyway get cancelled... 

I really don’t know what I want anymore. I just don’t want to deal.

[littlepanduh-writes-365]

Day 44

Title: “Paradigm Shift”

Description: During a gaming session, Sooyoung gives some exciting news that makes Hyejoo think about her life.

Features: Sooyoung X Hyunjin X Olivia Hye, slight Hyewon(Loona)

Word Count: 2,325

Tags: Fluff | College AU

(image from Pinterest)

“Yo, Hyejoo. Wanna join for some Mario Kart tonight?”

“Sorry, Hyun. I’m kinda busy tonight. Maybe another time?”

“Gang Beasts tonight? Sooyoung’s joining, too.”

“I’m not in the mood. Sorry. Maybe another time?”

“Hyejoo. Come join us for some Rainbow Six.”

For once, Hyejoo is interested, but there’s a blank document in front of her and its paired midnight deadline convinced her not to play.

“Sorry, Soo. I have a paper due at midnight. Next time?” The college student genuinely wishes she didn’t procrastinate this bad. 

I know it looks this way, but the three sisters aren’t that distant with each other. After Sooyoung and Hyunjin left for university, they didn’t see each other as often, but still bonded through online gaming.

It all started when they were younger. Sooyoung had granted Hyunjin the responsibility of taking care of her Nintendogs when she went to a summer camp. Usually Hyejoo, too young to play, would sit next to her and sometimes they switched off taking care of the Sharpei they virtually adopted. 

As they grew up, their tastes for video games changed as well. Sooyoung mostly grew out of them, having to take care of her younger siblings and started pursuing dancing. Of course, during college, she wouldn’t hesitate to join in party games, like Just Dance and trivia games. Hyunjin became a sports star, but still played video games. She enjoyed low-stress, life simulation games, but also occasionally played FIFA with her teammates. 

Hyejoo had a funny relationship with extracurricular activities. Growing up, she was always dragged into watching her sisters’ dance recitals or soccer games, so she tended to have low energy. She tried dance and soccer and actually showed potential in both hobbies, but had no interest or motivation in either. By the time she was in high school, she only continued what she enjoyed, which was just playing video games. She specifically enjoyed shooting and battle royale games, but she could play anything. 

As both Sooyoung and Hyunjin transitioned into university and adult life, they tried their best keeping in touch with their youngest sister. When video calls became awkward, Hyunjin brought up the idea of playing Mario Kart online together and talking through Discord. Sooyoung had to go buy herself a Switch and Hyejoo didn’t like the idea of spending more than 30 minutes talking to her sisters, but the experience was a pleasant surprise. The two older siblings couldn’t help enjoying the serotonin boost they would get when hearing competitive Hyejoo screaming and threatening them with embarrassing secrets from the past when Hyunjin threw a Blue Shell or Sooyoung Bullet Bill-ed past her. An hour passed and Hyunjin was ready to log out, but couldn’t resist it when Hyejoo asked, “One more round?” 

The gaming continued when Hyejoo went to university. Even though it wasn’t their style, the three of them would play whatever was popular and multiplayer, whether it be PUBG or Smash. 

Eventually, scheduling time to play with Hyejoo was a little unsuccessful. In her last year of university, she became busy with school and actually became more social. You could catch her playing intramural soccer or at the dance studio. She was even dating someone and worked at a nearby bakery. Hyejoo could’ve made time for her siblings, but replaying the same courses and campaigns for hours wasn’t stimulating enough for her. 

Tonight’s a little different. It’d been nearly 2 months since she spoke to her sisters and Gowon was scolding her to spend time with them. Even though her computer was starting to run slow, she downloaded the new zombie game Sooyoung mentioned and logged onto her Discord account.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Hyejoo.” Sooyoung naturally scolds her first. 

“I know. I thought you were going to abandon us.” Hyunjin spoke in a higher tone and it made Hyejoo cringe. 

“Stop being fucking dramatic, Soo. I’m busy with school.”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You’re busy dating your Minecraft girlfriend. I see you online.”

Hyejoo scowls. She turns around, making sure said girlfriend wasn’t in the room. “She’s my real girlfriend, too, you know?”

Sooyoung just chuckles. “I’ll see it when I believe it. When are you introducing her to mom and dad?”

“I don’t know. Maybe during the next holiday?”

“Can you bring some snacks from your work?” Hyunjin shoves herself in front of the camera, as if trying to corner her little sister. 

“Hyun, that’s not important.”

“What's more important than bread?”

“Kim Jiwoo. That’s what’s more important than bread.”

Hyejoo pinches the bridge of her nose. This was why she didn’t like talking to her sisters for more than 30 minutes. 

“As if, Sooyoung. Jeon Heejin is more superior than Jiwoo, but bread is always on top.”

“You say that now, once you get married, you’re going to change your minds.”

There are two gunshots. 

“Hye! Why’d you shoot us?! We’re on the same team?”

“Can you two simps shut up? I just sacrificed 6 gigabytes of space to play this game with you two.”

To Hyejoo’s surprise, Hyunjin’s avatar punches her character and Sooyoung takes her out with a headshot. Hyejoo’s about to seek revenge until Sooyoung starts talking again. 

“Yah. I’ve seen your Instagram story posts. Once you two get together, you’re gonna be whipped for her, too. It’s in the Ha genetics.”

“For fucks sake, I am dating Gowon! And why would anyone be proud of being whipped?” Hyejoo starts shooting at her sisters but they run away from the lobby before starting a campaign. 

It always starts with small talk. It usually consists of their jobs, what they’re doing on the weekends, and each other’s girlfriends. Hyejoo liked hearing from her sisters, but she couldn’t help but feel a little pathetic hearing about their numerous plans while she just wanted to get through school. Conversations like this is where they found out that Sooyoung became a manager at a well known dance school. The last time they talked, Hyunjin was talking about taking Heejin to Disneyland. Hyejoo was slightly jealous because she wants to spoil Gowon, too, but with the minimum wage she’s earning, she can only afford the new gaming mouse Gowon wanted. 

Like always, she’ll just listen. Listen and shoot. Maybe she’ll learn a new lesson from the mistakes her sisters laugh about, but she’s too busying carrying the team for the most part. 

The three have just finished a round when Hyunjin asks for a break so she can eat. Hyejoo checks her phone to see a few texts from Gowon. 

Sooyoung opens a conversation. “Hey guys, I need to tell you something.” 

“Go right ahead,” Hyejoo says before chugging some water. Hyunjin just hums before biting into some pasta that Heejin brought in about 15 minutes ago. 

“I haven’t told mom and dad, yet because we’re still thinking about it,” Sooyoung takes a deep breath, “Jiwoo and I want to try for a kid.”

Hyejoo stops looking at her phone. She stares at Sooyoung through the screen. “Oh damn. Really?”

Sooyoung offers a smile. Hyejoo can’t help but soften up at the honey dripping out of her sister’s eyes. “Yeah. She keeps talking about how cute her students are so I brought up the conversation. We’re gonna start going to fertilization clinics and adoption centers to see our options. I don’t think anything’s going to happen in the coming year or two, but I just wanted to let you guys know.” She sighs. “I’m kinda excited actually.”

“Congrats, unnie!” Hyunjin lets out a chuckle. “The idea of a little Jiwoo running around and doing taekwondo flips sounds adorable.”

Sooyoung whines. “What about a little Th-ooyoungie dancing in the living room?”

“Don’t ever use that fucking voice again.” Hyejoo grimaces in disgust. 

Hyunjin didn’t spare a pause for disagreement. “I second that.” Sooyoung never used aegyo so it was slightly unbearable hearing that. 

“Whatever.” Sooyoung sighs. “It’s just— it’s kinda surreal thinking about having a kid.”

Hyejoo also agrees. Maybe it’s because she’s looking forward to building her career or the fact that she doesn’t know where to begin in taking care of a kid that the idea of her own children seems foreign. She’s thought about adopting a dog, but a human being?

Hyunjin asks Sooyoung about the logistics, like the future of their current jobs and who would carry the child if they decided to not adopt. 

Hyejoo listens, but her mind gets clouded thinking about a little Sooyoung or Jiwoo running around and giggling and maybe even playing with a little controller. Hyunjin will compete to be the favorite aunt, but she’ll share with Heejin. She knows Gowon will be a better aunt than her, but she still wants to be a part of that kid’s life. Even though she wasn’t the most active, she wants to take that future kid to the park and kick a ball around and teach them pranks. 

The idea warmed Hyejoo’s heart. 

For a second, Hyejoo zones back into the conversation. Sooyoung eggs Hyunjin about finishing dental school so she can start her own family, too. 

Then it hits Hyejoo. 

It’ll still be in the far future, but maybe she needs to grow up a little more. There’s going to be little Sooyoung and soon enough there will be a little Hyunjin. 

Hyejoo needs to stop cursing. Maybe she needs to go home more and keep her parents company. She’ll learn how to cook something besides instant ramen and fried rice. 

Things are going to be different. They’re all growing up. Sooyoung’s moving up positions. Hyunjin is going to finish dental school. Hyejoo was going to graduate soon. 

Hyejoo was more than used to being away from her family during the school year, but then it hits her. 

The two neighboring rooms back home were going to be empty. Her two sisters are eventually going to stop coming home for holidays. 

The three of them are not going to play video games.

It’ll no longer be just the three of them. 

Hyejoo let’s that sink in a little. The days of shooting zombies and racing around Nintendo tracks and visiting each other’s islands will significantly lesson.

The maknae suddenly feels guilty of declining all those game requests. Although all reasons were valid, she feels like she should’ve made more time for her sisters.

She hears Hyunjin whining at something Sooyoung said. Hyejoo flinches a smile, remembering how fifteen years ago, they were bullying each other at the playground.

Some things didn’t change. 

And maybe some things still won’t change.

The future is uncertain and maybe she shouldn’t think too much about it.  

At least she has the present. She can still play with her sisters now. She can play with them next week, next month. 

“Hye? Are you okay? You’ve been pretty quiet.” 

Hyejoo tried to think of a snarky comeback, but couldn't think of anything. Surprisingly, her ego doesn’t get to her and just comes clean. “Yeah. I’m just thinking about a little Sooyoung. It’s kinda cute actually. Congrats, Soo.”

Her two older sisters just stare at her through the camera. “Wow. It must be late. Hyejoo’s being nice. Let’s just do one more round and call it a night.”

Hyejoo scoffs. She wants to curse, but holds herself back. 

-

“You guys down for a few rounds of Smash?”

“Sounds good. Is Hye joining?”

Hyejoo puts down her phone. “Gowonnie.” She nudges the girl next to her. They were watching a variety show together while snuggling. 

Gowon just hums, a little engrossed in the show. 

“I’m gonna go play with my sisters. Is that okay?”

Her girlfriend just smiles and rolls her eyes. “Why do you even ask? You know I’m going to say yes.”

Hyejoo doesn’t want to admit that she just wants to be chummy. “If you had plans in mind, I was just going to reschedule.” 

Gowon just shrugs. “I mean I’m craving fried chicken, but that’s not worth rescheduling.” She then shoves Hyejoo off of her. “Go.”

The younger one grumbles, but makes her way to their gaming room. 

As she turns on the light, she admires the room they have created. On one side, her girlfriend has a pastel setup. It contrasts her black black setup. 

An idea finally sparks in her head. She walks back outside and peaks back into their small living room. 

“Gowonnie, do you want to join us?”

--

“Are you really her girlfriend?”

“Of course she’s my girlfriend. She wouldn’t have been playing with us for the past hour if we’re not dating.” Hyejoo puts her head on Gowon’s shoulder. Hyunjin and Sooyoung are entertained by their little sister’s webcam showing an abandoned chair while Gowon’s webcam showed Hyejoo being soft and protective of a bright and rather crunchy lady.

“She’s not paying you with credits or diamonds or something?”

Gowon giggles. “That sounds like a better bargain.” She turns to her girlfriend and pats her head. “I’m tired of carrying you. Starting next month, I’m expecting 2,000 Battle Points or I’m going to stop doing your laundry.”

Hyunjin chokes on her water. Sooyoung’s jaw dropped. 

Hyejoo pouts. “Park Chaewon.”

“Wow. I like her already. I think mom will like her, too.”

“How did you meet such a nice person, Hye? She’s pretty, too. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Gowon smiles. “Thank you. It’s nice to know Hyejoo’s siblings are nice.” She turns to Hyejoo. “You should learn something from your sisters. Forget it. I’m upping the payment to 4,000 Battle Points.”

Hyejoo pouts and gives a quick peck on Gowon’s cheek. “Can I pay you with love instead?”

Hyunjin gags. “I don’t know if I’ll get used to this.”

“She got that from you, Hyun. Don’t deny it.” Sooyoung scolds her younger sister.

“You’ve been dating, Jiwoo-unnie longer! She got that from you!”

Gowon giggles. Hyejoo can’t help, but admire her girlfriend. She pleased how well things were coming along. 

--

Socials: Twitter | Curious Cat

[perspicacious-dragon-of-welkin]

How did you know which major to choose in college?

TL;DR

Basically my advice is this:

Follow your gut. Find what feels right.

Keep your options as open as possible, but don't be afraid to dive deep into something.

Changing your mind is 100% OKAY. So many people take time off from school to figure themselves out. And maybe technical school is a better fit for you if working with your hands is your thing?? Or do a year of something and switch programs! Your courses might just count as electives in another degree.

You will be scared. Life is like that. But never make a decision out of fear. Never choose not to do something because of how you fear it may turn out. Decide based on what good could happen from each of your options.

Work hard, play hard. Join clubs, join groups, meet people. Your classes are only half of school. What you learn out of fun will stick with you way longer and be so much more helpful.

Finally, TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. You can't pour from an empty cup. After you graduate no one will care about your grades. A degree is a degree. And you can't work if you are drained. Your mind and body is a machine. It needs fuel, it need maintenance, and it needs appropriate rest. Keep yourself running well, and your life will become so much easier.

Haaaaaa...

Honestly? I didn't. Still don't really. But that’s okay.

See, the way it went was in Grade 11 (Where I live, high-school ends after Grade 12), so in grade 11 I started going to info fairs and stuff and hearing people's sales pitches for their programs, and universities and colleges. My grades were always best in Maths and Science courses, and I enjoyed those the most so I knew I was gonna go for something in STEM (Science Technology Engineering Mathematics). I'd had a few people say I'd be good at Engineering, and I'd taken like 30 online quizzes to find out what career would be best for me. I got things like "Custom Boat Builder" (What?? I mean, cool! But what?? Dude, I live in the prairies. Not many boats around here.), and "School Counsellor" (I felt my INFJ coming out in that one), and "Tour Guide", but Engineering of some type was usually somewhere on most of those lists, and it seemed most reasonable and attainable for me. My social skills aren't the best, and while I don't suck at talking to people it drains me a lot, so I really wasn't sure I wanted to make a career out of anything like that. Engineering held esteem, and good prospects for yearly salary, the stereotype around here is that Engineers can't communicate (mostly true) so expectations wouldn't be high for that... It was a good, safe choice, and presented a challenge for me. Everyone told me it would be hard. The hardest thing I'd ever done. I wanted to prove I could do it. So I did. Grade 12 I went to four or five engineering info sessions for local colleges and universities, and I researched any place I could possibly afford to go to in Canada. The list wasn't big.

Many universities were much more competitive than the one I chose, but mine was known for a very.. intimate? Student population? Small, but not too small, and students were known to join up and work together to get through things while some Universities had stories of students sabotaging other's work to gain a higher standing in their classes. The University was one of the cheapest ones (I really didn't have much money saved up. Student loans are definitely a thing), but it wasn't the cheapest on the list. It was one I felt would be of good quality. It wasn't too far from home, that I couldn't travel back in a day, but it was far enough it felt like I was starting something new on my own. I applied within the first four months of grade 12, about 8 months before the time I'd start classes there. I got accepted, found a place to live and completed my first year of General Engineering. After the first year in Uni we were able to request our discipline (what type of Engineering, e.g. Civil, Chemical, Mechanical, etc.) And we had had some opportunities through the year to hear what each discipline was about. I thought I would be going into Chem Eng when I started first year, but decided that was definitely not for me after I took my first university chemistry class, and heard what most chemical engineers did. I decided instead on Engineering Physics despite not really enjoying physics as much as the other sciences in High-school. There was just so many cool things to learn!! And they also told me Eng Phys was "the hardest discipline". It included an extra calculus course above the other disciplines and many other physics courses generally considered very difficult. Again, I wanted to prove I could do it. I went HARD. Studied hard. Took two classes per term above what the university recommended because that was the program. Honestly I think I burnt out. I worked too hard for too many years without taking proper care of myself. Averaging 4-6hrs of sleep a night and eating about 1 meal a day for two years.

***Seriously, take my advice: school is great and important, but TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. Go out and make friends. Don't neglect your work to party, but don't neglect your social life to study. AND PLEASE eat and sleep at least close to the recommended amounts***

Anyway, I did some planning and altered my course load, changed some habits, started going to the gym regularly, and I'm doing better now. But you want to hear about major's right?

Basically I didn't choose. In my second year, I took my first ever coding course. I spent the least amount of time on that course and received my highest grade ever in university (still nowhere as high as my high-school grades, but it's uni.) Many of my classmates registered in a program that offered a computer science bachelor's degree alongside your engineering degree for 12 additional courses, which for engineering is about 1 year - 2 terms. I signed up immediately. Those classes have been a great confidence boost, average boost, brain break, and bonding experience with classmates also in the program.

So to tally this up, I'm then registered in

- BEng in Eng Phys, and

- BSc in Comp Sci.

Then, third year. We took the mandatory communications class (remember everyone says engineers can't communicate). I loved it. Decent grades. Not as great as my Comp Sci, but better than my Physics. The classes are in rhetorical theory and persuasion because when you do the math and actually know how something works, it's important you be able to tell people what you know and have them believe you. My professor was the incoming dean for a 'school of professional development' that had recently opened in the college. They were offering a certificate (6 courses, a.k.a. 1 term, half a year) in rhetorical theory and professional communication. Guess who also signed up for that?

So if you've been keeping track, that's a 4yr BEng, 3yr BSc (done in one yr due to double counting courses) and a 0.5yr certificate. That's 5.5yrs of undergrad I've suddenly racked up. And remember how I burnt out just a while back because my BEng program wants be to take 7 courses a term instead of 5? Well I made it 6yrs and smushed some courses over to fill that last year so I don't have toooo many more mental breakdowns or go completely insane.

And I mean hey, what's an education if you can't use it right? So I've been looking for summer student jobs to I can learn about the industry. Last summer I got one of those jobs. Hated it. Worst job of my life. I'm still hoping that experience wasn't representative of the entire industry, but we'll see. So I'm 4yrs done my 6yrs of undergrad, I've racked up an almost unimaginable amount of student debt, and I'm sitting in my bed wrapped in a blanket thinking I should have gone into psychology. I wanna help people. Everything I do is so cold. So calculated. I wanna exist where feelings are more than something to be smothered and exterminated. But hey. I can't stop now. So I'm gonna finish it all off. The great thing about EP is that the variation of jobs for this degree could be anything from Pixar animation studios to a technician at Nasa or JPL or SpaceX to Uranium mining. So my options are still open, I just gotta carve myself out a path. Nowhere to go but forward, right? And I have a full 180 degrees of forward to choose from! :)

So that's my story. Sorry for the length, but hey, you asked. Basically my advice is this:

Follow your gut. Find what feels right.

Keep your options as open as possible, but don't be afraid to dive deep into something.

Changing your mind is 100% OKAY. So many people take time off from school to figure themselves out. And maybe technical school is a better fit for you if working with your hands is your thing??

You will be scared. Life is like that. But never make a decision out of fear. Never choose not to do something because of how you fear it may turn out. Decide based on what good could happen from each of your options.

Work hard, play hard. Join clubs, join groups, meet people. Your classes are only half of school. What you learn out of fun will stick with you way longer and be so much more helpful.

Finally, TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. You can't pour from an empty cup. After you graduate no one will care about your grades. A degree is a degree. And you can't work if you are drained. Your mind and body is a machine. It needs fuel, it need maintenance, and it needs appropriate rest. Keep yourself running well, and your life will become so much easier.

[wellesleyunderground]

Wellesley Writes It: Interview with Patrice Caldwell ’15, Founder of People of Color in Publishing

Patrice Caldwell ’15 is the founder & fundraising chair of People of Color in Publishing – a grassroots organization dedicated to supporting, empowering, and uplifting racially and ethnically marginalized members of the book publishing industry. Born and raised in Texas, Patrice was a children’s book editor before shifting to be a literary agent at Howard Morhaim Literary Agency.

In 2018, she was named a Publishers Weekly Star Watch honoree and featured on The Writer’s Digest podcast and Bustle’s inaugural “Lit List” as one of ten women changing the book world.

Her anthology, A Phoenix First Must Burn – 16 stories of Black girl magic, resistance, and hope – is out March 10, 2020 from Viking Books for Young Readers/Penguin Teen in the US/Canada and Hot Key Books in the UK! Visit Patrice online at patricecaldwell.com, Twitter @whimsicallyours, and Instagram @whimsicalaquarian.

Wellesley Underground’s Wellesley Writes it Series Editor, E.B. Bartels ’10, had the chance to converse with Patrice via email about publishing, reading, and writing. E.B. is grateful to Patrice for willing to be part of the Wellesley Writes It series, even with everything else she has going on!

EB: When did you first become interested in going into writing and publishing? Did something at Wellesley spark that interest?

PC: For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved writing. It’s how I best express myself. That love pretty naturally grew into creating stories. I’ve always had a very vivid imagination. I’ve also always been pretty aware that publishers exist. I remember at a young age noticing the logos on the spines of books (notating the imprint/publisher), so by the time I was a teen I could recall which publishers published my favorite books (served me very well in interviews, haha) and was curious about that process. But I was a theater kid, intensely, that’s what I thought I would do, but then I decided to go to Wellesley and majored in political science (especially theory—I took ever class Professor Grattan, she’s brilliant) but then dabbled in a bunch of other subjects, including English. I think English courses definitely strengthened my critical thinking, but I absolutely do not think you have to be an English or creative writing major in order to work in publishing or be a writer. My theater background is just as helpful as is my political theory one. (I have friends who are best-selling authors who did MFA programs and others who never went to college.)

Wellesley was my safe space. I came back to myself while at Wellesley. I wrote three (unpublished) manuscripts during my time there, starting the summer after my first year, and I held publishing and writing related internships. I also took a fantastic children’s literature course taught by Susan Meyer (who’s a children’s author herself!) that changed my world. I highly recommend it. We studied children’s literature, got to talk to an author and a literary agent, and we wrote our own stories. I later did a creative writing independent study with her, and I truly thank Professor Meyer for expanding my interest in writing and publishing.

EB: How did People in Color Publishing come about? What goals do you have for the organization? What would you like people to know about it?

PC: I founded People of Color in Publishing in August 2016 to allow people of color clearer access into the book publishing industry, better support networks, and professional development opportunities. It really is about sending the elevator back down for others after climbing (& maybe even assembling) the stairs.

We’re currently working towards nonprofit status. You can learn more about us and our initiatives at https://www.pocinpublishing.com/ and sign up for our newsletter, which is incredibly well done. As you’ll see when you visit the site, the organization really is a team effort. I don’t and couldn’t do this alone; I’ve had an amazing team with me from day one. We each play to our strengths and work really well together. (The org is very active on Instagram and Twitter, too!)

EB: I am really excited about your collection A Phoenix First Must Burn, coming out from Penguin Random House on March 10, 2020. What inspired you to put together that anthology? What was challenging about the process of compiling the anthology, and what was rewarding about it?

PC: Thank you; I’m so excited for it as well. I talk about this more in the book’s introduction, but I was inspired by my eternal love for Octavia Butler—the title even comes from a passage in Parable of the Talents—as well as similar adult market anthologies like Sheree R. Thomas’s Dark Matter, and wondering what one for teens would look like. The answer is power and imagination like I’ve never before seen, in the form of a kick-ass, #BlackGirlMagic anthology that’s hella queer—I love it and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Before I became a literary agent, I was a children’s book editor. The editing of these stories was the easy part. It was super fun. The hard part was wrangling of everyone, haha. Thankfully they were amazing to work with and I wasn’t doing it alone—my then editor Kendra Levin also has a fantastic editorial eye.

As for what was rewarding, my younger self needed this. Like I said, it’s Black and queer. Since Toni Morrison passed, a day hasn’t gone by in which I’ve thought, about how she wrote for Black people, especially Black women, unapologetically. I feel that deeply. I got to work with some of my favorite writers writing today. How often does someone get to say that, you know. And, I grew a lot as a writer. I never thought I could write a short story, but I did. We’ve been getting some really great early reviews (like this beautifully-written starred review from Kirkus, OMG!) But going back to how my younger self needed this, the most rewarding thing has been the people who’ve reached out how excited they are to read it and how much they’ve been craving a book like this. It’s a dream come true. A dream I strategized to reach, worked my butt off on, and so yeah, I’m over the moon.

EB: You're also the author of a YA fantasy book (publication date TBD) in addition to the anthology. How is the experience of writing a fantasy novel different and/or similar to compiling an anthology? What advice would you give to someone writing their own book (of any genre)?

PC: It’s such a different experience in that writing this novel is all me, especially because it hasn’t sold yet (I’m finishing revising it now). My agents are amazing, with an excellent editorial skills, and so they’re certainly there to help and advise me should I need them—and then I have author friends I can ask for advice too—but ultimately if I don’t write this book, it doesn’t get written. There’s no one else to nudge.

The similarities, however, between novels and short stories are that ultimately, I’m the same writer, I’m the same person. For instance, I love experimenting with structure. My story for A Phoenix First Must Burnbegins in the present, goes back in time, and ends again at the present. The story I just wrote, for Dahlia Adler’s Shakespeare-inspired anthology, is epistolary—told partially in journal entries, and my third short story (for an unannounced thing) takes place partially on the set of a scripted reality TV show, so there’s definitely going to be script excerpts throughout. My novel is similar in that it’s told through three women, but two of them are narrated in first present tense (like, I am) whereas one is in third past (she was). And then every few chapters I have an excerpt of something from this fantasy world’s archives—oral myths passed down about various gods, peace treaties made over the years, accounts from the war that just ended, etc. It’s been a huge challenge and lot of fun.

I didn’t have the skills to pull this book off when I started writing it, which is something I think a lot of writers deal with at some point. Therefore, I had two options: put the book down and write something more manageable or take the time it took to write this. Neither option is better than the other—the best option is what’s right for you, and I didn’t have anything more manageable that I was as passionate about, so I had to write through it. When you’ve tried everything you can possibly try (including breaks, they’re important!) to unstick your story, you have to write through it. You have to deal with the voices (including sometimes your own) saying you can’t, and the only way to truly deal with those voices is to show up to the paper, the screen, whatever it is, and write. In writing and believing in my own work before anyone else has, I’ve found my confidence. Confidence in your own writing is key because only you can write the book you want to write <3.

EB: What are you currently reading?

PC: Realm of Ash by Tasha Suri. I just loved herdebut novel, Empire of Sand, and I’m so pumped to be diving into this one. Badass women, incredibly rich worldbuilding, and very cool magic as well as a lot about access to forgotten history and assimilation into other cultures.

My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell. It is getting fantastic early reviews and was pitched as a 21stcentury Lolita (by one of my agents who sold it actually) and given all the #MeToo conversations, it has ended up being super timely. I hated Lolita (could not finish), and I love this book. Oh, and Stephen King loved it, which for me is an auto-buy. It’s out March 10, 2020.

The Midnight Lie by Marie Rutkoski. You definitely don’t have to love someone’s books to be friends with them, but in this case, Marie is a friend whose work I’m obsessed with. It’s set in the same world as another one of her series—one of my favorite series that’s like game theory in a fantasy world and begins with The Winner’s Curse. Marie is brilliant, this book is brilliant, and it’s also very queer. It’s out March 3, 2020.

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik. This book has been getting the best of reviews and praise, so it’s been at the top of my to-reads list for a while, but I started reading it because a friend mentioned that it has multiple POVs all in first person (which is very unusual), and like I said, I love playing around with stuff like that. This is book is a masterpiece.

As you can tell, I love reading books. I also love book hopping, so I’m always reading a bunch at once. I’m on a bit of a fantasy streak right now. But from October to December 2019 I read like a romance novel a week (sometimes three a week, haha) and revisited my favorite urban fantasy series, so if you’re into those check out Chloe Neill’s Chicagoland Vampires + Heirs of Chicagoland series, Tessa Dare’s Girl Meets Duke series and of course our very own Jasmine Guillory, my favorite of hers thus far is The Wedding Party). After I’m done with my revisions, I wanna take a writing break and sink into Emily Wilson’s translation of The Odyssey and Dan Jones’s The Wars of the Roses: The Fall of the Plantagenets and the Rise of the Tudors.

EB: What future projects/goals do you have for yourself and your career?

PC: I spent most of Wellesley working towards two goals: being published and working in publishing. In doing so, I accomplished a lot in a very short time, and I totally wrecked my mental health—it took most of 2019 to rebuild that. I’m trying to live more in the present and enjoy that. Career wise, I’m just gonna trust that I’m already doing the work I need to do and that I have the support systems I need to help me keep doing that. And for a personal goal, I have been wanting to spend more time in Paris—I went back for the first time in ten years for all of February 2019, and just loved it. My whole soul felt at home, so I’d like to take some French lessons to fill in the gaps (I took French from middle school through sophomore year at Wellesley and achieved proficiency, but I want to become fluent). And then I want to visit more for longer and see where that takes me.

EB: I so admire your freelance hustle, and as someone attempting it myself, too, I know that sometimes it feels like you have to work 24/7 to make it possible. How do you set boundaries for yourself and your work? How do you take care of yourself?

PC: So, I’m a literary agent and a writer, which means my entire income comes from commission I make from the writer client projects I work on and sell as an agent and advance payments (and hopefully royalties down the line) as a writer. That said, I didn’t become a literary agent until June 2019, and didn’t get the first payment from a client book I sold until November, so most my income is still coming from writing (for reference, I received my first advance check in fall of 2018).

As of now, balancing the two isn’t that hard for me. But you have to understand that I was first an editor and a writer, so I had to do most of the deadlines for A Phoenix First Must Burn while also going into an office 5 days a week, from 10-7/8pm. Now, I manage my own schedule.

My main “freelance life” struggle was that I was diagnosed with ADHD this year. When I left my full-time, salaried job, at the end of 2018, I didn’t realize just how helpful that structure had been. To me, that structure was only ever a limitation. I felt like it was ridiculous with all of this technology that we all had to be in NYC, I felt like editors needed to be more proactive, I preferred to travel to book festivals and teach at workshops and meet writers where they are, etc. etc. But then, without that structure, everything fell apart. Suddenly, tasks that used to take me five minutes could actually take me five hours because I only had myself to answer to. I would hyper-focus on everything but what I needed to be doing. It was a really hard time for me because I had all of these things I wanted to do now that I finally had more time to do them, but ADHD had other plans—I constantly felt like I wasn’t achieving what I knew I could because I had done it before.

I had to learn to forgive myself. This is how my brain works, and there are a lot of strengths to it (like if I remove distractions like the internet, I can hyper-focus for hours, I’m a fantastic problem solver, and I thrive in chaos—all things that help me excel at my work). Learning to forgive yourself for not accomplishing all the things, whether you have a mental illness or not, is really important.

You also have to be hyper-aware of your strengths and weaknesses. What are things you know you’re just not good at? Can you pay someone else to do it? Is there an app you can download that can make that task easier? I delegate and outsource every detail-level thing that I can because I’m horrible at details and I’ve finally accepted that that’s okay. One person cannot do everything forever; it’s not sustainable.

And then you also have to say no. If you can afford to say no to something that doesn’t really interest you / have a high payoff, do so. That is how you set boundaries. My health has become so much better ever since I started saying no to more things. Why? It gives me time to do other things, those things I’ve been saying forever I’m going to make more time for (like French lessons and reading books for fun). Now, my evenings and weekends are for non-work things. I love my jobs they’re still jobs.

Trust that you’re on the right path. Trust that you have the support systems you need and if you aren’t or don’t, dream and strategize towards those.

Ultimately, I am the happiest I’ve ever been and that’s because I finally stopped focusing my whole life around my jobs, stopped caring what people who aren’t paying my bills think, and started living my actual life.

EB: What else would you like our readers to know about you and/or your work?

PC: I have a website, Twitter, Instagram, and a newsletter. If you enjoyed this interview, definitely sign up for my newsletter (& check out past issues) as I always give creative life pep talks, share recipes and what books and tv shows I’m loving. I think of my newsletter as a longer form version of my Twitter. My website is a pretty standard website—you can find out more about my own books, my clients, events I’m attending, etc. there. And my Instagram is slightly more personal, with pretty pictures of my face and my book haha, and I share daily/weekly updates about my writing there via IG stories.

And, of course, buy my book: https://patricecaldwell.com/a-phoenix-first-must-burn

Thank you so much for having me and for reading. Happy New Year!

[agent-houdini]

A Splash of Color

Aaaand here we are: a fic of the biker!whiskey and online professor!houdini au. I haven’t done much writing this summer, so apologies if this isn’t 100% like everything else I’ve put out before? Part 1 of ?  | @the-roanoke-society

Lauren Moran was recently hired by Post University as one of their many online professors during their hiring boom. She was thankful, really - it wasn’t an adjunct position, and being an online professor meant she didn’t have to have physical office hours. It did mean, however, she spent her time cooped up in her apartment too much, something far too mundane for her liking. She needed to get out - at least to see how she’d handle the summer semesters. Besides, it wasn’t like there was nowhere for her to go. Lauren had plenty of options to choose from -- including the local Starbucks.

Jack Daniels worked for the Statesman group in New York City; every day, he took the 10:26 train after riding his Harley Davidson Fatboy to the station. He only managed that kind of train because he, due to a lack of a social life tying him back to the college town, worked later hours. Not that he complained - he enjoyed taking his time on an off-peak train. Plus, it meant he got to stop for coffee at the local Starbucks without any worry of missing his train or having his coffee.

Now, Jack was a regular at Starbucks. He had his visits timed pretty regularly too - a two-minute arrival window between 10:14 and 10:16. Just enough time to get his drink and park his bike at the station four minutes later. He knew who was there at that time, both in terms of baristas and customers - but one day, there was someone new in the room.

Lauren, with her bright purple hair and colored drink to match, had settled towards the windows of the shop, her laptop and books open. 

Jack caught himself staring at the woman for a moment before collecting his drink and heading on his way to work. He was a well-oiled machine - there was no time to be wasted in his schedule.

Lauren looked out the window as she heard a motorcycle’s engine rev, smiling as it pulled out of the parking lot.

She liked motorcycles.

For the next few days, Jack wondered if the woman at Starbucks was just an anomaly - a one-time sort of thing, like a glitch in the system. He was consistent as ever, even early two days to see if she’d be there again. Unfortunately, everything was normal.

(Lauren had, in fact, slept in late the next few days. She had made the mistake of starting a new television series and wanted to properly binge it rather than be an adult and wake up at a normal time. She laughed as she rolled over one morning, thinking ‘how did I ever get to be an adult, let alone a college professor?’)

The hardest part of keeping a routine is starting one in the first place. Lauren struggled with waking up after her binge-session, almost tempted to start another series when her adult logic finally kicked in. She scrambled to get herself out of her small apartment and to Starbucks with an arrival of 10:18. Not quite the time she wanted to get there, as she had set an embarrassing amount of alarms to be there for 9:45. 

She noticed the motorcycle in the parking lot, smiling to herself as she adjusted the bag on her shoulder. 

Jack had just picked up his order and stuck a straw through the plastic lid when he noticed the woman from the other day walk up to the counter. 

So she was real, he thought, giving her a proper once-over before leaving. 

The image of her purple hair tied into a messy bun stayed with him throughout the day. 

Lauren spent the first few minutes on her laptop googling the different models of Harley-Davidsons to determine what had been in the parking lot upon her arrival before switching gears and checking the discussion boards. Her ENG 213 course was off to a slow start; some of her students had forgotten about the quiz she had assigned or were not putting their full effort into their responses. It wasn’t a reflection of her, really - she remembered the summer courses she had taken during undergrad, and even then responses were minimal.

At least she got to see the bike again.

For the next few days, Lauren actually made it to Starbucks at exactly 10 am - fully dressed and hair looking not too disheveled. To her delight, it meant that she arrived almost 15 minutes before the black motorcycle did; this new fact was motivation for her to continue her new habit of arriving at Starbucks early, beyond the confirmation that her window seat would be free. (During her binge-watching session, she learned that a small group of teenagers liked her spot almost as much as she did.)

Jack was surprised to find the splash of color by the window once again, like the first time he spotted her. And, like her hair, many of the items sprawled across the table were purple; her pens, the notebook, laptop case, even her mouse. 

He smiled as he watched her stare out the window into the parking lot. What was she looking at? And what was she working on? Was she a college student? Did she live or work nearby? Why had he never seen her before? Questions filled Jack’s mind as he took his iced coffee and left, only to look towards the window where she was seated to find her almost looking right at him.

Their dance continued as Lauren managed her new routine, though they never said a word to each other. She watched him enter and leave the parking lot every day, and he watched her at the window.

“Wanna go for a ride?”

The phrase soon haunted Lauren’s dreams - or, well, maybe not haunted but repeated itself - the motorcycle clear as day, but the rider’s face blurred. As she woke up one Tuesday, she wondered; had she even looked at his face before? A blush crept up - she had been fantasizing over the bike and never gave a thought to its owner. She readied herself with a bit more care before arriving at Starbucks on time. 

Jack wondered if he should say something, but then reminds himself of his well-oiled schedule as he walks into Starbucks. 

As he waits for his order, he turns towards the window only to find her looking at him rather than at the parking lot. Lauren blinked, realizing her mistake, and quickly turned back towards her screen, fingers flying across the keyboard.

Jack smiled to himself - it was the first time he had a proper look at her face. 

He made sure to make a show of mounting his bike upon exit.

Lauren felt her cheeks go hot as she watched, taking note of how everything was black; his helmet, the bike itself, his moto jacket - even his dress pants. She knew he was putting on a show, which almost made the whole ordeal worth the embarrassment. 

“Wanna go for a ride?”

Jack’s dreams are the next to be flooded with the term; he tries to remember what it felt like to have someone ride with him, what it’d be like to have her ride with him. But then he remembered that he doesn’t know her name, and she doesn’t know his - it was just a dream.

He promised himself the next morning he’d get there earlier, hopefully before she did. 

At 10 am sharp, Jack pulls into the parking lot on his bike. He figured if he tried 15 minutes before his usual arrival, it’d be worth a shot. If she was there, perfect! If not, he could try earlier the next day.

Lauren was pulling something from her back seat when she heard the engine’s arrival, immediately standing up and hitting her head on her car. She mumbled a string of curses before getting shoving everything into her bag - which had actually spilled across the floor - and locking the vehicle. She noticed the driver of the bike had already went inside, so she took a moment to admire it before going in.

“Running late today?”

Jack had finally found the balls to talk to her, even if it was just idle conversation as she ordered her drink.

Lauren blushed and pushed her glasses up, hoping the bump on her head wasn’t as noticeable as her idiocy in the parking lot. “Not as late as I could be. You’re here early.”

He looked her over as she spoke; the glasses - clear and sparkly - were new. Definitely weren’t there yesterday. The bag on her shoulder looked like things weren’t put in it properly, and he wondered what had caused that before offering his own response. “I wanted a bit more time to ride before catching the train.”

She’s relieved he didn’t say anything about her watching him. “That’s a nice bike you got out there.”

Jack smiled and notices she’s smiling as she gestured towards the door. He’s distracted by what appears to be glitter on her face for a moment before the barista interrupts them.

“Jack, venti iced Americano, Lauren, venti Dragon Drink. Have a nice day!”

The two exchanged looks for a moment, realized they’ve indirectly learned each other’s names, before taking their respective drinks.

“Thank you!” Lauren chimes, the smile never leaving her face.

“Thanks,” Jack nods before turning towards her. 

“Go enjoy your ride with your coffee, Jack,” she says, sticking the straw through the lid. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Nice meetin’ you too, Lauren --”

“I’ll be here same time tomorrow if you feel like being early again,” she added, moving towards her window seat.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Whatever you do, don’t work yourself too hard!” Jack said, waving as he walked out towards the door. He smiled as he noticed Lauren give a small wave through the window, waving back at her before putting his helmet on.

On his longer-than-usual drive to the station, he wondered if he still had that spare helmet floating around in the garage somewhere...

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

I just gotta be real for a hot second.

Warnings: discussions of suicidal ideation, depression, anxiety 

2015 remains a pinnacle year for me. I have a lot of good memories associated with it, and it’s around that time I started hearing about this certain band. A single of theirs hit mainstream and suddenly they’re the talk of the town. My natural inclination when encountering something popular is to turn my nose up at it. If it’s popular it’s overrated. You know what’s popular? Music. For most of my middle school and high school years, I didn’t get what was the big deal about music. Why was everyone obsessed about it, and specifically boy bands? So I mainly ignored the hype.

And by “mainly” I mean the curiosity got the better of me one day so I searched some of their songs on Youtube. It was...different than anything I’ve ever encountered. It was abrasive, eccentric, bizarre, take your pick. I tried to love them but I couldn’t even though I resonated with the lyrics. And I’ve never been one to try to fit with the crowd. Like I said, I went against the crowd. So aside discovering a song of theirs in an amv and loving it, I ignored them for about three years.

But then last year my sister kept playing one of their songs on the ukulele and I...liked it. So I sought them out again on my own terms. I slowly fell in love with their music. It helped they released an album in the autumn. My sister loves them and it became a bridge between the two of us. We don’t have many of those.

But again, super causal. It wasn’t until the new year hit and my mental health sunk like a tank. I’ve been struggling with depression and anxiety since the start of middle school. It’s sad to think roughly half of my life has been consumed by it. But living with it after awhile, you begin to learn the ebbs and flow of it. But this? This was a whole another type of monster.

I wish I could time travel back to the start of this year and tell past me, “Honey, you got a big storm coming for you. I know it’ll seem that it’ll never get better. But I promise things they will and I’ll be holding onto you.”

I would have days where I would just bawl for three or four hours straight. The slightest thing would make me cry. When I wasn’t crying, I was an unemotional husk of a person.

I would be thoroughly convinced my friends and family were going to be extremely angry at me for minuscule things. I would experience moments of intense panic, where my heart raced to the speed of my careening thoughts and I was so cold that no amount of layers or blankets would warm me up.

I remember a day a moment like this happened, where I ended up taking a nap in this state for two hours, woke up exhausted beyond belief and then showed up to work having to pretend that yes, I’m a functioning human being who is not falling apart, no siree.

I could barely muster up the motivation to write, and when I did it was mostly heavy and dark. Floating With the Sunset and Guiding Lights come to mind, especially when I realized I was unconsciously struggling with the very same thing as the characters were; suicide ideation.

What I mean by that is I was so convinced that my life had no purpose or meaning--that I was never going to amount to anything, so why bother? Why bother living if it involved this level of mental torment that I was going through? And of course, the small detached unemotional part of me knew this was wrong. I always had a fear of dying--so all I could think of was how living was going to be a prison sentence because I was too chicken to actually do the thing.

Not to mention, my one remaining brain cell knew my family and friends would be devastated by my death, never mind I didn’t know even know how to go about the whole dying thing. Just realizing I was even contemplating such a thing terrified me. 

I knew this was the sort of thing you should tell people about but the idea of admitting it to someone was even more terrifying than the thought of it because oh god, what will they think? If there is one thing you must know about me, is that I fear disappointing people and I felt like I would be disappointing a good number of people by admitting that not-living sounded like a good option at the time.

Heck, I could barely admit to myself that was happening in this journal entry in January, before it went even further downhill:

“Rest assured I have not the stomach to actually do anything. I’m too afraid of what lies in the Undiscovered Country to travel to it. That’s why the answer to that daunting question is: “No, of course not.”

Still, who hasn’t thought of traveling to the land where no traveler has whence returned? Even if it wasn’t a serious consideration, I think all humans have the thought at some point in their lives. Maybe not—after all I am just but a human who has no idea what goes in the minds of her fellow humans. But I think it’s a good possibility.

Humans are inherently curious creatures; really it should be “Curiosity killed the human” rather the cat. I think we’re curious enough to wonder what would happen if we did travel to that country earlier than “planned.”

But aside from the stray intrusive thought, I have not dared to go further down that dark path. This is for several reasons. One because of that fear. But another because I have seen the aftermath of when someone takes a trip to the Undiscovered Country. It has not yet been anyone super close to me and yet the devastation hits me at full force despite it. But I also had interaction with a few people in the last couple years, of how I impacted their life without even knowing it.

You never know how small of an interaction can change another person’s life forever. You never know and I think it’s a shame a lot of times those stories don’t get shared until after someone has already left. I think it can be important those stories are shared with the person—it can help them recognize that they are more important than they possibly realize.”

A small part of me thought that my life would be over at the end of May. Not that I planned on causing that to happen by my own hands. Just that some comic force might decide to put me out of my misery by then. You could say I’m a bit elated to be alive right now, because I didn’t expect to get this far.

What this have to do with music again? I’m glad you asked. Remember that band that spiked in popularity in 2015 that I ignored for three years and then reluctantly started listening and enjoying their music? Yes, well if I resonated with the lyrics in 2015, then those lyrics could’ve been lifted verbatim from my pages out of my journal in 2019.

This music was like a light in the darkness. It unashamedly discussed heavy topics like depression and suicide and I needed that. In our society, those topics are seldom openly discussed to the point it feels almost shameful to admit to such a struggle. But these songs openly screamed about them, they were brutally honest about the struggle. What’s more, they advocated to keep on living and I needed that. I needed that so much. 

I knew the band was visiting my area sometime this summer and I thought, I can live until then. I can make it until then.

Sometime mid-May, the storm broke. The sun came out and Mr. Blue Sky started blaring from the heavens. I think it was because several outside factors that were putting a strain on my mental health had gone away around then along with events I feared would go horribly wrong...did not go horribly wrong. In fact, they went well all things considered. I’ve still gone through days riddled with anxiety and depression since then, but nothing as dark and grim as those days had been.

I don’t want to want to die anymore. It’s weird to think only two months ago, I craved such a thing. I want to live so much, you guys have no idea. Of course the future still terrifies me. But that’s a reassuring fear, one I hold like a security blanket because it’s been a part of me for so long I know how to deal with it.

I started a handwritten journal where I record the day’s events and end each entry with the positive highlights of the day. Of course I haven’t done it in a solid week, but it’s done wonders for my mental health.  I’ve been seeing a therapist and that has helped a little. I’ve started reaching out and trying to maintain friendships in real life. To those online friends that have stayed with me and even reached out in concern about my vague distressing tumblr posts, you helped me so much and I am grateful for our correspondences. 

I made a post about debating whether or not I should see a favorite band and in the end, well...it feels like the right decision. I’m fulfilling a promise to myself back then. It feels like the act of seeing this band is like the closing chapter of the book. Not the final book, mind you, but a book in like a seventy-something series, if everything pans out of course.

As to those who might be still struggling, deep in the throes of such darkness and torment: It’ll get better.

I know that’s like the most cliche thing to say and I sure didn’t believe it back then. But it’s true. It was true for me and it’s true for many others.

Also don’t be like me, be brave enough to speak to someone about what you’re dealing with. You aren’t alone as you think are. Yes, no one will ever know what’s it like to struggle with your demons, nobody will think what you think, but they might’ve fought battles similar to the one that’s currently raging inside your brain. They might know what it’s like to wander through such darkness. Even if they haven’t, they can still support and love you through it regardless. 

Lastly, you have worth, you have importance, you have meaning and if everyone tells you otherwise (including your own thoughts) don’t you dare listen to them for a second. Remember, you are loved beyond belief, don’t ever doubt that <3