#and these are my most vivid memories from my middle school years!

[nyatawia]

Komi can’t communicate hits a little bit too close to home

[screamin-abt-haikyuu]

You're jealous but you can't do anything because you're not dating him (Part 7) - Wakatoshi Ushijima

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Pairing: Ushijima x Fem! reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Warnings: none, really? Reader calls him Toshi.

Requested by: @ushisrever

A/N: Can't believe I posted the last update to this more than two years ago. Has it really been that long???? The incomplete series has been bothering me for two years now lmao. Didn't think I'd ever find a fitting scenario for Ushiwaka but thanks to @dira333 helping me sound off some ideas, I was able to get that perfect "snap!" you get when you fit a puzzle piece in perfectly. Gave me enough brain juice to write this out before going back into hibernation.

Serving you some fresh, hot angst and then some lol. Enjoy the burn and then the healing. For someone who was as far removed from Ushiwaka (emotionally) as one can, writing this actually made me see him in a new light. Loved writing him. Hopefully, it stays as true to his canon nature as it can. Hopefully I don't trash this before it's out💀 but if you're reading this, it's good lol.

It feels like the entire Shiratorizawa is at the gates of the school.

"I can't believe she's coming to our school!"

"AAA I can't stop imagining how she'll look in our school uniform."

"Do you think she already has a boyfriend? Maybe I have a chance?"

"I don't know about a boyfriend but you certainly don't have a chance with her."

"Must you always be so cruel?!"

"If you think a star child actor who has made it so big in the industry is going to date a simpleton like you, you're delusional."

You sigh, annoyed, as you try to make your way through the babbling crowd. You're already late for your morning classes and you couldn't care any less about Hoshiko Nakamura. Or any celebrity for that matter.

"In fact, I don't think any boy in this school has a chance with her. Hmm... except maybe Ushiwaka? Not that he'd be interested in dating her anyway. Sometimes I feel like that guy doesn't have any emotions at all."

Your ears perk up at the Ace's name.

Wakatoshi Ushijima has become somewhat of a celebrity at school ever since he was selected for the under 19 representative for Japan in the Youth World Championship.

He was already well known as the formidable volleyball player who crushes any team that he takes on. However, his serious and stoic nature has kept most people from approaching him. Till now, at least.

The girl was right. Wakatoshi wouldn't even think about dating anyone. You seem fairly sure of that. However, the suggestion still leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

You're wrong about him not having any emotions you think as you finally break free from the crowd and sprint towards your classroom.

You've known Wakatoshi for as long as you can remember. You remember when his family moved into the house next to yours when you were just little kids. You remember watching the reserved, determined figure of the boy practicing volleyball all by himself in the nearby park. You remember going up to him and offering to play with him. Out of all these memories, the most vivid of them all was the way his eyes subtly lit up when you said you wanted to play with him.

Time has blurred into a haze since then. Even though you both went to different schools all through junior and middle school years, you both kept alive the tradition of playing volleyball together in park.

"You should come to Shiratorizawa," he had said that fateful day. You both were in the last year of middle school. It was a beautiful evening as you both walked back home from the park, the setting sun throwing hues of red and gold across the partially cloudy sky.

"That's not in my hands. I tried in middle school, remember? I want Shiratorizawa but Shiratorizawa doesn't seem to want me," you said, kicking a pebble on the road. Funny how I could say the same about you.

"That was three years ago. You have grown," he said without pause.

"We'll see. I don't want to get my hopes too high. You know just as well as I do that they give preference to athletes over normal students like me. Casual volleyball games with you are just about as sporty as I get," you said as you reached out to open the gate to your home.

You turned to say goodbye to him and found him looking at you, his expression more serious than usual.

"It's not about athleticism."

"Shiratorizawa only accepts the best. Be it volleyball or anything else. I believe you fit into that category. You should come," he says, looking straight into your eyes.

Your stomach flutters. How could he have so much faith in you? There is no doubt that he believes in you because Wakatoshi Ushijima always means what he says. Almost 5 years of knowing him had taught you that. You still found it hard to digest, though.

"I'll try my best, I promise."

"I know you will."

"Class, please give a warm welcome your new classmate, Hoshiko Nakamura!"

You can't help but gawk at her. Saying she is pretty would be a severe understatement. If she looks pretty on screen, it is nothing compared to what she looks like off screen. You look at your desk partner to see if he is thinking the same. Wakatoshi, however, seems to simply be listening to the teacher.

"Miss Nakamura, I'm sure you will have no problem settling in here. To kind of help you settle in this new environment, I was thinking of seating you next to Ushijima as I believe you two have met before at some of the national events."

The teacher might as well have thrown a bus at you and it would have felt just about the same as you do now.

Hoshiko's face lights up. "That would be great. Wakatoshi-kun has always been a delight to be with. Thank you for having me," she says and bows.

Did she just call him by his first name?

"Ah, Y/N, sorry for springing this on you so suddenly. I wanted to get a hold of you before morning class but couldn't. I hope it's not a problem," the teacher says.

You force a polite smile. "It's not a problem at all," you say and start packing your bag.

Hoshiko walks up to the desk and waits patiently for you to gather your stuff, thanking you again.

Your legs feel heavy as you take the empty seat diagonal to them in the adjacent row.

I'm panicking for no reason. They just know each other from an event. It makes sense to make her sit with a familiar and safe person, given her popularity. Yes, Wakatoshi is definitely the ideal choice in this scenario. He is not someone who would be creepy in any sense. He's also strong and intimidating so it would keep the creeps away. It's fine. It'll be fine. Nothing is going to happen between them... right?

"Wakatoshi-kun, I'm so glad I got to sit next to you," she says, smiling at him, speaking loud enough for people sitting nearby to hear.

"Actually, if I'm being honest, when I decided to come back to my hometown to complete my studies, I knew I wanted to go to Shiratorizawa immediately," she continues.

"Of course. Shiratorizawa is the best school in the prefecture. It's only natural to want to study here," Ushijima says, completely seriously.

Hoshiko blushes. "Ah... that is not what I meant... nevermind," she says, causing the guy behind them to burst into laughter.

It seems like the hollow sensation growing in your stomach is here to stay.

It has been two months since the day Hoshiko joined your school. With Ushijima going to school earlier than usual and practicing late into the night for the Inter High preliminaries, he hasn't been able to spend much time with you lately. Normally, this wouldn't have bothered you because you could see him in class everyday but with Hoshiko now taking your place, you barely get to say more than hi to him.

However, with the prelims now over and the upcoming week-long break ahead, you're hoping to get some one-on-one time with him once again. All these years with him have made him such an intrinsic part of your daily life that it feels like something big is missing when he's not around. To the world, Wakatoshi Ushijima might be a lot of things. But to you, Wakatoshi Ushijima is home. He is comfort. He is strength. He is someone that you know like the back of your own hand. He is someone that your heart always keeps coming back to. He is the only love you have ever known.

You know that he doesn't share the same feelings for you. But that doesn't stop your heart from longing for him.

The lessons for the day are over and you walk back to your class, eager to pack your bag and go home with Ushijima. You wonder if he'll want to go to the park in the evening.

"She's asking him out! She's asking him out!"

"No WAY! I am SO jealous."

A small crowd has gathered around the window and they're whispering amongst themselves as they look outside.

"Man, that Ushiwaka is so lucky! He gets to date the most beautiful girl in the entire country."

"I mean… he is in the nation's top 3 aces and an under 19 representative of Japan. Not to mention he's tall and strong and good looking. They're actually perfect for each other."

Your heart drops down to your feet.

You look out the window and find yourself looking at Hoshiko and Ushijima standing a ways away from the school building. They're in a quiet, secluded spot and Hoshiko seems to be blushing as she says something to him. You see him nod and say something in return. Hoshiko's face lights up in pure delight and even though they are at a distance, you can hear the joy in her voice.

"No way!!!! He said yes?? I thought he wasn't interested in girls!"

"Goddamn it! There goes my chance!"

You feel dizzy as you watch the two of them walk back to school together.

No. This can't be. You have always known that he doesn't like you that way. But you thought he wasn't interested in dating at all.

No. You shouldn't make any assumptions just yet. These gossip mongers are messing with your head. For all you know, he could have said yes to being in a show or something. You shouldn't despair before you hear the truth from him.

You blink back your tears and run to your class. Thankfully, it's empty. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself and wait. Both of them soon appear in the hallway. The crowd surrounds them instantly, wanting to drown them in questions but Ushijima breaks away from them easily and walks towards the class. He comes up to you.

"Y/N. I'm sorry I won't be able to come to the park today."

It's true.

"Hoshiko and I are going to watch this new movie playing at the theatre-"

He's going on a date with her.

"Apparently it has a lot of volleyball in it-"

He's going on a date with h-

"You should join us."

Huh?

"What?"

"I figured you might like it since you play volleyball with me even though you don't play it otherwise."

What? What? What?? What is happening right now??

Ushijima patiently waits for your answer.

"Uh... Whose idea was it to go to the movie?"

"Nakamura's. Why?"

"And how did she bring up the idea?"

"Well, I was returning from the club and she asked to speak to me in private. And then she told me about the movie and if I wanted to watch it with her."

He didn't get it.

"Ah... Toshi... I'm pretty sure she was asking you out on a date."

His eyes widen with surprise.

"A... date? But she never said she had romantic feelings for me."

Could this mean...? Can I hope...?

"Well, her asking you out on the date was her way of saying it."

"I see. I didn't realise. Thank you for telling me. In that case, I should tell her my feelings for her as well."

He has feelings for her.

Your heart shatters.

You're glad that he walks out right away because you couldn't have stopped your tears from coming out even if you wanted to. You run out of the back door, desperate to get far away.

I guess I was the problem all this time. I just wasn't someone you could look at that way.

You had always known that. You had always known that he didn't feel for you the way you did. But that hadn't stopped you from falling for him. Hard. How could you have not? Eight years of knowing him... You didn't even realise when you fell for him. Loving him just came so naturally to you.

Logically, it makes sense. They make sense. She is beautiful and tall and smart. And so is he. They are the type of couple who would be featured on the cover of a magazine. Which, given their career trajectories, is bound to happen sooner or later.

But the heart doesn't care for logic and at this moment you feel like it will actually burst from the amount of pain you're feeling.

You spend the rest of the evening and the entire night crying in your room.

Morning comes and you feel worse than ever. Your head is throbbing, your nose is stuffy and your eyes are swollen. You decide to skip school. It's the last day before break anyway. Maybe this break will be good for you. It will give you some time to adjust to everything and compose yourself.

You go back to bed and sleep through the entire day.

You thought you'd feel better after getting some rest but you still feel like shit.

You drag yourself out of bed. Your entire body feels like it weighs ten times more.

Maybe a shower and some fresh air will do you good.

You head out.

No matter how much you try to think of something else, your mind keeps coming back to him. Your eyes keep searching for him. You look in the direction of his room. The curtains are open and you can see it is empty.

Of course he's not home yet. He's probably out with her again.

Even though it's barely a minute away, you feel exhausted by the time you reach the park. Thankfully, it is empty.

You sit on one of the swings and look around. Most of your memories with Ushijima are tied to this park. This is where you both have spent the majority of your last eight years together.

All the sweet memories make you tear up again.

"You didn't come to school today."

You were so lost in your head that you didn't realise when he walked up to you. You blink back your tears.

"Oh... hi. Yeah, I - I wasn't feeling very well today," you say, not meeting his eye.

"You seem upset."

He noticed.

"Oh... I'm fine. Really. It's just been a rough day. It's nothing to worry about," you say, still evading his gaze.

He sits on the swing next to you. You look to the side and see he has a volleyball in his lap.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You quickly avert your gaze again.

"No."

"I see. Well, would you like me to distract you? Talk about something else?"

It is getting harder to keep your tears in check. You're sure your voice will crack if you speak. You just nod.

"You would've liked the movie. It wasn't as focused on volleyball as Nakamura said it would-"

Great. He's chosen the worst topic he could have talked about. You don't want to hear about his date. You need to change the topic. Quickly.

"What are you doing here?" you blurt out the one question that has been weighing on your mind ever since he came here.

"What do you mean? I came here to play volleyball with you."

"I- I mean... I thought you would spend your free time with Ho-Hoshiko from now."

"Why would I do that?"

"B- because you're d-dating her?" Your voice cracks.

"I am not dating Nakamura."

What?

"What do you mean you're not dating her? I thought you liked her. Didn't you go on a date with her yesterday?"

"I do like her. Just not romantically. And no, I went to watch the movie with Tendou. She had already bought the tickets so I bought them from her. I wanted to watch it with you but you went home. "

"But... you left to tell her your feelings for her..."

"I did. I wanted to clarify that I only feel for her as a friend. It was only thanks to you that I was able to tell her in time before I ended up hurting her unintentionally."

"I...see..."

Relief floods your heart. You suddenly feel a hundred pounds lighter. You finally gather the courage to look at him. He is looking right back at you.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, your lower lip trembling.

"Of course."

"Do you have romantic feelings for anyone?"

You instantly regret speaking up as soon as the question leaves your mouth. You know he never lies. And if he doesn't feel the same w-

"Yes. You."

You stare at him blankly.

It's subtle but his expression has changed from completely serious to something a little softer. You can't quite place what it is. Is it concern? nervousness? Adoration?

"R-really? You like me? Romantically?"

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Ah," he rubs his chin, "I'm not sure..."

You're still having difficulty believing that any of this is real.

"You know," he continues, "After my father, you were the first person who ever wanted to play with me."

He points towards the corner of the park. "I was practicing against that wall that day when you came up to me. Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember. I can never forget that day."

"So many people have come and gone from my life but you have been with me for so long that, I guess somewhere along the way I just assumed you would stay forever. Which, I now realise, I shouldn't have."

He feels the same. He has always felt the same.

"Toshi?"

He turns to you again.

"I love you."

He breaks into a soft smile.

"I love you too."

Holyshit this was a ride. I'm glad I wrote this and I hope you guys enjoy.

Reblogs appreciated. Please do not steal or repost.

Taglist: @pinkiipeachiikeen @duckymcdoorknob @kakiwrites @ebiharachan @r0binscript I wasn't sure if you guys still want to be tagged for this series, seeing that it has been over two years so let me know if you want me to remove you from the taglist.

Check out THIS POST to know what all characters I have written for in this series.

MASTERLISTS | If you enjoy my work and want to, you can Buy me a Kofi!

[gumballavocadoharry]

Lost along the way; Jack Chambers:

*Mentions of very offensive language, domestic abuse,  violent child abuse, aggression, violence, sex, drunkenness, slang terms, curse words, vulgar language, death, grief, emotional abuse, outdated views of women, men and children and cheating. *

A scorching heatwave brazed through the pounding streets of New York. The telephone wires echoed shadows over the heated tar pavement on the roads. Buffalo carried only the mist of the wave, but it still lingered over the Chamber household in mid-August. The sizzles of the heat, radiated through Jack's bedroom; a background noise as he flipped through the latest newspaper issue.

Buffalo was a set neighborhood sat serenely in the crowded busy pond of New York. The houses were only inches apart from one another- which to Jack- was better than the overcrowded insecure Brooklyn apartments.

Fresh faced young Jack- a high school graduate with honors- was only twenty years old, yet had the ambition and clarity that would take others a lifetime or several years to acquire. Body solid against the knobby clotted mattress, scanning intently through the Daily Colum. Jack wasn't shabby- a small rent control to a rickety Virginia trailer park would due. Just not here. Not in this house, with his father…..or mother.

Vivid memories of scattered and thrown around plates and glass cups, forks and knives. Beer bottles, all slammed against the walls with harsh crashes and shatters. Despite it being regular, Jack never accustomed himself to its normalcy. Because it wasn't. It wasn't normal to have run through the home with Vaseline covered soaked in ice to numb any whips or switches being whapped against them. Nor, was it normal to spend the cagy night soaking up the misguided blood from the belt welts with a sterile sheet that Jack had pressed over his sheets to not dampen them with his vertebral sores.

Jack would later learn his tip toeing habits came from his childhood. Tip toeing down the stairs for a glass of water, tip toeing up the stairs back to his bed. Tip toeing across his bedroom floor to study for his upcoming middle school tests. One creak was dulling. One creak could send David from his room out to the steps and into a barrage of curses words and threats hulling themselves at Jack, then being yanked up by the collar and thrown into his bedroom.

A glass had broken from this once and Jack stepped on a cracked piece. A bloody spot trail led back to Jack's room and wasn't cleaned until that following Sunday. Looking at the trail made Jack numb. He didn't understand why, but it did.

Last night- the night Jack made up his mind. Get busy living he decided. It had meaning. Last night was when David had grabbed Jack by his collar and threatened him. Throngs of: Pussy, Bastard, Dickhead- thrown at him with ease as if David was talking to a criminal. He would talk to them and about them like that. One of the most well respected detectives of the Buffalo precinct- hailed as a hero for stopping those two robbers who shot the elderly owner of the drug mart only a few miles from the neighborhood. Jack had heard about this at school, rooting Lawrence Jackson, to spill the latest of what had happened.

Jack liked and despised Lawrence. He was friendly, happy, calm, charming…..he had a good father. His father, Marc, was David's partner. Marc was the laid back and easy going type to get the antiheroes off with parole or a lighter sentence. "They're just kids," He would say. "I remember when I used to feel the same way. Parents should really show their children, just how much they love them. Don't ever leave it to fate or a read between the lines kind of guess for them. They deserve it."

Lawrence would brag about how Marc would take him to the ball game or buy him ice cream on hot summer Saturdays after school. Jack even saw the way Marc wrapped his arms around Lawrence after scoring the touchdown for the season. "Oh Renny! You were amazing! My number one guy!" Jack didn't even realize the smile peering across his face watching the father and son from the crowd. Jack could sometimes imagine David and him like that- but it never lasted.

"Jack, get your ass in the car or I leave without you!" Jack grabbing his baseball glove and bat, would have only a few seconds before David's car sped off. Marc was nice enough to give rides to Jack. But a twisted shame would dawdle through Jack. Maybe because Marc knew how rough David could be. And Jack knew he knew. "You dumb fuck- screwing up the whole fucking game for everyone!" David's eyes narrowed, pushing his face very close to Jacks. "You screw up again, and there won't be another season for you, got it!" Jack swallowed hard. He knew what it meant. Another hospital trip for a broken arm plus a bruised cheekbone. It would ruin his season.

A knock sounded against the door. "Jack?" Lucy entered upon Jack's acceptance. "Hi sweetie." Jack folded the newspaper by his side, lending his full attention to his mother. He watched her scrap over his blotchy paint stained floors, that had years' worth of stains longer than he'd been around. Taking a seat on the bed, Jack was forced to meet her silver rain eyes.  "How is everything?" Jack shook his head. "What do you mean?" Lucy bit the side of her lip. "You know… after last night with your father and everything…."

Jack stared back down at his bed spread. "You know that's never an easy question to answer…" Lucy kept her stare on Jack. Jack recognized that stare: the same one she would always give to him as a small child. A thick arch threatened to spread across his eyebrows. She could never see him as the man he was, just this small little child that needed her hand with everything. Lucy sighed. "I know your father can get a bit…rough at times," She paused. "It's just….when you have a family one day, you'll see that it's not easy providing for them and it can make you tired and irritable-"

"It's not an excuse." Jack shot back. "You don't lose your self-control like…." He thought. "Like an animal in the wild-"

"Watch your tongue!" Jack shook his head. He wouldn't take it back and Lucy knew he couldn't. A sigh escaped from Jack- his mother's eyes still following him. "Was there… anything else about Dad?" With a small hiss of ire, Jack almost demanded the answer. Lucy looked down. "He loves you." Jack scoffed. "Sorry…but…" waving his hand, Jack sat back with a smirk on his face. "I'm serious."

Jack sat back up. "Mom…. It is what it is. I've accepted that one way or another- I learned to accept it one way or another." Jack shook his head. "Dad….. Is Dad." Lucy touched Jack's knee. "I love you very much."

I'm sure Jack thought. He dropped the subject. Lucy's eyes met the newspaper. Jack stiffened. Grabbing the newspaper, Jack flipped to the crime catalogue. "A recent carjacking happened by Manhattan." Lucy scanned the paper before up righting herself and nodding. "It's a troubled world, that's for sure." Biting her lip, she turned to Jack again. "Dinner's ready." Sitting up, Lucy walked to the door, leaving Jack's room. Jack continued to stare at the closed door- darting between the burnt reddish brown door and the matching door jam.

Shaking his head, Jack thought about Lucy. Weak. No other word to describe it. Weak. Jack spent years, silently pleading and begging his mother to grab a suitcase- anything and just…..go. Leave everything and start fresh with just the two of them. No more 'bitch' or 'cunt' would be lunged at her for burning dinner or knocking over one of David's beer bottles. David didn't touch Lucy the way he would with Jack. He could snatch her by her shoulders and shove her against stairwell, or push her towards the kitchen after landing a firm pat to her behind.

Jack would never forget the way his father rebuked Lucy for interrupting his TV show. "You dumb broad!" He yelled. The first time Jack would ever see his father whip his hand to his mother's cheek. Blood trickled down the side of her face as she ran into the kitchen and hid herself away until dinner time. Jack hadn't even sat his backpack down before he ran upstairs and used the rope of robe to tie the door knob to the leg of his desk. The next morning, a foundation covered bruise sat boldly on the side of Lucy's face as did the artificial smile she had. At least….Jack hoped it was fake. Nothing was ever mentioned about it ever. Even if Jack thought about asking his mother if she was okay, something would snag him- grab and shake him to keep silent… like maybe she deserved it for being with him, or maybe because she would tell David and lead him to punch Jack in his face. Either way….nothing was said. No one ever said anything. And that was the last Jack would ever see of that.

Jack came down to dinner. David was sat at the center of the family table with a slight scowl across his face and his hands neatly and firmly pressed together in a noose. Jack took a seat in the middle- David always sat to his right, Lucy sat to his left. Jack sat in the middle- seen, not heard. Just the way David liked it. "You've got too much mouth." He would say. "Shut it!" Jack had only tried to tell him that he was going the wrong way during the dense highway traffic. "Shut up Jack! I told you I don't want to hear it!" So he didn't. But it took him two hours to turn around. Jack was sure he would get hit, but he didn't to his surprise. Instead, David kept silent. As long as no one spoke, he would let it go.

Lucy set the rolls in the middle of the table like a centerpiece. A steamy filled trout sat in front of Jack with carrots, peas. "Delicious!" Jack said. "Thanks Mom." Lucy smiled before taking a seat at the table. "Needs more salt." David said, but still scoffed down the trout without so much as a 'thank you' or even eye contact for that matter.

Dinner was silent. The sounds of forks grinding against the plates and the munching of the food were the only sounds expressed. "Jack… you doing anything with that college education?" Jack furrowed his eyebrows. David let out a gruffy laugh. "That's right, you don't have one." Lucy glared at David. "Yet…" Jack said.

"What?" David eyed Jack over bent over posture. Jack shrugged. "Yeah, I mean- it's not over yet." David narrowed his eyes. "You mean, you're actually gonna do something with your life? Not slaving way at this repair shop forever?" He started chuckling. "I guess my son ain't a loser after all." Jack kept his head down. He didn't say a word. Didn't need to. After dinner, he simply cleared away the plates and set them in the sink.

"You know that's women's work." He turned to Lucy. "Get up and do it." Lucy, like a puppy on demand, settled herself from the chair and gently took the plates from Jack's hand. She gave a small tattered smile and started on filling the sink with hot water and suds. Jack stared at Lucy for a bit before turning upstairs. Locking himself in his room, Jack researched harder on places to live. Crumbling the paper and tossing it, Jack sulked, not finding anything available. Laying back in his bed, Jack wouldn't give up. He couldn't. He decided that tomorrow morning would be a new day. A fresh day for looking. The scouring heatwave would still pour, but to Jack, he would wipe the beads of sweat from his head and continue house hunting.

Monday came, and the heatwave was still lingering through the city. Jack was up- overdue for the morning, settling into his navy blue jumpsuit with 'Bernie's Auto Repair' tattooed on the back. A quick sandwich, apple slices and a lemonade canister later, Jack left a gallant letter for his parents on the fridge.

'Went to work, see you later when I get home'

Love, Jack

Scuffling around the corner to meet the eight o'clock bus, Jack paid the fee before sitting three rows behind the driver- eventually getting up and handing his seat over to an elderly man with groceries. "Thanks sport!" Jack fluttered his dimples to the man before gripping the overhead hook of the bus tightly and concentrating carefully on what street Milton Ave was.

Pulling the string, Jack thanked the driver before hopping off the bus and strolled into the repair shop- clocking in his ticket for the day.

Jack gained Bernie ten new customers within a week. Business boomed more than over the last year when Bernie decided an oil and shine would be only for the price of one. "Sometimes you gotta spend money to make money." He said. Jack nodded along, disappearing back under the firetruck red Buick. He didn't know why, but Jack had this overachieving knack for fixing cars. "It's a gift, boy," Bernie said. "One day, when you get a car of your own- specially in New York- you'll be some driver. That car will be lucky." Jack smiled. Wiping the oil from his hands on the little white handkerchief sticking from his leg pocket. "Thanks Bernie." The older man smiled. "No problem- you know, I appreciate ya so much, lemme know if there's anything I can do for ya."

Jack modestly smiled, before frowning a little. "Say, Bernie…. Are there any newly leased apartments or houses around here?" Bernie arched an eyebrow. "Moving out of your folks place?" Jack kept his smile thin and subtle. "That father of yours is a damn sure hero. He really is, you tell him that, ya hear?"

Jack nodded still keeping his rigid smile. "Well, uh…. I hear this place on Caldara…. It was leased a few days ago because a couple decided that there Palm Springs was better suited for them- took route 66. You interested?"

"Oh yes! I've been looking for over a month now… as long as it's not too expensive." Bernie clicked his tongue. "Well, now- in this city- the cheaper you go, you don't know what you might get."

Jack knew this very well. One apartment that was a few hundred a month had a mouse nest under the kitchen sink. Booted from the apartment before the owner even showed up for the appointment. "I've decided- I'm not interested. Thanks, bye, bye." Jack hung the phone up and decided the owner would need to check for themselves why the place wasn't selling.

But this seemed like a sure thing. Jack knew those Caldara apartments. They lived in Brooklyn- the best side that you can get from it- and they were hunched only a little corner away from King's College. The inside was small but habitable little place with a small kitchen, little living room, a bedroom and bath. All he needed. After his shift, Jack didn't hesitate to find the empty apartment. Once inside, Jack checked under the sink, the bedroom, bathroom and any corner where a mouse would nest or spiderwebs would hang with their families or where any furnaces kept eggs of whatever inside. Nothing. "I'll take it!"

"For three hundred every month?" Jack nodded. "Fits my budget perfectly." Shaking hands with Mr. Veldor, Jack signed the lease and was given the keys to his new apartment officially. The shimmer of the golden key felt good in the palm of Jack's hand. It has the ring of departing clanging through every fiber of his brain. Jack made a solid two hundred with Bernie, counting it up every other week. Combining that with a night job for classes would seal a solid hopeful five hundred dollars into his bank every week. Jack needed to be cautious though.

If David saw the flicker flash of the keys, he would bill on more things for Jack to pay for. Once Jack had reached eighteen, David didn't hesitate. "Your grown now, you can pay your own damn way like everyone else in this country." David has dusted the grass sweeps off his tank top from mowing the lawn. Jack glanced between his mother skirting from the kitchen opening and the dining room. A glower escaped from Jack's eyes as he didn't expect Lucy to pipe up for anything.

"Jack," She tried to stop him on the way up the stairs. He turned back. "I'll figure it out…. I always have." Then he disappeared into his bedroom- snagging the job with Bernie's only a week after.

Jack had made it into the house. The keys were tucked carefully inside his uniform and then hid away. David wasn't home yet, giving Jack the chance to rearrange his closet space. He grabbed trash bags from the kitchen and tucked every item of clothing he owned inside them and hid one bag in his closet and the other under the bed- rolling them up into this ball shape. Watches and rings- delicate accessories were put into trash bags- rolled and knotted into this little bag and the carefully sealed inside the closet bag before being knotted tightly.

"When will Dad be home?" Jack asked, seeing his mother come into the house with grocery bags tucked in both her arms. Jack scurried over and took some of the bags from her arms and placed them onto the counter. "He said 'around 8'. It's a case him and Marc are working on that's very detailed." Jack nodded. "Why, did you need to ask him something?" Jack shook his head. "No, I just… wanted to make sure…." Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Jack…" Jack shook his head with a smile. Looking into his mother's eyes again- He examined them for scepticalness. "Well…. I always keep a watch out for him, yeah."

Lucy took a bag of carrots from the bag. "I-I know. I guess…. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Jack gawked- deep into Lucy's eyes this time. Enough for her to see the little lines of his green irises and the shrill potency of vigor he held in them. Lucy couldn't stop staring. There was something in Jack's eyes she couldn't ignore. Something inside of them that was so jarring, it scared her.

"I'm fine," Jack said, voice a little quiet. "I'll be fine." Giving a quick kiss to his mother's cheek, Jack left the kitchen leaving Lucy alone with her thoughts. But even she busied herself in sorting the groceries out for dinner- to bury down what she had possibly known about Jack, but was too afraid to admit to herself. Her sight went to the kitchen opening, then back to the counter. Taking a deep breath, Lucy ignored the echoes in her brain and put the milk into the fridge.

Jack thought hard. He needed to be swift and smart about this. No time for purchasing couches or coffee tables- Jack would take what he already had. His bed, clothes, desk- his room would be stripped of everything that would ever remind his parents of him. He would be gone by Friday. David wouldn't see him, Lucy wouldn't see him….. No one would see Jack again. No more 'greatest detective hero' about David. No more meek and mousey housewife and mother- so saturated in her character, that life washes around her- reality passing her by. Jack sat on his bed. Still realizing his uniform was still attached, Jack stripped it off, stuffing it over the closet rack. The empty closet was useful for something. Sudden flashes of pots, pans, oven mitts and curtains and shades struck Jack's mind. Checking the clock that read 6:02, Jack grabbed his house keys.

"I'm going to go meet some friends at the diner!" He yelled, coming down the stairs. Lucy peered through the kitchen doorway. "Where are you going?"

Jack turned to Lucy. "I remembered I promised to meet some friends at the diner later tonight-  I was tired from work, I forgot. I gotta go now." Lucy watched Jack shuffle out the door. Jack rushed through the front door and caught the passing taxi to take him down to the market.

Miller's Place, was always cheap. A few cents for kitchenware, a few cents for food, a few dollars for furniture. Jack would remember that. He would remember Miller's. With his basket already full, Jack was ready to check out. But something nicked his mind. Bags with 'Miller's Place' on the front would be a dead giveaway in case David decided to ransack Jack's bedroom again. But a crate. A sturdy one where all his kitchen supplies and household needs would be well hidden- out of sight from David… out of sight from Lucy. He didn't trust her. Something that was boiling down in the deep pits of his gut had now boiled over in a flash thought at the checkout line, as Jack settled the thick and wide hickory crate into the basket after it was rang up.

His mother. How own mother could never stick up for him when he needed her the most. Even with all the mustered down sorrow of seeing her so appallingly treated, something in Jack- a spark inside him felt this drench of relief to finally be rid of her was well. She stood by on the sidelines watching Jack get helplessly tortured by the man she married. Would she know just how Jack would cry and scream for her when David would beat him because he failed a test, or force him to take stoney cold showers because he didn't like baths at the time. Lucy would deflate this with inept attempts of reading Jack bedtime stories, or making him his favorite cookies. But it wasn't enough. Jack needed more. He wanted more. He wanted better. That was it- Lucy didn't want to give him better. She didn't take him into her arms and run through the teeming swarm of city-goers in the dusk of night, and find shelter- hidden away where David wouldn't hurt them again.

"He doesn't mean it Jack." Or, "He's just tired. But he wants what's best for you and to do well. So, listen to him and don't doubt him." Would ring inside his head like bells through every night, while he tossed and turned in his sheets, or while he would bandage and tend to every blister or bruise or bloody welt from David's 'best wishes'. Jack was careful not to slam his new items into the cart- his anger filled memories were starting to get the best of him. "Have a nice day!" The lady clerk cheered as Jack waved a polite goodbye before leaving the store.

The clock was now 8:30, making Jack rush home- snagging the first bus to back to Buffalo.

"There he is!" Lucy's sweet voice piped from the kitchen. A delicious savory smell of ham was being delivered from the kitchen to the dining room. Mashed potatoes, butter roasted carrots, biscuits, corn pudding and green beans were sidelined by the centerpiece ham in the middle. David, sat in the center as usual with a serious frown over his face. Jack bit his lip before coercing a smile. Carrying his bags towards the stairs. "I'll be right down." Jack carried the bags and shoved them into the crate as best as he could. Closing the closet door, Jack was met with the sound of footsteps stepping closer and closer toward his door. Jack- quick on his feet- swung the door open and was met face to face with Lucy. Somehow… to his slight relief. "Dinner's ready." She scanned the bedroom over Jack's shoulders, trying hard to peer around the gaps of his frame that stood in the middle. "Alright. I'm coming right now."

Jack waited for Lucy to follow him down the stairs- she did, chugging behind him with question curiosity. Jack took a seat at the table. Taking in the aromatic whiff of dinner, Jack grabbed his fork and knife and waited for his turn. A ping pong toss of whether to share the news with his parents or keep hush until he could safely move everything from the home to his apartment. Jack decided to keep silent. Keeping his daze mostly on his dinner, Jack only looked up occassionally into his mother's eyes. But Lucy was detailed. She was scanning for something- anything to conclude the clambering dyspneic thoughts. She could only catch glimpses of Jack's eyes. Like beads of lint in the light that echoed cotton or dust was nearby. But something in his eyes changed- except she couldn't quite place a finger on it. Did it change suddenly? Was it always there? Had she just not have noticed?

It was bogging down inside her deeply, like a stick in quicksand- snatching it down with every second. Something about Jack's deameanor had changed. They way he walked, the way he spoke- the jarring way he would bore into her eyes with every conversation between them. Glancing between Jack and David- the carried the same eyes, similar jaw lines, the same creases around their nose and under their eyes. The same tight stiffness their jaw would hold everytime something upset them. But David's eyes were different. They were firm, fierce and brash. The jade green would mix in this tonic of arrogance- something Lucy found appealing and rebellious when she was younger. But looking into her son's eyes- the didn't shoulder the same weight. They carried its own.

Jack's eyes were firm when angry, cooing when soft, playful and giddy when happy. He could be happy- he could be soft. He could be a man. A real man. 

He would never be like David. Lucy knew that. 

Raised in the era where marriage was something only Lucy could hope for. A good secure future was in the palms of a man who could give her everything she wanted. Money, housing, the exspensive clothes she could only dream of placing over her body. He could give her the love and attention she desired; the girthy gauzy touch over the nape of back, or the twidling fingers brazing over her warm rosy cheeks. David- tall, dark umber hair and jaded green eyes with golden blades sharpening through them and thick muscles with quivering veins that crawled under the flesh of his arms every time he flexed them even a little. 

His hand craddled Lucy's dainty one in his grasp. The way his arms carried her into their new home- the Buffalo one they shelter in now and for decades to come- gently set her down on the couch like drape slung over the back of the chair for modest decor. Honeymoon days were the best- two weeks of David's masculine proclivity filled the home along with her peach cobler in the way she hoped. Then the first fight. 

David's confident voice suddenly became maybe to abrasive or too rasping. The words would fly from his lips and jab themselves into the laceration of her deepest hollow flesh. But, a bank account and a cozy home could sweep those words under the rug and store back into the urn that was always kept on the shelf, but never touched except for sweeping. The perks of being Mrs. Chambers, was everything to Lucy. She once called this out to her friend, Diane Marlow, who she had managed to make a girl's date with- a casual tea time at the Kettle. 

"He does that sometimes." Diane perked up, sipping up her tea with speed as to speak what had just been spoken to her. "Sometimes...." she looked to the side. "Lucy.... I'm not trying to butt into your marriage but- I think.... maybe that's a bit too far." Lucy crooked the side of her head and raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" Diane swallowed. "All I'm saying is... David shouldn't talk to you like that. I know, he has a temper but-"

"Everyone makes mistakes, Diane. David.... is wonderful. He would never hurt me intentionally." "Don't you mean at all?" Lucy huffed. "I suppose Ethan is just perfect, isn't he?" Diane furrowed her eyebrows. "No. He's far from that- but he doesn't call me out of my name everytime he comes home from work tired or hungry, if that's what you mean."

Lucy looked around. "I needed this Diane. Don't you understand? For a woman... the rules are different. This might be the closest I can get into a future."

"Lucy," Diane sighed. "A woman can still dream and want. It's not that she shouldn't have to- it's that if she doesn't want to, then she can decide for herself what type of future she really wants." 

But Diane could understand. She knew how much marriages were watched and scruntinzed closely by the community. A woman could divorce.... and be shunned and looked on as if she were just a failed attempt to what was expected from her. But unlike Lucy, Diane didn't hold herself to such high expectations. She loved Ethan for who he was and what they could both give to each other through love. Lucy would watch they way Ethan pulled out Diane's chair. Or the way he would press butterfly kisses to her blushed cheeks. It scalded Lucy had badly she craved that. But a fire inside her burned heavier. Ethan wasn't the up and coming city dectective to ring in a infallible reputation with the city- nor did he have a house in between the rush of the city. A car was something that wasn't accessible for the couple yet and stung something in Lucy. Seeing the budget made wedding, the careful cost reception and the two layer cake, somehow sent a judgemental snag inside of Lucy that she couldn't rid.

Her wedding- would be perfect. The right crisp white flowers, the perfect four layer cake with the little bride and groom at the tippy top, the perfect dance for the reception afterwards- Lucy could see it all in her head bouncing around like dodge balls. And that's what she did all her life- dodge. Shunning looking too tough for a man to come and allure with her. Dodge stepping outside of the kitchen where her skills would be judged and belittled by her dearing husband, who demanded the best. She felt more readied for it, rather than some disappointing workshop type achievement or doctorate degree that wouldn't suit someone her type. David, the perfect man- muscular and manly man type to fill the role of purpose in her life. Watching her mother, her aunts, her sisters and cousins all court with their fellas, as they strolled down this destined line of marriage, children, cooking, cleaning, sewing- keeping the house together- keeping herself together at all times. It was when Lucy realized outside appearances do matter, and if they didn't, then there would be nothing. Nothing but a hollow shell of herself.

"Kids. Imagine David- a little boy or girl, swinging in the backyard, or running through the kitchen for a snack? It'll be lovely." David didn't exactly deny this fantansy. In fact, he didn't mind children. He just, liked them to be a certain type of child- but wouldn't acutally knock the idea off the table. "Really?" He said, lighting his cigar. Lucy snuggled up next to him. Looking into her eyes, a smile finally spread across David's face. "Alright.... we'll try it."

Jack was born a year later.

Despite the immense pride and sentimentalism that ran through Lucy, it would also be the first time she realized how off track life could go. 

Jack- born a few weeks early, but otherwise healthy- had this raging spirt, even while he lived in a small incubator. This was reassuring to Lucy, as she was told by midwives that premature babies didn't have the best survival rate. But Jack wasn't too early. Born into the hospital's latest technololgy, he thrived in his little glass box. His lungs filled with energy as he would kick and scream when the nurses tried to change his diaper, or how he quickly learned to latch when his hunger got the better of him. "Seems to be perfectly healthy." A delight pecked through both of the new parents. Jack was an easy baby for the most part. But like most wives, Lucy did most of the childrearing to know that. Even though in good health, the occasional worry still slithered through Lucy's mind sometimes of Jack being ill or developing a serious sickness.

But, a perfect little boy nonetheless. But to David, it wasn't until Jack hit one, when Lucy understood that life wasn't perfect again. She could hear Jack's cries and screams from being slapped or whipped for little mistakes. She could feel the tremble in his body when he would get in David's way and cause trouble. But for Lucy, reassurance was enough. It was her role as a mother to doll up the jangling mistakes of the father's temper as misunderstandings or tough love. Looking into those little green eyes- eyes that needed his mommy to swoop in and take control. But all Lucy could find herself doing was rub his chubby cheek and kiss his forehead. "It'll be fine sweetie.... wanna bake with mommy?" 

Sometimes, Jack would stay tied to the apron strings, other times, he would run away to his room and stuff himself in the closet. Her heart twinged. She wanted to scoop her boy into her arms and shield him from the dark world. But the fire- wedged deep inside her kept burning brighter and brighter. A woman had to have it all together at all times. Especially, her household. Jack was made to hush over his father problems. Lucy was made to pretend that everything was all fine, and that David was just tempermental at times. At times, she would dress Jack's wounds with ointment and peroxide- and a dab of her foundation to ease the tender hue of the bruise on his lip or the black eye surrounding his orbital. 

She sent Jack to school that way. And it was harmless. At least, children weren't supposed to be that intelligent- be seen and not heard stood for a reason. So, that's what she would gently remind Jack to do. If no one asks, then keep quiet. If someone does, then pretend like nothing happened. Looking into those innocent eyes- Lucy knew she had underestimated her little boy. He was a smart cookie and tough one. Unlike her, he didn't sit back and let David hit and punch. Sometimes, and eleven year old Jack would swing a bat- trying to intimidate David with his batting skills. Jack could run. Joining little league back in the third grade, Jack knew how to dodge a belt or switch with a sharpness sometimes. He knew where to swing and how hard to hit David- but never did. He was a good boy- a strong boy.

He had guts. He would mouth back- show teeth like a growling dog when provoked. Carrying the same temper his father did, Jack held this certain control in himself that David couldn't. Lucy could see how much Jack knew the ropes of the house. But.... he bite back. David said 'no game' because of a broken vase; Jack would sneak out the door and hit a home run through the yard. David would force a dress on Jack, because if 'Jack wanted to act like a bitch, he would get treated like one.' 

Jack walked to school in his tank top and summer shorts that day in the frigid twenty degree weather. 

If Jack was told to 'shut up', he would be first to pipe a loud shrill scream across the room and run out of David's sight. David burned up Jack's favorite toy truck in the fireplace out of drunkness- no sympathy, just flat callousness. Jack, later than night, smashed all David's beer in the driveway and through the backyard. 

David burned Jack's records; his favorite collectibles from over the years. Stifling the tears, Jack went out later that night- dressed in black on black- and set fire to every desk inside the downtown presinct. Using vodka bottles and lighting them with matches. Jack would forever feel ashamed of this act in the thick billow of teenage hormonal anguish. Something even Roger would have to find out when he as Jack's age. The aftermath was burnt rubble of every last framed honor that was credited to David. "Fireman said, it was a vodka flame. Probably some angry kid over their father going to jail or somthing..." The chief said. No fingers were pointed to Jack- not even David could point. 

As far as everyone knew, Jack was in bed wallowing over his burnt records. But deep inside, Lucy knew. She just didn't tell. And Jack knew she knew.... and he would never say; something....Lucy had to learn to accept.

Jack mellowed as the years went on. But that flame that fanned inside him still burned on and on. It never died. Jack didn't need perfection to be accepted.... he knew what the world was and he accepted that for what it was. 

Lucy could never understand the look in Jack's eyes after winning the seasonal game, or finishing with the honors in high school or scoring the perfect first date with, Ruby Heimen. Had Jack been a more mousey type of child- it would be different. He would've etched himself into his mother's arms- not into the blazing brutal flames of his father's temper, with his own sparks. Quiet and dutiful- like Lucy- obeying every command like how he was supposed to. He was a child, after all. And Lucy was a woman. A dutiful wife and mother- Assimilating into her place like she had wanted. Like she was supposed to.

Don't fan the flames too hard, keep them contained in your little box she thought. Don't let passion burn brighter then your place in the world. Follow the rules- and you'll be safe, like promised. Like her mother promised. So, she promised this to Jack. Never aloud, but subtlety. 

Jack would understand why she couldn't protect him. She hoped he could maybe even agree that she could nurture his childishness with hugs and kisses, fresh baked cookies, and gentle touches and sing song voices. That David was his father, and fathers always knew best. And for that, she knew best. But Jack- had this passion. The simmering flame that Lucy had fought for years, was Jack's fire. It burned brightly in Jack, never dying- even through the thick marsh of jaded sorrow- something in Jack, never died. That spark in his eyes held something that Lucy could only wish. Even her best intentions couldn't credit that from him. Every 'no' was met with a 'I will anyway'. And Lucy could never admit it to herself. She would never admit why it never fizzled. Looking into those eyes-favoring David's- but more. It held something inside them that Lucy could never have. Something she wanted for herself was now sitting in soul of her son.

But Jack was born with it. "I'll be fine Mom." Was something so natural for such an unknown reason, would drip from his lips like they were tattooed on his tongue from birth. Maybe she wanted to believe she would understand- how rooted Jack was in his beliefs. His gut instinct was his compass and that's what he followed. And for that, he would be fine. The outside typical surburan family that consisted of mother, father and son. But on the inside was this push and pull tug-of-war between Jack and David was something that became her everyday; she hated to see it. She couldn't bare for anyone else to see it. But it was there. Lucy didn't know when it started, but it was there. And that's how it always was in the Chamber home.

But years later...she would know. She would see that particular look on the face in every stranger, but Jack's would never change. A certain natural in his eyes that held that flame. An unwafting flame of content... of freedom. He was prisoned by circumstance, but liberated by will.

************************************

A fresh dew early morning; chill and lukewarm without the panging heat of mid morning and afternoon lingering.

Jack was at Bernie's, working on Pontiac- greese stains splashed over his cheeks. "Hey there Jack!" Jack turned for a minute, greeting the old man with a smile. "That lady- you fixed her Ford for- she really loved it. She tipped ya a few cents." A smile fell over Jack. "Thanks Bernie," taking two quarters out of the eighty cents, Jack handed them to Bernie. "You deserve it too." Bernie gave Jack a kind look. He appericated Jack's work ethic a lot, but his kindness the most. "Young fellas," Bernie put it, "don't make much time for an old man like me. You're special Jack, you know that."

Bernie thought for a minute. "You have a car?" Jack looked up and shook his head. "No sir." "Well, you got one now," Bernie ushered Jack with his pointer and led him to the backyard of the shop. "Some man came in and dropped this off. He said it was junk and that it don't work no more." He turned to Jack. "If you can fix it- car's yours." Jack's eyes widened. It was the most gorgeous navy blue Ford he'd ever seen. Sitting amongst the grass and the stacks of tires, Jack could almost picture himself driving it. "Oh thank you so much Bernie! I don't know how to thank you!" Bernie smiled. "You're an excellent worker- I figure that's about enough."

Jack finished up the cars for that day. Then he stayed overtime working on the Ford- fixing the broken shifts, replacing the broken pipes, and oiling the gears. And then- the headlights popped on. Then the engine started. And then..... Jack drove it home. Jack sat in the driveway- thinking up his next move. A new car, a new apartment, small furniture. Jack got out of the car and made his way quietly in the house. It was past dinner, and the house smelled of chili spices and garlic. But Jack ignored that. Instead he tip toed up stairs and moved the crate in the backseat of the car. Making a second trip, Jack grabbed the trash bags of clothes and stuffed in the trunk before peeling over to his new apartment. 

Looking around the empty spaces, Jack decided that in the morning, he would move everything out of his home. He would call some guys over and they would move his bed and desk out of the haunted home he resided in and into his new home. A shrilling chill crawled down Jack's spine. A static shock of excitement and enchantment overflowed him, as he found his legs jumping high and then carefully hitting the ground as not to disturb the sleeping neighbors. Jack would call Bernie and ask for the morning off and that by late afternoon, he would work until late evening. Then he would call Charles and John, to help move his bed and desk with the promise of cold beers and a few dollars. He had it all set. It would be the perfect escape from the years- the 19 years of vigorous maltreat that he suffered at the hands of his father. All the tears, the screams, the fights, the harsh words- all rooted and conjoined in this vein of David. Memories of the smell of  hot leather would sting through his nose from time to time. Sometimes, the hair on his left arm would raise slightly with more goosbumps; David's favorite arm to use when he pressed a hot skillet to it or slap the upper arm when Jack stood in his way a little too long.

Jack stood solid on the floor. His eyes brimming with tears. The hole was deep- deeper than Jack thought... or wanted. Jack could rebel-he always did- but it still didn't take it away. The horror he felt of making David angry and the slew of degrading threats that would be pounded into him for the tiniest mistakes. Jack would never tell anyone of his agility skills origin; he could curl himself into ball, wedging himself in the corners where David couldn't see him. Or how flat he could make his body from laying under his bed for hours until David sobered up. 

Jack fought for his life from day one until today. Jumping out the belt's way to protect his legs, ducking down with sharp speed- protecting his face from punches or shifting himself out of the way from David's slaps. It made David angrier sometimes. He would be chased, sometimes down the neighboorhood blocks- where he would hide in the tree at the park, around the corner of Mr. McGail's house. He was decent. Just watching from his front porch at the spectical sometimes, when David would ask where Jack went, he'd point him in the opposite direction. Although, Jack hadn't found this out until middle school. "I've been beaten a few times in my life..." He started. "I just don't think it's right- and that's my take on that." 

Jack made a habit from that moment on, to be Mr. McGails personal helper on some summer days when the lawn needed mowing or his driveway shoveled after glowering winters. It was an indicate of Jack's personal graditude. And Mr. McGail knew it- up until someone else moved into his home after his passing. It was that fall. And Jack had felt this emptiness nest inside him. A quiet pity of the nice elderly man who never knew how much he saved him. That was also the last summer, Jack would ever be chased by David. His age finally caught up with him- so he simply stopped.

Jack liked to think Mr. McGail was above the clouds, giving him a shady wink for the nonsense they caused in front of his home. Maybe a slight nod of just helping a kid out.

But Jack didn't have too much of it. That's how it always was. Jack defended Jack. Jack barked back, Jack hit back, Jack ran back. He had to. Even with his mother's gentle words and generous touches, it wasn't enough. He needed power- something- anything to shield him from David. He couldn't afford to live life- he had to live on the edge. Ready to spring out of bed when David would come into the house slamming the door. Ready to dart from Andy's house, only a few minutes past curfew. Ready to shove all his teddies and treasured toys into the darkest corners of his closet.

Ready. That's how Jack was born. Ready.

Jack knew pain. He knew survival. But he knew love. He knew how to hug himself on tired nights when his welted back hurt. He knew how to bandage his own elbows and knees, and stitch the rips in clothes after being dragged by the fringes on David's drunk days. Nights were the best. Jack was never a child too afraid of the dark. He loved the solitude. To him, it was thinking time. Time to reflect and ask himself the important questions. What he would do the next time David hit him? Or how should he respond the next time his toy was smashed? In the light of the moon, there was Jack in his little bedroom, spending time with himself. He loved spending hours crafting little robots or figurines from clay or loose screws he would find. Jack- watching his mother- knew how long to press an iron onto a set of jeans before smoothing them out carefully. He knew how long to bake cookies in the oven and what times to check on spagehetti while it boiled in the pot. 

Jack knew that a glass of milk and a little debbie would sometimes make David's internal voices less harsh. He knew hugging your teddy can turn nightmares into dreams. He knew to cursive his name onto a piece of paper and how make paper airplanes fly across the sky- launching from the backyard.

Then by middle school, Jack loved baseball. He tried pitching. It was alright. But batting was perfect. Everyday pent up emotions were the bat, and his problems were the ball. Striking hard against the ball and scoring high points for the team became his field. Well known enough for David to place bets on him with the other fathers. If he even showed up to a game. Sometimes he would, just for the bets. Other times he wouldn't because the bar was open and waiting. Sometimes....Jack would lose. And David- losing a bet- would smack him across his little face. "You fuck everything up. Stupid dumbass little shit!" Spitting in his face, David would grab Jack and throw him in the backseat of the car and drive home cursing his name under his breath.

That's who David was. And Jack accepted that. He held no expectations to him, nor would ever be able to. Jack could look around and see the different fathers displaying their tough love with soppyness to it. He craved it. He nurtured that warm feeling in his heart everytime a male teacher or one of his friend's fathers would give him a gentle pat on the back or and rub their hands over his mop of hair. It was just something about the way Jack's heart would flutter when seeing cartoons of Dads giving squeezing hugs or loud echoing kisses to their offsprings. This sentimental affection was love. Jack- a twenty year old- still felt the same squeeze of his heart everytime a father carried that chunk of affection. His love language.

A language only a few people would understand, like him. How much children needed those kisses on their cheeks or those bear hugs against their bodies. Bedtimes stories on papa's lap and funny silly voices or gentle cooing voices for pleasure or reassurance. 

Jack, promised himself, his children would understand the delicate language of love. His sons and daughters would be wrapped in his arms and his smile would be only for them. His dreams would be of his wife laying against him in the grass while the children ran around the yard happily. And that's all he could want- happiness. Jack, was a happy person. A good person. He would never hurt anyone- not even a little fly. He just... had to protect himself from David. David stood on the other line of wanting to break his spirit. He wanted Jack to sink so low and so deep into the cold slooshy wet mier of pain, that love would die. Happy would die. 

Jack would die.

Jack had dreams. He learned to have them. Just like he learned to sew and cook and make bruises disappear and cuts and scraps stop bleeding. And Jack had those big dreams- high and bright. Like the apartment he stood in- feet strict to the floorboards. And maybe the college he wanted to be apart of; King's College only a few blocks away from his townhouse. Engineering would be his major. He would do what he loved; crafting things from scratch. Making a life of burning down the old and building up the new.

And he would become a bartender to pay for the classes and work for Bernie to pay for the townhouse. And he would one day leave the crowded city- taking route sixty six down to the California hills. Jack knew his wife would be there, and they're home with the lush backyard where their kids would play. A blonde haired little girl- favoring his wife from every detail of her face, and a little brunette boy- vivid eyes like himself with the same ambition that sparked his early arrival into the world. It was all waiting. Everything waited for Jack- motioning him to take that first move- that first step towards the rest of his life. And so.... he would burn it all down.

He had to. He couldn't spend even another night in that house. His future was his escape from the dread decorum that ran the household. He had to prove this to himself. That he could be free. That Jack Chambers, did not suffer in vain. He did not believe that men had to be uptight, or women had to be dainty, or children had to be just mere echos of convenience.

Jack would settle the mental battle he fought for years. He would prove that even before the sense of maturity and experience kicked in, that this gut feeling- stronger than the rest- was his saftey net. That his instinct is what moved him to burn down the presinct, and smash those beer bottles against the hard pavement of the driveway. That sewing the rips in his own jeans was more than childhood education or curiousity of how things were done. That from the moment he heard the rash voice of his father, and weak cries of his mother, that he was correct. That he could do better. He was better.

That he deserved better. Looking into the face of morals before he even understood what they meant, was something inside him all along. Defending himself in the face of bleak iniquity and daring himself in aftermath of consequences became his life. And it would always be apart of it. Unafraid to challange the laws or stomp over bad authority.

Unafraid to take himself over the lines of perfection and duty, and into the blades of a certain unsureness. So for that.... he would set it on fire. He would wake up, stare his parents into their eyes and tell them he was leaving.

And with his hands tied, watch it all blaze and burn down, before resting to a cooling burnt ashed grave. And he would stand in those ashes and look at them. Then he would kick up his sneakers and scrape the ash off his soles and keep walking. Not looking back for a minute, a second or a lifetime. His life- would finally be his own. And his dreams would be his reality. A new perspective on what life truly could be.

Walking out into the hallway, Jack took one last look around at the apartment before closing the door and locking it.

****************************

The wails of firetrucks streamed down the block. Taking a passing corner around the Chamber home, the engines honked and sped only a few blocks down the street towards the left of Central Ave, where someone had set fire to the Jenn residence, 'The porcelain house' as some people called it because of their all white exterior and shiny glass designs inside.

But the Chamber household did boil. 

Jack stood in front of a sobbing Lucy and a disgruntled David as John and Charles moved around them- pulling dresser drawers down the steps and into the back seat of Jack's car. Then the hollow frame of the dresser came and moved around them, and then the mattress, and then the bed, finally halting with Jack's desk.

Professionals, as Jack called them- not missing a beat or dropping one fragile item to the floor.

David turned and scowled at Jack. "After everything we've done- and you're gonna just take off and leave!" Jack kept silent but nodded, closing his eyes briefly and opening them to David's angry ones. "Ungrateful son of a bitch- when I was your age- I worked my ass off to take care of my folks- not just leave them behind in the dust like the way you do!"

Jack knew this wasn't true. David grew up in foster care all his life.

Jack didn't bat an eye. "It's not personal-" "Oh! 'It's not personal' " David mocked. "It is personal! You only care about yourself! Where is this new place anyway?!" Jack shook his head and turned to his mother. "Mom....I'm leaving now." Lucy turned to Jack. Soppy tears dripping down her face with a sorrow filled stare. "Please...." She managed to beg. "Don't go." 

"I have to." David scoffed. "Ungrateful pussy." Jack didn't argue the logic. Clutching his knuckles, Jack had made a promise to himself and he intended to keep it. Looking down, Jack saw the last of his items being placed into the tow along cargo space on the back of his car. Taking a deep breath, Jack narrowed his eyes to David. "Goodbye Dad.... take care." His voice sturdy and unwavering, he brushed past him and hugged Lucy. Placing the house keys in her palm, he looked into his damp and puffy eyes. "Take care Mom...." Kissing her cheek, he continued to stare into her eyes until they were completly empty. "Take care...." 

"I love you Jack!" She called as he stepped aside from her. Turning around and meeting her gaze. "I love you too." 

Jack turned to David, whose eyes were filled with absurd fury. Jack- without thinking- wrapped his arms around David and pressed a small kiss to his cheek, before quickly letting go. David's eyes softened. The crease in his brows became less prominant and his fist unclenched themselves a bit. But Jack still held a certain sterness in his stare. His mind even rambled reasons for his sparodic affection towards his father. Maybe because it was just common decency. Maybe a heat in the moment type gesture. Jack would never know; not changing his feelings of David, he would be left in the dark of his actions until one rainy Sunday when he would sit with his wife staring down at the burnt mahogany box that held what was left of David.

Biting the edge of his lip, Jack waited. Waited for David to respond to what he had just given him. A leaden silence filled the room for a moment, as David was gasping inside to find the right words or the right gesture- anything for this sudden blow of love his son presented him after it being thrown back into his face so many times by himself. But this time was different. Maybe a dense ring of finality rang heavily through his bones. And that touch, would be the last he ever felt of Jack. The last he would smell his seasoned amber and musk cologne against the ridge of his neck. The last time he would feel his son's bulky strong hands touch the delicate pare of his back.

Staring into Jack's eyes- vividly jade and ardent- David couldn't speak. His mouth was paralyzed shut and his lungs were blowing out steam from his nostrils like how they did in a crime scene where the body of whoever laid flat on the ground while the killer ran free and undetected. A survival instinct that he carried all his life, had now promoted itself to something he struggled to comprehend for years. Love. And something about that.... he just couldn't let himself attach to.

Jack tightened the backpack over his back and turned away, taking the final steps through the house, to the front door and then closing it without looking back even once.

The house fell silent and David stood even quieter wondering what he was to do and what he just done.

*****************************

A hawkish chill lingered through the fall air. School was in session; Jack had recently enrolled over the summer into King's College for the semester. Engeineering and mechanics were Jack's primary classes amongst mathamatics and science.

Picking up the night shift with the local tavern only a few streets from his townhouse, Jack worked as the bartender. Pouring drinks and serving them to desperate customers earned him a few hundred dollars every other week along with the gracious tips he would receive from his excellent service. It payed for his semester and earned him extra money for sudden repairs or for a night out in the city for a decent dinner whenever his energy couldn't hold him up to the stove to cook another pasta meal. It was the tavern job that he worked- got him into cigarettes. Lighting one every night after a rough shift with the rowdy patrons. Jack, would sometimes help himself to the swigs of a Bloody Mary from time to time during long hours.

Maybe it was to dull some of the pain he felt inside too. The sudden shift of how life can take such a quick turn into a mucky ditch.

Late September was when Jack had come into work for Bernie. Hours had passed and he hadn't shown up on the usual six o'clock bus he usually took to arrive bright and early for the shift. Jack was always one hour later. But this day, an icky trace dropped into the pit of Jack's stomach. He couldn't pinpoiny exactly when it happened. Maybe while he was fixing Mr. Hoover's Duesenberg, or Ms. Malorie's Bentley- but sometime around that time, Jack had checked his watch and the clock had already struck twelve. It was his lunch break when he drove down to Bernie's tattered old apartment by Central Park. Down the rickety street where he slowly crept up to his floor and found Bernie still in bed. 

Jack's heart fell into his throat. Somehow his feet couldn't move him to Bernie, but pushing himself- almost tripping- he did. Bernie didn't stir once. Trailing back downstairs, Jack alerted Bernie's neighboor, Donna, that Bernie was dead and to call an ambulance. "What's his pulse?"

Jack shook his head. "He doesn't have one.... I'm sorry." 

Waiting to the side as the ambulance drivers cocooned Bernie in the white sheet while on top of the stretcher, Jack felt small tickles against his face. His nose became more labored in his sniffs of air, but Jack hadn't realized he was crying until Donna placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and gently wiped the tears dripping off his chin.

"It'll be alright, child. He was a good man." She turned to Jack and smiled faintly. "You take of yourself, ya hear?" Jack nodded. A sniffle escaping him. He turned to Donna with a somber smile. "Thank you so much.... you take care too." 

A week later, the shop closed. Another week passed- someone bought it. It was no longer a repair shop but a gas station. 

Jack and Donna took the liberty to clear out Bernie's things. Donna with his apartment, and Jack with the shop. Bernie had no family, so the two held a quiet burial for him with candles in his hands and prayers above his grave. After that, they parted ways, but would forever share the moment between them.

Jack however, kept his old uniform. Tucking it away safely in storage, he would always remember the first job that gave him the opportunity of a fresh start.

****************************************

Working half into two in the morning- picking up extra slack- Jack had forced himself out of bed and into the bathroom for a quick shower. Then a solid breakfast of coffee and toast before leaving the apartment and fleetly saying 'hi' to Emily. Evans, who lived a little ways down the hall. She wasn't too old, but rather looked in her early thirties. Tall and curvaceous built, wavy auburn hair and amber eyes. Jack found her sweet, pretty and kind. But, was too busy to fair any attention back her way. 

Skiling down the stairs, Jack piled into his car and drove down to the college and made it inside at the usual fifthteen minutes before class like he always did. Grabbing the books and notebook from his locker, Jack made it into class with ten minutes left to spare. 

May Hollowood. The girl he kept locking eyes with for some reason, just happened to be right across from his desk this morning. May was beautiful, and she knew it. A Dorothy Lee smile and a Marion Davies far away look, as Jack would describe. Thick flamming red bob cut locks, light pearl blue eyes, deeply dimpled cheeky smile with the most reddest lips sealing over the pearly smile she flashed everytime she saw Jack. What could she be doing in this class? Was the though that ran through Jack's mind. Mathematics class- Jack didn't totally care for the class, and held no objections or chauvinism towards a woman wanting to pursue any type course or career.

But, May wasn't the type of girl that took her studies seriously. She talked to every Joe, Paul, and Ben in the college and was always found twirling her hair during class, rather than jotting down notes of any kind. Jack kept his focus keenly on the words of his professor and the equations he wrote on the board. Trying to solve them in his head, Jack found it hard to focus with May's eyes knowingly on him. A last resort: Jack wrote the problems down for later and promised himself that he would work on them before work. Slight exasperation washed through Jack. He decided to politely ignore May for the rest of the day.

May wasn't the only girl to lust herself to Jack. Kelly Henderson loved the way Jack's bangs would appear in front of his face when the strainds of his slicked hair, would nudge over towards the front of his face. Annabelle West was fiercly attracted to Jack's confident posture with his back pressed against the wall, smoking a cigarette, while scanning the students that passed him. The there was Sally Beckett who could almost imagine herself against Jack's tall lanky figure with his bulky arms around her waist while she stared into his emerald eyes and let the heart curve of his lips press on her cheek.

But May followed Jack. She felt more than simple attraction- deeper than the ingenious thought Emily Evans carried everytime she saw Jack lock up his door and stride down the steps. Letting the vision of his protective grasp around her torso enravel her as she stumbled back into her apartment and finish making her morning coffee. 

So, May decided her first approach would be in the college courtyard, around the outside corridors, where Jack would be puffing in his afternoon and mid morning cigarette. "You have a light?" She asked, zipping around to Jack's view. Jack thought for a moment before pulling out a lighter from his pocket. Flicking the flame up to her cigarette, May smiled. "Thanks. Not too many gentlemen around here." Jack raised his eyebrows in agreement. Some of the guys did only think about one thing when they saw a pretty girl they liked.

Taking a puff of her cigarette, May smiled wider to Jack. "So you-" The bell rang, signaling classes to begin again. As Jack excused himself, May bit her lip and watched as Jack ran aimlessly though the throngs of students, tossing and stomping out his bud before disappearing inside the building. 

*******************************

It was Saturday night. Jack didn't work weekends. Sitting at the bar with his friends, Andy, Charles and Jude, Jack was downing a martini. Scanning the night scene, the rush of people swinging in and out of the bar with their drinks and booming chatter and boisterous laughter. Reaching for a cigarette, Jack pressed it between his lips. Flicking his lighter back and forth- no fire rooting from it. "Light?" A saultry voice next to him spoke.

Turning and seeing May there, holding her lit lighter out in front of Jack's cigarette. Taking a puff, Jack smiled cautiously. "Thank you." May shrugged. "Just thought I'd return the favor." Jack gave a small arched smile and tried to go back to his drink. But May hovered next to him, letting the spicy blossom perfume swim through Jack's space. Feeling her soft hands touch his arm, she flashed him the same pearly smile she always did. Jack hadn't noticed the sparkle that twinkled inside her eyes. Bright sky blue eyes when settled in the mundane light. Easy and alluring with reason. Pressing her shiny red lips to Jack's cheek, leaving the red residue stain there, Jack felt this tingle through his spine.

May's soft presence eased Jack more than he would've liked. A comforting illumine wrapped around the two of them- becoming the only two people in sight. Jack could soon only see May's face. Her soft gentle face met his in a way he couldn't describe. Letting her lean in closely, Jack let his lips touch hers and soon, even a few drinks couldn't intoxicate Jack the way May did. Leading her to his car, Jack and May drove to Jack's townhouse.

Leading her upstairs, Jack had comepletly missed Emily coming from her apartment with a freshly baked cherry pie- whipped cream dolloped on top perfectly- only to see Jack and May making out against the door jam of Jack's door, before disappearing inside his place. Emily quietly went back inside her apartment, turning off her lights for the evening.

Meanwhile, in Jack's apartment......

May and Jack slammed into every corner of the room, tossing their clothes to the floor: against the chair, over the couch, by the TV, in the hallway. Making it into the room, naked May leaped into Jack's arms- arms clinging to his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, letting his body press into hers tightly. Her soft moans became louder as they trailed into Jack's bedroom. Their bare bodies heaved on top of each other- Jack kissing her neck ferociously as her naked body laid under his, pressing itself against his, until her nails finally scratched his back and hands clung to the sides of her back, letting their breaths fall and gasp into each others with a heavy final howl of breathless words. Jack slid to May's side, looking into her eyes with the fluff of his own. May's smirk played through Jack's mind. A memory he'd never forget- his first time. May would forever be the girl he gave himself to. 

He'd never forget the sweetnes of her eyes and gentleness of her lips. How she clung to him for comfort and pleasure and how she let him take the control. Fanning herself and fixing the messy strainds of hair, May finally locked eyes with Jack. "You were good." She breathed. "So were you....." Jack wanted to tell May of his pride in her being his one, but bit his tongue. Instead, he fell asleep with May tracing his back with her finger and to the sounds of her soft humming breath.

By morning, Jack turned around and his bed and felt nothing. Opening his eyes slowly, May was gone. Grabbing his nylon briefs from the couch, Jack saw that all of May's clothes were gone. The front door was closed and she had comepletly disappeared. Like she had never exsisted. Jack threw on his clothes, and went into the hallway. Emily's door was closed. Jack didn't notice too much, but found it unusal considering how she would always be there to open her door when she heard Jack's door open. Jack spent the Sunday inside the apartment mostly, but eventually went out for dinner. 

Jack wanted to know where May's apartment was. Was she staying in a dorm with roomates? Did she still live with her parents? He needed to know. His mind flickered between the picture show that played inside his mind of May's soft body pressed against his. It swayed through the night, misting through his brain and in his dreams. His heart sped when thinking of May. Her soft hair, her gentle skin, the sureness of her eyes. It all lived inside Jack's head rent free- no strings attached. Jack didn't realize the rosation of his cheeks in his sleep- sizzling deeply in his skin the more he dreamed of her lilac scent pressing deeply into his collar. No number, no address, no way to reach May or understand her. Jack endorsed that he would greet May in the corridors at school Monday. She would be there in floral pink dress, her white little heels and cherry lipstick, lacing her arm around his and walking around the college to showcase themselves to everyone like golden trophies in a glass case. Jack fell asleep, dreaming of May- hoping silently she'll return to him tomorrow.

***************************************

Monday came. Jack arrived up and early- fixing his breakfast, stepping into the shower and dressing in a slick polo with dockers- dabbing on some cologne on his neck, and fixing his collar neatly.

Stepping outside, Jack met eyes with Emily. Giving her a polite smile, she gave a tightend half one before brisking herse;f down the stairs. An arch crossed over Jack's eyebrow, but he shook it off, passing her while exiting the townhouse.

Jack made a point to arrive twenty minutes early to college, hoping to spot May somewhere outside in the courtyard, or by her locker chatting with her friends. Maybe she's thinking of me Jack thought. Maybe she'll be talking about us as her latest hookup. She put in so much effort to follow me, she's gotta be interested.

A familiar chuckle grabbed Jack's attention. It was around the corner of chemistry class on the second floor. The halls were bare and the students were either just getting to the school or probably haven't even awoken from the dorms yet. But, Jack turned the corner. Quietly and vigilant- bracing himself against something unexpected. He always got enough of those when he turned corners and was smacked with a surprise boy and girl coition. But this time, he caught the firery fringes of May's hair. Her slender frame, her diverting laugh- all in light of the corner that Jack peered around. May- making out with some guy- lips locked deeply into his without hesitation. Jack went unnoticed, but was paralyzed to the scene. His legs felt wobbly like jelly, but were somehow still bolted onto the floor. His eyes frozen on the bewitching act play out right in front of him as if he didn't matter.

And he didn't Not to May anyway.

Carefully walking away, Jack's blushing wishful cheeks had become a face filled shade of red. Bright echoing red from anger mixed in utter humilation. Of all the broken pieces that still lived in Jack, the one honest one, the one bold one, the one hopeful and sensitive piece of himself had been wasted. Fully wasted, like money being flushed down the toliet, or fresh beer being poured out onto the pavement of the ground. Jack felt wasted. Used up and broken. Shattered to the ground like crystals. Jack didn't understand how he stayed in class that whole day. Maybe because of the deep determination he had to his goal. His passion to be what he wanted. Never making eye contact with May the entire day- and somehow, she was okay with that. She never looked in Jack's direction anyway. She was already on to someone else. It all singed inside Jack deeper than he wanted it to. 

Shame layed over his body like a blanket, making him want to hide himself- cover himself over like he was naked, walking around the school for everyone to see his nakedness. Once school ended, Jack smoked down three cigarettes and gluped down a whole beer pack. Drunk and sloppy, Jack took himself to bed and decided that his Monday studies would become his Tuesday ones.

Jack woke up and hour before work. Sober, he took another shower, grabbed a quick dinner -a peanut butter and jelly sandwich - before grabbing his keys and rushing out the door. 

"Where's that one girl?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Emily swallowed. "Oh, there was this one woman- she said hi and we talked and... I didn't know if she lived in the apartment or not." Emily regretted what she said. Jack blinked, cheeks becoming flushed again. "Oh, uh... no she doesn't." Jack let his eyebrows furrow. He looked up again, forcing a smile across his face. "Yeah.. she was just visiting." Jack smirked. "Your apartment's always looks so cozy." Emily let a smile spread over her face. "Thanks, I love your apartment too! It's so sensual and artistic..." Emily bit her tongue. She kicked herself for allowing her lips to speak so out of term. Her heart skipping a beat- her face flushed and dampening with her sweat. Jack smiled. "Thanks.... I really apperciate it." Looking at his watch, Jack signaled his need to leave. 

"It was nice talking to you." Emily smiled, letting Jack pass her through the hall. Watching him trail down the stairs, she let herself oogle the way his body- sturdy and broad- gait out the door. A blush pecked through her face. A flash of heat swam through her body while a thick patch of fuzz sizzled through her heart. Emily walked back inside her apartment, melting into her couch as she let the image of Jack flow through her brain once again.

*********************************

The shift was tough. Two fights between drunks guys held things up in the tavern, like they always did, leaving extra work for Jack. Jack was a natural at plastering on a polite smile with polite small talk and a good mood persona to get through the days. 

Serving drinks and earning tips for the night until three in the morning when he needed the extra overtime hour to make up the difference on a surprise electric bill charge. Stumbling back home, Jack plopped down on the couch, wide awake. Counting the timeline of how Sunday evening, all he could think about was May; astethic with fondness and a prancing dote. Now, the last thing he wanted to think about was May. And how she used him. How she betrayed him and shattered his self worth into a million pieces. But... Jack blamed himself too. How dare he walk into such a situation where his logic and reasoning where thrown to the side over and ardent dream of a one night stand passion. How he threw his dignity over edge just feel an eccentric fill of love for a few moments only to be lower than rock bottom when it was all over.

While Jack could hate himself, he also pitied himself. The first genuine gash of love he felt from someone- anyone, willing to be intimate with him and hold onto him for the same needy reason he carried for years. How much he needed someone to be interested in him and show him love and suffocate him in it for such a big price. Jack knew he needed it. He knew it wasn't over. The same reason he allowed his cigarette to be lit by the woman, was at the root of where he was now. Alone and sitting in the dark with only a lightly lit living room lamp, whose bulb needed replacing.

But Jack liked being alone. At least that's what he thought. He did though. But.... he still carried that craving. A constant crave of affection. In a world where if you were in a certain position- mostly of circumstance- then, you wouldn't get it. Sexual vibes were the only piece of affection that you could obtain- as much, whenever, how ever you like it.

But Jack didn't want it. Not always. Sure he loved the feeling of May's body, but he needed something more. He wanted something more which was why he was in college in the first place. But....what if that wasn't enough? What if dreams had to just stay dreams? The flame could never be sparked into a fire, but contained inside- safely so you don't hurt yourself. 

Follow the rules- is what lingered through his head. Don't fan the flames, and you'll be okay. Keep your head down and do what's expected.

Repeated all through his life in subtle, yet blunt ways. His mother's coddling of David. His father's roughness with him. These things played through Jack's brain- unstopping or unhooking itself into this merry-go-round of melancholy.

But Jack pinched himself. Not physically, but mentally. He would never allow this to tinker through his body like they had been right. Like the cages they imprisoned themselves in were for best interest. Jack shook himself awake. Pounding the thoughts of May, Lucy, David, Bernie, the guy May was kissing, Donna, Emily and everyone and everything else out of his brain. Jack sat up, grabbed his books, his notebook and sat down at his kitchen nook with a cup of coffee, a timer and a pencil

Monday's work would stay Monday's work.

**********************************************

New's Years day rang in at midnight. Two years had passed, old neighbors left- Emily got married and moved up to Nebraska with her new husband- a ginger tabby had made himself into Jack's new roomate- spolied with warm milk, forehead rubs and kisses, a fuzzy warm bed and a thick red collar against the fat of his neck- earning himself the name, Simba. The perfect name Jack thought for such a spolied kitten. But Jack adored him. Walking across the window seal of his apartment, Jack nabbed the little kitty before it could fall and made it his duty to care for him from then on. "He's too little to be on his own." He cooed, rubbing his nose against his own.

Jack was also working extra hard- his last year of college was really grinding him as the last final would determine whether he would have to repeat the course over. 

January rang in with frosty breezes and sloshy crisp snow, that crunched when your boots clomped it. The shoveled streets where clear. Mostly people walking on the sidewalks to catch in the morning air of mid winter. Jack could remember the feeling of the cold slapping against his face as he and his friends were lined up at Time's Square to watch the clock strike and the ball drop at midnight after the countdown. A stream of tickling snowflakes fell from the sky on that exact moment, leaving Jack to ponder the miracle. He wished for happiness and a week later, Simba was welcomed into his home.

Winter break was still extant; Jack and his friends decided a day out at the pub in Albany- after sight seeing and exotic food tasting- they settled down in the heart of the early evening for a dinner in one of the pubs. Jack explained his lastest class- Mr. Barret made the class do a math exercise with a tennis ball. It was fun, but rather difficult to keep up. As Charles was explaining a funny story- how some girl led him to her home for sex, while her parents were still at the house. "They flipped out when they saw me come through the door!" The boys let out a haughty chuckle. 

A man entered the pub. He met eyes with Jack for a quick second before turning back to a table at the bar. Furrowing his eyebrows, the man turned back to Jack- laughing and talking with his friends- scoffing down the hefty club sandwiches and beer with them, all smiles and cheers. The man was Wayne Hedel. David's friend from high school, who worked only a few corners away from the presinct, at the construction ground. Eyeing Jack, carefully- making sure he caught the familiar face correctly. The same chocolate slicked back hair with the tuff asloped over to the side over his face, curtaining his eye. The same alluring vivid green eyes that could bore holes into you or snatch you into a net of reassuring sympathy when you need it.

Wayne kept focus on the beer he held in front of him. But his mind wandered to one thing: May. His niece- in the same college Jack was in, had accidentally disclosed how she let one guy take her back to his place and showed him a good time after signaling him in class and offering him a lit for his cigarette after he did for her in the college courtyard. Laughing, she exclaimed how Bruce was a better lover, but Jack gave her the satisfaction.

Wayne hadn't told David; conflicted with whether he should- his temper flaring upon the realization of his son hooking up with a 'broad' like the cocotte boy he was. Wayne let the indesicion eat at him for the night. He slept in his misery, not knowing what he could say to David. Seeing him everyday, making small talk while drinking beers against the pillar of an old factory, just didn't seem right as long as he held in this news. He liked Jack. He knew how hard he had it at home and couldn't bare to see any more pain come to him. But David would find out. He knew he would eventually- and hurt him. David would hurt Jack if he found out himself. Maybe Wayne could head him off- telling Jack, David knew. Telling David to calm down and reason it out. They would reason it out together. Somehow, it made it okay. If Wayne headed him off, David might be rational for once. David might make amends with Jack and explain how everyone makes mistakes and how much he loved him. That this would be something between him and Jack- Lucy wouldn't know. She didn't have to.

Wayne slept better the rest of the night. He would tell David. He would tell him the truth and they could make up- like true father and son. 

Shuttling his position in bed, Wayne turned over toward the window, letting the moon hit his face. Letting the tranquil trill of the night soothe him.

*******************************************

"OPEN THE DOOR, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" 

Jack was huddled on his couch, cradling Simba in his arms as the hurls and pounding threat of his door being kicked down ran through him like a jagged opening in the stomach. Carefully stepping onto the floor, Jack locked Simba inside the bathroom and tip toed to the door. "JACK I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" Jack grabbed the phone a dialed for the police of a disturbance. A sour flush bled over his face; neighbors inside their complexes thinking the worst of him upon hearing the loud pounding of his door. Only his door and no one elses. It made rage crawl through Jack like ants over a picnic. 

Slamming the phone against the base, Jack carefully made his way back to the couch and just waited. Left fate in the hands of the universe- hoping they would send the police as soon as possible. Hopefully, catching David in the act and not letting his badge of a detective meddle in their protocol to their job.

Sets of footsteps traced the stairs of the apartment, hearing them shuffle to Jack's door, where David had parked himself there. A knock on the door sounded. A regular knock- not a pounding beat that echoed through the door frame. "Hello? Someone called?" Jack ran to the door, opening it with his body skirting a little through the sliver where the chain lock would allow. "Yes! I called because of this man- my father- he's pounding on my door- harassing me and is acting very aggressive." David, yanked his wallet out from his back pocket and pulled out his police I.D. Jack somehow knew this, and unlocked his door, allowing himself to stand in the face of the officers and David.

The police scanned the I.D. and then turned to Jack. "I want him removed from my residence." Stiff and stern, Jack didn't even look into the eyes of David. The sudden door burst open of Emily's place. The police officers turned to her. "Did you happen to see anything?" Emily looked at Jack, then at David, then at the officers. "I didn't see anything, but I heard someone screaming my neighbors name while pounding hard against his door." Another door swung open. Mr. Richardson's. "I was in my home when this man," pointing to David, "came to this young's man's door and was causing a bunch of disturbance." 

Soon, almost everyone's doors opened and saw the chaos happening. "Alright sir," one of the officers grabbed David's arm. "You're under arrest for the trespassing and violent disturbance of the building." Taking David away quickly while he yelled profanites, Jack looked to everyone- smiling and letting his vision blur- with graciousness. "Thank you all so much! You have no idea what that means to me." 

Mr. Richardson smiled. "Aw, don't worry about it sonny, you're a good neighbor and we appericate you." Jack kept the smile over his face as he disappeared back inside his apartment with everyone else. Jack could be thankful for the support. But he could know that what happened would never be forgotten. Jack grabbed Simba from the bathroom and rocked him in his arms gently. Not so much to soothe the crying cat, but to stifle the looming tears of Jack. 

Anger bubbled over his fear. His shame, his public embarrassment of his father storming up to his townhouse and making a scene. And for what? For nothing. Jack couldn't possibly understand why David would decide all of a sudden to make a scene. How did he even know where his apartment was? How did he even know he lived in the Brooklyn Cladar apartments? How did he even know he lived in Brooklyn? All these questions with no answers swirled around Jack's mind like a ring-around-the-rosie type of circle.

Why? Why did David have to do this? What did Jack do to make it happen? These questions needed to be answered. They needed solance. And Jack decided he would find it.

***********************************************

"Jack... it's mom. I want you to come home okay?" She wimpered. "Your father's in jail..... I don't know what happened- but he needs to be bailed out.... oh Jack, if you could just spare something-"

"Mom.... it's Jack. Dad's in jail, because I called the police on him for disturbing the peace at my apartment." A pause stood over the line. "What?" 

"Dad, marched up to my townhouse-" "Jack I don't understand-"

"Mom! Listen, I called the cops on Dad because he lost his mind!" Jack broke. "He stormed up to my apartment and caused a big scene- enough for the neighbors to have to come out and explain what happened! Do you know why he did it?!" 

"No. I didn't know that happened. You called the police?" "Yes! I had no choice!" 

"But Jack... he's your father."

"Yeah... yes he is." 

"Your poor father.... rotting in that cell. Oh Jack... please!"

"No."

"Jack!"

"Mom! Dad needs to be there! After everything he caused, he deserves more!" "Don't you dare speak like that about him! He loves you- he provided for you- you show him some respect!"

"He loves me...... you know-"

"I don't wanna hear it Jack!"

"I don't care! He's abusive Mom! He abused you! He abused me! He still fucking does! You can say someone loves you- you can say you love someone.... that doesn't make it true. It doesn't mean anything as long as you can't show it. Tough love doesn't exsist with Dad. He's mean, cold, violent.....he's not a nice person. He's not a good father.... and he's not a good husband. He's not a good man, Mom. But... you have to believe that- you have to see something better for yourself in order to see the ugly in him. But you don't.... you defend him like it doesn't exsist and it does! It's all around you, but you refuse to let yourself see it! So.. no. No bail money. No 'I'm sorrys'. Nothing..... get out while you can. If you can value that... then leave him now. That's all I can do. I love you.... but I can't do this. I have to go.... bye."

Lucy let the humming sound of the dead line beep through her. Tears tricked down her cheeks. Her heart felt hollow and heavy. Her breath, steady and rhythm like- as to keep her breath going for consciousness. Setting the phone down onto the base, Lucy soaked in the silence of her home. A wail rose from her throat, releasing itself into the bitter thick marsh of tension she accumulated inside her body. Strolling up to Jack's room, she finally let the door open. 

Nothing. Just like Jack said. Nothing was there. Not his bed, or his desk or his curtains that bellowed in the spring breeze, nor the little chifforobe dresser he had over towards the corner of his room. Empty. Everything snatched and ripped away from his room- starved of Jack's presense of every corner, every little speak or dust that settled- nothing was Jack's. Jack was wiped clean from the home. Not by any influance, but his own. He hated the house, he hated the family he was given.... he hated his life here. And for the first time, something unsettled itself inside Lucy. Something had made the frothing understanding of who Jack was to her, settle in its place.

The deeply webbed interior of Jack that she held in her mind, suddenly started to fade. Those eyes that would search every stranger for, every young man she met, would never be Jack's eyes. Only a representive of what they were and how she saw them. The same net that she thought she had found in David was just a lie. Jack's eyes carried that safety. Because he was safe. He truly held the idea of the unknown- the unattained. Jack- kicked the dust off his jeans, stiched the holes in the soles of his shoes and walked away. He made something better. Jack didn't let David bury him.

Jack.... gave himself what he needed and carried himself that way. And for that... he was stronger than Lucy. He was stronger than David.

Stronger... then what she could have ever been. And for some reason- all those years of tug-of-war between father and son, had incidently carried another standing in mother and son. For all that time until today, it never settled deeply into Lucy as much as did now. Being alone in an empty room held this other presence. She failed. She knew she did...

But not so much to Jack. Not so much to David, or Diane, or her mother or her family or anyone else.

But to her. For the first time.... Lucy would have to finally feel the blades of the lumpy mattress of her bed that she made up.

And lay there. All alone. 

"Jack...." was all she could whisper. "Jack...... Jack..... Jack...." But he was long gone. She would never be there with him. 

And somehow.... in some way...... that's what he wanted her to feel. To understand... to feel. Deep inside herself.

Lucy would always be the woman she envisioned herself to be, not the one she could've dreamed to become. She let it die out. And for that.... she lost Jack. She knew she did. She knew he would never come back... she knew.... the little boy she could only comfort in time of distress was gone. All that was left was the hollow memory of what never was. And she had to live in it.

She had to learn to live without those pieces of her desires. She lived without herself for so long... 

Lucy couldn't even fanthom where to begin now. And that.... is why she laid down on the hard wooden floor of the Jack's old bedroom and cried. 

Alone. All alone. And crying. With nothing. Nothing to show for who she was.... or who she allowed herself to become.

**************************************

"I'm so sorry, Jack. I had no idea David would react like that." Wayne said. Jack bit his lip. Looking down towards the floor, he jolted himself back into Wayne's eyes. "I truly am." Thinking for a moment, Jack realized Wayne was a good man. He was an honest man, and Jack could respect that. 

Sticking his hand out, Wayne shook it. "It's alright." Jack was simple in what was said.

Not mentioning how Jack decided that last month, an apartment in the heart of Manhatten seemed more fitting. More easily able to disappear into the gush of New yorkers, where nobody knew your business- and no one cared about it either. Jack would never tell how he gave Mr. Richardson a lemon meringue pie- his favorite- as a thank you. Or how, he surprised Emily with fresh baked brownies from his oven and a gentle peck on her cheek for graditude. "Oh, thank you Jack.... these are lovely!" Emily couldn't contain the blush color her cheeks became the minute Jack even appeared at her front door. Her smile so big, even her teeth stretched themselves wider.

Packing Simba away in a box, Jack took him and their furniture to their new Manhatten place where the living was twice the size of his old place and he was given two bedrooms- one for him, one as his office- a bathroom and a terrace. Simba was negoiated extra ten dollars, but Jack didn't mind. The tavern he worked at caught fire after some drunk threw a flamming vodka bottle through the window one night.

So, Jack took the job as a stage prop manager with a theater. The most intellectual plays took place there and being centerfield of the Manhatten arts, Jack snagged the job faster than they could ask. He worked nights- where most of the shows took place anyway.

As Jack settled into his last year of college, he held his breath. Cramming in study after study- he hoped it would be enough for what he learned over those three years. He just hoped as finals just around the corner.

***********************************

A perfect score. Jack passed the finals with one of the highest scores in the class. Graduating with honors, Jack couldn't contain his smile as he crossed the stage reaching for his diploma. Glancing out towards the auidence, Jack swore he spotted a face. A familiar face in the crowd of his mother's frame and his father's scowl. 

Squinting- with the little time he had- he scanned the crowd very carefully. But nothing. His parents probably didn't even know he was enrolled in the first place. His friends were there; Charles and Andy were clapping over to the sidelines, watching their friend receive his honors with pride.

Pride. A feeling that Jack couldn't shake, even if he was the only one. Even if he had to do this by himself...... and that made it more special. Jack proved something to himself. To everyone that stood along his path- he did it. Jack had dreams, he had ambitions, he had.... strength. 

Jack stood among the crowd, taking one last look into the crowd of claps and cheers before walking off the stage. Seperating himself through the throngs of people, Jack stood highly. He gave himself a pat on the shoulder, a kiss on the cheek, a sweet word of endearment. Jack loved himself enough to say: "I did it!"

And.....he did. Letting in the bright aroma of his future set in, staring his dreams bluntly in the face, Jack had set himself free. Free of pain, of doubts, of hopeless prisons, of heartbreak. 

Jack held his diploma tightly. Getting into his car, and driving off into the city, Jack couldn't shake the smile from his face. He couldn't spit out the lingering taste of freedom from his lungs. 

Jack- like he promised- burned it down and builded it up again. Killing off himself, then resurrecting his new self back. Jack carried his passion. He ran with it, and would keep running until he never had to run again. He wouldn't have to find it in the face of a stranger. He wouldn't have to go far. Jack wouldn't have to find it in the night or hope for it in the light.

Jack could look inside himself. And it would live there. It would be there.

Just like it always was. And always would be.

[mvrtaiswriting]

Run your mouth x Armin Artlert. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

this is a revisited (and better) version of my old work. enjoy!

gender neutral reader. pronoun "they" used.

warnings: angst (it ends well), suggestive, intoxication (weed). alternative au

feel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee.

“Why didn’t you not say anything?!”

“You need to stop letting people speak to you like that, Armin. God, even one of Connie’s ‘yo mama’ type of joke would have been a more decent comeback!”

Those words rolled down your tongue before you could realise it, planting one dagger after the other right where Armin was hurting the most. Yet, Armin's gaze escaped yours one more time that day, looking at everything else but you. Letting himself crash against the sofa of his living room, he finally sighed.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

Armin finally spit out, biting his bottom lip. Another sigh escaped his lips as you watched him run his fingers through his hair, a few blonde strands falling over his forehead. All he wanted to do was leaving everything that happened behind and avoid another conflict. Specially with you.

“Fine.”

Was all you managed to say, rushing towards the door and putting your jacket on. The warmth on your cheeks was getting harder to ignore and you just couldn't allow yourself to lash out at Armin again. Maybe Armin didn't care - maybe he was able to leave it all behind. But you weren't, and if those words didn't hurt him, they definitely hurt you. There was nothing in this word that could justify his complete lack of reaction, the complete silence you were met with every time you tried to talk things through.

After all, this was a tale as old as time. Since you had known him, you had seen him react. Not when Bertholdt took his book out of his hands and set fire to him when you were in middle school, not when Annie almost punched him but you intervened instead - ending up in a fight and then in an hospital room with 5 stitches on your chin as a consequence. The two of you had met in primary school, when you were still taller than him and his hair was longer than yours - and you always took care of one another. The memory of Armin's little finger putting a plaster on your scarred knee on the playground was still vivid in your mind - you've never parted way since.

It was so hard now to grasp onto this dear memories. All you could see was a grown man not standing up for himself, a true believer of always being the biggest person instead of flipping someone off - even if that meant overlooking the worst episodes of one's life. Adrenaline was still pumping in your veins from earlier on that morning, that pervasive sense of frustration still all over you as if you had to fight back, as if you were the one who was insulted. You were fuming - you were mad at him for being so passive about life, you were mad at the world for being so disgustingly cruel.

Armin’s blue eyes remained locked on you the whole time, meticulously following your movements as you roamed through the room to pick up your things. You were gone before he could say something, before he could swallow the lump in his throat and actually come up with something that would make you stay. Yet, before he could come up with something, you stormed out of his apartment, neither of you speaking one more word. It was only when he realised you were distant enough that Armin finally let himself go, a frustrated scream finally making its way out, emptying his lungs and lifting an heavy weight from his shoulders.

There were so many things Armin should have said - maybe he should have thanked you for standing up for him, for always stepping up even if it didn't matter, even if he didn't deserve it. He knew you could see right through him; he knew that you could how much all the hatred collected through the years had cracked his seemingly unbreakable shield - you knew there was hurt underneath his shell of indifference.

Maybe he should have told you that he hated himself for all those times he had put you in danger, by allowing you to step up - or maybe he should have just told you that he was working on his avoidant tendencies. Maybe, just maybe, he should have confronted you and tell you that yes, he hated being involved in stupid arguments but he would turn the world upside down for you.

-

When Jean asked him to come over, Armin didn’t think about it twice: he really needed an excuse to shut down his brain.

The familiar, stinging smell of weed, typical of Jean's and Connie's apartment tingled Armin's nose even before knocking on his friend's door. Jean was quick to open the door, leading Armin to the living room where the rest of the group had already started their session.

Sitting on the floor, Armin took place next to Eren. Despite Jean's invite to a 'boys-only' night, Armin couldn't help but quickly scan the room, hoping to find you there. There was radio-silence between the two of you - and he hated it. Quickly reaching his pockets, Armin grabbed his phone and scrolled quickly through his notifications - not a call, not a text. Not from you at least.

“Someone told me you had a rough day.”

Eren's raspy voice called Armin back to reality. Armin only nodded in response, before his friend passed him the already light up joint he was holding in his hands.

“Are they okay?”

Armin asked, taking a long drag from the joint between his long fingers and leaning his body against the sofa, shoulders and head resting on the seating’s pillow. As he breathed the smoke in, Armin realised you must have talked to Mikasa about what happened.

Eren nodded silently, knowing well enough how worried Armin was for you.

“They’re with Sasha and Mikasa, they’ll join us later.”

Eren added, only receiving a weak nod from Armin in response.

Riding off the slowly building up high, Armin let his mind wonder. How could he be stupid enough to let you walk away? Was he testing his luck even further? How hard could it be to realise the luck that he must have had during all those years - in which you never left his side. Always showering him with love, and care, and so much affection - and all he managed to was being a damsel in distress. Never man enough to stand up for himself, or for you. How could he even dare to dream of you, how could he even bring himself to think you could love him the way he loved you - and deserve it. If love was to be earned, Armin wasn't sure if he'd ever deserve yours.

Armin finished his joint without even realising it, smashing its remains against the ashtray as he slowly started to feel his body become lighter and his mind quieter, highness rushing over his body as he finally felt calm for the first time that day. The rest of his friends were a mess, Connie laughing his lungs out while having meaningless conversation with Jean. He enjoyed the peaceful chaos of the moment, finding himself laughing at one of Connie’s ‘deez nuts’ jokes without even realising it.

When you finally arrived at Jean's apartment, followed by Sasha and Mikasa, Armin had already smoked one more joint with Connie - yet, this didn't hinder his senses. Simply hearing you greet the rest of the group made him sit up straight, his eyes quickly scanning the room hoping to catch a glimpse of you. When you finally entered his visual field, he couldn't help but stare for a moment. Locking his blue eyes on you, he looked at you in religious silent as he observed every movement your body made. Not a word left his lips - he couldn't bring himself to say a word. A wave of unexpected emotions had rushed over him and all he could do was admire you, finally being able to maintain eye contact with you for the first time that day.

Letting out a big sigh, you were quick to notice the state Armin was in. His eyes were half-lidded, the blue of his iris emphasised by the redness of the rest of his eyes. You slowly kneed next to him, scanning his face looking for any trace of lucidity.

"You're beautiful."

Armin finally spoke. Your faces were only a few centimetres apart while you made sure he was okay, so close to him he could feel your warm breath tickling the skin of his face.

"Shut up."

Was all that you said as a soft smile adorned your lips, finally sitting next to him. Even when sitting down, he still managed to be a little taller than you. You let your head rest on his shoulder, and he instinctively adjusted himself to ensure you were comfortable enough.

"I mean it. and.."

Armin paused, taking a deep breath. He wasn't lucid, but he wasn't absent-minded either. He just was high enough to have the courage to speak up about his feelings.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't."

You replied, letting out a sigh. Snuggling closer to Armin, you guided Armin's arm around you, engulfing yourself into his embrace. Armin was quick to tighten the grip on you, letting his long fingers reach your hips and holding you tighter.

"I wish I was a better man."

Armin spoke again. His words felt sharper than ever this time, piercing right through you. The last thing you wanted was to make him feel as if he wasn't enough - all your life you tried to make him understand his worth.

"You're the best man I know."

You replied, making Armin giggle. Your replies were always quicker than his, always sharper - and he loved that. Armin watched as you reached for his hand, playing with his fingers. Snuggling closer to him, you let your head rest on the crook of his neck - your breathing gently itching his soft spot, constantly sending shivers down his spine. Armin remained silent for a while - he was feeling your body in ways he had only dreamt of, his senses being completely overwhelmed. Yet, it was your words that echoed in his head - was he hallucinating? Are these words that every friend would say to another?

Shifting from your position to sit down properly and take a hit from the joint Connie passed you, Armin was quick to wrap his arm around your waist, trapping you in his embrace once again. Your back was now resting against his chest, your bodies perfectly fitting together like a puzzle-piece. That was the quickest reflex Armin has ever had in his life. Where were you going? He didn't want you to leave his arms. Not tonight. Not ever.

Laughing at his reaction, you allowed him to hold you closer, melting under his touch. His hands wondered down your hips again and every stupid fibre of your body ached for more, your skin almost burning every time Armin's fingers grazed you, even by accident. If only Armin had known about this - about all the times your mind went dumb at the sole idea of him touching you. If only Armin knew how much you loved him, and cared for him. If only Armin knew the only reason you were so mad at him was his blindness to the way you ached for him, realising just how wonderful he was.

Taking the joint from Connie, you were quick to take a hit. Armin's eyes were once again fixed on you, as he watched the way your lips wrapped around the joint's filter - dying to have a taste of them. Armin shook his head, trying to think straight - but he just couldn't. The higher he got, the more the thought of you crowded his mind. Your lips had him so obviously hypnotised, making his mind wonder off again; flashback of you kissing when you were 12 because you wanted to be each other's first kiss was everything he could think of. The way it felt, the softness of your lips, the sweet innocence of a typical, awkward first kiss. Too many times he had asked himself how would it feel to kiss you now that the innocence was gone, now that he touched himself under the shower just thinking of you.

Worried about Armin's sudden silence, you shook his shoulder only lightly, in hope to get him back to reality.

"Are you okay? Wanna hit?" Armin looked at you for a second, processing your question and analysing the scene he was watching. You were standing only a few centimetres away from his face once again, your lips were burning red because of the heated filter you smoked from. His heart was beating quickly and suddenly that was all he could hear. Flashback of you kissing running through his mind once again, the dirtiest scenarios he imagined you in flooding his mind and running just before his eyes.

"Fuck that."

Armin said, before grabbing your waist and pulling you into a desperate, passionate kiss. His grip felt unusually strong and firm on your skin, his touch loosing its usual kindness as he locked his lips on yours as he slid his tongue into your mouth, desperate to have a taste of you. Although surprised at first, you were quick to reciprocate the kiss, letting your hand reach his jaw and almost pulling him on top of you.

Jean and Eren cheered for Armin, echoing some stupid choirs as the two of you ended up making out on the floor. Breaking the kiss due to a shortness of breath, you rested your forehead against Armin's. Staring at you, he left a soft kiss on the tip of your nose praying you won't notice the redness of his cheeks.

"Damn it Artlert.."

"So you do know how to run your mouth, uh?" you teased, leaving a quick kiss on his lips.

"I have a few more tricks I can show you."

[dynamite-derek]

Sea of Stars: The best game you played as a child that released in 2023

When I was in middle school, I have vivid memories of playing Chrono Trigger. I rented it from my local video store, a poor man's family video. It even had a tanning bed, as was the style at the time. I sat in front of my grandmother's mid-size CRT television and was amazed at just about everything I saw. The beautiful pixel art, the various set pieces, the story, the music. Everything. My inner monologue for about a month after experiencing Chrono Trigger for the first time was using "thees" and "thous" a lot like Frog did in that localization. He was the best character so the way he spoke was the best way to speak. Simple as that.

Often times games try to ape Chrono Trigger because my experience with it is hardly a unique one. Most of the time, I feel these games miss the mark or fall short of it. They tease you with the "Chrono Trigger" but it more hits on some highlights that Chrono Trigger had instead of making an actual good game that can stand on its own merits. The example that comes most prominently to mind is "I Am Setsuna," a game I once wrote about on this blog. It's a game that mindlessly tries to take what makes Chrono Trigger a good game and slaps it onto something else. A soulless product developed by a company with a soulless name (Tokyo RPG Factory.)

My brother has been pestering me to play Sea of Stars for months now. Yet the specter of products like "I Am Setsuna" prevented me from making the jump for a long time. Yes, aesthetically, it played the part...but if I were to go back in time and rent this game from the fake Hollywood Video and play this on the mid-size CRT at my grandmother's house, would it capture my imagination? Would it stand on its own?

Yes.

On the surface, Sea of Stars looks like it's trying to be Chrono Trigger. They have the combo attacks, they have the wacky cast of characters from a variety of different backgrounds, the overworld and spritework looks pretty close and the music...well, the music can often feel like it was lifted straight from that very SNES game. But there's more to it than that. Quite literally. Sea of Stars doesn't just try to mimic the style of one beloved RPG, it lifts from several and becomes something of a Jack of all retro turn based trades.

The combat uses timed hits like Super Mario RPG - a system that's extremely easy to wrap your mind around but is extremely adept at keeping the player's attention. You can't just take your mind off of the game once you hit 'attack.' It also has the ability to change your characters in combat, which gives the game something of a Final Fantasy X (it's odd that a 20+ year old game is the 'newest' thing mentioned here) feeling. Sometimes a spot will call for a poison user, sometimes it will call for your warrior cook, sometimes it will call for your moon user. It's simple, but it makes each encounter feel unique and engaging. It also uses something akin to a limit break system, as seen in various Final Fantasy titles. Everybody gets an elaborate ultimate attack. When is the right time to use it? Even more variables tossed into a fairly easy-to-use system.

It's not just in the gameplay either. One of the big mistakes video game companies make when making 'new' retro games is that they cram too much story into the game. Don't get me wrong, stuff like Final Fantasy IV, Lunar Silver Star Story and Chrono Trigger have plenty of story, but go back and play those games and then go play Final Fantasy VII. The amount of dialogue and dedication to storytelling is next level compared to what you get in SNES games. Older RPGs have a smattering of world building and story but that is bolstered by the gameplay. Sea of Stars is similar in this regard. It does not have 'too much' story, it has about as much as you would see in an SNES RPG. It leaves something to the imagination. Not every last detail of the world is explained, you're left with a sense of wonder.

When I first heard the term 'solstice warrior,' I grimaced. It sounded so lame, like something out of a kid's cartoon. And yet, it is tackled with sincerity. They don't go out of their way to tell you every aspect of what goes into making these warriors, they keep things very simple and straight forward. It just feels authentic. By the end of the game I wanted to learn more about this world and these characters, I did not feel like everything had been spelled out in game and there was something left to discover. Even a post-game twist felt like something a kid would tell you at school and you'd just roll your eyes and say 'yeah fucking right Ned, I'm sure collecting all 60 conch shells will do that.'

My discovery with this game is that in order to create a 'love letter' to a genre, you need to focus on more than one game. It needs to just focus on lots of things. I am Setsuna feels like a shallow clone of Chrono Trigger. Sea of Stars feels like a game that saw great elements from a lot of other great games and came to its own conclusions by throwing those things together. I fully believe a middle school aged Derek would have been glued to his Grandma's CRT for a month straight playing this game. It's the highest compliment that I can pay this game. It's not better than Chrono Trigger, Final Fantasy VI or Earthbound. But it still stands on its own and it is fantastic.

[anrawl]

A look at the child who was always “ being saved”: what is John's charm and on what is my attraction to him based?

TW!!! Abuse, religious trauma, addictions, etc. Please note that this text was translated to English mechanically, therefore there are mistakes, and all of the quotes are copied from another language and translated wrongly!!! Sorry for that, I only had energy to write this shit, not to translate it properly...

He was a late baby. His older brothers were 12 and 10 respectively when he first came into the world. At that point, they had already tasted the fruits of abuse from their father for years, and their mother had become a depressed mute blur who took no part in their lives. His father had become an alcoholic, the house was in decline and was located in a rather dangerous and critically poor neighborhood. His caretakers were two brothers: a young psychopath with bouts of aggression and an even younger boy with religious ideas.  

From birth, he was surrounded by what his brothers, at least in their early years, avoided. Poverty, violence, and the absence of a parental figure. While his brothers had a chance to begin forming their identities in a relatively healthy, albeit poor, environment, John was born into hell without probation.  

And while his brothers protected him as best they could, the marks of abuse on him led to his teachers calling child services in his early years of school. Though at that point he still retained some semblance of a relatively healthy psyche, for him that moment was a descent into the even deeper bowels of hell. 

(An interesting point about the first 7-8 years of his life: Joseph described him as a kind, loving, and extremely empathic child, despite his hardships.)  

John did not stay in the orphanage long: he was young and, by the standards of American families, handsome and healthy. So, while both his brothers, aged 17 and 19, barely past the orphanage stage, went hard (each in his own way), John found himself in a new family.  

It was a wealthy family, with conservative and deeply religious views. (Remark from John: “Even old man Seed's belt was much nicer than living with them.”) For little John, who still retained a childlike view of the world, this was the beginning of the end.  

There wasn't a day when he wasn't abused. He never shared the details. In the future, his brothers learned only about the small, dark chapel in the backyard of his parents' home, and the long, agonizing nights without sleep, full of pain.  

Further details of physical and religious abuse follow.  

One of his most vivid and undoubtedly “favorite” memories that affected his personality and views was the memory of the many nights that always began the same way. He would be dragged into the kitchen in the middle of the night and beaten on the cold floor, his parents screaming about how full of filth and sins he was and forcing him to confess and repent.  

 He never specified how long it lasted. Months? Years? Eventually, he broke, and the clearest stain on his story, standing before his eyes for practically the rest of his life, was one of those nights. It was the night that instead of the usual tears, he started laughing. He was in pain, but he choked on his laughter and screamed out time after time: “YES!” As if recognizing that he was sinful, as if enjoying the punishment.  

This was also a turning point in his parents' parenting methods. Since they had gotten him to confess, their methods had changed from physical to emotional. They forced him to pray in their chapel for hours on end, seeing it as the only useful activity for a child of his years.  

Over the years, they softened, seeing in the “former sinner” a pure man who had finally repented and walked the path of truth. The only thing they didn't know was how much of John's very essence was broken at that point. John as such was gone, replaced by something much worse, something they had tried so long and hard to rid him of.

 There wasn't a day in his life when he didn't lie and manipulate those around him, not since his high school days. He was perfect: a handsome, well-mannered, and religious boy from a wealthy family. He lied so skillfully that no one, not his peers or adults, could catch him red-handed and accuse him of anything.  

Years passed. Life, or rather his parents, brought him to the walls of the university, where he studied law. Soon his parents died. Nowhere and never mentioned what caused their deaths, but knowing John's revengefulness, which he acquired over the years... 

From his deceased adoptive parents, he received a really great inheritance. He built his career quickly: mostly due to money. The young orphaned millionaire threw parties left and right, inviting Hollywood stars, politicians, lawmakers, and others... Using prostitutes, cocaine and cameras, he collected material on popular people to manipulate them. Thus, he gained a place in the upper class and a wide range of contacts in the government.  

Using his connections and money, he worked his way up and became one of the popular lawyers in the state of Montana. The young and ambitious John Duncan (his adoptive family's last name) loved the real estate business. As Joseph later recounted, the entire neighborhood of their childhood was redeveloped into shopping and business centers. There wasn't a scrap of old land, as if someone had zealously erased any mention of their home from the face of the Earth. 

John Duncan didn't live, he existed. In eternal pursuit of information, in eternal fear and remorse. His every move was clearly calculated and had a purpose that no one could guess. Driven by the traumas of the past, he became his own redemption and demon in one person.  

The endless partying and nightmares of his childhood years led him to a heavy addiction to drugs and sex. “I tested my body inch by inch in a vain attempt to take away my pain,” John once said. And it was certainly true. His entire body had acquired myriad traces of self-harm by the time he was 32, hidden behind the countless tattoos he'd inked on himself (which, in essence, was also a form of self-harm for John).  

And yet, thanks to Joseph coming back into his life one day, he was able to overcome his addictions by changing his addictions to another.  

Religion. His pain, his biggest nightmare, and his only addiction, easily supplanting even drugs. He'd been drowning in it since he was about seven years old, so he'd agreed to Joseph's idea without a second thought. As soon as his older brother announced that he was God's messenger, John immediately pulled in all his finances and connections to help him. Together they built their religious community, thanks to John's machinations, thanks to the corrupt authorities, thanks to the many homeless and drug addicts who found refuge in the arms of the Seed family. 

He turned his major trauma into a tool for inspiration and marketing. “Yes!” - the proverbial one ringing in his ears every day, became the slogan of his brother's religious cult. “The power of 'yes,'” he called it.

He found in it the motivation to inflict pain on himself and others. Very soon, despite his young age, he became the most intimidating cult leader among his brothers. He was considered sadistic, insane, an unstable psycho. Nevertheless, his manipulative mind left no doubt: he was capable of getting through to anyone. Joseph once said: “He could get the president himself to give him the codes to activate a nuclear warhead. That would probably be the reason the world would burn. The fact that no one knew of his inner rage made him even more dangerous. He wanted to see everything crumble; he wanted the world to burn to the ground. Today we know it will burn, but deep down John always wished for the apocalypse more than anyone else.”  

Even in death, John remained true to his madness. He never doubted it for a second: God hated people, especially John. And the world was paying for it. With blood. 

[project-sekai-facts]

do u know anything cool about the side characters i feel like they need more appreciation and more people to know about them.

my time has come (<- i really like the side characters)

because i don't own the fanbooks, and cannot find scans of them anywhere, this is all from memory or stuff written on the wiki or tvtropes. also characters who debuted physically in the last year (e.g Asahi, Mafuyu's mother, Arisa) won't have fanbook profiles yet, so i can only tell you what's mentioned in the story

so yeah some random trivia (a lot about favorite foods because all the side characters have that listed)

Leo/need

Iori and Mio are both 19 years old (currently)

Iori's favorite food is choco-banana crepes and she dislikes spicy food

Mio likes super spicy tantanmen ramen but dislikes fresh cream. She also collects teddy bears

neither Iori or Mio were ever given family names. This might mean that the names used in the story are stage names.

Youta is the same age as Leo/need (16). His younger sister Hanano is 14.

Saku is currently 16, the same age as the Leo/need members, and her family name is Kousaka

She's the singer and composer of her band, Anenome. They debuted professionally a few weeks prior to the Get Over It. event

When Shindou was younger, he was a bassist in a band with some school friends. He and the singer/guitarist were more skilled than the others, and were scouted for a different band. Shindou didn't want to quit because he wanted to be in a band with his friends, but the singer/guitarist quit and accepted the offer because his music would have more spread. In the end Shindou's band had to disband, and he doesn't know what happened to the guy that left.

MORE MORE JUMP!

Mai's favorite food is eclairs and she dislikes liver. She is also 15 years old currently

Yuina was the first side character to be shown with more than one outfit. Her live2D has a different outfit to the one in Minori's For "Your" Sake card

Yuina's hobby is handicraft, and she also plays basketball

Yuina's favorite food is potato croquette and she dislikes bok choy

Airi and Nanamin did a collab performance when they were both idols. They are the same age.

Nanamin has now retired as an idol and is currently a streamer with over 800 thousand subscribers. She likes fruit tarts and dislikes wasabi.

Riho is a high school first year (16) and is active as a song producer on the in-universe version of youtube

Riho's favorite food is pudding and she doesn't like hard and crumbly bread

Ayaka is 20 years old and attends college. She’s a big fan of Shizuku. She likes pork cutlets and doesn't like oysters.

Vivid BAD SQUAD

Ken likes meat dishes and dislikes umeboshi

He says he fell in love with his wife, Yuka, at first sight. They met in college and they've been married for over 20 years.

We don't know how old Yuka is but Ken is 43

Ken was a really good student and had good grades in both academics and sports. He also attended and graduated college.

Ken is very aware of An's feelings towards Kohane and is supportive of her. Go Ken-san

He was RADder's designated driver back in the day

Taiga dropped out of high school

Taiga likes whiskey but dislikes tsubuan

He is referref to as “partner” in the game data

Ken and Taiga have known each other since middle school. He thought Ken being an academic was boring and decided to get him into street music

Nagi had anemia. It's implied this is part of the reason she didn't realise she had cancer until it was too late, because she thought she felt bad because her anemia was playing up

Nagi's least favorite food was tomato, just like An. She liked coffee as well.

Arata's favorite foods are omelet rice and chocolate parfait, and his least favorite food is natto.

As pointed out by Taiga, Arata is one of the most talented performers on Vivid Street. Taiga seems to see himself in Arata, and relates to the feeling of losing a partner and can identify Arata’s weaknesses based on this

I’m not entirely sure if this is true, but based on observation Souma’s Live2D model has restricted movement. He doesn't lift his arms in any of his animations, only does small movements with them and his legs hardly move if at all. I'm assuming this is to convey that he was partially paralysed in the traffic accident

Both Souma and Arata are currently 19

Also their duo act nane was Gurney Flaps. Souma was the one who came up with that.

Souma and Arata were friends for an unknown amount of time before Rad Weekend. They may have been doing street music before the event I can't remember if this is ever mentioned.

Souma was involved in a traffic accident not long after he and Arata decided to surpass RW. He mentions that the accident was before Weekend Garage opened, and it's been open for a couple years at this point, because Ken decided to buy and open the cafe not long after the event.

Also they get a shoutout on KAITO’s costume from the Walk on and on event

Also I literally just learnt that the EN server localises Souma's name as Soma.

Even though he looks pretty old, Harumichi Aoyagi is only 53

Inferred based on his house, but he’s really rich as well. I think the Aoyagis might live in a penthouse, if you look at the window of their living room you can see the tops of trees.

Kotaro is called “cord nukio” in the game data, referring to him disconnecting the sound system during Vivids’ debut

He has a younger brother, and the reason he got into singing is because he wanted to be a cool big brother. He saw RW around the time his brother was born and the rest is history

Kotaro is 17, and presumably a high school second year (since first year side characters are 16). I’m guessing her doesn’t attend kamikou otherwise that probably would’ve been mentioned by now

His favorite food is strawberries. Ironically, he doesn’t like strawberry-flavored things.

Tatsuya is 22, making him the oldest NPC who isn’t a parent or mentor

He got into singing after being inspired by a senior in high school

WonderlandsxShowtime

Kigurumi-san is a rabbit. Please tell me how that is a rabbit costume.

According to Rui in Full Power! Wonder Halloween!, Kigurumi-san's hiding spot is a bush near the wonder stage. It is heavily implied that he is Emu's bodyguard.

Usa-chan (the bunny plushie) is the only NPC to have ever appeared in an area conversation

Usa-chan's name was picked by Saki. Tsukasa wanted to give her a weird name, but we don't know what this was.

Sakurako has been a fan of PXL since she was a kid, and getting to perform there has always been a dream of hers. Also she’s 17 (the same age as Rui and Tsukasa)

Sakurako is called “diva” in the game data

Her favorite food is roll cake and she dislikes konjac.

The Little Mermaid was Yuuka Kazamatsuri’s first ever leading role. She’s 31 now, so she was 21 at the time.

Yuuka's favorite food is deepfried horse mackerel. Her least favorite food is fish and chips, because she thought it would be horse mackerel. It was not.

Rakunosuke (Emu's grandpa)'s favorite food was taiyaki, the same as Emu. He disliked surströmming.

Rakunosuke died when he was 99 years old. Considering that Emu’s father is currently 55, that means he didn’t have kids until he was in his 40s (unless Emu has older aunts/uncles that aren’t mentioned).

Kounosuke's favorite food is candy apples and he doesn't like sugary candies

Keisuke and Shousuke are referred to as Little Keisuke and Little Shousuke in flashbacks to Emu’s childhood, even if they are probably university-aged in these flashbacks. I just think this is funny

Keisuke is 30. He likes dried horse mackerel and dislikes chocolate.

Emu mentions that one time when her family went on a beach holiday Keisuke took an encyclopedia about sea life with him. Maybe he has an interest in that?

Shousuke is 3 years younger than Keisuke. He likes corndogs and dislikes green peppers.

Hinata is 20 and is currently in college. Her favorite food is peaches. Like Emu, she doesn't have a least favorite food.

If it wasn't obvious at this point the Otoris all like theme park food. Except for Keisuke.

Jean Riley is the in-universe equivalent to Walt Disney. He's also still alive and only 54 years old.

25-ji, Nightcord de.

Mrs Asahina doesn’t appear physically until someone other than Mafuyu interacts with her (that being Kanade at the end of Immiscible Discord)

Also she frequently employs actual manipulation techniques - she is in complete control of her meeting with Kanade, she rarely disagrees with anyone and instead gives them suggestions (i.e “but wouldn’t X be better for you?” over “no i think you should do X”), and playing victim. Wonder how she learnt those.

Honestly we really don’t know that much about her

Mafuyu’s dad doesn’t show up that much but he can be seen in some family photos in the Asahina living room

Shin’ei Shinonome’s hobby is camping with his family

He has the same liked and disliked food as his children

Also he’s 48 years old

None of the photos in the Shinonome living room actually look like the family so god knows what Mrs Shinonome looks like

Mrs Shinonome puts carrots in the dinners she cooks to encourage her kids to try the things they don’t like

Futaba is 17 years old. Her favorite food is pancakes from a local shop, and she doesn’t like salty food

Mizuki’s sister studies fashion abroad. She gifted Mizuki one of her mannequins before she left, which can be seen in Mizuki’s room

Kanade’s mother died when she was 30 years old. Her favorite food was deepfried tofu, and she didn’t like goya.

Kanade’s mother liked gardening. She was fond of carnations and used to keep them around the house, which is why Kanade has a strong attachment to those flowers.

Kanade's dad is currently 46. We don't know how old Kanade was when her mother died but it still works out that he's a few years older than his wife.

Bonus: As the self-proclaimed #1 slash only Asahi fan here's my obligatory Asahi loredump

Sakurako and Asahi are friends, though they have never interacted on-screen

Asahi's not-Disneyland theme park actor career somehow managed to spin-off into him appearing in TV and film roles. It's also mentioned that he's worked at ArcLand for a long time

Asahi is a huge fan of WxS, and is very familiar with their work before he meets them. It's implied he became a fan through the show they perform in Wonder Magical Showtime!. His favorite character in that show was Tsukasa's character, Miles. Like, he really likes that character.

It’s implied that he likes Tsukasa. I have made two posts about this. I think this is a lot funnier than it actually is.

We don't have a confirmed age for him yet, but considering that he's friends with Sakurako and the way he interacts with Rui and Tsukasa, he's probably around the same age as those three (17). How young was he when he started working at ArcLand in that case?

Assuming he’s high school-aged, I think he straight up dropped out of school (high school is not compulsory in Japan). When he recruits Rui he says that since he’s good, they can get him up to a full-time job before the age of 18, and Rui realises this would require him to pull out of school. The way Asahi talks about this seems to imply that he already did this.

He keeps a notebook in his pocket when he practises. He notes down useful things about the performances he does and also notes about the people he performs with. He also people-watches because it helps him make characters act more like real people.

He's a huge fan of the director Tom Grey, one of Rui's major influences, and claims to have watched all of his works 100 times. Grey is the person who inspired Asahi to become an actor. The shared interest is a large part of why Asahi invites Rui to be the ArcLand director

Asahi grew up abroad because of his parents' work, but the country he lived in ended up getting involved in a war. The area he lived in was attacked and his family had to evacuate, but he got separated from his parents when they were running away. He didn't speak the country's language very well since he was very young, and couldn't communicate with the people at the evacuation centre to locate his family. Tom Grey happened to be volunteering there, since he lived in the neighbouring country, and met Asahi and helped cheer him up and find his parents.

He’ll be back. That'll be a fun event.

[atlasdoe]

Marlene would love to say that the reason why she left the party was to make a dramatic exit and avoid Dorcas getting any upper hand on her more then she already did, but really she just needed to cry.

Her need to sob her eyes out came from multiple different reasons she thought, but the main one was the frustration of not knowing why she needed to curl up into a ball and forget that the world existed.

It was just Dorcas Meadowes, she kept telling herself. Just Dorcas Meadowes, who is mad that you got the upper hand on her and found one of her weaknesses. She’s just mad that you’re going to win the cup. And why wouldn’t she? She probably wants this as much as you do. She has every right to be mad that you’re winning.

But to call Marlene the worst person she’d ever met? To say all of those things? That wasn’t just Quidditch talk. It couldn’t be.

But even if it wasn’t, so what? Why would Marlene even care about what Dorcas Meadowes thought of her? They weren’t friends. They hardly even talked.

There was just that one term when they were partners for potions and Marlene helped Dorcas with her homework nearly every lesson.

There was another time when Dorcas recommended the blue flavoured sugar quills at Honeyducks. “They’re my favourites,” she said before smiling and turning away. Marlene became obsessed with them for months.

They would smile at each other when they passed each other in the corridors. Marlene had only just noticed when they stopped doing it that year.

Dorcas was… nice. She had always been nice without anyone even noticing how nice she was. Marlene remembered when she used to study for the OWL’s with Remus, Lily, Emmeline and Kingsley. Every now and then Dorcas would interrupt to ask Remus something. She was only there for Remus, but when she left she would say goodbye to each of them by name. She would say hello and ask how they all were, and even though they gave each other simple and generic answers it was nice. Dorcas had always been nice.

So why wasn’t she now?

Maybe Marlene took it too far? Or maybe Dorcas just didn’t care.

Why did Marlene care?

Either way, it made her feel like shit. So shit that she couldn't even recall how long she had been crying when she heard footsteps approach her. She had somehow made it to her dorm and was sitting on the edge of her bed. By the door was Emmeline, who was watching her with careful eyes. “How long?” she asked softly.

Marlene allowed their eyes to meet, only because hers were so full up with tears that she could barely see Emmeline anyway. She curled her lip and thought.

How long?

How long?

Let’s see, it must've been…

Oh.

Oh, well this is embarrassing.

But it was the most vivid memory she had.

Her aunty's red ribbon in her hair was the only thing giving her comfort at that moment. Hogwarts, as it turns out, was big, and although she wasn’t completely alone she was still more alone than she had ever been before. Edgar and Amelia couldn’t hold her hand the entire way through school and this would be the first time ever that Marlene’s siblings were left alone with their mother.

Now, Marlene loved her mother, she really did but she wasn’t very good at what she did. Not since her dad died. Her mother had completely shut down and left Marlene to take on every older sister and motherly role imaginable. And now, there she stood in the middle of that massive fucking hall with a singing fucking hat when only Merlin knew if her younger siblings had even been fed yet that day.

It was the only thing on her mind throughout the entire train ride and the entire first half of the sorting ceremony.

When Professor McGonagall called her name, Marlene felt anything but ready.

She barely remembered walking up towards the hat and having it placed on her head. The hat spoke to her, she remembered that much but she didn’t remember if she spoke back. It really was all a blur until he made his decision.

The moment the hat yelled Ravenclaw suddenly it all fell into place. The Ravenclaw’s cheered and as Marlene took her seat next to Pandora she felt all of her worries fall away for just a few seconds.

During those few seconds is when she saw her for the first time.

Oh.

You see, just imagine this: you’ve been stressed out and worried about anything and everything for a good 24 hours and then suddenly at your glimpse at relief you catch the sight of a girl with curly hair and dark skin, wearing knee-high socks and a look on her face that is somehow so adorable you want to take a picture.

Marlene didn’t know what the feeling was back then. She didn’t know what it was that made her heart skip several beats to the point where she thought it’d stop altogether. She didn’t know the reason for her widened eyes or the pit in her stomach. She didn’t know why her palms were sweating and her heart was growing, but she did now.

Oh, she did now.

Emmeline was still looking at her, her head slightly tilted in curiosity.

How long?

How long?

How long?

Marlene sighed. “Since first fucking sight.”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

“Well,” Emmeline breathed, “You’re screwed, aren’t you?”

read the fic here :)

[max-nico]

Last night I had the weirdest dream but it would make a really good fic if I'm fr. The only part I remember vividly is the part where Tails fell into a cave, I guess it's more like the ground opened under him and swallowed him whole lol. So obvs his friends start looking for him after he doesn't make it to where they're all supposed to meet up at.

Kitsunami (who was very much not part of the search party) ends up accidentally finding him after finding a different entrance to the cave, except instead the ground opening up under him he finds the actual entrance. The ground ends up being super slippery so instead of just having a normal time, he falls, and ends up somehow tumbling all the way to the bottom of the cave.

Now from this part of the dream on I only had access to whatever Kit was seeing for whatever reason. He finds Tails pretty quickly, even tho he didn't know he was even lost and they end up having to work together to get out. This cave system was super weird too, it was a bottom layer that had water up to their knees, a higher layer that was essentially an ocean, an upper layer that was desolate but an actual maze, and then there was ground level. Maybe that's just how caves work but I don't think it is.

So this whole dream is dark, Tails had a flashlight that helped a little. They escaped the bottom layer by chipping into the ice above them to get into the ocean layer. (Unrealistic note, the water did not flood in, it just stayed at the top and they had to jump to get up there lol) How did they breathe here? I don't remember ! I do remember there being little bits of land they could walk on tho, and the only reason I remember that is bc at one point Tails had this scary ass look on his face that I can literally only describe as fear incarnate, but he wouldn't let me(kit) turn around to look at what made him look like that, so I have no clue what he saw and he acted completely off for the rest of the dream too. (<- this is common for me when I have nightmares, people in dreams tend to direct me away from the scary things and not let me look at them, but I suppose after having only nightmares for 4 years your brain has to protect itself somehow lol)

After the water layer they got to the dry layer, I don't really remember a lot from this. My most vivid memory is Tails pulling Kit out of the water with a queasy look on his face, there's a few moments of walking I remember, but nothing really interesting.

Then they were out of the cave, once again from a completely different entrance, then I don't know lol. I know Sonic and Amy show up but past that I have no clue, after that I started dreaming about school.

Some visual cave representation for you bc I remember this so clearly, I literally got up, unplugged my phone, and immediately started typing this.

Bottom layer

But instead of just rock, imagine a mix of solid white ice, crystal, and rock, and also it's really really REALLY dark lol. It's over all just a confined, claustrophobic space. There's barely enough room for the two to fit in there standing up, im sure if Sonic was there he would have to crouch

Middle layer

I have a huge fear of large bodies of water, as well as caves, as well as the dark. This contains all three. As I stated there were obviously air pockets somewhere around here but def don't remember how they got there lol

Top layer

Keep in mind, it's still WAY darker than this lol, but this is the last layer before the surface. Just a giant maze of rock and maybe a few crystals, very backrooms core lol.

[rose-harmony96]

So like we are currently undiagnosed, and we experience a lot of internal doubts about our plurality. We would appreciate advice, affirmation, a reality check? Idk, something.

We are pretty certain that we are traumagenic but its not like theres some single event that stands out. We suspect we first started breaking around the time the world started to expect us to be a boy and by the time we were in elementary school we got bullied all the way into the game me and my friends used to play until it really did become real within me, the stories would run out almost automatically, my "character" was always at my side, growing, changing and evolving, eventually becoming twins and then there were all the supporting characters and even a layer of side characters, almost npcs? And like all of this, what we are calling the darkwater, thats where those of us who live up near the surface now actually grew up. The person that we used to be, the one who made the darkwater to begin with more or less got lost down there around the time things in reality went to hell around middle school, at this point those 3 years are a pretty huge memory hole save for a the friend who set off our queer/sexual awakening and the chunck of time around breaking our arm. Otherwise its just kinda loose, formless pain that we might honestly actually be able to dig something out of if we really really focused in but it hurts to try. Hischool at least we found our people, even met another plural person and immediately connected and felt less crazy. We openly explored a bit back then. Never really got into the depths of thr darkwater and all that but our(their?) Friends knew about a few of us at the time. In the darkwater, this was also the time that some version of most of us that live near the surface now started to form. Post highschool and anything that isnt us realizing that we are and freaking out because the male parts are smothering and supressimg the shit out of us is pretty blurry. Like i think we forgot about plurality as an issue for a few years there maybe or rather "oldself" was trying to smother us out or something. Then there was the first big mental breakdown/manic episode broke that deadlocked miserable fuck into the old dog and the lost little girl and like we were actually jade at the surface for a while there, not just calling ourself jade while oldself tries to numb it out but we were actually us, actually her. And like voices from the darkwater were coming. back, the scenes were more vivid... at one point in there we started listening to bambisleep and eventually bambi took root, going fucking nuts, and she ended up finding alex, who we figure was from that first split waaaaaay back when, (who had been the seed of an entire archetype whithin the darkwater). And like we were mostly bambi jade and alex for a while, more or less. Until another huge manic episode came blowing through and left jade totally shattered and our current family to pick up the pieces and maybe try to get out shit together?

And like our switching is pretty free flowing, we are all more or less around most of the time. A lot of the time we feel less like any particular individual and more like the collective will of the whole darkwater(?). We have huge holes in time and memory; but whats normal, whats drugs and like what even is amnesia. "I" have never experienced "getting thrown in the trunk" afaik but alex is pretty clear that she spent most of childhood "trapped in a box". We kinda like having our real family all together in one body and for some reason that feels invalidating or something?

This got long af and probably less coherent than we want but im gonna go ahead and post anyway, probably also send it to our theres once we get one.

-lilly, mostly i guess. Akiri as well probably.

[toads-treasures]

Writer Interview

I got tagged by @forget-me-maybe and @pouroverpaloma, thank you for the tag!!! I'm sorry that I definitely may have overshared!!

When did you start writing?

This is going to sound cliche but, since I learned how to write at all, I think? I distinctly remember that I got in trouble when I was about six years old, because I took a photo album that had nice sturdy paper pages from the laundry room and wrote a mystery story in it. I remember it was a mystery because on every other page I colored my own version of the old transitions they’d do in cartoons, with a question mark with concentric colorful circles around it lol. Strangely vivid memory of those transition pages, I think I was very proud of them. 

But I’ve been writing and “illustrating” pretty much my entire life. I started writing fanfiction in middle school or highschool, and that’s what I’ve always liked writing the most.

Then I decided to get a creative writing degree, which then led me to developing both a god complex and a crippling sense of perfectionism and self doubt, and completely drained any enjoyment from writing literally anything, because I couldn’t get my professor’s voices out of my head. I loved my professors and I think I learned a lot, but I became so obsessed with my writing being perfect and impressive and something they would want and like, that I stopped writing things that I liked. So, I had a crisis and dropped out! And didn’t write anything for like four years so 🫠 but we’re slowly gettin’ back into it. 

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I don’t think there are any themes I enjoy reading that I couldn't really write, but genres definitely. I don’t know if I could write a contemporary romance. Unless I am doing a modern AU lol but even then I always seem to end up adding some kind of fantastical element.  I love reading a good Emily Henry novel, but I try to write a lighthearted contemporary romance and inevitably some ghosts or fucked up fairies of some sort will appear. I gotta inject a little horror and fantasy into pretty much everything I write, which I think a lot of people are surprised by. I’m surprised by it, because I am such a baby I can’t handle watching horror movies. I think less horror, and more like, gothic elements maybe? IDK man it’s been a long time since I’ve been in a literature class.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I wanna be Maggie Stiefvater when I grow up. She’s a young adult novelist but she is such a talented writer, I can’t even explain other than her books make my brain go !!!!! 

I cannot recommend Scorpio Races or The Raven Cycle enough. She’s got such a distinct voice, and she is really good at magical realism which I love. I don’t know if I intentionally try to emulate her though I think I’m just a sponge that just absorbs bits and pieces of anything I read, but I think I have unintentionally stolen a line or two from her before.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I have a home office that I adore and is super cute and cozy but unfortunately most of my writing is done at work on my lunch break. But that’s also a pretty nice place, a shaded courtyard at the hospital I work at that’s got really nice tall trees that blossom in the spring. 

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I always come up with some pivotal character detail or plot point while I’m doing dishes. Then I have to scramble for my phone with sudsy hands to immediately tell Liz I have had A Thought.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

I think a lot of my stories are about grief, which I don’t usually realize until later. Grief and memory and growing out of the place you were born, and the kind of dissonance that comes from wanting so desperately to go home but not fitting when you get there. Or things are different than how you remember, for better and for worse. I love thinking about complicated parent/child relationships, and coming to the realization that more often than not your parents are neither heroes or villains, they’re just people.  Coming of age stories but the protag are in their late twenties? 

I looooove to write about people slowly (or not so slowly) falling in love and the little things you notice about someone when that’s happening. Like the way a slight sunburn sometimes makes blue eyes look even bluer, the way someone’s eyes widen before they start laughing, like they’re surprised at their own amusement. Getting to know someone in so many different contexts. So different kinds of intimacy I guess? It wasn’t until recently that I even considered writing smut lmao and even now when I try the characters just end up having some deep conversation and unearthing some kind of trauma. Let’s not analyze what that says about me. 

But it always seems to come back to grief at some point and living with loss and growing around it. Which is strange because I’m very lucky to have not gone through that process with anyone extremely close to me. It is definitely something I think about a lot though, it’s almost like I’m trying to brace myself, or practice grieving before it actually happens.

What’s your reason for writing?

Escapism babyyy. I say escapism then talk about how all I ever write about is grief….so….but it is both escapism and kind of working through some shit emotionally lol. One of my favorite possibly cringey things to do, but something that has genuinely helped me a lot, is creating a character that has a lot of qualities that I feel self conscious about. They have ADHD, they’re tall and a little clumsy, or they’ve got the same body type as me. They also dropped out of art school. But it doesn’t bother them at all. They’re not insecure about any of those things. Or if they are, they learn not to be. And the other characters love them anyway.

One of the things I’ve really enjoyed doing with a lot of the fanfiction I write is I get a chance to write about the moments in between the big moments. Explore aspects of characters that maybe there wasn’t time for in the game. Or you know if it’s Wyll just aspects that Larian didn’t bother to do at all i’m not bitter 

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Literally any. I crave any form of validation. I love when people can point out themes and stuff to me because I usually miss that myself lol.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Uhhhhhhhhh I have never considered this. Positively? I think more than anything I want people to care as much as I care about these characters, that we’re all being genuine and sincere and sappy together.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I don’t know if it’s my greatest strength lol but I love writing dialogue. That always comes easily to me. And descriptions of landscapes. That’s always something people in class would point out. I will wax poetic about a mountain or the sea don’t test me. 

How do you feel about your own writing?

It comes and goes lol. I try not to think about it too much honestly because I’ll spiral pretty fast into extremely self critical territory and freeze up. Because I must be a genius, Professor Signor told me so, now I have this impossible standard to live up to. Also my professor never told me I was a genius but she did really like my writing and wanted me to take a bunch of honors classes and be on the school literary magazine and all of that pressure and expectation kiiinda made me freak out and run away. So now I try to just have fun, and that’s what I want to feel more than anything is that I’m having fun, and truly enjoying this part of me that has been a part of me for as long as I can remember. 

tagging @hauntedliz @mars-colonyand @likesomethingblooming if you wanna!

[sxdisticdemon]

anyone that didn't had gender dysphoria as a kid?

hey everyone, if you read this, please i want y'all to let out a doubt that made me question after i came out as ftm 4 years ago, or that one of you didn't realized stuff way later in life:

my mom and i we talked about my childhood today and that's making me doubt why i didn't had all the dysphoria signs like some/mostly transgender kids had in early age, basically when they start to understand gender roles and expressing themselves with toys and stuff

for example for me it was the opposite: i used to love dresses, dolls, barbies, princesses and stuff and i didn't bothered a bit about wearing anything feminine except for drawing myself as a boy in kindergarten unconsiously and misspelling my deadname almost as the one i choose (angelo) and daydreaming about being a boy, i wanted to grow out my hair till my back, never liked make-up at all, always had few female friends, barely had any male friend.

when i hit puberty, this is when i realized to have tiny bit of dysphoria towards my body and i barely remember if i was excited that i was about to "grow up" and "maturing" or that i was horrified of the idea of growing up as a "woman" (even though i remember i was disgusted of seeing my chest growing up, how my body was getting curvier, and getting sad of bleeding for the first time, i was 11-12, never wanted a chest or bleeding in my mind.), most of my childhood memories are blurred and i barely remember anything except for two vivid memories: one is myself asking my parents if i was a boy or a girl, and the second one is my mom and i going to the toys section and i pointed out at the male cars that i wanted to get, my mom refused to get me those because i was "female" and i got so upset to hear that.

those are the ones i can still remember, but even the kindergarten drawings i made it's making me question that i wanted to be a little boy instead of growing up as a little girl.

when i was in middle school, i had my first crush towards a girl and i still didn't knew about lgbt+ stuff back then, i didn't even got my first phone cause my parents were scared that my ex classmates will go and steal my phone, so i didn't actually had one till later.

anyway, i had this crush towards a girl and i didn't know why. probably i was still convinced to be a boy, but that i still kept going to dress feminine, then i started to question myself: "am i probably a lesbian??" then after a while i came out as a "lesbian girl" because i did research and convinced myself that i was just lesbian and not something else.

but then, later in the years i started to feel anxious, depressed and disgusted towards my body. i remember how i was dissociating when i see myself towards the mirror and say: "oh that isn't me" after years and years of repressing myself the thing i felt inside me, that i wanted to be a boy without realizing, felt like i was an alien towards everyone.

i was 17, year 2020, in the first months of that year i started to have dreams of myself as a man, remembering how comfortable i was of seeing myself that way and that's something i never realized, or... noticed before. i firstly told my online friends about it and that they doubt of what i told, though they were super acceptful! some of them knew me before i was trans, joined the internet before that. i then decided to make research and that one of my best friends online told me that i liked to be girly as a kid, liked everything i told above. but that for me, i never felt like a girl at all and i was aware during my childhood years. i always felt different from the other girls and i never found a word to express the stress i had on my body during puberty, but that i completely ignored it or never noticed it.

one ex friend of mine (that i won't make names) talked behind my back with one of my friends few years ago, telling me (it was just his excuse) that i was faking to be trans because i was "copying" him (this isn't true), that i always liked pink, liked girls, liked girly stuff and all of that. he basically stereotyped all of this. yes, i was stereotyped as a kid and i never expressed myself how i felt. and how i wanted to be. but that doesn't invalidate me of what i *did* as a child and when i was a teen. i'm still a man and a person, human being even after years later, even without having dysphoria signs in my early age.

going forward, this is when i felt for the first time strong signs of dysphoria towards my chest and body: i started to find a way to "bind" my chest via towels because i didn't still had sports bra yet, i still wore bras (eww). my mom realized it and she asked me why i was doing this, i told her: "i'm uncomfortable with my chest", and she was confused why i was uncomfortable with that part. lately i also started to hate my deadname and being called with prononus i used to have (for more context: i firstly used they/them after that because i thought i was just bigender (and questioning myself ofc), then he/him after realizing i was trans and making researches, plus watching few videos of trans people and made me realize i was and i'm a dude! lol because it's something i felt on my childhood but i repressed it), everytime i feel myself being called that i get a huge knot on my chest, i even told that i'd decide to write a huge confession via letter as a true coming out and remembering how much of a relief it was, after holding it for years. hell i even tried to cut my hair by myself and this it was also a realization that i'm a man, my mom also saw it and she got upset because i told her i wanted to grow up my hair, but that i completely failed, because again, i never felt like a girl in my entire life. i also had a phase of hyperfeminizing myself before the realization.

btw, my mom accepted me as a son, she started to call me with he/him prononus and never told me transphobic things/or being mad, besides she was concerned and worried, then she brought me to a "doctor" which in reality he was a sexologist. i took few appointments with him till he told behind my back to my mom that he was going to give a pill to remove hair and.. shark week. which my mom decided to remove me from this sexologist, though i wouldn't never take that pill without knowing what's inside. besides it was around summer of 2020, i was more or less at the start. then i stopped for a few years.

i also started to be dysphoric when going to the beaches/pools, never wanted to wear that top bikini and basically started to refuse anything that is pink. even after 4 years i still refuse to go to those places without feeling dysphoric by seeing shirtless guys around.

my mom then started to brought my first 2 sports bra and that it made me feel a little better that my chest was flat to make me feel like i have a male chest, but that it wasn't never enough. but also, i also got few male clothes and wearing them for the first time, it felt more like... me. it was such an europhic moment and comfiness towards these clothes, and then i got rid of dresses and anything i used to wear before i was trans.

i even told the entire internet i came out as ftm, and that everyone were acceptful and proud of me, this it was a relief, tho. even though i have to remember they're people who are closed minded and transphobic, and i have to get myself prepared for that.

anyway, i also told even my family members i'm a man, my aunt was acceptful, but my uncle was the opposite and confused why i wanted to be that, and how i wanted to be called. last christmas it was also horrible because of him and his horrible arguments (aka taking me for a fool and stuff), i won't tell much details because this post is already long and i don't wanna add anymore, if you wanna know, tell me in the comments.

so yes, thank you for reading my story and i hope someone will or was on the situation as me, i don't want to feel wrong and invalided because i took so long to realize who i am. if i did research before, maybe i could even realize it, but i didn't.

if i was told personally if i wanna go back, i'd tell and straight foward, no. i don't want to come back from who i used to be, faking myself to be someone i'm not, repressing again what i felt as a child... nope.

if i even get told i'd regret to transition later in life, i'd tell them that getting on T and getting top surgery are my biggest goals of my life, they save me from anxiety and su1c1d4l thoughts, even if they're hella expensive, so i need to save up money before that. i want to be comfortable in my own skin and be free being shirtless, especially during summer and go back to love going to the beach/pools, just how i used to be before puberty hit. i used to be shirtless as a kid and i remembered how free i was lol.

that person i used to be doesn't exist anymore, looking back at pics of little me, hell i don't even recognize me anymore. i was a different, fake version of myself all the time, wearing that dumb smile and making people tell i was happier back then, i wasn't, i never liked to be treated as the one i used to be.

i'm happier and comfortable to be a man, being called with the name i choose and with right prononus (sometimes they/them are also okay if anyone doesn't know my gender, if you guys do as you will read my bio and all, please use only he/him, thank you!)

oh again, reminder: being a man it's not because i want to feel much stronger, i just want to be myself. i can still be sensitive emotionally but i will still be a man no matter what, i cry a lot, and everyone can do that too.

if you read everything and ended up there. i appreciate you listening to me. hope you will have a good day/night :)

[konstell8]

ok so i got out my old band sheet music to show my sister because of reasons and most of the music i kind of vaguely remember, right, because like we played it a lot but this was years and years ago.

but this one piece, this one fucking piece

i took one look at it for like two seconds and i am assaulted by extremely vivid memories

it was a UIL solo from like, seventh or eighth grade. i can picture first chair girl's face and hair. i remember the girl i sat next to, who came in in the middle of the year. The one boy in the flute section. I'm sitting there, in my middle school band room, before class starts. I'm sort of half-assedly practicing this piece, (because doing a good job means playing the boring parts, really slow, like ugh) but that's what you do. It's what everyone else is doing. Like a full third of the class is doing this song for UIL solo.

I find myself humming the song. It's been years. I glanced at the sheet music for like ten seconds. I remember this fucking song. What the Hell. I haven't thought of it since middle school, I didn't even play it, I'm rusty as hell, i glanced at it for ten seconds.

I legit feel like im being haunted by some kind of musical ghost. what the fuck.

[some tortured googling ensues]

IT WAS A FUCKING BEETHOVEN ARRANGEMENT!!! I DID NOT KNOW THAT!!!!

ALSO I FOUND SOMEONE ON YOUTUBE PLAYING THE SAME ARRANGEMENT!!! THE ONE THAT IS HAUNTING ME!!! OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!

[aihoshiino]

A Hoshino Childhood T-Ai-mline

This was initially just supposed to be an idle ramble about how I was curious about Ai's time in the children's home but it ballooned a bit in scope lol so enjoy me attempting to work out a rough timeline for when Ai was taken into care after her mother's arrest and how long she was in care for.

we know she was around twelve when she was scouted for and debuted in B-Komachi - Sarina says in chapter 1 that Ai is 'the same age' as her and Gorou confirms she was twelve when she passed away.

in the flashback to Saitou scouting her, Ai describes herself as having 'grown up' in a children's home and that her mother was arrested 'when [Ai] was little'. twelve years old is pretty young in the grand scheme of things so she must have been especially small when she arrived for her to describe that span of time as 'growing up' in the children's home.

in this same flashback, Ai notes that her mother was arrested for theft (likely shoplifting, specifically, as it's one of the most common crimes in Japan) but did not come to collect her daughter when she was released. Prison sentences for shoplifting in Japan can be as long as ten years, but it's unlikely that Ai's mother served a sentence that long - that would have made Ai two years old or younger when her mother was arrested; according to Article 41 of Japan's Child Welfare Act she would have been placed in an infant home and likely adopted out sooner from there.

in 45510, it's mentioned that Ai once recounted an instance of physical abuse from her mother in childhood. according to studies by childhood psychologists, kids don't really start developing beat-by-beat memories of events as we understand them until around ages six to seven... but it's also true that memories of trauma and negative events will be much more vivid and long lasting, even in childhood.

in Viewpoint B, Ai is fourteen years old when she mentions she is on the verge of aging out of her children's home. This lines up with the fact that, while children who attend high school are safe until age eighteen, children who do not attend high school age out of the system at fifteen. According to a survey taken in 2020, going from middle school directly into work is not uncommon for children in the care system and we know that Ai was working for Strawberry Productions at this time and never attended high school.

Ichigo confirms in chapter 1 that he is Ai's father "on paper", meaning that he is her legal guardian. He clarifies that this is due to her growing up in a children's home, so it's likely that rather than aging out of the system, Ichigo adopted or fostered her at the last minute.

This last point is a bit more of a stretch which is why I'm separating it from the rest of the list, but something I've always been curious about is why the Ai biopic was titled 15 Year Lie. The only stretch of time this number matches is from Ai's murder to the twins' current age at the start of the movie arc, which is eighteen. They would have been around three or four when Ai died and well, 18 - 15 = 3. It does seem like a weird period of time to pick, though, because... well, it's not like the lies only started when Ai died.

However, if Ai was five years old when she first entered a children's home, that fifteen year number would match up nicely. 20 - 15 = 5.

I don't necessarily think it's intentional but the niceness of that coincidence coupled with the fact that it slots in so neatly in with the existing evidence that I'm inclined to go with it. It also means that both Ai and Sarina would have been around the same age when they essentially lost their mothers - five and four respectively.

tl;dr: My best guess based on current evidence is that Ai was five years old when she was taken into care and just shy of fifteen when she was taken in by Ichigo, meaning she spend nine or ten years in a children's home.

[vinnylignes]

Annotated Dopamine (Feel-Good) Playlist

As a passionate music connoisseur , I believe that I understand how to form a good playlist for any type of feel or emotion. The playlist I made is a feel good playlist and will get anyone in a great mood no matter what. These collection of songs go together because they are all up-beat uplifting songs and bring me back to great time period in my life.

Starting off with the spins by Mac Miller: This song just gives off a summer, nice weather, outside living life type of feel. When listening to this song it distracts me from all my problems and cares I have at that moment and I just enjoy the music. When listening to the song I imagine myself in high school just chilling with friends on a summer day. I have been listening to this song for around 3-4 years now and it is always in the rotation.

Next is Good Life by Kanye West, as the title states it is just an overall happy and uplifting song that reminds you to be grateful for what you have in this life and not take anything for granted. He states in the song "Whether you broke or rich, you gotta get this Having moneys not everything, not having it is." It doesn't matter what you do or don't have you should just be happy that you are healthy and alive. I discovered this song when I was in middle school and listening to this song now brings back nostalgia

Riptide by Vance Joy is one of my favorite feel-good songs. Singing along with the song just makes me feel happy and hearing the guitar instrumentals in the background make it very uplifting. I can imagine myself driving down the highway with all my friends in the car with the windows down, blasting this song and singing along. I honestly recently discovered this song not too long ago and now I can't stop playing it.

This whole song just makes me feel good about having a good time and letting loose sometimes. To have fun and be free while you are young because you do not want to take it for granted. Snoop Dogg and Wiz Khalifa together make this song flow perfectly together and are the perfect artists for this type of song. I listened to this song all throughout high school with my friends and every time I play this song again it brings back great memories.

Touch the Sky is arguably one of my favorite songs from Kanye West. I play this song non-stop at any time or any place. The instrumental and beat makes me feel like I'm floating on a cloud, weightless and wrapped in pure joy. This songs meaning is to push forward and aim high for your goals because anything is possible in this life. Celebrating personal triumphs and the drive to reach new heights in life. I discovered this song my Freshman year and high school and now is one of my most played songs.

This song is the embodiment of my childhood. I loved this song as a kid and still do now. I remember listening to this song for the first on the radio in the backseat of my parent's car. It was raining and we were on a roadtrip. I was not in the best mood, but after listening to this song I instantly got way happier and my whole mood shifted. The chorus is so catchy and the drums make the song amazing.

another amazing throwback and feel good song is Pompeii- by Bastille. I have a vivid memory of listening to this song in the Mr. Peabody and Sherman movie when I was a kid and it became my favorite song for years. It was just a special time in my life because those were my peak childhood years where I did not have a care in the world. This song is still one of my favorites of all time

In conclusion, all these songs bring me back to a great time period of my life and each time I listen to each one of these songs I get an immense amount of nostalgia. Most of these songs are taken by bits and pieces from different years of my life and combined into one feel good playlist. Anytime I am down or sad about anything, I just play these songs and my mood instantly changes. Listening to these songs lifts my mood, washing away my sadness and filling me up with joy, like sunlight after rain.

Similar Feel-Good Playlists:

[checkoutmybookshelf]

My Introduction to Tamora Pierce

When I was in seventh grade, a friend and classmate asked if I wanted to read one of her favorite authors. I said sure, and she presented me with a choice of Daine, Kel, or Alanna. I chose Kel, and I have a vivid memory of standing next to our ugly green lockers between classes in middle school and being handed a loaner copy of The First Test. This simple act of generosity and friendship set my little 12-year-old feet on the path to Tortall and later to Emelan. Thanks to that friend, Tamora Pierce quickly became one of my foundational, formative, ride-or-die authors (in excellent company with the likes of Gail Carson Levine, who we are absolutely going to talk about at some point). People leave handprints on our hearts, and sometimes those handprints are book shaped. Let's talk The Protector of the Small Quartet.

Keladry's quartet covers nine years of her life, from becoming the first openly female page in a century to her years as a squire to her first year as a knight. The First Test and Lady Knight cover about a year each, while Page and Squire cover three and four years of training, respectively, at the titular levels.

Keladry of Mindelan, Lady Knight and Protector of the Small, is all about making sure that animals, women, children, and powerless individuals and populations are protected and treated well. When we meet her, she is fishing a bag of kittens out of a river and protecting them from a Spidren looking for a snack, and this culminates in Lady Knight Keladry going on a one-woman crusade behind enemy lines during a war to protect the people she was charged with protecting.

These books are perfect; I wouldn't change a thing.

Tamora's Pierce's worldbuilding and character work are unmatched. I said what I said, and no, I am not taking criticim (constructive or otherwise) at this time. Tortall is a full, lush world populated with diverse, dynamic, and complex characters. However, I think my favorite thing about Tamora Pierce is that her books are positive and hopeful without shying away from the realities of how harsh the world can be. Her protagonists face bullying, they face death, they face gendered violence, and they face all the petty and systemic malice that humanity is capable of. And yet, there is hope. The balance of acknowledging the real world and still finding what is good, what can be changed for the better, and where your strength and skills can make a difference is never not a comfort to me as a reader, and that's been true for [REDACTED, I know I'm an old] years.

Another favorite overarching theme in Tamora Pierce's Tortall universe that I love and will never get tired of is student-teacher relationships. And like everything with Pierce's writing, these relationships are not simple. There are good teachers, there are effective teachers who are utter dickheads (although some of them actually go through character growth and see and ACKNOWLEDGE their mistakes and APOLOGIZE and CHANGE!!!), and bad teachers. The students are equally diverse and dynamic. Kel's dynamics with her main teachers--Lord Wyldon and Raoul of Goldenlake--are some of my favorite parts of the books. And Kel finds herself a teacher throughout; first to her peers, then to her colleagues, and finally to people under her care and command. I know most people fall in love with Kel because of her protection of animals, but it was her journey to teaching and command that made me fall in love with her.

I recommend Tamora Pierce's books to literally everyone. Teenage girl? Yes. Octogenarian looking for a fun read? Yes. Sixth grade class needing a book read to them at lunch? Hell Yes. Everyone should read Tamora Pierce.