#and two the fact the conversation had a direct flight to our dating histories

[3-aem]

thinking about touch starved touch sensitive gojo again. Absolutely desperate for even the most grazing touches from getou and yet overwhelmed by it all.

[macademmia]

I Like Me Better When I’m With You

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Janus/Patton, Moceit

Summary: Janus Dean did not mean to start dating Patton Hart for political gain, and he definitely did not mean to fall in love with him. 

(Or the fake dating high school AU that nobody asked for but everyone needed.)

Based on this prompt by the incredible @kawaiikat54

Warnings: cursing, homophobia(nothing violent) 

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Everybody loves Patton Hart. He’s one of those rare popular kids who got their popularity by being a great person. Patton knows everyone’s first and last name and he’s in almost every club. He’s every teacher’s favorite student and every girl’s crush. He never curses and is nice to everyone. He’ll help you with your homework and listen to your problems. He gives hugs like it's nothing. Patton Hart thinks life is a fairy tale. 

Jason Dean absolutely despises Patton Hart. Everything in Patton’s life is perfect and everything he can get everything he’s ever wanted just by showing up. Janus has to fight for what he wants every step of the way. Janus is not trusted easily like Patton. Janus has a resting bitch face, whereas Patton’s face naturally falls into a smile. Janus is the night of Patton's day. 

For most of high school, Janus has been fine ignoring Patton. They never got in each other’s way, and Janus and his friend Ethan bonded over laughing at him. Janus stayed in his lane and Patton stayed in his that’s our it’s always been. 

Today everything changed. Today Patton Hart entered the race for student body president. Janus has spent the past month campaigning and building up goodwill, but it’s all pointless. Voters will take one look at the name Patton Hart and check the box next to his name. Patton doesn’t even have to captain. Just like always, Patton wins just by showing up. 

It’s infuriating, and it means that Janus will have to fight dirty. 

When the bell for lunch rings, Janus exits through the backdoor of the courtyard. It’s empty like it always is. 

Across the courtyard, his friend Ethan is leaning against the hard brick wall with a cigarette in one hand, and a flask in the other.

“‘Sup Janus.” 

“Hello, Ethan, did you hear the news?”

“That Hart’s running for president? Yeah.”

“What do you think we should do about it?” 

“Probably something he wouldn’t like,” Ethan says, and Janus laughs.

“What did you have in mind? Stage a scandal? Hack his email? Push him down a flight of stairs?” Janus was pretty partial to the last one. 

“Fun, but no. To win this race you’re going to have to go big or go home.”

That doesn’t sound good, especially coming from Ethan. 

“What do you mean, go big or go home?” 

“You need to pretend to date Patton Hart.” 

Janus laughed, “Absolutely not.” 

Ethan growled at him, “Did I fucking stutter Dean?”

Janus glared at him, “Did I? I’m not doing that.”

Ethan did not back down, “Take a second to think about it before you get all your feather ruffled. If you pretend to date Patton, you will get everything. You will find out what’s under his everything is a perfect persona. You’ll have a confession that he’s gay. If you do it you’re practically guaranteed to win the race.”

Janus pauses, “You have a point. I’ll think about it. You happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

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It’s been a week and Janus has thought of a way to talk to Patton, let alone ask him out. Hell, despite what Ethan says, he doesn’t even know if Patton is gay, bi, or pan at all. 

Despite the fact that if he is in fact, not straight, Patton is closeted, Ethan has been texting him more and more every day, and at this point, Janus might just flat out ask Patton out just to get him to shut up. 

As if on cue, Janus’ phone buzzes with a text. He doesn’t have to check who it is. He groans and shuts his phone off. History class is about to begin anyways. 

In the time that he’s read the text and dumped his phone into his bag, Patton Hart has somehow managed to sneak up on him. 

“Everything ok?” Patton asks, and there’s genuine concern in his voice. It drives Janus crazy. Through his glasses, Janus can see the concern and care in his big brown eyes, and it’s so powerful that he almost has to take a step back. 

Janus looks away from Patton, “Of course it is, why wouldn’t it be?” 

Patton just shrugs, “You just seemed stressed.” 

“Oh well, thank you for your concern but I have everything under control,” Janus says, and why is it so hard for him to talk to Patton. Each word sounds awkward and unsure and it’s a complete 180 from the smooth and suave tone he usually uses.

Before the conversation can get any more awkward, the bell rings. 

“Glad to hear it,” Patton says. 

Janus just nodded and walked inside the classroom. 

Within the next few minutes, kids start filing in and sitting in their usual spots. Patton is sitting in the front predictably and Janus is watching him from the third row.  

Once all the students have filed into the dilapidated classroom their teacher, Mr. Rivers walks up to the front of the class. 

“All right everybody!” He says. “So today I thought we could switch things up a bit, and instead of me teaching you something like we normally do, you could teach your classmates and me something?” 

The class stares at him blankly, but Mr. Rivers doesn’t seem to notice their lack of a reaction. 

“So I decided that you all, with the help of a partner, will present on a series of influential people throughout history who all share one trait in common. It’s opened ended, so the thing all your people have in common can be creative! Hopefully y’all can have fun with this! Today you are going to have all of this class period to talk with your partner and get started, the project will be due next week. Any questions?” 

Only one girl raises her hand, and Mr. Rivers calls on her enthusiastically, “Can we choose our Partners?” She says. 

“Nope! I’m going to be picking partners for you all, it’s great to work with new people.” He replies cheerfully. 

A low groan rumbles through the classroom, but Mr. Rivers doesn’t comment on it.

“Alright so first up is Will Solace and Nico De Angelo.” 

The teacher keeps on listening names until finally Janus’ name was called,

“...and finally we have Patton Hart and Janus Hart.”

Well, that was one way to get the plan going. At least he’d have something to report to Ethan. 

Janus was not ready when Patton came bounding towards his Desk, with brown curls bouncing in time with his steps.

Janus was pretty sure he could stare at Patton and still not have counted every one of his freckles, the kid had so many. 

“Hey, Janus!” Patton was at his desk.

“Hi, Patton.” 

“So what do you wanna do? I know a lot of the other kids are doing soldiers from the same wars and stuff so we could do that if you’d like” 

“Well,” Janus mock whispers, “I was thinking we could spice things up a little bit, maybe do some queer people throughout history, freak the class out about it.” Janus was acting nonchalant but on the inside he was nervous; Patton’s reaction could change this entire election. 

Patton’s face seemed to light up even more if that was even possible. “That sounds awesome! There are so many people throughout history and no one even knows about it! Like did you know historians think Abraham Lincoln might have been gay? Or Eleanor Roosevelt, they found letters from her to a female lover or Alan Turing, he was essential in the liberation of Europe from Nazi Germany, and he was gay!” 

Janus raises an eyebrow, “Wow Patton you sure do know a lot.” 

Patton freezes and then rushes to defend himself, “Oh yeah I just wanted to support my LGBTQ friends by learning about their history! I just want to be a good ally.” Patton smiles but Janus can tell he’s nervous.

Yep, Janus thinks, totally just an ally. 

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Two weird things happen next week. Janus and Patton get an A on their assignment and Patton start sitting at Janus’ table. Janus has no clue why; Patton could sit at any table in the entire cafeteria and be welcomed as an honored guest. The first week Patton sits at Janus’ table, Janus doesn’t talk to all. He has his recorder on sure, but he’s too confused to respond. 

Patton talks about everything. He talks about frogs and theater and the stars. He talks about his family and his favorite colors. 

It should drive Janus crazy, but it doesn’t. 

Listening to Patton talk becomes one of the best parts of his day. 

When Janus finally starts throwing in a sarcastic comment here and there, Patton’s smile could outshine the sun. 

Janus ignores the fact that his heart speeds up more than it should when he’s around Patton.

With every recording he sends to Ethan, his guilt grows and grows. Janus doesn’t know how to handle the guilt, and he definitely doesn’t know how to deal with how he feels about Patton.

He can’t stop thinking about Patton, even when they’re not at lunch together. He can’t stop thinking about the way Patton’s eyebrows crinkle together when he laughs or how he gives Janus his full attention when he talks. He doesn’t want to think about the swell of anger in his gut every time someone so much as looks bad in Patton’s direction. 

Today though, today something is wrong with Patton. 

He won’t make eye contact with Janus, and he’s hunched in on himself. His smile is absent, and he won’t stop twisting his fingers. 

This isn’t how Patton’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be joyful and happy. But that’s not right, is it? Janus has always thought of Patton as a positivity god, above it all. Now, as Patton fidgets in front of him, Janus is reminded of how undeniably human Patton is. 

Patton’s voice is so low that Janus isn’t sure if I heard you, “Do I bother you?” 

Janus blinks. He never thought someone like Patton would ask him questions like that. 

“Of course not,” Janus says, and it’s the truth. He loves being around Patton. He loves hearing him talk, he loves the fact that he’s three inches taller than Patton, he loves how Patton makes him feel better about himself when Patton is around. Janus wants to find whoever made Patton believe that he was a bother and give them a black eye. Or two. 

Patton still remains hunched in on himself, “It’s ok Janus, I know you’re just being sarcastic.” 

“Patton,” Janus says, “Look at me,” He waits until Patton reluctantly meets his gaze, “You’re not a bother, in fact, sitting here with you at lunch is the highlight of my day.” 

Patton lets out a surprised o with his mouth, and Janus isn’t sure whether or not he wants to wrap Patton in a thousand blankets or hunt down everyone who ever hurt him. 

Patton is making Janus soft, but he can’t find himself to care. 

Next Tuesday, Patton comes up to his table like he’s about to go to war. His shoulders are tensed and his eyebrows are furrowed. His backpack straps are pulled as tight as possible and he’s marching towards Janus’ table. 

“I’m gay. And I wanted to tell you because you’re the first person in my life who doesn’t care about who I am or what I can do for you and I really hope that’s okay” Patton says, and he’s shaking a little. 

Janus is struck by how brave Patton is. Janus has never had the guts to come out, not like this, and here Patton is, exposing himself completely. Janus can see the fear in his eyes, but Patton doesn’t let it stop him. 

“I knew you weren’t just an ally.” 

Patton twirls the bracelet on his left wrist, “Am I really that obvious?” 

Janus shakes his head, “Nah, it just takes one to one.” Janus watches as the confusion on Patton’s eyes morphs into realization. 

“Oh,” Patton says. 

“Yeah” Janus replies. 

Patton smiles at him and starts talking about frogs. 

Janus’ phone feels heavier with the recording of Patton coming out. 

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When Janus sends the recording of Patton’s coming he should feel good. He did it, that tape is enough to ruin Patton’s popularity for the rest of high school. He won. 

But he doesn’t feel good. In fact, he’s never felt worse. He’s going to get everything he ever wanted and he hates it. 

He can’t keep doing this to Patton, he can’t keep pretending to be the friend Patton so desperately needs when his moral compass is practically pointed towards Antarctica. 

He can’t take back the damage he did to Patton, but maybe he can stop pushing the knife deeper. 

He picks up his phone and texts Ethan.

Janus Dean, 7:30 pm: we’re done, I’m not going to pretend to date Patton anymore, I’m not going to send you recordings anymore. 

Ethan doesn’t even bother texting him back, He just calls Janus a few seconds after he receives the text. 

Janus picks up his phone and takes a deep breath. He has a feeling he’ll need it. 

“What the fuck Dean?” 

“Hello to you too Ethan,” Janus says, hoping the sarcasm will hide the panic.

“Don’t you fucking dare ‘Hello Ethan’ me.” Ethan snarls, “A deal is a deal, you can’t just pull out like this.” 

“Why do you care anyway? You’re not running for student body president, I am!” 

“Aw, you’re cute Dean.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean.” Janus snaps.

“You think I give a shit about your little election? Are you crazy? I could care less, no this was all about Patton.” 

“What do you have against him?” 

A manic laughed echoed through the phone, “I want to see that dumb smile fall right off his moronic face.” 

“That’s it? You’re going to ruin his life because you’re feeling petty?” Janus knows Ethan isn’t the most ethical person out there but this is low even for him. 

Ethan doesn’t seem to care, “Now you’re getting it, JDelightful.” 

Fuck, He underestimated how crazy Ethan could be. 

Janus could hear Ethan smiling through the phone, “You’re going to regret saying no to me.” He said, and with that, the line went dead.  

It was all over. Patton, the one person who ever cared about Janus was going to leave. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

However, he did still have a few hours left. And he had nothing else to lose.

Janus Dean,  7:41 pm: Can we hang out? 

Patton Hart, 7:41 pm: Sure! When and where? 

Janus Dean, 7:42 pm: I know this awesome hidden park we could check out, I can pick you up, I’ll be there in 10. 

Patton Hart, 7:42 pm: awesome!!! :D

Janus was going to lose Patton. There was no use of denying it. 

That wasn’t going to stop him from taking every second he could get and treasuring it forever.

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Patton is sitting on the front steps of his house when Janus’ blank car swings around the block. 

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping.” Janus deadpans

“Hello to you too snake boy,” Patton says, matching Janus’ monotone. 

“Snake boy? Really? Is that the best you could come up with Golden Boy.” 

“Takes one to know one Janus,” Patton says. Is he talking about what Janus said when Patton comes out? Janus hopes he’s not blushing. 

“Touché, Patton,” Janus says, and Patton grins at him. Janus can’t stop staring at his lips.

Stop looking at him like that, you’re never going to be his anything. 

Janus ignores his inner monologue. 

Patton shuffles his playlist and Don’t Stop Believing comes on. 

“Oh my god Patton, you are such a dad.” Janus groans, but Patton pretends not to hear him 

“Don’t stop believing,” Patton sings, “Hold on to that feeling” Patton belts the last song and it’s so terrible, but it’s so Patton and Janus falls just a little bit harder. 

Patton is giving him the look, the do what I say or I’ll be sad look. Janus sighs.

“Hold on to that feeling.” Janus sings, and Patton lets out a whoop, and Janus starts signing louder, “Street light people, waiting just to find emotion.” 

“Living just to find emotion!” Patton shouts, and Janus belts right along with him. 

Another song comes on, and then another, and suddenly Patton and Janus have screamed themselves hoarse singing 80s songs.

By the time they’ve gone through six songs, the sky is falling down, and Patton’s windshield wipers are swiping in overtime. 

When they pull up to the park, it’s pouring. There are no cars in the parking lot and Janus can barely see five feet in front of him. 

Patton frowns, “Aw man, it’s raining. I guess we’ll just have to come back later.” 

Janus freezes. There is no later. It is literally now or never.

“No,” Janus says.

“No?” Patton says in surprise. 

“It’s just water, it can’t stop us from having fun,” Janus says. This is it. If Patton says no Janus doesn’t know what he’ll do. 

“Okay,” Patton says, giving Janus a mischievous smile. 

Janus unbuckles his seat belt and gets out of the safety of the car in the pouring rain. Within the first three seconds of being outside, Janus is drenched from head to toe. He doesn’t notice. 

“Hey,” Patton says. Just like Janus, Patton is soaked. His cardigan is leaking, and his glasses are foggy. His curls have fallen flat and raindrops hang on his bangs. 

“Hi,” Janus replies, and this is so absurd. He’s standing outside alone with Patton Hart in an abandoned park in the rain, just before his life is about to fall apart. 

Janus wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Dance with me,” Janus hears himself saying. 

“I don’t know how to dance.”

“I’ll teach you.” 

Janus walks over to Patton and says, “Ok so first I’m gonna put my arms around your shoulders like this,” Slowly, in case Patton wants to pull away Janus puts his arms on top of Patton’s shoulders. 

“What’s next?” Patton asks. 

“Put your arms on my waist,” Janus says. He can feel Patton hesitate and then tentatively wrap his arms around his middle. The feeling of Patton’s skin on his is electrifying. 

Patton smiles, “Now what?” 

“Now we just move,” Janus says simply and he follows Patton’s movements. For a beginner, Patton is a surprisingly good dancer.

The two dance under the stars to the melody of the rain. 

Neither of them says anything, but Patton’s face is so close to his and his lips are even closer. 

It takes all the willpower Janus has to not kiss Patton then and there. 

“Hey, Patton?”

“Yeah, Janus?” 

The butterflies in Janus’ stomach are more like raging pigeons. 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while, but, I think now is the right time,” Janus takes a deep breath and Patton gives him an encouraging look. 

“I like you. I really like you, Patton. I’ve liked you ever since you sat down at my table and started to talk about frogs. I thought it was just a friend thing, but it’s not. Because the truth is Patton, I want to be with you, all the time. I want to kiss you and I want to call you my boyfriend.” Patton is silent.

“If you don’t feel the same way, I totally get it. I’ll leave you alone. I won’t push it, I promise. I don’t want it to be weird I just want you to be ha-“ 

Janus is cut off by Patton grabbing his collar, and pulling him down to his level for a kiss. 

Patton is kissing him. Patton is Kissing Him. Holy shit. This is better than anything Janus could have imagined. Patton’s lips are soft against his chapped ones. They’re warm despite the pouring rain. Patton wraps his arms around Janus’s neck to keep himself steady, and Janus brushes Patton’s bangs away from his eyes. 

When Patton finally pulls away, there’s fire in his eyes. 

“You absolute idiot,” Patton says, taking a second to breathe, “how could you think, even for a second, that I wouldn’t like you.”

Janus laughs and doesn’t stop looking at Patton, “I guess I’m just dumber than I thought.”

Patton nods vigorously in agreement, “understatement of the century, snake boy.”

Patton goes in for another kiss, and Janus doesn’t want this night to ever end.

Fuck Ethan.

Fuck the election.

Fuck other people.

Janus just wants to stay with Patton forever.

When he gets back from his date with Patton, Janus is so happy, all he wants to do is jump and scream with joy. He’s never felt more himself around another person. He feels so alive when he’s with Patton that he never wants to stop. 

He drops his bag down on the floor of his bedroom and jumps on his bed. He’s smiling so hard it hurts but he doesn’t want to stop. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t used those muscles in years. 

He grabs his phone, pops his earbuds in, and shuffles the playlist Patton made for him. He’ll never get over the small act of Patton making a playlist for him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over Patton. He loves the way Patton lights up when he talks about frogs. He adores how Patton keeps smiling day after day, he’s stronger than anyone will ever know. He loves the way Patton shoves his glasses up his nose when he’s nervous. He loves how when he talks Patton just listens and Janus somehow knows that Patton understands. He loves how good Patton is. He loves how he tastes like cinnamon and rainy days.  Being with Patton is like seeing this sun after years of being stuck underground, Janus will never get sick of his light. 

After he finds the playlist he lays down and closes his eyes, and just listens to the music. He breathes in and out and it’s almost like Patton is right there next to him. 

About 15 minutes later Janus’ phone buzzes, and he grabs it excitedly, hoping Patton is sending him a goodnight text. 

His mood plummets when he sees who really texted him. Ethan. This can’t be good. Time has run out. 

When the messages app opens there are two unread messages. 

The first one is a link to an Instagram post made by Ethan. The second one reads “You can’t get rid of me that easy.” 

When Janus clicked on the post, it was a list of screenshots. Texts between Ethan and Janus. Texts between Patton and Janus. Janus’ audio recordings. And they spilled everything 

The whole school knew that Janus had got together Patton for political power. The whole school knew that Janus had tricked Patton. The whole school knew that Patton fell for it. 

Fuck, the whole school knew Patton was gay. Janus let Patton get outed. Patton, who shared his secret with Janus, was now left to vultures known as teenagers. Patton, who was still figuring himself out, was forced out of the closet in the worst possible way. Patton who thought someone finally loved him for who he was and not what he could do, was just publicly used for political gain

He would never get to choose how to say it. He would never get to hug his friends when he invited them to their favorite diner and told them over milkshakes about who he was. He’ll never get to slowly start to wear rainbow pins on his pack packs. He would never get to walk into a GSA and see the happy surprise on everyone’s faces. He would never get to be ready. 

And it was all Janus’ fault. 

He has to call Patton, and he has to do it now. 

When he dials Patton’s number it rings out. He dials again, the same thing. Again and again. Every time Patton doesn’t pick up Janus breaks more and more. 

“Fuck!” He shouts, and his voice cracks. He can feel the tears start to come and his throat start to close up. He ruined the one good thing in his life. He should have seen this coming. His happiness was never meant to last.

His only consolation is that tomorrow is a Saturday, so he doesn’t have to put on a brave face so anyone. He won’t have to face Ethan in the halls. He won’t have to see the disgust and disappointment in Patton’s face. 

That night, he cries himself to sleep.

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Janus spends the entire weekend locked in his room. He doesn’t have the energy to get out of bed. The loss of Patton is crushing him so hard he can barely breathe. He deletes his Instagram, and turns off messaging notifications. He listens to Patton’s playlist over and over and over again, just to feel like he’s with Patton again. It doesn’t work.

He doesn’t know how he can face school on Monday. He knows he won’t get in any trouble, the student body is so homophobic that they’d probably congratulate him. The school administrators will call it an out of school affair and turn their heads the other way. Janus might as well start saying he’s student body president now. 

No, what he can’t handle is seeing Patton in the hallways, robbed of his beautiful smile. Seeing Patton avoid his gaze and stop waving to people in the halls. Watching all the terrible people at Sanders high go in for the kill. He can’t watch, knowing it’s all his fault.

The worst part is he will be congratulated for doing this. He will get his dream. Students will be proud of him, teachers will pretend they didn’t say anything, Ethan won’t get suspended. Patton could fall apart and no one would notice. 

The world isn’t fair, Janus always knew Patton would have to learn that. He didn’t want Patton to learn it like this. 

No one should. 

——————

When Janus’ first alarm goes off on Monday morning he shuts it off instantly. The last thing he wants to do is get up. He does the same thing with the second one. He could fake a sick day, right? When the third alarm rolls around, he counts to three and forces himself to get up. No matter how bad he’s feeling, he cannot show weakness. Not now, and not ever. 

He rolls out of bed and puts on clothes robotically. He’s barely aware of what he’s wearing, but it’s fine. Everything is fine. 

He laces up his docs and throws his books in his backpack. He unplugs his phone then brushes his teeth. He grabs his bag and then heads downstairs. 

He pours himself a mug of scalding black coffee. He downs it steaming hot. He likes the way the bitter liquid burns as it goes down his throat. Never let it be said that he couldn’t be edgy. He doesn’t have anything else for breakfast, and he can hear Patton chiding him in his head. 

Janus shakes his head, puts his mug in the sink, and heads out the door. 

When he gets to his car he pauses. He means to turn the key to ignite it. All he can think about is Friday night when Patton and Janus ran back to Janus’ car in the pouring pain and held hands while Janus drove him home. Patton kissed him goodbye. 

Suddenly, Janus’ lips feel cold. 

He takes a deep breath and turns the key. He can’t think about that. Not anymore. He has to stay strong because if he starts to cry, he’s not sure he’ll ever stop. 

When he gets to school he parks his car in his spot. He keeps telling himself the same thing: Don't let anyone know you’re bothered, especially not Ethan.

He hesitates for a few seconds before walking in the school building. He will not let his fear control him. He can do this. He owes it to Patton. 

In the halls, he can hear the students whispering about him. He hears his name and Patton’s name and he hears the word, queer. The students whisper the word gay like it’s a dirty secret they shouldn’t know. It makes Janus’ blood boil but he has to keep walking. 

He keeps looking for Patton in the halls, but he can’t find him anywhere. Patton always gets to school early to say hi to everyone. He’s at school every morning at 7:50 by his locker. Why isn’t he there?

Because you used him for selfish reasons and let him get outed, idiot, he thinks.

For the rest of the day, Janus’ classes go in one ear and out the other. It’s a Monday so he doesn’t have any classes with Patton, but he still can’t pay attention. He can feel the states of other students during class and it is unbearable. Patton made school enjoyable and now that he’s gone it’s a nightmare. 

During lunch, his food tastes like cardboard and he sits alone. He doesn’t know where Patton is but he’s not at their-his table. He forces the sandwich down and opts to hide in the library for the rest of lunch. 

At the end of the day Janus instinctively starts walking to his car in the parking lot. It’s in the fifth row. When he gets to the third bow he stops walking. Patton’s car is in the third row. He can deny it all he wants but Janus knows that if he doesn’t talk to Patton now he never will. 

He can’t let Patton go, not now, not ever. 

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Before Patton sees him, Janus can already tell he's been crying. His eyes are red and puffy and he won’t stop rubbing at him.

He’s about to get in his car when Janus shouts, “Patton wait!” 

Patton whips around, and when his eyes meet Janus’, Janus resists the urge to take a step back. The pain in Patton’s brown eyes is overwhelming. 

“What do you want, Janus?” Patton snaps. His voice is hard and cold, so unlike the typical warmth, Patton brings to every conversation. 

Janus avoids Patton’s eyes, “I wanted to apologize, I never meant to hurt you and,” Janus looks for the right words, but nothing seems to work, “I’m so so sorry.” 

“You dated me to help you win an election, Janus, how did you not mean to hurt me? The whole idea was to hurt me!” Patton says. He’s shaking. 

Janus can’t think of anything to say, so Patton just keeps going.

“I finally thought I found someone who wanted me for who I am! No! Everyone just wants me for what I can give them, popularity, friendship, support, and I thought you were different! I opened myself up to you and you spilled my secrets to the world!” 

Janus closes his eyes. “Patton…” He whispers, and he reaches out for Patton’s hand. 

Patton jerks back violently as if he has just been burned. “I don’t have anything to say to you.” Patton’s fists are clenched at his side and Janus wonders if he’s going to start swinging them. 

He’d deserve it, but Janus just won’t stop pushing. He loves Patton too much to let go. 

“Patton please.” Janus says. He has never been a beggar but he is willing to fall down at Patton’s feet just to see that warm smile directed at him one more time. He would walk through hell and hack just to make Patton happy again. 

“You know what Janus? I could forgive the whole, I played with your emotions to win a dumb high school election thing.” Patton says, “I could forgive how I gave you my heart and you crushed it beneath your heel. But you didn’t just leave it at that. No, you had to publicly humiliate me. You let your friend Ethan out me. I don’t care if it was for an election, you don’t just get to do that Janus!” Patton is screaming at him now, “You don’t get to decide that. I’m supposed to be the one who decides where, and when, and who knows, and how I get to say it, that’s supposed to be my thing! And you took that away from me.” 

Patton’s explosive anger is hardening into something cooler, harder, and more dangerous. 

“So would you please just get the fuck away from me!” 

That’s when it really hits Janus how badly he fucked up. Patton never curses. Patton doesn’t even say darn. If Patton was angry enough to use a curse word, the world should be terrified. It’s more unlikely for Patton to curse than for him to hit someone 

Janus wishes Patton had hit him, because it would hurt so much less. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks later Janus, Patton, and the entire school are in the auditorium waiting to hear the election results. All of Janus' months of work have led up to this moment. The name on the slip of paper the principal is holding will tell him if it was all for nothing.

Students are chattering to each other but Janus tunes it all out, because for the first time in two weeks, Patton is sitting next to him. 

Granted, it’s not by choice, the two candidates have to sit together in the first row, but Janus will take anything he can get. 

“Alright everybody, Settle down, settle down.” The principal's deep voice echoes through the auditorium. When he’s satisfied with the noise level, he continues, “Both of our candidates have worked tirelessly these past months to present themselves as student body presidents worthy of you, and happy to say that both of them have done a phenomenal job. However, there can only be one winner of this race so without further ado, your new student body president is,” He pauses for dramatic effect. 

“Janus Dean.” 

Janus waits for the rush. He waits for the happy feeling to inundate him. He has won, everything in these past few months has been worth it. He beat Patton. He showed up Ethan. He showed this entire school that he is worth something, and that he will be someone. 

So why doesn’t he feel good? 

Janus puts on a smile, grabs the piece of paper with his victory speech written, and walks towards the podium.

When he gets there the lights are blinding, but he knows the entire student body is staring back at him. The only person Janus can see is Patton. Patton looks sad. Defeated. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Janus picks up his speech to read. He’s supposed to talk about the support of the students, the support of the staff, how much this victory means to him, and how he promises to do his very best to fulfill their needs. He can’t start talking though. This isn’t right. 

Then it finally hits him. 

The thing he wants more than anything isn’t to win this dumb race, the thing he wants more than anything in the world is Patton. He wants to see Patton’s smile every morning. He wants to hear Patton call Janus his boyfriend. He wants to see Patton happy. He wants to have so many firsts with Patton. He wants to be able to kiss Patton whenever he wants. He wants to hold hands with Patton and call him obnoxious pet names. 

He puts his speech down.

“Hey everyone.” He says, “First of all, I would like to thank everyone for their vote. It means the world to me that you would put that kind of trust in me.” Janus pauses, and stares Patton dead in the eyes, “However I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline the position.” 

Whispers explode throughout the auditorium and the teachers are frozen in shock. 

“I thought standing up here was the thing I wanted more than anything, but I was wrong. See, a few months ago, I was assigned to work on a history project with this guy. At the time I really hated him, he was so perfect. He was so good. Then he decided to run against me in this race and suddenly he became a problem I had to solve. Me and one of my friends decided it would be fun for me to pretend to date him, and then leak some of his secrets, showing everyone that he isn’t as perfect as he looked. It was the perfect plan. Or so I thought. I started spending more time with this guy, I tried so hard to hate him, but it was impossible. That’s how good he is. We became fast friends, and he made me better. I loved being around him, it was like waking up to a bright summer day. Loving him snuck him on me, but soon it was like breathing. I couldn’t keep collecting information on him, and so I told my friend it was over. Wrong move.” Janus took a deep breath, but he didn’t stop looking at Patton.

“He outed this guy to our entire school. I don’t know how many of you are part of the queer community, but being out is one of the worst things in the world. Everyone says it’s like ripping a bandaid off. It’s more than that. Being outed when you’re not ready is like someone stabbing a healing wound. It is so fucked up, and one of the worst things I could’ve let happen. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.” 

Patton is shaking; Janus keeps going.

“Even worse, I heard what people were saying in the halls. I heard the slurs and the whispers and the hate, and I kept walking. I thought it would be better to keep my head down and stay in my lane, so I wouldn’t get hurt. But the truth is if we don’t demand respect, it is going to get taken from us. LGBTQ+ teenagers face a suicide rate five times that of our straight peers. We are two times as likely to be bullied for being who we are, and it really shows. This applies to everyone including myself: Do better. I should have said something.” 

“Your new student body president, Patton Hart, is overqualified for the job. He is caring and honest. He sees the best in everyone, including screw-ups like me. He’s hardworking and selfless. He’ll sit with you at lunch even if he doesn’t know you. He’ll compliment your clothes and help you with your homework. He has done all of these things even when he wasn’t your president. He is the heart of this school, and no one fits the role better than him.” 

Janus turns back to Patton and gives him a small smile, “Patton, I am so sorry. For everything. I know this doesn’t make up for anything that I’ve put you through, but you deserve the world.” 

Janus turns back to the audience, “Thank you for your time.” 

Everything is silent. And then everyone flies out of their seats, and the sound is deafening.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janus doesn’t see Patton for the rest of the day. It’s a Monday which means they don’t share any classes together. Janus doesn’t mind, he doesn’t even know if Patton wants to see him. He feels a little lighter, he isn’t drowning in the guilt anymore. It isn’t gone but it isn’t suffocating him anymore. Even if Patton never talks to him again, Janus will always know he did one good thing in his life, even if it’s infinitesimal compared to all the bad. 

Around 6:30 that night Janus’ phone buzzes.

When he checks his phone, he has one text from Patton, and Janus forgets how to breathe.

Patton Hart, 6:31 pm: did you mean what you said. 

Janus Lyre, 6:32 pm: every word.

Patton Hart, 6:32 pm: meet me by our park.

“Yes!” Janus cheers. Patton wants to see him. Janus is going to go see Patton. Janus is going to see Patton! 

Every step he takes to his car feels like he’s walking on air. When he get into his car he plays the playlist Patton made for the first time in weeks.

The speed limit on the roads is 30, but if Janus goes at 35 no one has to know. 

When he gets to the bench he and Patton have hung out at, Patton is already there. 

He’s wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and the blue flannel Janus gave him for his birthday. Janus knows that’s intentional, and the urge to pull Patton into a kiss is so hard to resist. He could do it, there are no people around to get in their way.

“Hey snake boy,” Patton says.

“Hey, golden boy,” Janus says, and oh how he missed this. Patton and his messy hair are inches away from him. 

“Can I…” Patton trails off, but he’s looking at Janus’ lips.

“Always.” 

Patton and Janus crash into each other. Patton is kissing him and his lips are warm. He tastes like cinnamon. Janus wraps his arms around Patton’s shoulders and pulls him closer, this feels so right. Janus never wants to stop kissing Patton. He wants it to be his job, Janus Dean, professional kisser of Patton Hart. It has a nice ring to it.

“That was one heck of a speech Jan,” Patton says.

Janus smirks, “Only the best for our student body president.” 

Patton giggles but then becomes more serious, “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“Only doing what’s right.”

“Still” 

“You’re right Pat I did have an ulterior motive.” 

“Oh?” Patton raises his eyebrows. 

“I’ve always loved the sound of first lady,” Janus says seriously. 

Patton pulls him in for another kiss, and Janus wonders if he’s dreaming. 

“I love you.” Patton says, and his hair is frazzled and he’ out of breath but Janus is struck by just how beautiful Patton is. 

“I love you too.” 

Life isn’t a fairytale, Janus knows that, but this feels like his happy ever after.

a/n: thanks for reading!!!! yes, the scene where Patton yells at Janus is inspired by Love, Simon, and yes, you read that right, Solangelo did get a cameo

taglist(let me know if you want to be added/removed)

@kawaiikat54 @foreverfangirlalways @five-falseh00ds-ph0nated @kiribakuandcats 

[engineeredfiction]

Heart Shaped Glasses Part 1

Word count: 1,200

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Summary: You and Frankie have been throwing eyes at each other for YEARS. He’s newly single and he’s coming to the big city to see you with Pope.

Fun fact: This was suppose to be a one shot, one part...and now it’s not. I normally work with numbers and code and I need a cheap creative outlet before I go mad. Please leave me feedback if you will be so kind, I’m an engineer not a writer and I have no idea what I’m doing.

PS: Wash your hands and stay safe out there!

Part 2

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

You met Francisco Morales through your former college classmate, Pope.

You helped him get through calculus and two beat the crap out of each other during martial arts classes. Over the past decade and then some you both would catch up over some drinks whenever you two were in the same vicinity.  Sometimes his friend Francisco, or Frankie, would join him. The three of you always had a good time together and over the years the three have bonded over the fact you have jobs you cannot talk about and often joke about the duality of such work. So when Pope announced he will be in DC for work and Frankie was joining him.

 Pope texted,

 “Frankie is coming with. He’s in need of a change of pace. He broke up with his woman. Splitting time for the little one. He needs a change a pace.”

 Pope and Frankie flew into Dulles that Friday. The plan was to meet him at the Natural History Museum. You wore your standard casual attire, comfortable flats, skinny jeans, and a close-fitting top. You waited for them by the pedicab stand. Even after all these years you could pick him out from a mile away. When you two locked eyes smiles grew on your faces.

 An immediate embrace followed a mutual exaggerated run and mock Valley Girl scream.

 “So good to see you! How was the flight?”

 “Uneventful.” Pope replied.

 “Hey Frankie.” You give him a quick hug. Frankie is a rough diamond; he is far from the people you’ve dated or dallied with previously. He’s dressed in relaxed jeans, button down plaid, sneakers, and his wild hair kept in place with a baseball cap. Not a look that’s attractive to you at first. He grew on you like one adapts to eating blue cheese or a strong dry wine. The more you saw him over the years the more your gaze lingered on his full lips, his olive toned skin, and his mop of hair, and the more you wondered what he would be like to have sex with.

 The feeling was mutual, without a doubt. You would catch him out of your peripheral looking at you. He would quickly look away when you turn your eyes on him. Sexual jokes and innuendos were rampant, but nothing ever came to fruition because he was in a relationship. You have only seen this woman through social media, but you respected boundaries, and this is one you don’t cross.

 The three of you strolled the museum floors taking in some exhibits and passing others. You caught Frankie fixated on a pair of Neanderthal skeletons. You give him studious look over through the legs of a wooly mammoth display. It gave you some sort of cover in case he caught you staring.

 You two locked eyes.

 Shit. He caught you. You felt the heat in your cheeks and quickly pretended to be staring up at the large creature in front of you.

 “Nope get out of the room,” you thought to yourself.

 You change your direction and went into the next room. Frankie followed you but kept his distance at a slow pace. You’ve tracked people down before, several people. You know he’s following you, but you don’t let him know. You approached a display housing a variety of human skulls through the centuries. You stretched and arched your back. You caught his faint reflection in the glass. You took your time to stretch your neck slowly. He was attempting to not make it obvious.

 You locked eyes again in the glass reflection, but this time neither of you bothered to look away.

 The evening was spent at Jack Rose Saloon. Mahogany wood coated the room from the walls, shelves, tables and chairs. The shelves surround the perimeter of the room displayed a small portion of the 2,500 types of whiskey the saloon carried. The dimmed lighting lent an air of mystery and intimacy. The three of you sat in a corner booth long after dinner with nursed glasses of assorted whiskeys. Any time there was a lull in the conversation either Frankie or you would steal a glance at each other.

 The saloon was closing and the three of you settled your bills. Pope excused himself to the toilet. The two of you were finally alone. The two of you held your gaze without a word. The sounds of the bar staff drown out. You focused on your slow breath, the movement of your chest rising and falling, his lips…

 “I could never have said before what I’m about to say to you now. You’re very attractive,” Frankie broke the silence.

 “Thank you.” You’re impressed by his daring move.

 “I think about you often. Quite often. I think you may feel the same way? I’m going to be bold-“

 “You’re going to ask to come home with me?” You leaned back into the booth away from the candlelight with a sly smile. “I don’t take people back to my home. It’s my own personal space.”

 Frankie nodded slightly and you could see the restrained look of rejection had swept over his face.

 “But I don’t mind going back to a willing party’s place.”

 The tables have turned. Frankie leaned in closer. “We each have our own rooms.”

 “The Hilton on Connecticut Avenue, correct?”

 “Room 907.”

 “Well then…it’s date.” You jested as you took the final swig of your whiskey.

 Pope and Frankie were already in their rooms for a good thirty minutes when you got into your Uber. You gathered your bearings. Fucking beautiful people and never seeing them again, not a problem. But this was a friend of Pope’s and by acquaintanceship a friend to you. This will have to be handled with tact and respect regardless of the outcome. He may even brag about bagging you, that bothered you for a hot minute. No Pope wouldn’t judge either you harshly for a romp in the hay. He might even encourage it if he was aware. No, he’s aware. You wiped your palms on your jeans.

 You wondered again what Frankie would be like during sex. “Rough? Adventurous? Boring? Gentle? Kind? Does he have a weird fetish? Please don’t let be scat or infantilism,” you pondered.

 A few deep breaths, “No, you’re doing this, you’re going to his room, you are in charge. You’re always in charge and that’s what makes you comfortable.” Your pep talked ended as your Uber pulled up under the Hilton’s canopy.

 You strode into the lobby of the Hilton with purpose and rode the lift to the ninth floor. You zeroed in on room 907 down the hall and gave a solid knock on the thick door.

[akaiaowl]

Happy Stranger Things Day!!

It’s been 4 years since Stranger Things was first premiered on Netflix! (already?) This series is very close to my heart, since it managed to inspire me after 3 long years of writer’s block. To commemorate that, I’ll be posting the epilogue to my first fanfic on AO3: Reality in Motion (also known as RiM by some in the ST fandom). Here goes the summary and first chapter:

Reality in Motion

Modern College AU.

It hurt her to listen to the ruthless voice in her head, but, as much as she hated to admit it, El knew it was probably right. It had happened countless times before. Well, actually two. Two times in which El found herself feeling funny and giddy and hopeful about someone, only to be disappointed. It always ended that way. She was destined to be alone and it was probably for the best.

AKA: Socially awkward Jane Ives' first semester in college. Also AKA: Not your typical nice-boy-meets-drunk-girl-at-a-party Mileven fic (because of all the angst and slowwwww burn, be warned).

Chapter 1: Changes

Wednesday 29th, November 2017

If there was something El Ives put her mind to, she was sure to accomplish it. Always.

Well, most of the times.

As a matter of fact, today was one of the few rare exceptions to that rule. This, since Will Byers, El’s best friend, had managed to convince the otherwise socially awkward El to finally come with him that weekend to some party at a friend’s house.

They were both currently seating on the beige colored carpet of her dorm room, supposedly trying to be productive by getting their History 102 assignment done before the due date.

“Pleeease El! I’m about to beg you, it’s almost Christmas break and, for once, I’d like for you to come meet my friends and not stay locked up here again like a loser”, Will had been pouting at his friend for over two hours.

“Hey, I happen to like being a loser”, said El feigning indignation and scowling at her skinny best friend.

Will managed to hold back his smile at his oldest friend’s antics and maintained a serious expression for the sake of getting his point across. They’d been friends since the age of twelve and both knew just how determined the other could be. Holding each other’s stares defiantly in a silent challenge, neither of them wanted to give in.

As she stubbornly stared into Will’s lively brown eyes, El suddenly felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. She had been having a few of those for a while now, especially whenever she thought back on their high school days on Hawkins High School. Actually, the biggest irony was thinking about how much she had looked forward to graduating and moving as far away as humanly possible from that hell hole she called hometown. Whereas, now, she couldn’t help feeling strangely homesick. As a matter of fact, lately, El was often ambushed by random flashbacks from her teenage years and usually found herself wishing she could somehow go back and do it all better.

She regretted everything, actually, except for her friendship with Will.

Their friendship was yet another reason El kept thinking back in nostalgia to her high school days: even though Will and her had managed to get accepted into their dream college together and even lived in neighboring dorm buildings, she felt him more distant than ever before. Worse than that, El was painfully aware that she was the reason of the increasing (figurative) distance in their friendship and she loathed herself for it. Now, more than ever, she hated herself for her apathetic and awkward personality. Why couldn’t she be a normal eighteen year old? Why couldn’t she just stop feeling so nervous around other people? Because of this she was finally managing to drive her best friend away, her partner in crime, after being the closest of friends for over half a decade.

For most of their first semester at college she had declined Will’s enthusiastic invitations to parties and any social events, preferring to skip them in favor of spending her afternoons in the solitude of her room either reading ahead or watching some movie or TV show. It was just easier that way, it seemed. El had never really been a social butterfly and she knew how much Will loved meeting and bonding with new people. So, she just figured that she could give him some space by making herself scarce.

However (and she’d never admit it out loud), as Will started spending less and less time with her and his invitations became rare occurrences, El began feeling terribly lonely (which was weird). She usually cherished her alone time, often glad she wasn’t out there fake smiling and making small talk, getting emotionally drained after overthinking and worrying over every tiny detail of her social interactions. Nonetheless, now, it just felt like a very different kind of loneliness.

El felt lonely in a bad way, a way she hadn’t felt for quite a long time: the kind of lonely she used to feel before meeting Joyce Byers and befriending her son, Will.

Finally, after glaring at Will some more, El lowered her gaze in defeat. Mostly because she missed spending more time with him, and also because she was a bit curious about going to a college party.

“Ok. Fine, I’ll go. BUT I’ll only stay until a reasonable hour and you better not be dragging me up there so I can be your designated driver”, answered El with an annoyed huff, hurling one of her fluffy pillows on Will’s general direction and feeling quite annoyed (mostly at her pathetic, abnormal self).

Her friend easily managed to catch the pillow midair and offered El a sympathetic smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. She knew he was worried about her spending so much time by herself – the fact that she had no roommate made it easier for her to just hide away for hours on end without any excuse.

“I’m only doing this for your own good El, you know I look out for you and it’s about time you start having a normal college experience and, you know, getting to know people. After all, the semester is almost over”.

--….--…--…---

Friday 1st, December 2017

El bit her lip as she stared at her reflection on the mirror critically. Was her top too revealing? Was her midsection looking gross and bloated? Should she put any make up on? Was her hair ok? Were jeans and sneakers too casual for the party?

Man, I badly needed a School of Life 101 crash course, El thought with a groan.

It was always on times like this that El really wished she had a roommate or a best friend who could actually give advice on these kinds of things. It was also on times like these that El regretted not learning about this stuff back on high school. Finally, after examining her reflection some more, she decided to change her sneakers in favor of her black leather boots and apply some lipstick to her dry lips.

Feeling quite nervous, she turned her phone screen on and was surprised to see several messages from Will.

8:02 pm U excited yet for your first college party?

8:03 pm Totally getting drunk as skunks 2nite.

8:46 pm Waiting for the guys, we’re coming to pick u up

9:29 pm On our way, expect a call in 15

9:44 pm Almost there

9:59 pm Ok, let’s go

*3 missed calls from MY FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WORLD*

10:03 pm Pick up the phone

10:11 pm We’re waiting downstairs

10:27 pm What the hell u doing? We’ve been here for ages

El was surprised to find out how long she had taken to get ready, her nervousness was really not helping. As quickly as possible, she grabbed her tiny purse and keys and made her way out. At that very moment, her phone screen lit up and the contact name Will had programmed for himself popped up.

*incoming call from MY FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WORLD*

Smiling, El answered.

“I’m sorry, I completely lost track of time, that’s all. I’m almost there”, she said breathlessly while making her way down the flight of stairs.

“No problem El, just making sure you were still up for it”, answered Will sympathetically.

“Wait. So did I actually have an option?” replied El only half joking.

She really was terribly nervous, like she always was whenever she had to face a new social situation.

Will laughed at her lame attempt at making a joke and was silent for a bit, maybe trying to empathize with his best friend’s nervousness.

El could hear Will’s friends talking loudly on the background:

“We need to hurry if we want to get wasted before the night ends, that’s kind of the point of tonight”, a loud male voice whined pathetically.

“Hey, I’m actually enjoying watching this show”, another male voice answered in fake annoyance.

“Booooooring”, someone else interjected.

“You’re too lame Wheeler”, the first voice teased.

The conversation on the background grew faint as El realized Will must have walked away from his friends to talk to her privately.

“Everything will be fine and you’ll have fun, you’ll see. If you feel uncomfortable or something you have us”, finally whispered Will before hanging up.

El had really tried to avoid meeting Will’s friends for a while now, feeling resentment and jealousy towards them because her best friend spent most of his time with them now and talked all the time about how fun and loyal they were.

It actually made sense that they spent time together since they were all taking science related careers and had most of their classes together – Will was an engineer major, like Lucas, while Dustin and Mike were physics majors.

It was silly, she knew.

Calm down El, it’s going to be ok, Will’s friends are probably as nice as him.

Finally, El got to her building’s common area. She saw four guys sprawled comfortably all over the beige couches, two of them were fighting over the remote and the other two were trying to watch whatever show was on TV.

They didn’t notice her presence until she started timidly approaching Will, who was gazing at the screen with mild interest. He was the first one of the group to notice her and his face was instantly filled with a broad smile.

“You’re finally here!” he exclaimed, startling everyone.

“Guys, this is El”, Will said loudly. Then, pointing at each of the guys next to him, he introduced them, “These are Lucas, Dustin and Mike”.

“Thanks for waiting”, El managed to smile at them without making eye contact. She hoped they didn’t notice her nervousness.

“No problem”, said the smallest one of them, Dustin, “honestly, we were all dying to finally meet you”.

“Yeah, we had a bet going on about Will’s friend being imaginary”, laughed Lucas.

Upon hearing that last comment, El snorted while trying to contain a laugh and turned to look at Will with amusement. Her friend merely shrugged.

“See how you make me look bad El?”

“Oh, it was only for the sake of making the bet more interesting”, answered El with a laugh, “it would have been no fun without the mystery, now would it?”

The guys smiled, amused, and the air significantly relaxed. She felt a tiny bit more comfortable, and the voice in her head repeating her own doubts and fears in a loop grew quiet for the first time that night.

“So, who won the bet?” asked Will, looking at his friends.

“Me”, said the tallest boy, Mike, smiling.

He was the only one who hadn’t spoken up yet, but she recognized his voice from her phone call with Will – he was the one who claimed to be enjoying the TV show while they waited for her to arrive.

Overcome by curiosity, El risked a glance up at him and was surprised to find him already looking at her, matching her interest. They made eye contact.

“So thank you for being real, I guess”, he said smiling kindly at her.

She quickly averted her gaze, not knowing what to do or how to respond, and tried to keep her upcoming blush from actually showing on her face. It wasn’t even a compliment, why was she reacting like this?

Social awkwardness truly sucked.

There was a short moment of silence, which was (thankfully) quickly broken by Lucas.

“Ok, let’s get going”, said Lucas enthusiastically as he strode to the nearest exit.

--….--…--…---

Saturday 2nd, December 2017

She’d drank too much, too soon.

Of course, the fact that Will kept refilling her red solo cup with mysterious mixes of liquor didn’t help at all. But she wasn’t complaining at all. All things considered, El found the whole experience quite interesting. Actually, she was pleased to realize that the alcohol numbed that voice that constantly reminded her of all her insecurities and flaws. She found this quite liberating.

She felt like she could do anything. Be anyone she wanted.

Will’s friends had left them to join a game of beer pong not so long ago, which had also helped El feel a whole lot more relaxed. Up until then, she had been too scared of acting like a weirdo around the guys and so she had barely talked.

For the first time in a long time, no worries or guilt lurked El’s mind.

As time went by, the music surrounding her stopped being too loud and the vibration of the bass on the floor actually made her lively in a way she had scarcely felt before. Before she knew it, her foot was tapping the floor to the beat of the unknown song. She tried to pay attention to whatever Will was saying (maybe a funny story about someone in one of his classes? What was that about a teacher?), but words kept jumbling around making it hard for her to understand anything at all.

My thought process is screwed up, El thought.

Suddenly, it occurred to her that that was the funniest, wittiest thing she had ever come up with, so she giggled uncontrollably.

Will smiled affectionately at the giggling girl beside him. He had really tried to be a good friend that night, staying with her the whole time – probably suspecting that if she got to feel too awkward, she’d escape the party.

“I loooooove you so much Willy Will”, said El hugging her friend, “do you know that?”

El’s ears suddenly caught onto a tune, alerting her of something.

Something quite urgent.

Do you recall, not long ago We would walk on the sidewalk? Innocent, remember? All we did was care for each other

“BYERS!!!! COME ON!” she exclaimed giddily, standing up clumsily and dragging her skinny best friend to the middle of the room, “IT’S OUR JAM!”

But the night was warm We were bold and young All around, the wind blows We would only hold on to let go

Will could only smile at her random behavior. He had never been a good dancer and he had not drank nearly as much as El had, so he just sort of awkwardly tried shuffling his feet and swaying his body to the catchy song.

“BLOW A KISS FIRE A GUN, WHEN YOU NEED SOMEONE TO LEAN ON”, El was screaming while swaying her hips wildly, her eyes were closed, “BLOW A KISS FIRE A GUN, ALL WE NEED IS SMEBODY TO LEAN ON”.

Will tried his hardest to keep up with El’s moves, but she was like a woman possessed, jumping around and twirling in every direction. It seemed that all those months of pent up energy – probably gathered after all those afternoons of voluntary isolation – were finally finding an outlet. After a couple of songs and happy to see his friend finally having fun, Will decided his job there was done.

“El. El! EL!!” he screamed to get her attention.

She faced him, smiling wildly. Her face shiny with sweat from the exertion and the warmth in the room. Will couldn’t help mirroring her grin.

“I just can’t keep up with you!” he said teasing her, “I’m gonna go find the guys”.

El stuck out her tongue at him and waved goodbye.

“YOU’RE SUCH A KID ELEVEN!” Will exclaimed as he headed to the other room, where he last saw his friends heading to.

--….--…--…---

Her feet were killing her.

El made her way to the nearest sitting space she could find, a couch on the left side of the room. She sat down for a minute in the crowded couch, slowly trying to move her toes so she didn’t feel them cramping anymore. She was currently sandwiched uncomfortably between a sleeping guy and a couple making out. She tried to ignore the snores and the sounds the couple were making.

She hadn’t seen Will or any of his friends for at least a couple of hours and she was not about to go wandering off looking for them. Will was probably drunk by now, maybe talking to the cute guy from their History 102 class that he always rambled on about. El smiled fondly, remembering how much of a hopeless romantic her best friend was.

She tried laying back on the couch and closing her tired eyes, but everything was too hot and her feet hurt too much. It was way too uncomfortable.

El glanced hopefully at the glass doors that led into the balcony. With any luck, there wouldn’t be anyone out there smoking.

She hated the smell of tobacco. It reminded her of him.

El shut her eyes tightly, desperately trying to chase away the memories that begged to be replayed on her mind, and massaged her throbbing temples. She tried to take a deep, calming breath and relax somehow, but the air felt too moist and everything smelled like alcohol and sweat. Suddenly, she was too aware of the extremely loud music and the annoying presence of the people around her. And there were too many people. Too many unfamiliar faces. Frustrated, El opened her eyes slowly, glancing around at the room full of strangers.

Dejection filled her thoroughly, tonight had been great so far and she just happened to ruin it by opening a door she had closed more than five years ago. She’d promised it would never haunt her, never hurt her again. But it was always there, lurking. It was always him, never allowing her to escape his choking grip.

Without even thinking about it, she had started walking on the opposite direction of the balcony, towards the main door of the house. As she stepped outside of the house, she couldn’t help noticing the wide brown door was ajar. El moved forward taking slow, deliberate steps, knowing her balance was far from being the most stable.

She glanced around quickly.

Sighing in relief at the fact that she had apparently managed to escape the smokers, El leaned on the nearest wall and stared off into the darkened streets and houses. Her body still felt light, but most the energy she had at the beginning of the night had ebbed away by now, leaving her exhausted. Soon enough, she noticed that the volume of the music and the noise from the house was once again bearable for her. However, without the loud (loud! loud!) music infecting her thoughts, she was left at the mercy of the familiar cold voice in her head: it was her own voice, but ruthless and emotionless, and it never tired of always repeating everything she didn’t want to hear.

She wondered what time it was, she was too lazy to get her phone out and check the time. Her fuzzy brain was making everything a lot harder.

“You ok?” a familiar voiced questioned.

El found herself staring up into the freckle-covered face of one of Will’s friends.

“Just tired and hot”, she replied, “it’s like a freaking oven in there”.

He just chuckled.

“Why are you out here?” she suddenly asked.

“Oh, just getting some air to clear my head”, the tall guy answered shrugging, “I am the lucky soul who gets to be the designated driver for tonight”.

El smiled in amusement.

His name is Mike, El suddenly remembered, her scattered, hazy thoughts becoming a tiny bit clearer.

“You know, I was convinced the only reason Will invited me here was so I’d have the honor of being the DD”.

They remained in a comfortable silence for a while, both staring off and busy with their own thoughts.

“Will is worried about you”, Mike stated after a while.

“I know”, El answered sadly, “it’s just hard for me, you know?”

Mike furrowed his brow in confusion.

“No matter how hard I try, it’s hard for me to feel comfortable or relaxed or even normal around new people or in new places”, she explained almost in a whisper.

“It’s ok to feel that way”, he said like it was the most natural thing in the world, his gaze showing empathy.

El snorted, fully aware that no, it was not okay to be such an introverted freak. She was not stupid. She knew it was a limitation, something that held her back from experiences and people and things she really wanted. She was all too aware that it was what isolated her from everyone and ultimately stood like a solid barrier, shielding her even from the ones she deeply cared about.

“I felt very lonely coming here at first”, Mike confessed smiling crookedly in her direction, “I consider myself a lucky guy, having Dustin as a roommate and meeting Lucas and Will on my first week here”.

“Will is an amazing friend”, El answered smiling, “and all of you seem like pretty cool guys”, she added honestly.

Mike blushed a bit and lowered his gaze, focusing on his wristwatch.

Who even owns a wristwatch these days?, wondered El with amusement as she glanced at him with the corner of her eye.

“Hey, it’s barely 1 am, how do you feel about going for a drive and coming back to pick up our friends’ drunken asses?” suddenly asked Mike.

Full story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12840366/chapters/29318523

[amitynotpity]

The Northern Lights -an Elriel fic, Chapter One

Hi there! I’m currently writing my first multichapter fic with our favorite pair. It’s a modern au fic taking place in Alaska. I couldn’t get out of my head one image lately - ‘shirtless Az chopping some wood’. This ridiculous idea quickly transformed into more serious project with a bit of mystery involved. Here is first chapter of the fic, it’s a little short and more like a preview. Next chapters will be much longer, I promise!:)

ps: I’m not a native English speaker, so if anyone wants to beta-read the chapters beforehand, please reach out to me :)

Summary: Elain Archeron was tired of leading a life of never ending disappointments. The salvation is brought to her by an unexpected journey to Alaska and a certain, dark-haired male. Sometimes, the best way to learn about yourself and accept all the flaws can be encouraged by someone else.

Chapter One

She was lost.

That was the first thought which entered Elain’s mind during wandering through the streets of an unknown city. Velaris, it was called. She didn’t really plan on stopping at this place, but today of all of the days, her car decided to break down.

Thankfully, it stopped working just at the beginning of the city. She wanted to call the rental agency but it was past 10 p.m. and no one would answer the phone.

The stars were shining brightly that night and it was an unusual sight comparing to the other states.

Elain found herself so far away from her family state by an accident. She bought the airplane tickets this morning basing only on current flight schedule, in order  to get out of California as soon as possible. The first acceptable option turned out to be Alaska.

She had never been to this state and it seemed like a great choice for starting over. She wanted to get away for a while and escape recent happenings which occured in past months.

It all started by breaking off her year-long relationship.

Back then, Elain was very much in love and didn’t see the big changes coming. That fateful day, she got out of work earlier than usual and she wanted to surprise Graysen. Unexpectedly, she discovered her boyfriend cheating with some chick from a nearby bar.

Although now, a part of her was happy that the truth was revealed sooner than later, before things got too serious.

The city was silent and the only sound wich could be heard was the rustle of trees. It was peaceful and distressing at once.

Elain knew that she had to find a place to stay the night quickly. After all, who knows how many rooms would be available.

Luckily, she came across a glowing sign which led to an open pub. Elain decided that no harm could be done by asking the locals for advice.

The door opened with a squeak and suprisingly, the place was full of customers at this hour. Elain was taken aback at first, because the pub which seemed like a shady location, turned out to be furnished with great taste.

She admired the old-fashioned decorations, fishing gears and pictures of Alaska. It was like entering a diffrent reality. She liked the idea of this place, especially the homey atmosphere.

After few seconds, Elain spotted a handsome male behind a counter. She quickly made her way over there.

“Hello?” She asked but the male didn’t seem to notice her. He looked like he was talking to a waitress at the moment.

Elain waited and turned her gaze to the nearest photography. It showed three brothers at some kind of a bonfire, maybe local celebration. The sight brought her memory to her sisters. They were so far away right now. At one time, all of them were almost inseparable but now-

“How can I help you, darling?” An alluring voice broke her reverie.

She quickly turned her face in his direction and was caught off guard when she noticed his good looks. She wasn’t a type of a person to adore man-buns but this guy was surely hitting it off.

“I-I’m looking for a place to stay the night, maybe you could recommand me something?” She stuttered and blushed at her awkwardness.

He smirked at her discomfort and answered, “Sure, but for a beauty such as yours the perfect place would be my apartment.”

Elain flushed even more at his obvious innuendo.

Before she could reply, a soft chuckle could be heard next to her. Only now she started to pay attention to her surroundings. Just one stool away, was sitting the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on.

The mysterious male had black, silky hair and eyes full of history behind them.  He was observing the wole situation, softly shaking his head, and seemed to know the owner, based on the looks they exchanged. The male slowly sipped his beer. He was certainly in late twenties and the most distinctive thing about him was the fact his attire consisted only of black clothes. Elain didn’t particulary fall for this type of men however this time her heart began to beat wildly.

“Cassian, leave the lady alone. We all know your attempts at flirting are always pointless.” The handsome male said lightly smirking.

“Az, if you’re such an expert in dating area, where is your gorgeous girlfriend?” The barman replied with a little bit of irritation in his voice.

“And yet I’m right.”

Elain listened to their quarell secretly smiling. Even with all the bickering, it was certain that the two are well-acquainted. The thought made her realize that they’re actually brothers from the earlier picture. If you looked closely, the similarities couldn’t be denied.

After few moments, Elain decided to joined the conversation and softly added, “I think I’d like to prefer to settle for a hotel tonight.”

“Even though I’m hurting by your rejection,” yet from Cassian’s expression it could be said that he was still joking around,”I can recommend you one place. It’s runned by my close friend, Morrigan, and I’m sure she’ll be happy to help you.”

“Oh, it would be great!  Where can I find her?”

Cassian replied, “The hotel’s just across the street.”

Elain composed herself and before saying goodbye, her gaze fell onto the mysterious male. Az, as Cassian called him, was silently observing the ongoing exchange. There was a shadow of smile on his lips, however Elain couldn’t shake the feeling that she saw a flicker of sadness on his face. Caused by the observation, a need appeared  to get to know him and somehow try to make things better. With a small sigh, she waved it off and focused her attention.

“Well, thanks a lot for your help! Goodnight,” she quickly added.

“Goodnight and we hope to see you here more often,” Cassian added with significant wink whereas Az nodded his head.

Elain made her way through the crowd and exited the enchanting place. Little did she know that this trivial encounter might have changed her life forever.

Tag list: (if you want to be added, write in comments!:)

@jemma-nessian-and-elriel

[brokehorrorfan]

Blu-ray Review: The Craft

The Craft is perhaps the last great horror movie before Scream changed the genre landscape mere months later. (Interestingly, the films share two main cast members.) Had it been produced after 1996, a rewrite no doubt would have been forced on The Craft to make it more hip and self-aware. While that approach worked masterfully for Scream, the same cannot be said about the vast majority of its dated imitators.

The Craft, on the other hand, has aged like a fine wine; it continues to resonate with many, particularly teen girls. Beyond its flashy genre exterior, the core of the film concerns outsiders, addressing such topical issues as self harm, racism, body dysmorphia, sexual abuse, and slut shaming. While the quality of representation of these issues could be debated, the fact that they’re all touched upon without ever coming off as sanctimonious is commendable in and of itself.

Director Andrew Fleming (Nancy Drew, Bad Dreams) immediately sets the tone with a brief spell casting sequence, immersing the viewer in occult imagery from the first frame. Troubled teen Sarah Bailey (Robin Tunney, The Mentalist) is then introduced, as her family moves from San Francisco to Los Angeles - which, aside from a couple of scenes showing the seedy inner city, is depicted as an idyllic suburb.

Sarah attends a parochial high school, where she befriends a group of girls - Nancy (Fairuza Balk, American History X), Bonnie (Neve Campbell, Scream), and Rochelle (Rachel True, Half Baked) - who are rumored to be witches. Sarah gravitates toward the social outcasts, and they accept her not because they are affable, but because they have an ulterior motive: they need a fourth witch to complete their circle, giving them the power to cast spells. Lucky for them - or is it? - Sarah is a natural witch.

The Craft is unjustly rated R. As Fleming explains in the special features, the MPAA slapped the tame film with the rating for the sole reason that it involved teens practicing witchcraft. The script, written by Fleming and Peter Filardi (Flatliners), may be a tad heavy-handed at times, but the characters feel genuine. So too does the grounded approach to witchcraft, depicted with accurate Wiccan spells and rituals. As the girls draw power from the natural elements, Fleming, working with his frequent cinematographer, Alexander Gruszynski (Tremors), allows wind, rain, foliage, and fire to infiltrate the frame.

The four young women have fantastic chemistry. Although Tunney initially auditioned for Bonnie, the filmmakers smartly persuaded her to tackle the lead role. (She had to wear a wig, as she had shaved her head for Empire Records.) She embraces the innocence of the new kid, but the nuanced character avoids succumbing to the final girl tropes. Balk stumbles slightly with some of more serious moments, but she positively nails the unhinged, power-hungry witch. Adding to the realism, she is a practicing Wiccan.

The supporting cast is also wonderful. Skeet Ulrich (Scream) co-stars as Sarah's love interest, with Breckin Meyer (Freddy's Dead: The Final Nightmare) as his lackey. Christine Taylor (Zoolander) effectively plays against type as a racist who bullies Rochelle for the color of her skin. Cliff De Young (Flight of the Navigator) serves as Sarah's well-meaning father, while Helen Shaver (The Amityville Horror) plays Nancy's alcoholic mother. Tony Genaro (Tremors) pops up as the bus driver in the film's most iconic moment.

Soundtracks are important for teen movies, and The Craft has a great one that plants it firmly in the mid-'90s, including Love Spit Love covering The Smiths (which would later become the Charmed theme), Letters to Cleo covering the Cars, and Our Lady Peace covering The Beatles, plus Jewel, Sponge, Portishead, Juliana Hatfield, and Siouxsie and the Banshees, among others. It supplements a score by Graeme Revell (The Crow, Freddy vs. Jason), who captures the film's spirit - no pun intended.

The Craft has received a Collector's Edition Blu-ray release from Scream Factory. The presentation appears to be the same high-definition master used on the previous Blu-ray - which looks great, but don't expect an upgrade in picture quality. Joel Robinson's new cover art - depicting hands and props rather than the stars - was likely the result of not having the actors' likeness rights, but the restriction yielded a striking design. The theatrical poster is on the reverse side.

The cast members unfortunately either declined or were unable to participate in the new extras, but the crew members thankfully pick up the slack with great interviews. In his 15-minute conversation, Fleming explains how he was initially only going to rewrite the script, interested in making more comedy movies instead, but ended up connecting with the material and accepted the offer to direct. He also discusses the respectful, pagan approach to witchcraft, including working with a witch on set as a technical consultant.

Producer Doug Wick's interview serves as a good supplement to Fleming’s, offering an alternative perspective on several of the same topics. Filardi talks about his inspiration, including how each of the main characters was based on one of the elements, as well as his original version of the script befor Fleming's rewrite (which, he admits, was an improvement). Makeup effects supervisor Tony Gardner (Cult of Chucky, Hocus Pocus) touches on virtually every practical effect in the movie (including the deleted "elder witch" old age makeup, which is seemingly lost), in addition to revealing that it's one of Katy Perry's favorite movies.

Tunney and True gave new interviews back in 2000 for Conjuring The Craft, a fairly in-depth, 25-minute featurette that is ported over. Other archival extras include an informative audio commentary by Fleming, a 6-minute making-of piece featuring all four girls, three deleted scenes with optional commentary by Fleming, and the trailer.

Aside from some dated styles (and many of those are making a comeback) and adept-for-the-time visual effects, The Craft holds up astonishingly well. In fact, with its topics more openly discussed in today's post-#MeToo world, the film is perhaps even more relevant and relatable than ever. Prime for the female-directed reboot that's currently in development, The Craft is a progressive, empowering film in which the genre elements come second to character struggles.

The Craft will be released on Collector’s Edition Blu-ray on March 12 via Scream Factory.

[noeliareads]

Airport AU | Bang Chan

Airport au

Pairing: Bang Chan x female reader

Genre: I dunno… fluff? 

»»————-————-««

“It’s London time baby!” You exclaimed to your best friend over the screen of your phone. Belle laughed at your over the top excitement. 

“Be careful Li!” You grinned as you threw yourself on one of the seats in the waiting area. Your legs constantly crossing and uncrossing. There was a buzzing of people around you, rushing to their gates, buying coffee or last minute souvenirs from ‘America’.

“Yeah yeah. You know how I am.” You said. “School, dorm, explore, repeat.” 

“So you’re not gonna eat nor poop?” You cringed, while Bella couldn’t stop laughing, thankfully you had your airpods in.

“Minor details Isabelle.” You waved off. “But yes, I will be careful and I will call you as much as I can.” You were beyond excited. Your parents just dropped you off at LAX because you had a flight to London. You were going for a semester abroad program. You begged your parent to let you go and they finally caved in when you did all the house chores for a full year and managed to buy the ticket yourself. 

You talked with Isabelle for another half hour before hanging up. Her shift was about to start. She wished you a safe flight and hung up. And when she did you grabbed your carry-on and backpack (you felt weird leaving them there) and began to walk around. There was no point in staying in the same place for another hour until boarding began. 

You stopped by the bathroom to fix your beanie, which always ends up riding up your head. After that you spotted a Starbucks. ‘COFFEE!’ You got yourself a matcha latte  and made small talk with the barista before grabbing a seat in one of the only empty tables in the area. You pulled out your black leather bullet journal and began updating it from the previous day. Sleep, what was sleep? The dark circles covered by concealer were the evidence of the past sleepless nights before this day came. As a history major you were stoked at the idea of going to a place filled with so much history. American history is great but there is just something special about European history that tugged the strings in your heart. 

Before you realize it, it was boarding time. You scrambled to get your passport and ticket ready for the flight attendant. As you look for your seat, you couldn’t help but wonder ‘How the hell am I going to survive a 9 hour flight?’ Your ADHD was going to have a field day. You had more of the attention deficit than the hyperactivity but it was still there. You brought a book with you, had a few movies downloaded on Netflix, a very good playlist and you just hoped it was enough. 

Finding your seat, you plop by the window and throw your backpack on the seat beside you. You grab your phone and turn up the volume of the music playing. Everyone was settling themselves and the continuous noise bothered you. You were jamming along to Truth Hurts by Lizzo and maybe even ‘hit the woah’ as you sang along. (I just had to) At this point in your life you really didn’t care who saw you. 

“So you can tell your friend, "shoot your shot" when you see 'em. It's OK, he already in my DMs” You sing along when a shadow over your figure made you look up. 

A group of Asian guys with black face masks were passing through to get to their seats but one in particular stood right by the seat beside you. He had blonde hair, clad in all black with freaking Gucci belt and Balenciagas, the one that look like socks (I am so sorry.) He gave you a small smile and gestured towards the seat, where your backpack lay.

You quickly took off one of your airpods. “I am so sorry!” You exclaim,  grabbing the damn thing and shoving it under your seat. 

“No no,” He waved off. His ‘no’ sounding like nou but like if the the u got stuck in your throat or if your tongue covers your throat. Aussie. “We’re late anyways, you didn’t know.” Oh that accent… it thundered through in your auditory system (yes I am smart) and made your heart skip a beat. You were a sucker for accents. 

“Again, I’m so sorry. If you want some snacks that is not airplane food, I have plenty in my backpack.” Grey boy smiled, dimples on full display. 

“Thanks.” He said before extending his hand, “I’m Chan.” 

You take his hand and smile “Liliana.” 

The airline played their precautions and safety rules before preparing for takeoff. Takeoff, you hated it. You gripped the handles of the seat tightly as the plane jerked to move. You shut the window blind beside you  and closed your eyes.

“You okay?” Chan asked. You looked sideways and smiled halfheartedly. 

“Yeah, I just find takeoff very unsettling.” 

Chan smiled softly and turned to look at a brown haired boy who was also gripping the handles of his seat. “My friend, Han…” He began “Han hates takeoffs as well and we travel very often so he still struggles with it.” 

“Are you guys rich?” You blurt out as soon as the plane left the ground. Silently thankful for the distraction and conversation.

Chan burst out laughing. 

“Umm.. Eh?” He paused before asking a question. “Do you know kpop?” 

“BTS?” You knew like 2 of their songs because it’s the only thing they play on the radio whenever you turn it on. Chan’s eyes lit up and he nodded excitedly, 

“Yeah! I uh- I am…” He scratched the back of his head. “My friends and I are in a group. I’m their leader.” 

“But you’re aussie?”

“I was raised in ‘Stralia’ and moved to Korea for training.” You mouthed an ‘oh’ before nodding your head in awe. 

“Tell me more!” You ask. It was rare to find someone to talk to in a flight, much less someone your age and much less someone who is so interesting.

Chan proceeded to tell the story of how Stray Kids came together. The last time you were that invested in a story was when you read a book about Mary Queen of Scots! You kept on asking questions and Chan tried his best to answer how the trainee life works and what it takes to debut. 

“You know...” You wondered after maybe an hour of talking. “You still haven’t showed me your songs.” Chan turned to you with doe wide eyes. 

“Do you want to?” Nodding so enthusiastically that your brain jiggled in your skull. 

Chan pulled out his airpods (I swear this is not sponsored by airpods) and offered her one. ‘They’re not dirty, I swear.’ He had said.

“I really don’t know what to play.” He scrolled over the playlist a couple hundred times looking for the perfect song to play for you. In the end, he decided to shuffle. The first song to play was Awkward Silence. Nervous was a small word for what Chan felt. He was ok with people listening to their music. HELL! He was one of the writers and producers. Another thing was having someone listen to it for the first time in front of him. That… was nerve wracking. She could easily hate it. 

You kept your eyes on your crossed legs as the song played. Unconsciously your head began to bop along with the beat. Chan noticed this and smiled. ‘I like this!’ You mouthed. 

Most of the flight consisted of him showing your their songs, even showing you some 3racha bops. Your favorite was ‘Wow’ much to his dismay. You also showed him some of your recent favorites, to the point that in Channies next vlive he would play it. After a while you let him take a nap after hearing him yawn a couple of times. 

“Here’s your airpod.” You said after telling him to go to sleep. 

“Nah, you keep listening.” You smiled inwardly. You did want to listen to more of their songs and you had no wifi on the plane so his offering was a beacon of light. After his nap Chan and you kept talking. You talked and talked. It was surprising at how you two managed to keep a conversation without having (ha ha) awkward silence. (Ha ha) Conversations went from your life, to his family (being careful not to give in secret facts), why you were going to London, Stray Kids’s tour, everything. 

“You should come to our concert!” He said when the pilot announced they were about to land in Heathrow airport. He moved his body in your direction. “You’ll be my guest.”

“When is it?” You ask. 

“Tomorrow night. Give me your number and I’ll send you the details so you can come and have a good seat.” 

You nod and give him your number. When you landed you preferred to wait as the plane emptied before leaving. It was a nightmare getting your carry on luggage while everyone else was doing the same. You lost sight of Chan and his mates because they left after you. They were directed towards a different hallway. Mostly because fans were aware of their flight date and possibly were waiting for them. You didn’t even get to say goodbye. 

You walked towards the checked luggage area because you had to haul three big ass suitcases that carried your whole life. You waited for the last suitcase to appear and heaved as you tried to pull it out of the baggage carousel. A pair of pale hands helped you get it and as you turned to thank the person you were surprised at who it was. 

”Chan! Thank you so much!” The boy smiled and motioned for you to look behind you. 

There was a small group of boys smiling. 

“Liliana, this is Stray Kids.” All you could do was blink… and blink. No words came out of your mouth. They were attractive, very attractive. And being a new fan? You were blown away because you’ve never seen them. Them wearing facemasks doesn’t count. 

“Hi.” You squeaked. The boys each introduced themselves in english which was so sweet. 

One in particular caught your interest, especially because when he introduced himself, he said “Hello, I’m Han. Can I ask you a question?” You nod and he asked the following. 

“Chogiyo noona, hokhi namjachingu iseoyo?” The boys around them started laughing, Chan blushed bright red and all you could do was smile and nod. Not understanding a single word. Sadly their manager rushed them to leave. You said your goodbyes to the boys before turning to Chan.

“I’ll see you at the concert?” He asked, bouncing on his heels.

“I will be there.” You confirm. He smiled brightly and waved as he jogged back to the group. Giving you one last glance. 

Once you were picked up from the airport and settled in your dorm room you looked up what Han said to you. You recall that it was from the song WOW, that Chan showed you. You looked up the lyrics and blushed. Tomorrow was going to be a long ass ride. (For the nctzens)

*

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*

~ hello everyone! I hope you like this lil post. I had fun writing it and it cleared my mind from uni! Again, if you have any requesta, my inbox is open and I will try to make them possible!

~ * DISCLAIMER: I do not own any gifs/photos used in this post. I do own the written content. Do NOT repost/edit. *

[aloevverified]

NO MERCY (part 1)

mcu character(s) Erik “Killmonger” Stevens pairing Erik Stevens x POC!reader format 3-parts oneshot | part 2 warning lots of fluff, cursing and maybe implied sex?? word count 2.5k

request “Heya! I’m new and I already love your writing, if you don’t mind, would you write a one-shot or headcanons about Killmonger trying to fix things with S/O after an argument? It doesn’t matter if it’s fluff or light smut 💕”

summary Erik finally surprises you with another date, mostly as an apology for the disaster that was the last one. But just as you are starting to enjoy yourself, you notice that his true reason for this date isn’t entirely sincere.

Your boyfriend could be a piece of sh*t! But what’s new? Just a week ago, he pissed you off by being a self-centered, jealous monster during your long-awaited quality-time, and you were still waiting for him to apologize about that. Today, you only received a text from him that stated: ‘See you outside, babe.’

You had promised yourself that you weren’t going to forgive him that easily. It always went down the same way, the whole eight months of the relationship. He would mostly start a fight and you’d try to reason with him. Then, he would get so frustrated with you, blaming you for not trying to see his ways. Obviously, you got all offended, because you did try. You couldn’t help it his point was backed by half a**ed arguments. When the fight really heated up, he would explode one big insult your way. The rest of the night you were bewildered about the fact he could actually be so insensitive towards you.

Normal people would have given up by now, you knew that, but you didn’t want to lose hope. Even though you didn’t know much about his personal life, his family history or his current job, you deeply believed Erik was a special person. You felt it in your core. Whenever he talked passionately about something, you could see him become a completely different person, not his usual playful self. He reasoned with skill as his brows draw together and his hands gestured in delight. You loved to tell him afterwards that you read more on the subject and wanted to discuss it more. He literally would melt in front of you, telling you he didn’t know whether he should kiss you or resume on the subject. And whenever you spoke about your critical heritage studies, he would hang on your lips like a child. His face watched you intensely as you explain a new theory you had learned, stopping you to repeat something, or ask more explanation when something wasn’t clear. He even surprised you with insightful questions.

Erik was special, but an a**hole too.

After a class on museums, you sat on your usual bench at campus. It was hidden between some low-hanging tree branches. You enjoyed the seclusion it offered. You hadn’t text Erik you would wait for him there. He would find you if he wanted to. So, you calmly took your notes from your backpack and started to compare the matter discussed in class with the texts in your reader.

“A text would have been helpful, babe.”

Your lips curled in triumph. He was annoyed.

“A text a week ago would have been lovely too,” you retorted with snide, without looking up.

“Still pissed?” he said in surprise. He sat beside you and tossed his arm around your shoulder. “Your temper gets worse by the day, huh?”

“Can you blame me? I have you for a boyfriend,” you said with a guise of disapproval.

“That hurt,” he said as he pounded his fist against his chest. He faked a grunt as if you had stabbed him in the heart before he kissed you on the cheek.

His scent enveloped you. Your stomach twirled but you had promised yourself no mercy today. You kept focus on your notes until he pushed two longcut papers under your nose.

Plane tickets?

“What is this?”

You tried to contain the glee that grew inside of you.

“Whatever you want it to be,” he said with a shrug.

Another half a**ed apology. You put your notes down and took the plane tickets from his hand.

“Chicago?”

You turned your eyes at him and he conjured a smug smirk on his face. You had missed his face, his smile.

No mercy.

“We leave tomorrow, babe.”

“I have classes,” you exclaimed, pushing the tickets in his hand again. “And I have to work, douche.”

“After.” You saw how he couldn’t contain his pride. “And, you called sick at work, like an hour ago.”

He licked his lips as his smirk grew into the smile that showed his subtle dimples.

“And I pick you up here, ‘cause we head straight to the airport.”

“How considerate.” You rolled your eyes. “Are you paying my bills?”

He didn’t answer you but watched you with intense eyes as if waiting for you to jump him for the surprise.

As if.

But you were wondering what his plans for Chicago, of all places, were.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what we’ll be doing there?” You plucked the tickets from his hands as you read the dates. “For two days?”

He tilled his head in jest.

“Nah.”

***

You tried to keep your answers short and harsh whenever Erik asked you something during the flight, but he didn’t mind. On the contrary, he was enjoying himself too much for someone who you weren’t given your full attention. He rubbed his hand over your leg, kissed you on the cheek (because no, you wouldn’t give him the joy of kissing you on the lips!), played with your hands and fingers. You let him do. He still hadn’t revealed what the both of you came to do in Chicago, and you couldn’t contain your curiosity for much longer.  Him touching you was a welcome distraction.

Once landed, finding your luggage and through customs, you headed to the exit where Erik hailed a taxi. The ride to the hotel seemed to last a life time.

“I waited long enough, Erik,” you started impatiently. You pulled your hand out of his and crossed your arms. “Where are we going?”

He dragged a sigh, but you knew it to be a theatrical one even before he turned his head with a playful smile. “To our hotel.”

“And then?”

“You. Me.” He raised his eyebrows as he chuckled. “Hotel rooms come with beds.”

“If you think this,” you articulated as you gestured at your body, “is even considering sharing a bed with that,” you tossed a hand his direction, “then I’ll have a great time proving you wrong.”

He laughed as he captured your hand and kissed it a moment longer than needed.

“We’ll see.”

***

At the hotel, you made sure to immediately point out that you were sleeping on the bed. Erik could sort it out where he would spend the night. The floor, the bathtub, the one-person sofa. You didn’t care. He just laughed it off and managed to give you a quick peck on the lips before running in the bathroom.

You were folding your clothes for the weekend in the tiny closet when Erik draped his arms around your waist. He lightly bit your ear. You didn’t stop him, but you didn’t encourage him either.

“Wanna know where we goin’?”, he whispered seductively into your ear. He swayed you left to right.

“Don’t care anymore.”

You were faking indifference, probably not even convincing, and silently wished he would reveal his plans anyway.

He kissed your ear. “Some art institute nearby.”

You softened under his arms. “A museum?”

“Yeah.”

“You find museums dull,” you said with furrowed brows.

“Nah, that ain’t the reason.”

You turned around to look at him. “What?”

“You like that sh*t, right? I messed up last time, and now I brought you here,” he explained.

“So, this is a…” You raised your brows to indicate he should finish your sentence.

He shrugged his shoulder. “Whatever you want, babe.”

You inhaled slowly. No mercy, you thought. You pulled yourself out of his arms, putting distance between the both of you. “This is a…?!”

He stared at you as you reveled inside. His face flickered between frustration and admiration.

“An apology. Ya happy?”

“Very!” You closed the distance and kissed him full on the lips.

He draped his arms around you, lifted you up, and intensified the embrace. You wrapped your legs around him, not thinking about your earlier conversation in the taxi.

***

The Art Institute of Chicago was a wonderful place. Their continental collections contained so many, and so different artefacts from different places and people. Erik wasn’t really impressed by it all, though he looked the part.

“Those glasses weren’t really necessary.”

“Let me have my shine, okay?”, he laughed and pulled you closer to him.

Even though, he repeated his hatred for museums, never stating why, he did show much interest in the African collections.

“So, like this artefact is from Benin, right?” He pointed at a tall rod with on top a cone-shaped object.

“Yes. You can see it by the iron figurines on the top part. It’s typically for the Fon people from Ouidah, but…,” you said as you looked closer to the markings. Those markings didn’t seem to correspond with the markings you had researched for the Fon people for an assignment.

“What?”, Erik said, brows inched together as he inspected the object with squinted eyes.

“Can you see the little markings on the rod itself? I don’t recognize it.”

“Huh.” He eyed the artefact a moment longer, puckering his lips somewhat, before walking to the next vitrine. You silently followed.

“What about his one?”

“They say Burkino Faso, but I’d bet it might be from a tribe that lives on the borders with Togo and Ghana. You can see some influences from both countries in it.”

“You turn me on when you be acting smart.”

He cupped your face in one swift move, pulling you closer and sucked on your bottom lip.

“Erik,” you gasped in a low voice as you pushed him away. “We’re in public.”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug and walked further between the art collections.

“So many things from my continent,” you heard him whisper to himself when you reached him again.

“I know…” you started.

You took his arm and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Museums are so wrong for keeping these artefacts. Most of them are culturally so significant, and still, after all these years, they decided to keep it with the argument they’re preserving ‘lost’ cultures.”

He didn’t respond, so you lifted your head to look at his face. His eyes shined with marvel.

“That what they teach you in college?”

“No. I took an extra course where they dismantled the ‘white gaze’ to observe contemporary Western cultural practices related to colonial history.”

“I need to hear more about that!”

That’s when his phone rang. He read the name on the display, and his face stretched in earnest.

“Give me a sec, babe.” He walked away to the side of the room before answering.

He secluded himself on many occasions when his phone rang but you never said anything about it. For some reason, Erik liked to keep his work life to himself and you let him. But today, he didn’t smirk at you before taking the call. His lips had been stretched in a serious line and the entire situation just looked so suspicious that you had to listen in. As soon as he turned his back to you, you sneaked up on him. As you got closer, you could hear him speak.

“Yeah, we here,” he said.

He was annoyed.

When you took another step towards him, Erik turned around. The look on his face was mad angry and you knew he knew that you knew that he caught you.

“Nah, I got us covered, bro.”

He ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing,” he said. He took you by the hand with much force than usual and tried to drag you to the nearest display.

But you wouldn’t let the matter go and pulled your hand out of his.

“What did you mean with ‘I got us covered’?”

He turned to you as he hushed you. His body almost pressed against yours. In a lower voice, you dared to continue.

“Who is us? And why do they care about you and me being in Chicago?”

“Why you eavesdroppin’ like that?”, he grunted under his breath.  He eyed you from top to bottom and your face fell in disgust.

This would end in a fight.

“Erik, did you take me to this museum because you wanted to or because you had to?”

���Girl, you hear yourself talk this sh*t?”

He tried to laugh it off, pulling you in his arms but you could hear the frustrated undertone in his words.

You weren’t backing down now and pulled out of his embrace. This wasn’t the first time he kept something from you. The other times you let it slip because he would say it was something personal or work. But you clearly heard him say ‘we’re here’. You were part of this secret business of him, and you wanted to know why.

“There is something going on here.”

He slipped his fingers through yours. “Nothing goin’ on, alright, babe?”

His words were heavily covered in insisting pressure, not his usual lightheartedness.

“Is it work?”, you asked with a sigh.

He flared his nostrils and let go of your hand.

“Babe, you know I can’t talk about my work.”

His face gave him away. You recognized his frustrations in a blink. His eyes didn’t meet yours and his mouth distorted in an ugly line.

“It is work. So now, this is a business trip?”, you remarked. “And you thought, oh why not suck it up to my girlfriend as an apology present?”

You shook your head.

“You’re full of sh*t, you know that?”

His head tilted. “Babe?”

“I am finishing this tour without you.”

“Babe.”

“You can pay a f***ing guide, ‘cause honestly, I don’t give a sh*t.”

***

You arrived at your hotel, and Erik wasn’t there. You had tried to finish the museum tour, but you were so frustrated and annoyed and plain mad, that you decided to give up on it.

He didn’t even run after you.

How dared he be so selfish? His work? You huffed at the thought. Of course, this was work-related. Erik doing something altruistic? That could never be. Of course, this trip was bullsh*t to begin with. You held your breath trying to keep the tears inside you.

While you were packing your bags, tears started to flow slowly down your cheek.

Great. Now, you were crying about the a**hole too.

You heard the click of the hotel door opening, but you didn’t turn around at the sound. You didn’t want him to see you cry. You didn’t want to see him, but his body pressed against your back and you immediately relaxed into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said while taking you in his arms.

“Yeah, right.”

You wiped your wet cheeks with the back of your hand.

He kissed your neck. “Nah, I mean it.”

For the first time, he did sound apologetic. Almost sincere.

No mercy.

“Are you going to tell me what this trip was really about?”

He let you go and let himself fall on the bed.

“I didn’t know if I could trust you.”

You wrinkled your nose. What was he saying?

“Babe,” he continued. “Listen, you said something earlier about museums being sh*t, right?”

“Right? But what does that have to do with trust?”

He gestured for you to sit next to him, and you did.

“Everything,” he answered.

He placed his elbows on his knees, his back bent as he stared right in front of him. His brows were inching together, as if his frustration from earlier was smoldering into an angry fire inside of him.

“I’ve been dying to tell you about my work,” he started. He turned his eyes to you without moving an inch, “cause you’re like into heritage and sh*t, and our visions align when it comes to that.”

“Okay?” You were starting to feel nervous, hesitant to hear what more he had to say. His words had a certain obscurity to them. You didn’t like it.

“You could help me figure stuff out.”

“I don’t–”

“I take back what is rightfully ours, [Y/N].” He had exposed his teeth as he said ‘ours’. “From those f*cking museums.”

Your stomach dropped.

“Like you steal artefacts?”

Your face slanted in shock. Erik was a thief? A criminal?

It seemed like he followed your train of thoughts since he took your hands into his lap and held your eyes with a kind, almost desperate look.

“Nah, not like that. I bring them back to the locals.”

You closed your eyes and inhaled slowly, before breathing out. Erik shifted closer to you.

His heart might be on the right place, but a crime is a crime, no?

“You can help me with that,” he said. You opened your eyes and saw that he was smiling at you. Not a smirk or a grin, but one of his rare genuine smiles. “Like you know that some aren’t even from the places they say.”

This was all too much. Help him?

“I don’t know, Erik?”, you managed to say. “There’s something that doesn’t feel right here.”

“Does it feel right that those artefacts are held from their rightful owners?”, Erik snapped. He took his chin in his hand and rubbed it once. With that gesture, he usually tried to contain the anger that raged inside of him.

“No, but those people died ages ago.”

“And their descendants are still livin’!” He entwined his fingers with yours, brushing your hand up to his lips. “I need you in my team.”

“I am not taking part in your heist if that is what you’re asking.”

You took your hand back.

“And I have my father to look after,” you added in a low voice.

“So?” he stated plainly. “I split my money with you. And you don’t need to be heisting with me, just visit them museums and tell me what you know.”

Erik watched you intently, and you blinked in desperation.

“Erik…”

“Babe.”

He pulled you towards him and captured your lips with his. Then, he put his forehead against yours and held your face in his hand.

“Are you in, or nah?”

masterlist | part 2

personal remark I don’t do SMUT, not even a little bit, anon, but I think the overload of fluff makes up for that. Enjoy! I really wanted to play on this idea that Killmonger doesn’t leave anything to chance (hence the girlfriend being a critical heritage student) because come on, we’re talking about N’Jadaka, son of N’Jobu!!

taglist @sweetvengeancee You’re too sweet!

[artbysarah98]

Part 2 What the f*ck is going on?

When we're young...series

Masterlist

Part 1 An unexpected turn

A/N - I've never been on an airplane before and also have no idea how a flying works or an airport. So not everything may be accurate.

Ella

"Dear passengers, this is your captain speaking. We're a half-hour away from our destination Seoul, Korea. We are starting our descend to Incheon International Airport soon. So we would like you to fasten your seatbelts, please. We hope you enjoyed your flight with Korean Air, and we wish you a pleasant stay. Upon exiting the aircraft, please take all your belongings with you," announced the pilot over the intercom first in Korean. He repeated himself in English for international passengers like Ella. This alerted Ella to sit up straight in her seat and fasten her seatbelt.

She looked around her. As far as she could see, the other passengers were of Korean nationality or at least an Asian one. A few other people stood out because they looked closer to her citizenship. She felt a little bit out of place, being one of the only passengers with a different nationality. The man on her left was one of these passengers. A middle-aged baldheaded man, around 45 years old, yet a prominent black mustache. On top of his head were a pair of glasses.

'Those must be for reading. He hasn't worn them at all during the flight. I would have put them in my carry-on baggage to not lose them, but then again, I lose almost everything with how clumsy I am,' she thought while her eyes glided down to his expensive-looking suit, 'He looks like a businessman on his way to make a new deal. I wonder where he's going.'

The man looked very tired as if he hadn't slept in days. He looked like he could fall asleep any second. He nodded his head as he started to doze off. However, a sudden gust of air caused some turbulence shaking the plane. This caused the man to straighten up, looking around for what was happening. Ella saw his eyes also falling on her. They held each other's gaze for a few seconds before she decided that this interaction became too awkward.

Ella looked over to her right shoulder. On a row behind her sat a young girl with long blond hair braided into one thick braid. The end of this braid rested on her left shoulder. Ella's eyes fell on the hair tie that held it in place. The color of it was red and had a red heart charm with a silly face on it. A smile crept on Ella's face, 'That looks cute. I wonder where she got it. Maybe I should ask her? No, that would be awkward.'

The girl looked around her age, maybe a little longer 16 or 17 perhaps. Ella saw the girl happily swaying her head along to the music she was listening to on her earbuds. She was also singing along to the music, but Ella couldn't understand what the lyrics were aside from some English words that clearly had something to do with the main title. Ella had a feeling that the chorus was playing again as the words 'Fake Love' started falling from the girl's lips once more.

The girl was wearing a shirt of some group Asain looking men called BTS, as that was the name plastered onto it in huge letters together with a logo that looked like doors being pushed open, and a pair of bleached shorts. Ella had no idea who or what BTS was, but she wanted to find out. Maybe that had to do with the strict rules the Young Boarding School had on the use of mobiles and the internet. Those rules always caused her to missed new things becoming popular. That included celebrities like this BTS probably was, or else, their faces wouldn't be on a shirt. Her curiosity being ignited caused her to grab her phone, a Samsung Galaxy S7, maybe not the latest edition, but sufficed its primary job.

'I lived under a rock,' thought Ella as the hits with articles related to this BTS group started showing up, 'These guys have millions of fans, apparently called ARMY, won multiple awards. They performed during the AMAs in 2017, making history for other K-Pop idols and K-pop music industry and yet I still managed to miss all of this somehow. Mom, Dad, why are your rules so strict?'

Now updated on who they are in general after reading some articles, she still didn't who was which member. Although she managed to learn the names, Ella still had to combine them with the right face. On top of that, she still had to discover what they sound like. Ella decided to look up their performance from the AMAs. The song was titled DNA. She plugged in her headphones and pressed play what she heard in the next 4 and a half minutes blew her away.

Their introduction was done by the Chainsmokers, and even they acknowledged the fact that called them international superstars was an understatement. The fans were chanting the name and screaming during the entire song. From the first note, until the very last, the boys did not lose her attention once. That meant a lot as Ella did not get into a different music taste smoothly, especially one she couldn't understand the language off. There was just something magical about the performance. The one with the silver-brownish hair gained her attention the most. Something kept telling her to keep looking at him.

'How have I never seen or heard anything about BTS before?' Ella thought in amazement, 'Let's save it in my favorite songs for now, and then I can look up more songs later.'

Ella put her earbuds away as she decided to look up some more about BTS. She ended up on the website from BigHit Entertainment, the agency BTS was signed under and clicked on the menu. This showed not only BTS but two other acts licensed under BigHit, TOMORROW X TOGETHER, and LEE HYUN. She was tempted to click on TOMORROW X TOGETHER, but clicked on BTS and then profile since that is what she originally came for. Ella quickly learned that BTS consists out of 7 men; Jin, Jimin, Suga, j-hope, Jung Kook, V, and RM, RM being the leader of the band. She managed to combine V to the man with the silver-brownish hair from the performance video that attracted her to him but wasn't any closer to learning which faces belonged to which of the remaining members. Despite that, she learned more about BTS. Ella noticed that she was being drawn in by the beauty of all the members and shook her head.

'Okay, this is enough BTS for now, and this is not beneficial for my phone's percentage,' thought Ella, 'I guess this is how it starts. You look up one thing about them and want to know more and more as if you're pulled in by a magnet.' She put her phone back in her pocket.

For the remaining time of the landing, Ella decided to take in some more of the passengers. Her awareness settled quickly on a Korean looking man to her right on the other side of the aisle. The man was wearing a black hoodie, dressed warmly for the time of year as Ella looked down at the green spaghetti top before looking back, and a black mouth mask covering almost his entire face except for his eyes and a few blonde locks peeking out underneath his hoodie. Ella couldn't quite see what his eye color was, but something about him attracted her to keep looking. The man looked a little older than her, maybe 25 or 26 years old. He was in a lively conversation with a man just a captivating a he was. His talking partner wore a plain black shirt, a white Nike cap, and a red mouth mask covering his entire face, just like the man with the black hoodie. A little of his blonde-brownish hair could be seen from underneath his cap.

Suddenly the man with the black hoodie turned his head looking around for a bit before he looked straight at her. Their eyes locked for a few seconds. Ella's face flushed crimson and quickly turned her head away. 'Om my god, this is so embarrassing. He caught me observing him,' Ella thought, 'At least I finally know what his eye color is.' Those eyes are probably one of the darkest she has ever seen. They are such dark shade of grey that they almost look black. Ella looked outside of the airplane window or at least tried to and noticed that they started their descend.

Baron

Baron and his bandmates from VAV are on their way back to Korea. They had just wrapped up a music video in the Phillippines. Their new music video 'Give Me More' is going to be released on July 23. This is the first time they made a music video featuring a different artist since their debut.

For this collaboration, they attracted the attention of a Latin American artist. For 'Give Me More' the band worked together with De La Ghetto and Play-N-Skillz. He hopes that their fanbase VAMPZ is going to be as enthusiastic as he is about their new song. He loved the more exotic vibe that was going on in the music video. Baron and his bandmate ACE are in an animated conversation talking about their new mv and what the reactions of the VAMPZ are going to be.

ACE said with a twinkle in his eyes, "I can't wait until we can tell the VAMPZ about our new mv. I'm so excited that I want the release date to be sooner."

"Me too," Baron responded with a smile gracing his hidden lips, "I think this mv will be received very well by VAMPZ, but we can't say anything about the mv yet. A Team will not be happy if you spill something, ACE."

"I know, Baron, but I still can't wait," ACE said, suddenly he noticed the girl on the other side of the aisle looking at them or specifically at Baron, "Uhh, Baron, I think someone is staring at you," nudging his head to someone on Baron's left side.

Baron turned his head in the direction that ACE pointed out. He searched for the person ACE was talking about. His eyes landed on a girl directly on the other side of the aisle. He looked straight in her eyes. The eyes he met were big bright blue-greyish, and for about 15 seconds, they looked at each other. The girl then turned crimson and quickly turned her head away. Now Baron couldn't look away from her. Her beauty, drawing him in, wavy shoulder-length brown hair with blonde outgrowth, a little bit of lipgloss on her lips, her different nationality, and of course, the bright blue-greyish eyes that he couldn't get off his mind. The way that they held a sadness despite looking very lively intrigued him. He was glad he was wearing a mouth mask, or else the girl and ACE probably would have seen him turn crimson too. ACE tapped on his shoulder made Baron cut off his stare.

"You're doing the same thing as that she did. I can see she is beautiful too, but you probably won't see her again after the flight, and on top of that, you haven't even spoken one word to her yet. Not during the entire flight or just now when you crossed eyes. I would relax now if I were you. We're going to reach the terminal soon," said ACE. Baron looked one more time at the girl and did just that knowing what ACE was probably correct.

Ella

Ella nervously peeked to her right and left out a relieved sigh, 'He isn't looking at me anymore.'

She decided to put her thoughts somewhere else when she felt a strong urge pull on her. It was her bloodthirst, one of the downsides to being a vampire, or partly vampire, in the way she saw it. No matter how much she drank, she was never truly satiated. Ella let out a frustrated grunt placing her hands on her stomach, 'I fed before the flight. This flight is taking too long. Why do I have to be on this plane for 10 entire hours?! Guess I have to find a new person to feed form when I have found a place to stay for the night.'

Bloodthirst feels the same way as hunger feels to a human. It's an urge to get something in there and gets more demanding the longer you wait. It slowly eats you up on the inside until you give in to it. Sometimes this can result in brutal massacres caused by one vampire. Ella tried to calm herself and ignore her hunger. The fact that she was on a plane with over 100 blood pumping hearts wasn't making that any less hard. She was glad that the aircraft was lining up at the terminal entrance and that the doors were going to open soon.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ella was finally of the plane. She was now on her way to the exit of the terminal. Her desire teased her the entire time that Ella stood in the row to exit the plane. Even now, the sound of thumping hearts that seemed to increase by thousandfold as she got closer to the terminal exit. Ella saw her blue suitcase labeled with her name in red letters passing by on the baggage claim and took it off.

Packed with all her belongings, she made her way to the terminal exit. The moment the doors of the terminal opened, Ella was met with a sea of people. Paparazzi with their camera's at the ready and very excited looking girls. Most of them were wearing mouth masks, and many girls were holding signs with Korean phrases, Ella couldn't understand, and weird names.

'This explains why the sound of heartbeats increased so much. It doesn't explain, however, what is going on here. What do those signs say?' thought Ella as she felt confused, but panicked at the same time. Her PTSD started kicking in by the screaming and amount of people. Ella tried to calm herself down as she looked at the signs, 'Those names are so weird. Are that Korean names or stages names like the members of BTS also have? Can you even call those words names? I don't know. Whatever the signs say to me, it looks like a children's drawing with all those strange symbols.'

Ella had never seen anything like this before. Experiencing this unknown feeling increased her bloodthirst and sped up her breathing. For a second, her eyes flashed golden as she felt trapped. She knew people often had family waiting for them at the terminal, but this was insane. Her hunger for blood almost took the better of her at that moment, but she managed to hold back. Seeing that the crowd wasn't going to part any time soon, she let out a sigh as she needed to get away from that place. So in complete conflict with what her therapists always told her, Ella ignored her PTSD. Otherwise, she would really attack somebody out of hunger combined with panic and a flinch of frustration. No other option left Ella started pushing her way through, but that wasn't easy seeing that they weren't, exactly, cooperative in letting her through. She took a moment to catch her breath, something she rarely needed to do as a hybrid and looked around, seeing that she was not the only one having trouble with this. Ella sighed and continued her way through the sea of people.

As Ella struggled to get through the sea of people, the crowd suddenly got even more lively. Cameras were flashing, and girls started screaming.

"Ayno." "Ziu." "Please marry me, ACE!" "Baron-Oppa, please notice me!" "VAV!" Though looking men in black suits started separating the sea of people so that the group of men called VAV could pass. This resulted in her being pushed out of the way roughly by one of the men in black. Ella was getting kinda pissed. Her pupils dilated, and veins started to show underneath her eyes. Realizing that her face was showed its true colors, Ella tried calming herself down. Her expression morphed back to her normal one. She waited for the so-called VAV to pass. One by one, seven men with bodyguards passed by, but she recognized one of them. It was the man who sat on to her right on the other side of the aisle. By the shocking impression on his face, it looked like he recognized her too. He almost stopped in his tracks, but a bodyguard ushered him to keep walking. He passed her but looked back at her one more time before leaving her eyesight. The crowd of people started to drip away following VAV giving Ella a chance to breathe and calm down.

'What the f*ck just happened? Who is that man who sat on the other side of the aisle?' thought Ella, 'Well, it doesn't matter for now. I need to find a place to feed before I attack somebody at the airport.'

Part 3 A encounter that she didn't see coming

[thepensiverambler]

The Journey

I left home and was driven to Stansted, just a few minutes away from arriving at the airport it dawned on us that I may need a visa to enter Turkey. I looked it up and sure enough, I did. We set to work acquiring an e-visa so that I might enter the country. In classic Davies tradition we had decided to run a little late to add a little extra spice to the already palpable tension. After a few tense minutes the issue was resolved and I was in business.

I said my goodbye and strode bold as brass to security. Where I stood and waited in the queue for a brief 30 minutes. By the time I was through my flight had a vibrant green boarding sign beside the flight number. It may as well have been a large middle finger directed at me. Those of you that know me well will know that if there is one thing to set me at ease when travelling it’s punctuality. I kicked off my flip flops and ran to my gate. My gate was the furthest out it could be without having to take a bus. Gate 58 of 60. I genuinely heard children asking parents ‘why is that boy running barefoot’. I ignored them all, the giggles, wisecracks and rude children because I had a plane to catch.

I arrived to another large queue and waited there as I sweated out any remaining moisture I had. Eventually we boarded the plane, my sweating had slowed and the captain chose that moment to inform us that we had been delayed by 35 minutes. Everyone groaned. Everyone, but me. If you ever want to win a little money, make a bet that my flight will be delayed. People will take you up on it, they can look into the weather, the geopolitical situation of the time, they could look into who the air traffic controllers working that day are sleeping with. It won’t make any difference, rain or shine my plane will be delayed.

This may have been a blessing in disguise as not 10 minutes since the captain’s announcement there was suddenly a great commotion on the plane. A woman one row behind and to my left screamed and started urgently pleading 'Amelie, Amelie, Amelie’. Now I was keen to give the woman her privacy so tried to keep reading my book but everyone around me was staring. Apparently the lady was breast feeding young amelie when she went limp and her eyes started pointing in opposite directions. Just like in a Hollywood drama the cabin crew asked if there was a doctor on board. Now if you ever need more proof that our NHS is run by immigrants then you should have been on that plane with me. 10-15 doctors and nurses queued in the aisle to offer their two penny’s worth. The man next to me stood up to help ( he had worked in a hospital as a cashier in the m&s but I guess it all helps). On came the airport medics and went through the same procedure as the doctors before them. Eventually the woman and a confused looking Amelie were taken off the plane for medical attention. Once it becsme apparent dear Amelie would be ok I couldn’t help but think that the drama had made our delay go a great deal quicker.

Not long after we were up in the air, it was on take that I learned the gentlemen next to me was not so keen on flying. He complained to me that he could hear I funny high pitched noise from the engines (there was). From what little knowledge I have of planes I know that they are incredibly complicated machines and there is rarely a time in their journey that something isn’t wrong with some part of it. There are so many little, delicate, intricate parts in such a large machine that when you think about it it makes sense that something is always wrong. This is not to say you’re going to drop out of the sky in the next few minutes but little minor things will go wrong. I chose not to impart these pearls of wisdom to my nervous friend, instead I chose to shrug and say that I could hear anything. I read my book for a while but eventually got chatting again to my nervous friend. We covered everything, from his life goals, family and career plans. My section was substantially briefer mainly what I was doing and where I was going. We soon got onto the treacherous topic of Greece’s economic situation. I recieved my first history lesson in the matter though felt that his grasp of economics was probably on par if significantly weaker than mine which I must admit is saying something. Whilst we were both flailing to maintain any sort of progress in the conversation he let out a loud yelp and clutched his eye. He complained that something to do with the air pressure meant that he was in immense pain. I felt a mixture of worry and mild relief our conversation could end without an awkward silence.

We landed and I was soon out of the airport searching for either an ATM orthe bus stop. I hadn’t had time to change any money whilst in Stansted as by the time I was through security my flight was boarding. I followed signs this way and that eventually being pointed in the right direction by a grumpy car parking steward. I got on the bus and with one of my most English moments to date asked if anyone knew where the ATM was. The did not. If anyone wished to exchange pounds for euros. The did not. The bus driver appeared (a great big bear of a man which I found to be common theme amongst Greek bus drivers). I asked him the same questions, he didn’t speak English. Knowing that if I missed this bus it would be another 3 hours before I could get another. I weighed up my options until a kind young Greek man leaned forward and pressed 2 euros into my hand. I hung my head in shame, tried to give him £2 at which he chuckled and said 'I don’t go England’. With that settled i made my way down the bus to purchase my ticket. Like an HGV vehicle coming down highbrook lane there was not enough room for me yet I remained undeterred. I bought myself a ticket only to realise that the whole ticket situation was a great deal more optional than I might have imagined as it was down to the rigor of our bus driver to enforce the purchase of tickets. I didn’t get the impression he cared all that much.

We set off from the airport and i noticed that 80% of the bus was female, after a cursory glance I decided I did not think Greek women were for me. It was something about the corn rows and greasy hair combination that didn’t quite do it for me. I then realised that the only girls to have the corn rows as though they had been washed in olive oil were speaking English. After this observation I found Greek women to be far more agreeable.

The bus had an infuriating tanoy system which would say in a loud clear voice 'the next station is’ at this point it would switch recordings to an inaudible woman speaking the names of the stops. If you ever managed to stretch your ears to the point of being able to hear this lady the bus driver would time his closing of the doors perfectly so as to drown her out. It really was an efficient process in the suppression of information. Lamenting the fact I had give up Greek at a very young age I made the decision to stay on the bus for 45 minutes as my 'Rome to Rio’ told me to do.

I got off the bus with 2 miles to walk to the intercity bus stop. 'Oh well’ I thought to myself and so I set off towards the bus stop in full knowledge of the fact that I couldn’t possibly catch the bus to Kesan tonight but I felt I had to try. I realised I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything for nearly 12 hours so headed into the first shop I came across. Only I still hadn’t been to an ATM, the shopkeeper like the bus driver didn’t want my pounds nor my card. I walked on, found an ATM and withdrew €80 euros. When I eventually arrived at the bus stop they told me they were closed, they weren’t the right bus stop and that no they didn’t want to break my €20 note as they were closed. Some taxi drivers after much persuading did break the note so I could take a bus back into the city. I head toward the bus stop and, not for the first time that day I sprinted towards my transport. History repeated itself, profuse sweating ensued followed by a 10 minutes wait as I waited for the bus driver to finish chain smoking. I got off the bus at the first hotel I saw and strolled in. €30 for one night. Not a chance! I would rather sleep on the streets than being extorted in such a manner. I wandered aimlessly towards town stopping only to pick up a couple of essentials. Water and coco rocks. I walk a short mile to a hostel in the area, €22.50. Slightly unimpressed with the small savings I’d made I begrudgingly agreed to the room. As the streets were becoming less and less appealing the more and more they were becoming a reality. I had a few handfuls of coco rocks and hit the hay. Only I couldn’t sleep. My mind was a buzz with bus stops and buses. My bed was too soft and my pillow to hard. The room was stiflingly warm, I bumped up the AC and set my mind to sleeping. Until at 6 in the morning I was rudely awoken by my roommates dastardly alarm. Not to worry I was back asleep in minutes.

I rose at 9 30, showered, had a coffee and left the hostel. I arrived at the bus stop, got a ticket and was on board a bus to Kesan at 10 o clock. I was alone on the bus. The driver, the conductor and I enjoyed a 60 seat coach to ourselves. It’s worth noting that a few stops later I was kicked out of this seat.

After 5 and a half hours of reading and writing we reached Greek border control. We stopped briefly at this juncture, I was allowed to go to the loo (a privilege I had been denied every stop before). Our conductor purchased what must have been north of 20 bottles of whisky and then used us (passengers) as mules to smuggle duty free liquor across the border. At that moment in time I was too preoccupied with the concept of never seeing my passport again that the minor indiscretion of a bit of smuggling didn't bother me a great deal. We were let through the Greek border and drove a kilometre overto the Turkish border control and once again we all got off the bus. Our documents were inspected 1 by 1. I allowed everyone to go in front of me as I wasn't entirely convinced my visa was the genuine article. When it was finally my turn I handed over my passport and visa, the stern looking officer to a long hard look at both documents and with a wry smile and a wink handed them back. I was through! I was into Turkey! To be continued... To be continued

[dislikethinkingofuniquenames]

I have thoughts and I figure I’d try to get them down again. Working with one of my students, I’m encouraging him to write more. He could use some outlet to sort out his thoughts. Actually, I really enjoyed the conversation I had with him and its making me really want to get the clinical experience in social work. I genuinely love the idea of human connection and I just don’t see myself getting that at DCFS (Dept of Children & Family Services). I’m struggling answering these application questions. The money for the stipend is so appealing, but what’s more important? I feel like I need a sounding board on this. This doesn’t require a decision right now, just things I’m strongly considering. 

During my conversation with my student today, we talked about priorities and values. He told me school was his priority and I challenged this notion. I let him know that I wasn’t there to be bullshitted and I want honesty. Through our talks I know school isn’t the thing that’s going to spark this student. So we talked about happiness and how getting that special feeling is important. The conversation covered a lot, but I think its important for young people to know its okay to not fit these socially constructed molds. I explain the benefit of fitting those molds, but that there isn’t a one size fits all life plan. My student went to his first live music show and loves it. It was the first time he’d been around a group of people like him. I could see this change in him. It was pretty fucking rad to talk to a 16 year old kid about the music scene. I shared with him the role music and concerts played when I was in high school I’m planning on meeting with this student 2x/month. We touched on the fact that I’m not going to be there past this semester, which i could tell was hard for him. It’s going to be hard for me too. 

More ramblings, maybe more personal because by this point most people aren’t reading. Despite my best efforts, I’m dating someone again. My dating life has been rather interesting, which three people kind of in the loop. There was one guy, older, who I really connect with on various levels and have incredible chemistry with, but it was a 1-2/week thing and I had to talk the initiative every time. I’m very much so okay with this because when we’re together he is present & very communicative. He’s got an impressive history and I appreciate his value-set, as well as his perspective on life. There is nothing wrong with this, but in the space between our once or twice time together, I met someone else. This other person is a couple of years older than me (so essentially my age), and quite unexpected. We’ve sparred together at the gym and he’s more introverted in social settings and a bit darker. By that, I’m not speaking in the negative, but we’re all different shades of color, his is on the darker end of the spectrum. He has a past, but I’ve found him to be open enough in doses. He's interesting, makes me laugh (which has been shockingly rare), works hard enough, and is incredibly sexy. This last piece is really important to me. Sexuality is something so critical to where I’m at right now. I love to feel sexy, despite fooling most people who think I stop at cute. Yes, I am absolutely cute, adorable, intelligent, and strong...but I’m also sexy and its taken so long to be comfortable in my sexiness. I love it. And he brings it out even more. For whatever reason, we decided to take a trip to San Juan, Puerto Rico at the end of March. He expressed a desire to travel and I somewhat jokingly through out the idea of traveling together. He was on board. I’ve wanted to do something outrageously spontaneous. My values rest in making the absolute most of this life I’ve been given. I fully understand this may not work out...but I’m throwing some faith in there. I’m super open & direct with where I’m at in life and how much I can give. He appears to be decently open about where he’s at. I feel like we should scale back how much time we spend together. Sometimes I can’t help myself, but I think I should. Again, I’ve just had slightly more free time, so I tend to fill it with things. And they are fun things. The level of affection is nice and wow, I’m totally fucked from past relationships, because a part of me just wonders when it’s going to stop. However, I’m going to set these aside these thoughts and just be present. I would say I’m starting to learn my happiness and self worth isn’t determined by the men in my life. They’re nice to have around, cuddly and supportive, funny and sexy, an bonus or addition to my life, but not a foundational determinant of how I feel about me. Sitting here, alone on this couch, I search within to reflect on this week and the decisions I’ve made. There is this very slight twinge of nervousness, but it is so faint. It is that nervousness that would be expected after buying two plane tickets with a stranger. I’m getting to know him and I like how I’m acting in this. I feel like myself. I’m asking questions to figure out some of his habits and preferences (e.g. after a bad day, how does he like to decompress?) I’m using my past experiences to try to improve how I behave when engaging with another person. But I have to be and feel like myself. At this point I can do that. 

On the trip front, regardless of how the dice roll out, I’ll be going. I have a feeling he will as well. You don’t meet people by accident and given the intentionality I’ve put into my life, I’m interested to see what the purpose of meeting this person is. I’m not looking for some deep relationship, rather looking to connect to another human being who can show me a new life experience. Experiences. I want to listen to life experiences as often as I can. This concept is what I find attractive about the older man I was seeing. His life story and the experiences he’s had are so fascinating. 

I’m in this life that has been a challenge and is now so very rewarding. The fear of failure isn’t there. I’m not always going to succeed and not every connection will come into fruition, but I will fill my time and space with things of value. I will take pause as often as I can. There’s times I think back to life between 23 and 20 and how infrequently I took advantage of life. I was so set in keeping my life as low-key as possible that I never realized how young I was and how much there is to live for. But that’s okay. I am truly okay with that notion. If I hadn’t lived under the radar, I wouldn't full be able to wrap my head around why I just booked a flight to San Juan on a whim. 

Like I said earlier, I had a lot on my mind. I want to reflect a bit more this semester than I have. My life is constantly changing, and I’m working so hard on figuring out who I am as a person. I keep having these wonderful glimpses of what that is looking like. Where I’m at in the present is exactly where I’m supposed to be. I’m carving time out for myself; nurturing relationships; putting a little faith in a new connection with a man; exploring my sexuality more; testing out some more in-depth counseling techniques; focusing on my workouts & boxing; exploring; and gearing up for another semester. What more could I honestly want right now? Fuck. That is a good feeling. 

[onlinemarketingcourses]

Why one marketer thinks smart speakers have their work cut out for them

Voice technology and voice search have, arguably, been adopted faster than any other technology in history. Analyst estimates on smart speaker penetration in the U.S. range from 40 to almost 80 million devices by the end of this year.

Despite lots of hype and anticipation, these devices have not emerged yet as a viable marketing or commerce platform. Is that because it’s still “early days” or are there other issues and challenges to be overcome.

Rebecca Stone, LiveRamp’s VP of Marketing, who leads the identity resolution company’s efforts to bridge the omnichannel experience, weighed in on the current state of smart speakers and what needs to happen for them to realize their marketing and commerce potential.

Q: What’s holding smart speakers back as a commerce platform?

There are two primary barriers inhibiting mass adoption of smart speakers as a [commerce] platform, and they’re both closely related. First, the technology has to get better. It’s not quite there yet in terms of sophistication in order to be fully embraced. I like to use the example of my five-year-old daughter, who loves talking to Siri. Siri can handle many of her simple commands, but [my daughter] is only just learning to read, and so she’s unable to understand the search results that pop up. She’s in a dance recital this month and asked for help remembering the dance steps to her routine. The results weren’t pictures or videos, but text search results.

The next generation of smart speakers will be driven by whichever company can be fastest to market with integrating visual capabilities. This leads me directly into my second assertion, which is that, until the technology is better, it will be difficult to compel consumers to use smart speakers to make purchases.

Although consumers are increasingly including smart speakers as part of their shopping journey, mostly for discovery, they are opting to go in-store or online to complete their transactions. I attribute this, in part, to the technology and the fact that it’s not fully matured. But it’s exacerbated by the fact that most of these devices lack screens. People like to see their options visually; if they don’t, it makes it difficult for them to enter the lower marketing funnel. Until both of these barriers are addressed, I imagine mass adoption may be slow to reach critical mass.

Q: Numerous surveys indicated that consumers were buying things on smart speakers in meaningful numbers. Then  “internal documents” from Amazon suggested that fewer than 2 percent of Alexa users had purchased anything through an Echo device. How would you explain this? 

It’s difficult to know exactly what’s led to this discrepancy, but it likely has something to do with how consumers define “making a purchase.” For example, if we were to ask consumers whether or not they’ve used a smart speaker to make a purchase, some may mark “yes” if they used the speaker to begin their search. Some may mark “yes” if they used the speaker to help narrow their search results. And some may mark “yes” if they actually completed their transaction via the speaker. So the variance could be due to research methodology. As the technology evolves, and as brands and advertisers become more invested in the channel, the way in which we measure and evaluate consumer habits, behavior, etc. will evolve with it.

Q: Do you believe that smart speakers can become an effective marketing channel? 

According to Mary Meeker’s 2018 Internet Trends Report, voice has been adopted faster than any other technology in history, so the potential is there. But in terms of harnessing the opportunity for marketers, there are a few precursors.

Reports indicate that at this stage, consumers are largely using their Alexa or Google Home devices to ask about things like the weather, traffic, and sports instead of products. There’s certainly a trust factor there — simple searches don’t reveal as much about someone — but we can’t overlook the fact the technical infrastructure of these devices is built for simple commands. So there’s no surprise that that’s how consumers are interacting with them most.

Just as with any technology before it, smart speakers will have to work to gain the trust of consumers. With simple searches on smart speakers, there isn’t as much at stake. But as voice assistants and smart speakers become more entrenched in the omnichannel consumer experience, the usual rules of engagement from a privacy perspective will apply. Already, there is a misconception among consumers that their speakers are always on, always listening. It’s up to brands to be aware of these sensitivities and to be upfront and transparent about how data is stored, used, etc. At a time of heightened privacy concerns, giving choice and control to consumers will be critical for marketers to build trust in this emerging touchpoint.

Q: Are smart speakers better suited to brand and awareness marketing or direct response — or both?

We’re in the really early stages of asking ourselves, as an industry, “How do we use this as another channel in our suite of tools to get customers?” I don’t think it’s an “either/or” situation. Depending on activation and execution, smart speakers could be used to increase brand awareness, or to inspire one-to-one engagement and communication with consumers, or both. The answer, which remains to be seen, will be determined by how brands and advertisers decided to build campaigns around the technology, and where they prioritize their resources.

When I was in New York the other week, I had a conversation with a peer, and we started thinking about – what if, instead of “Hey Google, add X to my cart,” imagine if we could use the device more experientially, like a way to focus on top customers. Let’s say I work for a major retail brand and I said to our top 1,000 customers, if you start using Google Home as a personal shopping assistant, we’ll tailor an in-store shopping excursion just for you. All the consumer would have to do is tell Google to add a calendar invite for the event, and when they arrive in-store, we would have five or six full outfits for them to try on.

My point is, the technology can be as basic or as sophisticated as we make it out to be.

Q: What is the most likely form that marketing on these devices will take (ads, content, sponsorships, etc.)?

I think advertising is going to have to get more subtle in the coming years, so I would focus on sponsored placements within content. I don’t think people will take kindly to video ads on their fridge like we’re subjected to as the gas pump.

I also think it’s about creating an experience that entices customers to want to interact with you on their next device. You’re getting free stuff for downloading chain restaurants’ mobile apps now. Perhaps a custom “chat” with an on-demand customer service team, via a device?

Q: In terms of potential alternatives to advertising, are we likely to see a “freemium” model with upsells to exclusive content or ad-free versions of content?

As with the broader connected ecosystem, I think it will be a mix of both. Both models work, but in different ways. If you’re an upstart, you’re probably going to start out as freemium. If you’re an established brand, you’re going to have to choose adoption or placing a premium on your brand in any new channel.

Q: Why haven’t things like booking or reservations taken off on smart speakers?

Ease of use is the hardest here too. AirBnB works because their users love looking at the pictures of the spaces. People pour over the different options for flights on airline websites to pick the exact date/time and/or price that work for them. Those are both difficult experiences to recreate with voice.

I go back to my suggestion that perhaps the smart speaker will contribute to the rise of another “on-demand” call center (no wait times, or the speaker will call you back) similar to what happened on Twitter in the early days, when you had to have a customer service Twitter handle to ensure you were managing complaints. Or, perhaps, booking sites like Expedia and Booking.com, for example, may integrate with an AI service similar to amy.IO to help streamline and simplify the customer experience.

Q: What’s the outlook for smart displays? The role of the screen right now is sub-optimized. How might that change over time?

I expect part of the natural evolution of the technology will be seen in the way that vendors rise to the occasion from a user experience or user interface perspective. The vendors that focus on simplicity (like what we have seen with the iPhone) are going to win in the long run. And keep in mind, the goal will be to design for simplicity across users, in a way that transcends demographics. In other words, my daughter and my grandfather will both need to be able to navigate the device easily.

Q: What about skills or voice actions? Despite Amazon’s statements about thousands of skills, there’s a discovery problem. Do you see that changing? 

In all honesty, it’s just one of those things that will take time. More companies need to embrace working with smart speaker vendors, and they are going to have to push those services through to the consumer to inspire adoption. Alternatively, we’re in such early stages here, that a “challenger” vendor could emerge, one that isn’t even on our radar today, and be the one brand that wins out, going in the direction of the competitors.

The other thing to remember is that smart speakers are not protected from the walled gardens; those still exist in a very real sense. So maybe, the so-called challenger will be retail agnostic. That could be the ticket to encouraging mass adoption on a global scale.

Q: Do you see a future where smart speakers and smartphones are more directly linked, with voice searches initiated on smart speakers and follow-up actions on smartphones?

Absolutely. This will likely parallel, or at least underscore, the burgeoning IoT market. I expect all our devices will be equipped to “talk” to one another, and the consumer will be able to move from device to device without any extra effort.

Q: Is it possible that the use cases that we’re seeing today (e.g., content consumption, smart home control, music, etc.) are the use cases that will prevail and these devices will not become a major marketing channel?

The answer really isn’t black and white, and it will depend on how the smart speaker vendors embrace and activate their partner network. Right now, the barrier is viewing them as competition, rather than a channel.

Q: Any final thoughts? 

We’re still in the very early days of voice engagement, but rapid consumer adoption and technology advancements will give marketers a compelling reason to get into the game soon enough. Preparing for this future today will allow you to master engagement on a valuable touchpoint long before your competitors do.

This story first appeared on Marketing Land. For more on digital marketing, click here.

Original URL:https://mklnd.com/2RgxsF2

About The Author

Greg Sterling is a Contributing Editor at Search Engine Land. He writes a personal blog, Screenwerk, about connecting the dots between digital media and real-world consumer behavior. He is also VP of Strategy and Insights for the Local Search Association. Follow him on Twitter or find him at Google+.

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[akaiaowl]

<<EXCERPT>>

Wednesday 29th, November 2017

If there was something El Ives put her mind to, she was sure to accomplish it. Always.

Well, most of the times.

As a matter of fact, today was one of the few rare exceptions to that rule. This, since Will Byers, El’s best friend, had managed to convince the otherwise socially awkward El to finally come with him that weekend to some party at a friend’s house.

They were both currently seating on the beige colored carpet of her dorm room, supposedly trying to be productive by getting their History 102 assignment done before the due date.

“Pleeease El! I’m about to beg you, it’s almost Christmas break and, for once, I’d like for you to come meet my friends and not stay locked up here again like a loser”, Will had been pouting at his friend for over two hours.

“Hey, I happen to like being a loser”, said El feigning indignation and scowling at her skinny best friend.

Will managed to hold back his smile at his oldest friend’s antics and maintained a serious expression for the sake of getting his point across. They’d been friends since the age of twelve and both knew just how determined the other could be. Holding each other’s stares defiantly in a silent challenge, neither of them wanted to give in.

As she stubbornly stared into Will’s lively brown eyes, El suddenly felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. She had been having a few of those for a while now, especially whenever she thought back on their high school days on Hawkins High School. Actually, the biggest irony was thinking about how much she had looked forward to graduating and moving as far away as humanly possible from that hell hole she called hometown. Whereas, now, she couldn’t help feeling strangely homesick. As a matter of fact, lately, El was often ambushed by random flashbacks from her teenage years and usually found herself wishing she could somehow go back and do it all better.

She regretted everything, actually, except for her friendship with Will.

Their friendship was yet another reason El kept thinking back in nostalgia to her high school days: even though Will and her had managed to get accepted into their dream college together and even lived in neighboring dorm buildings, she felt him more distant than ever before. Worse than that, El was painfully aware that she was the reason of the increasing (figurative) distance in their friendship and she loathed herself for it. Now, more than ever, she hated herself for her apathetic and awkward personality. Why couldn’t she be a normal eighteen year old? Why couldn’t she just stop feeling so nervous around other people? Because of this she was finally managing to drive her best friend away, her partner in crime, after being the closest of friends for over half a decade.

For most of their first semester at college she had declined Will’s enthusiastic invitations to parties and any social events, preferring to skip them in favor of spending her afternoons in the solitude of her room either reading ahead or watching some movie or TV show. It was just easier that way, it seemed. El had never really been a social butterfly and she knew how much Will loved meeting and bonding with new people. So, she just figured that she could give him some space by making herself scarce.

However (and she’d never admit it out loud), as Will started spending less and less time with her and his invitations became rare occurrences, El began feeling terribly lonely (which was weird). She usually cherished her alone time, often glad she wasn’t out there fake smiling and making small talk, getting emotionally drained after overthinking and worrying over every tiny detail of her social interactions. Nonetheless, now, it just felt like a very different kind of loneliness.

El felt lonely in a bad way, a way she hadn’t felt for quite a long time: the kind of lonely she used to feel before meeting Joyce Byers and befriending her son, Will.

Finally, after glaring at Will some more, El lowered her gaze in defeat. Mostly because she missed spending more time with him, and also because she was a bit curious about going to a college party.

“Ok. Fine, I’ll go. BUT I’ll only stay until a reasonable hour and you better not be dragging me up there so I can be your designated driver”, answered El with an annoyed huff, hurling one of her fluffy pillows on Will’s general direction and feeling quite annoyed (mostly at her pathetic, abnormal self).

Her friend easily managed to catch the pillow midair and offered El a sympathetic smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. She knew he was worried about her spending so much time by herself – the fact that she had no roommate made it easier for her to just hide away for hours on end without any excuse.

“I’m only doing this for your own good El, you know I look out for you and it’s about time you start having a normal college experience and, you know, getting to know people. After all, the semester is almost over”.

--….--…--…---

Friday 1st, December 2017

El bit her lip as she stared at her reflection on the mirror critically. Was her top too revealing? Was her midsection looking gross and bloated? Should she put any make up on? Was her hair ok? Were jeans and sneakers too casual for the party?

Man, I badly needed a School of Life 101 crash course, El thought with a groan.

It was always on times like this that El really wished she had a roommate or a best friend who could actually give advice on these kinds of things. It was also on times like these that El regretted not learning about this stuff back on high school. Finally, after examining her reflection some more, she decided to change her sneakers in favor of her black leather boots and apply some lipstick to her dry lips.

Feeling quite nervous, she turned her phone screen on and was surprised to see several messages from Will.

8:02 pm U excited yet for your first college party?

8:03 pm Totally getting drunk as skunks 2nite.

8:46 pm Waiting for the guys, we’re coming to pick u up

9:29 pm On our way, expect a call in 15

9:44 pm Almost there

9:59 pm Ok, let’s go

*3 missed calls from MY FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WORLD*

10:03 pm Pick up the phone

10:11 pm We’re waiting downstairs

10:27 pm What the hell u doing? We’ve been here for ages

El was surprised to find out how long she had taken to get ready, her nervousness was really not helping. As quickly as possible, she grabbed her tiny purse and keys and made her way out. At that very moment, her phone screen lit up and the contact name Will had programmed for himself popped up.

*incoming call from MY FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WORLD*

Smiling, El answered.

“I’m sorry, I completely lost track of time, that’s all. I’m almost there”, she said breathlessly while making her way down the flight of stairs.

“No problem El, just making sure you were still up for it”, answered Will sympathetically.

“Wait. So did I actually have an option?” replied El only half joking.

She really was terribly nervous, like she always was whenever she had to face a new social situation.

Will laughed at her lame attempt at making a joke and was silent for a bit, maybe trying to empathize with his best friend’s nervousness.

El could hear Will’s friends talking loudly on the background:

“We need to hurry if we want to get wasted before the night ends, that’s kind of the point of tonight”, a loud male voice whined pathetically.

“Hey, I’m actually enjoying watching this show”, another male voice answered in fake annoyance.

“Booooooring”, someone else interjected.

“You’re too lame Wheeler”, the first voice teased.

The conversation on the background grew faint as El realized Will must have walked away from his friends to talk to her privately.

“Everything will be fine and you’ll have fun, you’ll see. If you feel uncomfortable or something you have us”, finally whispered Will before hanging up.

El had really tried to avoid meeting Will’s friends for a while now, feeling resentment and jealousy towards them because her best friend spent most of his time with them now and talked all the time about how fun and loyal they were.

It actually made sense that they spent time together since they were all taking science related careers and had most of their classes together – Will was an engineer major, like Lucas, while Dustin and Mike were physics majors.

It was silly, she knew.

Calm down El, it’s going to be ok, Will’s friends are probably as nice as him.

Finally, El got to her building’s common area. She saw four guys sprawled comfortably all over the beige couches, two of them were fighting over the remote and the other two were trying to watch whatever show was on TV.

They didn’t notice her presence until she started timidly approaching Will, who was gazing at the screen with mild interest. He was the first one of the group to notice her and his face was instantly filled with a broad smile.

“You’re finally here!” he exclaimed, startling everyone.

“Guys, this is El”, Will said loudly. Then, pointing at each of the guys next to him, he introduced them, “These are Lucas, Dustin and Mike”.

“Thanks for waiting”, El managed to smile at them without making eye contact. She hoped they didn’t notice her nervousness.

“No problem”, said the smallest one of them, Dustin, “honestly, we were all dying to finally meet you”.

“Yeah, we had a bet going on about Will’s friend being imaginary”, laughed Lucas.

Upon hearing that last comment, El snorted while trying to contain a laugh and turned to look at Will with amusement. Her friend merely shrugged.

“See how you make me look bad El?”

“Oh, it was only for the sake of making the bet more interesting”, answered El with a laugh, “it would have been no fun without the mystery, now would it?”

The guys smiled, amused, and the air significantly relaxed. She felt a tiny bit more comfortable, and the voice in her head repeating her own doubts and fears in a loop grew quiet for the first time that night.

“So, who won the bet?” asked Will, looking at his friends.

“Me”, said the tallest boy, Mike, smiling.

He was the only one who hadn’t spoken up yet, but she recognized his voice from her phone call with Will – he was the one who claimed to be enjoying the TV show while they waited for her to arrive.

Overcome by curiosity, El risked a glance up at him and was surprised to find him already looking at her, matching her interest. They made eye contact.

“So thank you for being real, I guess”, he said smiling kindly at her.

She quickly averted her gaze, not knowing what to do or how to respond, and tried to keep her upcoming blush from actually showing on her face. It wasn’t even a compliment, why was she reacting like this?

Social awkwardness truly sucked.

There was a short moment of silence, which was (thankfully) quickly broken by Lucas.

“Ok, let’s get going”, said Lucas enthusiastically as he strode to the nearest exit.

--….--…--…---

[strangecollectorcupcake-fan]

Why one marketer thinks smart speakers have their work cut out for them

Voice technology and voice search have, arguably, been adopted faster than any other technology in history. Analyst estimates on smart speaker penetration in the U.S. range from 40 to almost 80 million devices by the end of this year.

Despite lots of hype and anticipation, these devices have not emerged yet as a viable marketing or commerce platform. Is that because it’s still “early days” or are there other issues and challenges to be overcome.

Rebecca Stone, LiveRamp’s VP of Marketing, who leads the identity resolution company’s efforts to bridge the omnichannel experience, weighed in on the current state of smart speakers and what needs to happen for them to realize their marketing and commerce potential.

Q: What’s holding smart speakers back as a commerce platform?

There are two primary barriers inhibiting mass adoption of smart speakers as a [commerce] platform, and they’re both closely related. First, the technology has to get better. It’s not quite there yet in terms of sophistication in order to be fully embraced. I like to use the example of my five-year-old daughter, who loves talking to Siri. Siri can handle many of her simple commands, but [my daughter] is only just learning to read, and so she’s unable to understand the search results that pop up. She’s in a dance recital this month and asked for help remembering the dance steps to her routine. The results weren’t pictures or videos, but text search results.

The next generation of smart speakers will be driven by whichever company can be fastest to market with integrating visual capabilities. This leads me directly into my second assertion, which is that, until the technology is better, it will be difficult to compel consumers to use smart speakers to make purchases.

Although consumers are increasingly including smart speakers as part of their shopping journey, mostly for discovery, they are opting to go in-store or online to complete their transactions. I attribute this, in part, to the technology and the fact that it’s not fully matured. But it’s exacerbated by the fact that most of these devices lack screens. People like to see their options visually; if they don’t, it makes it difficult for them to enter the lower marketing funnel. Until both of these barriers are addressed, I imagine mass adoption may be slow to reach critical mass.

Q: Numerous surveys indicated that consumers were buying things on smart speakers in meaningful numbers. Then  “internal documents” from Amazon suggested that fewer than 2 percent of Alexa users had purchased anything through an Echo device. How would you explain this? 

It’s difficult to know exactly what’s led to this discrepancy, but it likely has something to do with how consumers define “making a purchase.” For example, if we were to ask consumers whether or not they’ve used a smart speaker to make a purchase, some may mark “yes” if they used the speaker to begin their search. Some may mark “yes” if they used the speaker to help narrow their search results. And some may mark “yes” if they actually completed their transaction via the speaker. So the variance could be due to research methodology. As the technology evolves, and as brands and advertisers become more invested in the channel, the way in which we measure and evaluate consumer habits, behavior, etc. will evolve with it.

Q: Do you believe that smart speakers can become an effective marketing channel? 

According to Mary Meeker’s 2018 Internet Trends Report, voice has been adopted faster than any other technology in history, so the potential is there. But in terms of harnessing the opportunity for marketers, there are a few precursors.

Reports indicate that at this stage, consumers are largely using their Alexa or Google Home devices to ask about things like the weather, traffic, and sports instead of products. There’s certainly a trust factor there — simple searches don’t reveal as much about someone — but we can’t overlook the fact the technical infrastructure of these devices is built for simple commands. So there’s no surprise that that’s how consumers are interacting with them most.

Just as with any technology before it, smart speakers will have to work to gain the trust of consumers. With simple searches on smart speakers, there isn’t as much at stake. But as voice assistants and smart speakers become more entrenched in the omnichannel consumer experience, the usual rules of engagement from a privacy perspective will apply. Already, there is a misconception among consumers that their speakers are always on, always listening. It’s up to brands to be aware of these sensitivities and to be upfront and transparent about how data is stored, used, etc. At a time of heightened privacy concerns, giving choice and control to consumers will be critical for marketers to build trust in this emerging touchpoint.

Q: Are smart speakers better suited to brand and awareness marketing or direct response — or both?

We’re in the really early stages of asking ourselves, as an industry, “How do we use this as another channel in our suite of tools to get customers?” I don’t think it’s an “either/or” situation. Depending on activation and execution, smart speakers could be used to increase brand awareness, or to inspire one-to-one engagement and communication with consumers, or both. The answer, which remains to be seen, will be determined by how brands and advertisers decided to build campaigns around the technology, and where they prioritize their resources.

When I was in New York the other week, I had a conversation with a peer, and we started thinking about – what if, instead of “Hey Google, add X to my cart,” imagine if we could use the device more experientially, like a way to focus on top customers. Let’s say I work for a major retail brand and I said to our top 1,000 customers, if you start using Google Home as a personal shopping assistant, we’ll tailor an in-store shopping excursion just for you. All the consumer would have to do is tell Google to add a calendar invite for the event, and when they arrive in-store, we would have five or six full outfits for them to try on.

My point is, the technology can be as basic or as sophisticated as we make it out to be.

Q: What is the most likely form that marketing on these devices will take (ads, content, sponsorships, etc.)?

I think advertising is going to have to get more subtle in the coming years, so I would focus on sponsored placements within content. I don’t think people will take kindly to video ads on their fridge like we’re subjected to as the gas pump.

I also think it’s about creating an experience that entices customers to want to interact with you on their next device. You’re getting free stuff for downloading chain restaurants’ mobile apps now. Perhaps a custom “chat” with an on-demand customer service team, via a device?

Q: In terms of potential alternatives to advertising, are we likely to see a “freemium” model with upsells to exclusive content or ad-free versions of content?

As with the broader connected ecosystem, I think it will be a mix of both. Both models work, but in different ways. If you’re an upstart, you’re probably going to start out as freemium. If you’re an established brand, you’re going to have to choose adoption or placing a premium on your brand in any new channel.

Q: Why haven’t things like booking or reservations taken off on smart speakers?

Ease of use is the hardest here too. AirBnB works because their users love looking at the pictures of the spaces. People pour over the different options for flights on airline websites to pick the exact date/time and/or price that work for them. Those are both difficult experiences to recreate with voice.

I go back to my suggestion that perhaps the smart speaker will contribute to the rise of another “on-demand” call center (no wait times, or the speaker will call you back) similar to what happened on Twitter in the early days, when you had to have a customer service Twitter handle to ensure you were managing complaints. Or, perhaps, booking sites like Expedia and Booking.com, for example, may integrate with an AI service similar to amy.IO to help streamline and simplify the customer experience.

Q: What’s the outlook for smart displays? The role of the screen right now is sub-optimized. How might that change over time?

I expect part of the natural evolution of the technology will be seen in the way that vendors rise to the occasion from a user experience or user interface perspective. The vendors that focus on simplicity (like what we have seen with the iPhone) are going to win in the long run. And keep in mind, the goal will be to design for simplicity across users, in a way that transcends demographics. In other words, my daughter and my grandfather will both need to be able to navigate the device easily.

Q: What about skills or voice actions? Despite Amazon’s statements about thousands of skills, there’s a discovery problem. Do you see that changing? 

In all honesty, it’s just one of those things that will take time. More companies need to embrace working with smart speaker vendors, and they are going to have to push those services through to the consumer to inspire adoption. Alternatively, we’re in such early stages here, that a “challenger” vendor could emerge, one that isn’t even on our radar today, and be the one brand that wins out, going in the direction of the competitors.

The other thing to remember is that smart speakers are not protected from the walled gardens; those still exist in a very real sense. So maybe, the so-called challenger will be retail agnostic. That could be the ticket to encouraging mass adoption on a global scale.

Q: Do you see a future where smart speakers and smartphones are more directly linked, with voice searches initiated on smart speakers and follow-up actions on smartphones?

Absolutely. This will likely parallel, or at least underscore, the burgeoning IoT market. I expect all our devices will be equipped to “talk” to one another, and the consumer will be able to move from device to device without any extra effort.

Q: Is it possible that the use cases that we’re seeing today (e.g., content consumption, smart home control, music, etc.) are the use cases that will prevail and these devices will not become a major marketing channel?

The answer really isn’t black and white, and it will depend on how the smart speaker vendors embrace and activate their partner network. Right now, the barrier is viewing them as competition, rather than a channel.

Q: Any final thoughts? 

We’re still in the very early days of voice engagement, but rapid consumer adoption and technology advancements will give marketers a compelling reason to get into the game soon enough. Preparing for this future today will allow you to master engagement on a valuable touchpoint long before your competitors do.

The post Why one marketer thinks smart speakers have their work cut out for them appeared first on Marketing Land.

from Marketing Land https://ift.tt/2POVz93

[hellosaltysaladcollectionstuff]

“KATHY, BY WHICH I mean I, was getting married,” Olivia Laing writes. “Kathy, by which I mean I, had just got off a plane from New York.”

Known for her nonfiction, Olivia Laing has explored whether loneliness was inherent in creativity, the connection between writers and alcoholism, and walked the length of the River Ouse in which Virginia Woolf drowned herself in 1941. Crudo is her first work of fiction, written over seven weeks “in real time,” keeping pace with the fast-changing nature of the modern news cycle as events unfolded online.

Who is the protagonist? From the beginning, Laing is cagey. We’re in the head of a writer who may or may not be Kathy Acker. Though the punk troubadour of postmodernism died in 1997 from complications relating to breast cancer, Laing imagines Acker aged 40 in 2017. She’s living between America and the United Kingdom, on the precipice of getting married for the first time to a man 29 years her senior. She’s obsessed with Twitter and rattled by commitment.

There certainly is a lot of Acker in there. There are references to Great Expectations, Blood and Guts in High School, her Upper East Side upbringing, her “years in a strip joint in Times Square […] releasing her flat little fried-egg tits into the eyes of the world,” her breast cancer-induced double mastectomy. Centering the novel on Acker at all may seem like an odd choice if you’re unfamiliar with her own practice of pinching the lives of figures like Toulouse Lautrec, Don Quixote, and Pier Paolo Pasolini. Yet there’s a healthy dose of Laing, too. After all, she is the “poster girl for female solitude.” She also wore Isabel Marant to be married the poet Ian Patterson, whose first marriage was to the “famous writer” Jenny Diski. Like her fictional Kathy, Laing also “insisted on Maria Callas because she didn’t operate via understatement” for her wedding ceremony. Kathy and her husband “talked about Crete,” for their honeymoon, and a glance at Laing’s Instagram will reveal her own honeymoon’s rocky beaches and turquoise Grecian seas. On the day of her wedding, Kathy arranges “a china platter that had once belonged to Doris Lessing,” an allusion to Diski, who was taken in by Lessing when she was 15 years old. Blending these two individuals, Laing floats between third and first person, seemingly unable to settle on a pronoun that suits her purposes.

Inspired, or perhaps horrified, by the current events of summer 2017, Laing began writing as an escape from another project. This escape quickly took form, walking the line between fiction and reality. This line is becoming ever blurrier. Crudo stands alongside Sheila Heti’s Motherhood, Rachel Cusk’s Kudos, and Karl Ove Knausgaard’s The End, the final installment of My Struggle. And those are just a few standout examples of autofiction published this year. Even the term autofiction feels somewhat murky — just as subjective as the form it’s trying to clarify. Coined by French novelist Serge Doubrovsky in Fils, published in 1977, autofiction has a loose definition as “fiction, of events and facts strictly real,” while he argues that the main distinction between autofiction and autobiography is that “autobiography is a privilege reserved for the important people of this world, at the end of their lives, in a refined style.”

But potential lawsuits aside, where do we draw the line between what can safely be classified as fiction and what qualifies as autofiction? Technically there is no magic formula balancing fact and fiction until we reach an artistic equilibrium. Though false claims of veracity have had powerful consequences, as a quick Google search on James Frey or Clifford Irving might tell you, does a bit of truth in fiction really matter? At the opening of Calvin Trillin’s Floater, he gives readers a “Claimer” in place of a disclaimer, revealing that “the character of Andy Wolferman is based on John Gregory Dunne, though it tends to flatter. The other characters are fictional.” Sweetbitter novelist Stephanie Danler has been often asked whether there was a real Jake — her agent is still looking for him. Perhaps with Crudo, this distinction is more cut and dry. Kathy Acker remains within our cultural consciousness with her cult classic Blood and Guts in High School reissued as well as Chris Kraus’s After Kathy Acker: A Biography hitting shelves in 2017.

While it might be hyperbole to suggest that current events and modern life act as the catalyst — especially considering the long history of authors cribbing from their own lives — it is interesting that there’s less artifice in masking the aspects they’ve borrowed. There seems to be a direct correlation with social media’s practice of posting curated snippets, arguably blending our lives into a fictive narrative, and the rise of autofiction. We’re already primed. Even our news is fake now. With Crudo, Laing appropriates Twitter’s trademark intonation, writing in a flippant and conversational voice, concise to the point of discarding nonessential punctuation. The novel feels cathartic, written in the breathless rush of a Twitter thread. Even Laing’s choice to juxtapose images of Kathy’s upscale Tuscan holiday in Val d’Orcia alongside the mounting horror of the news cycle portrays the experience of scrolling.

Trump is never far behind. His asinine antics are reported through direct quotes from his Twitter feed. One stunning example of his hubris forms the epigraph and tells the reader exactly what kind of novel Crudo will be: “The cheap 12 inch sq. marble tiles behind speaker at UN always bothered me. I will replace with beautiful large marble slabs if they ask me.” As we read, Grenfell Tower burns; Trump fires Comey, “trashtalk[s] the FailingNewYorkTimes,” and provokes North Korea; Neo-Nazis with their “disgusting putrid horror-faces, Halloween mask America” march through Charlottesville, and people suggest that Holocaust “was a narrative that got fixed.” A start-up called Bodega aims to replace mom-and-pop shops with their glorified vending machines. “Twitter’s ABLAZE gurl,” a friend texts Kathy.

Yet current events are contrasted against quotidian life, which for Kathy means her impending nuptials — and her mounting anxiety over her relationship. As her wedding date approaches, she marks the days and hours like some kind of countdown to detonation. She is uncertain if she can commit to a single person or even a single place. She contemplates the practicality of rotating among three or four residences, as “she was happiest on her travels, like a clockwork toy, maybe happiest unpacking or booking a train ticket.”

Kathy also considers her “abnormal talent for withholding, as if she’d finally become one of the many men she’d chased across Berlin, London, San Diego.” One such man replies to her casual email as if she’d been hounding him relentlessly. “Disappearing now,” he wrote, ending their conversation. “I’m IN ANOTHER COUNTRY,” she shouts at her husband, appalled by his power play. “I HAVE ALREADY DISAPPEARED. Why does he always try and OUT-DISAPPEAR ME.” With the exception of her husband, her relationships are unequal, emotional “withholding” becomes the refrain. Whether it is acted out by ex-boyfriends, elusive sleep on a muggy night, or Kathy’s own behavior, withholding leaves her wholly unprepared for the compromise and tenderness of marriage. It becomes clear that Kathy “liked liars and evasive people, she liked seeing what they’d say, she liked being continually shocked surprised disappointed by the way they were never where she thought they’d be.” Even her affinity for living alone is a hurdle to overcome, but her love for her husband cracks her open like the crabs they smash to bits with an Ikea hammer over dinner, sifting through the shells for the meat. Waiting to board a flight, she realizes that she’d never really loved anyone, never mastered the art of opening herself up before. Travel can act as an escape hatch, but love can’t be tethered to a specific geographic pinpoint. No, “she was in [the world] now, she was boarding, there was nowhere to hide.”

¤

Lauren Sarazen is currently pursuing a master’s in literature at Université Sorbonne Nouvelle. She has contributed articles for publications such as Broadly, LensCulture, and Paste Magazine.

The post Crudo, She Tweeted: Olivia Laing’s “Crudo” appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

from Los Angeles Review of Books https://ift.tt/2qZ7Cqz

[the-record-columns]

July 25, 2018: Columns

Christmas in July on Hinshaw  Street...

                                      Calvin and Coleen Hayes

By KEN WELBORN Record Publisher

To have known Coleen Fairchild Hayes was to love her.  

Because I was a kid growing up on Hinshaw Street in North Wilkesboro, among the many blessings that brought me, was getting to know Coleen and her husband (eventually) Calvin Hayes.  Those two people thought the world of each other, but consistently put other peoples needs in front of their own--all their lives.  

They were both school teachers and, while they never had children of their own, they were the de facto family to uncounted children at the Mount Pleasant Elementary School (Coleen), and the Mulberry Elementary School (Calvin), and to all of the great unwashed kids who lived on Hinshaw Street and, of course, any child who attended the Hinshaw Street Baptist Church.

For years whenever their names would come up, the conversation would often get around to the fact that they had been dating for many, many years--but had not married.  The assumption of many was that their parents didn't approve or didn't like one or the other of them, but nothing could have been further from the truth.  The fact is that Colleen and Calvin made the conscious decision to take care of their aged parents  as long as they lived, and then, and only then, would they make a permanent life together.

Theirs really is a love story for the ages.

 Coleen was born in 1932 and lived in the Mt. Pleasant community.  Her family ran a mill until she was about 12 years old when her Dad bought a home in North Wilkesboro off Duncan Street with about 14 acres of land.  Coleen attended the North Wilkesboro High School on E Street and in 1952 graduated from Pfeiffer Junior College in 1952.

Coleen had always wanted to be a flight attendant but her father didn't want her to do so, and she decided to settle on a career as a nurse.  After she graduated from Pfeiffer College, however, she was soon contacted by the then Superintendent of Schools C. B. Eller, and he persuaded her to take a temporary job teaching school at Mount Pleasant Elementary as a second grade teacher. 

The rest, as we all like to say, is history.  She loved being a teacher, she loved the children, and they loved her, and her "temporary position" became quite permanent and she taught school for 40 years. 

Whenever the names of Calvin and Coleen Hayes are brought up, it doesn't take long to find someone whose life was touched for the better by these two folks who took human kindness to another level.  The were both faithful members of the Hinshaw Street Baptist Church as long as they lived.  Calvin died several years ago, and when Coleen died on Feb. 12, 2018, she left her entire estate to the church she and Calvin loved so much to be used to pay off the mortgage on the new sanctuary. 

      It is to this end that the big Christmas in July Sale is being held this Friday and Saturday.  Coleen had a Christmas tree in every room and decorated her home for the holidays with an unbelievable eye for beauty and detail. Clearly you will be selecting from an incredible array of wonderful decorations which were bought and handled with the love and care of a  wonderfully kind woman who was a source of encouragement to everyone she met.

    Coleen Fairchild Hayes was truly a saint on this earth and we are all better for having known her.

  Christmas in July Decorations Sale

HInshaw Street Baptist Church

1105 Hinshaw Street

North Wilkesboro NC

Estate Sale of Christmas Items

Friday and Saturday, July 27 & 28

8 am till 2 pm each day in the lower Fellowship Hall

All proceeds go toward the building fund.

  Under construction

By LAURA WELBORN

Life is a mess.  A good plan lasts about 30 seconds then your day gallops off in a different direction, never to return to the plan. You end the day thinking you have accomplished very little.

How often do we doubt our path when things go wrong?  We are all averse to failure, but the reality is that our vision of failure should not be to prevent risk but to recover when failures occur.  Ultimately it is like construction.  I have a friend who is having a pool house built and everything that can go wrong has gone wrong.  It is so frustrating she is threatening not to open the pool this year. In the end the pool will open and all will look great.  Let me repeat: life is a mess! And that’s okay! Life is always ”under construction,” with all the mess, delays and mistakes (big and small) that go along with the process.

Often, we get caught up in the struggle of having a schedule and when things go off schedule we get anxious and want to give up.  What if we looked at the progress made versus the “messy place” we are in the moment? Can we trust the process, trust the messy places and keep building our foundation so that the building will be strong?

Too often people overestimate the significance of one big defining moment and underestimate the value of making good decisions daily. Most of the results in your life — positive and negative— are the result of many small decisions made over time. It's not about where you are now, it's where you are going!  

Most of my work involves helping people develop a plan of action. I always start off by saying the plan will not go like you think it will, changes will be made but the result of where you want to go will remain the same.  Part of getting to the end is the small things we do each day- rituals or habits that keep us focused on the destination or vision we have.   What is a ritual? Lots of things: five minutes of sitting quietly in meditation or 10 minutes of yoga or a few minutes set aside each day for reading a good book.  

Think about how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back everything is different? That’s the power of daily rituals. Think about your rituals — the little things you do every day that occupy your attention and energy.  Regardless of your unique talents, knowledge, and life circumstances, or how you personally define success, you don’t suddenly become successful.  You become successful — you become an expert — over time based on your rituals.

Marc and Angel Hack Life blog site three guidelines that are critical to making your rituals manageable: start with one ritual, make it small, and maintain it for at least sixty days: Focus on one (and only one) positive change at a time.  Implement one positive change and make it a ritual for a month before considering adding to it or starting a second.  Only build upon your ritual if you are successful; otherwise stay with it until it feels like second nature.  Keep your ritual small to start.  Start with a daily ritual that lasts ten minutes or less.  If you feel strong resistance and fail at ten minutes, drop it to five or even three minutes, and then do it for a full month before adding more time.  Remember that establishing a ritual takes time.  You need sixty days for a new ritual to become a part of your life.  

Your daily rituals literally make or break you, gradually. Nothing will change with your trajectory — you will experience little growth — unless you make daily rituals that reinforce what you hope to achieve.  

Where’s PETA?

By EARL COX

Special to The Record

The unrest at the Gaza border continues under any guise to justify demonstrations and rioting by the Palestinians. At first the riots were claimed to be for ‘the right of return.’ Afterward they were said to be in protest of the move of the U.S. Embassy to Jerusalem, Israel. Now it has advanced to ‘breaking down the fence’ along Israel’s southern border.  From the onset his unrest has been incited by the terror organization known as Hamas which is also the official government of the Palestinian people living in Gaza. Hamas is encouraging their people to come to the fence to be martyred (killed) “until Jerusalem is liberated." But Hamas is not acting alone.  Iran has been dutiful in prompting additional incitement by covertly providing Hamas with additional weapons to add to their already full arsenal of missiles.

Israel is now contending with a new form of weaponry called kite and balloon-terrorism.  In fact, Hamas has formed an entire battalion dedicated to producing Molotov cocktails and formulating melting materials which sail on the wind over the border fence dripping fire all along their path igniting dry fields.  This new balloon-terrorism has caused hundreds of fires, forty in just one day alone.  Burning crops are bad enough for Israel but these fires are also wreaking havoc by melting the underground irrigation systems.   Within the past few days, the Palestinians have elevated their evil minds to a new level of darkness.  All animal rights activists and particularly PETA should take notice here.  Hamas is now tying dynamite to the legs of captured birds (Falcons) and causing them to fly over the border fence. Once on the Israeli side of the fence, Hamas is blowing these birds to pieces causing destruction and horror. Not that long ago Hamas strapped dynamite to a donkey and sent it walking toward a group of IDF soldiers.  When it got close enough, Hamas detonated the explosives killing the donkey but thankfully no soldiers.  If the U.N. is not concerned about innocent Israelis being terrorized, perhaps they will take notice of terrorized wildlife and do something to stop this monstrous evil.  If the shoe had been on the other hoof and it was Israel using animals in such a cruel way, PETA and other animal rights groups would already have Israel’s head on the world’s chopping block.  

In a recent interview at the Gaza border I spoke with a member of a kibbutz which owns fields ripe with a harvest of wheat. During that interview I learned that drones carrying explosives and other incendiary devices are being flown from Gaza in an attempt to reach farms fields farther inside Israeli territory. 

 As resilient as Israelis are, the constant turmoil and bombardment by rockets, Palestinian infiltrators and kidnappers building and using terror tunnels, explosives tied to donkeys and birds and incendiary devices attached to kites and drones, all are taking a physical and psychological toll on the young and old alike.  Rarely, if ever, will you read about any of this in mainstream media reports so I thought to describe a bit of what life is like for Israelis living along the Gaza border.  In case you are wondering why they don't just pack up and move, it’s because vacating their homes and the land will only make way for the terrorists to move closer further infiltrating in to Israeli territory.  Israelis living in the south are truly pioneers and they are the first line of defense helping to protect Israel from terrorist invaders.  

On my last trip to Israel which ended two weeks ago I, along with members of my Israel Always team, had the opportunity to visit with a friend who lives in Sderot in the south of Israel. This tiny Israeli town is located close to Gaza and has suffered more than 10,000 rockets raining down on its people and land since the start of the first Intifada … 300 rockets landed recently in just three days. To give you a perspective, Sderot is relative in size to Wilkesboro and North Wilkesboro combined. Together we sat on my friend's patio enjoying fresh fruit picked from his garden, homemade pastry and delightfully cold minted water for refreshment. As we sat discussing our families and world affairs, our ears were constantly tuned for the warning siren alerting us to incoming rockets and our minds were cognizant of the path we would run to reach the nearest bomb shelter. Observing this contrast between the appearance of calm and the turmoil brewing just below the surface reminded me of a duck gliding across the water.  On the top the duck seems restful and at ease but just below the surface his little legs are paddling like a well-oiled race car. Sitting with my friend on his patio felt like we were waiting for the proverbial "calm before the storm” which is always on its way at any minute.   My return to the States was brief. As I write this I am back in Israel.  A cease-fire has been in force for the past two days which apparently was broken last night.  No less than two dozen rockets had been fired into southern and northern Israel overnight. There is no telling what today holds.  Few can understand the trauma and torment the people of Israel must face on a daily basis. Many ask what they can do.  Please contact your congressmen and senators telling them you expect them to stand with Israel and the Jewish people.  Contact the White House and tell President Trump that you appreciate his support for Israel and that you want to see pressure put on the U.N. to stop treating Israel unfairly holding them to a higher and different standard than any other country in the world.  If the Palestinians want a state of their own, they must first prove that they are able to govern civilly and live in peace with Israel and value life, all life, more than they value death.    

A nice day Journey

By CARL WHITE

Life in the Carolinas

It has been a good week and Thursday was especially enjoyable. I had the opportunity to spend much of the day with friend, David Taylor who is visiting his east coast family in the Carolinas while his Manhattan apartment awaits his return after a month or so of travel.

I ask David what he would like to see, and his answer was one that I immediately understood. He said, “Anything, I love the journey” to which I said, left or right? Left was the answer and that’s the way we started our day's journey. Our starting point was Purlear, NC.

We were soon on highway 16 N and made our way up the winding mountain road with relaxing vistas along the way. As we were getting closer to Jefferson NC, I ask David if he had ever seen the Ben Long Frescos. He had not, so our first stop was at Holy Trinity Episcopal Church in Glendale Springs, NC.

We had a casual self-guided tour of the grounds, and then we went inside, and for the first time, David saw “The Last Supper” fresco by Ben Long. It is reported that approximately 50,000 people annually make that thought-provoking stop. There are many exciting stories about Ben Long, his students and the high level of interest in his fresco paintings at both Holy Trinity and St. Mary’s in West Jefferson.  

After picture taking and conversation with others who had stopped just as we had, it was time to continue our journey. Our next stop would be at the Ashe County Cheese Factory in West Jefferson. These folks started making cheese in 1930 and have made a lot of people happy over the years, including dairy farmers and eaters of the cheese and butter produced at the cheese factory.

As it turns out, David has a cheese tooth, so I knew this would be a tasty stop on our journey. I know you can get just about any kind of cheese you want in Manhattan; however, it would not be common to find it within a few hundred feet from where it is produced. The sample bar had some of the best cheeses available including a delightful black label aged cheese that is more than a little good. Upon tasting David’s smile and extended hand for a second sample reviled he appreciation and approval.

We made our selections and stopped by the car to secure our treats in a small travel cooler. We were then off to find a place for a proper meal. As we walked down the street, we stopped and spoke with locals about restaurant recommendations. I then spotted the office of the local newspaper, the Ashe Post and Times. We went in and met some friendly people who know more than a little about word usage. They were kind enough to give a variety of recommendations on where we may want to eat. However, being the good reporters, they are, the information was shared with minimal personal commentary.

So down the street, we went and once at the corner of the decision, I looked at David and said, left or right. We went right and ended up at The Log Cabin restaurant. A non-assuming place with country cooking and good mountain southern hospitality.

We choose our table and soon realized that we were going to have the opportunity to enjoy more than a meal. A music in the round setup was getting underway, and I could tell that it was going to be a Bluegrass Jam and sure enough it was.

The group Jest Country and other friends come together every Thursday and Friday for a Bluegrass Jam. I noticed that many of the participants were veterans and the wall behind them was dedicated to honoring local veterans who have served over the years.  I asked about the group's name, Sandy Johnson said that’s simple, we’re jest country folk. So, there we set, me, my friend from far away and local toe-tapping people. I felt at home. We had good food, friendly people, smooth music and a feeling that things were just fine.

As we walked away, we noticed a stature on the hillside with a pathway leading to the library. Midway up the hill we stopped for more pictures and rested on a perfectly positioned bench. We reflected on the day, David shared that it was one of the best days he has had in a long time.

As I thought about David’s words, I was reminded that we are indeed fortunate in the Carolinas.

We are often the producers of some of the best days in the lives of a lot of people, including our own.

Which way…left or right?

 You can email Carl at Carl@lifeinthecarolinas.com Carl White is the executive producer and host of the award winning syndicated TV show Carl White’s Life In the Carolinas. The weekly show is now in its seventh year of syndication and can be seen in the Charlotte viewing market on WJZY Fox 46 Saturdays at noon. For more on the show visit  www.lifeinthecarolinas.com You can also catch episodes of Life In The Carolinas on Amazon Prime