#bob sheldon they could never make me like you

[eviesqueezie]

bob sheldon, years and years ago, playing football and running around the park as his mother shouts for him to wear a coat.

bob sheldon, realising life isn’t all that cracked up to be, watching his parents scream and fight every night before bed.

bob sheldon and his bad actions, defining him as a bad person and mirroring his bad personality.

bob sheldon, dying alone on the wet concrete of the park he once played in. dying alone as a person his mother would have hated. dying alone as a child.

[curlyshepardconfirmed]

post stuff abt making the shepards redeemable and society bats an eye but post stuff abt Bob being my pookie and society society thinks I'm excusing him as a person and trying to excuse all his actions

[deim0sdread]

Low key blame Bob for this guys because who tf jumps literal kids over talking to a girl. Like that one line in the musical “Bob was not a jealous man” bsffr HE JUMPED KIDS OVER A CONVERSATION

outsiders fans try not to be misogynistic challenge level impossible

[damthosefandoms]

my life has changed in oh so many ways

(ao3 link)

Summary:

"You aren’t stupid. You just learn different than everybody else. You don’t have to do this.”

He stares at her. Maybe she is still kinda nice. But nice girls don’t date guys like Bob Sheldon who've picked on him for a decade now because sometimes he talks funny and because he can’t read or write or do anything like people his age are supposed to, on top of everything else that comes with being a greaser.

Guys like Bob Sheldon who do nothing but get drunk and beat on poor kids like Johnny Cade until they aren’t themselves anymore and never will be again.

"It just ain't fair you never got any help!"

“You told me you wanted to be a teacher here when you grow up, Sodapop. But if you want to be a teacher you have to work! What do you think would happen if I came to school everyday and did nothing?”

“I ‘unno.”

“I’d get fired! So if I were you, I’d pick up that pencil and start writing.”

Soda puts his head down on his desk and cries. His teacher just sighs and walks away. She’s giving up on him just like everyone else.

He’s a lost cause.

He just wanted help.

Soda slams the door to their dad’s old truck and tries to control his breathing. He waits for Darry to drive off, to drop Ponyboy at the middle school, where their genius little brother only has one month left of seventh grade. Soda has what feels like centuries left of tenth; but the piece of paper hidden in his sorry excuse for a backpack will change that.

Steve jogs up to him and goes, “You remember it today?”

“I shoved it under my pillow and couldn’t sleep all night ‘cause of it. Yeah, I remembered it.”

“They gonna take it covered in drool?”

Soda swings at him, but Steve just dodges and switches to walk on his other side. They pause in front of the doors, so Soda can get the withdrawal form out.

The main entrance to Will Rogers High School is intimidating, but not as intimidating as what lies beyond the doors. Most kids—greasers and socs alike—don’t give it a second thought as they walk in every morning, but Sodapop Curtis isn’t most kids, and the paper in his hand proves it.

He’s never even driven by this place without wanting to throw up.

“Seriously, man. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. I know Darry’ll kill you, but we talked about this, we all got your back and Two-Bit or me are gonna drive ya to school every day and you can just walk to the DX for work, say you’re working just part time every afternoon now, he’ll never—”

“It ain’t Darry I’m worried about. He’ll be mad as the day is long, I don’t give a damn. Dad gave the okay, it ain’t up to Darrel at all. Never was. But Pony’s gonna take it hard and I can’t stand that.”

Soda gives it three classes before he feels sick to his stomach. He’s got the form folded up in the pocket of his dad’s favorite flannel, the same one he’s worn practically every day since the accident. Darry’s always getting on him about giving it a rest and wearing something else—“Everyone knows we’re poor! No need to make them think we don’t wash our damn clothes!”—but to Soda it’s like a security blanket. It’s also one the few shirts he has that don’t make him want to rip his skin off while wearing it. And, you know, his dad always cut the tags off.

He doesn’t even ask his history teacher to let him use the bathroom, just gets up and leaves. He’s told to sit down but he doesn’t because he’s a greaser and nobody expects obedience from him, anyway. He doesn’t look back as he walks out, just reaches into his pocket and takes out the form. It’s the only piece of paper he’s ever put in there without crumpling. He absent-mindedly hums a little tune while he walks—“Help!” by the Beatles, which is one of his favorite songs. It’s a few years old but he heard it on the radio again recently and it’s catchy, not that he could ever admit that to any of his east side buddies—and he unfolds the form. He wants to read through it one more time before he hands it in.

He knows what it says in theory, but there’s so many words on there, and the font is so small that his eyes kind of glaze over, but he keeps his eyes glued to the page while he walks.

Until he collides with something and it flies out of his hands. He looks up and there’s a girl in front of him—ohgodit’sCherry—and he immediately goes to help her up. She looks at him for a second, eyes wide and he thinks maybe her cheeks might be as red as his are her hair, but she ignores his hand, so instead he goes to pick up her books for her.

“Sorry,” Soda mumbles, somehow briefly forgetting that he’s not supposed to be saying stuff like that to soc girls, he’s got a reputation to uphold, but glory, his Mama taught him manners and he’d be damned if he didn’t use them. And deep down he knows Cherry isn’t like the other soc girls because she was nice to him once in first grade and he’s never ever forgotten it.

He nearly shudders at the memory. The words “consonant digraph” are not ones he remembers anymore, all these years later, but way, way back when he was learning them he wanted to cry at the mention of it.

He’s brought back to first grade. It’s sometime in the beginning half of the year, and they’re doing some cut-and-glue activity with partners. He’s been paired with Sherri Valance because he’s always paired with her. They sit next to each other because their class sits in alphabetical order by first name, and they always do partner work with their neighbors.

There’s muffled yelling down the hall and another first-grade teacher pokes her head in and asks for backup, ‘cause one of her problem students is throwing chairs. Their teacher tells them she’ll be right back and heads out. Soda hears somebody who wasn’t in his class last year mutter to their friend, “Dallas, probably.” They see the principal speed-walking down the hall through the doorway, and then everyone loses interest and starts to get to work.

Sherri taps Soda on the shoulder.

“Can you write our names for me?” she says. “I’m going to go get scissors and stuff.”

She gets up and Soda looks at her nametag. He takes a whole minute to decode it. Sherri.

Goddamn digraphs. /sh/ and /ch/ are his worst enemies lately, and she’s got one of them in her name. He knows it’s real sad that he can barely tell which one. He feels butterflies in his stomach as he picks up his pencil. In the best possible handwriting he can muster up—writes her name. He is pretty sure he wrote it correctly, tries to read it aloud, and thinks he’s doing well until one of the kids at the desk pair behind him, Randy Adderson, laughs.

“What’d you just say?”

Soda is starting to understand now why Darry keeps telling him to stay away from the kids with the nice backpacks and brand-name shoes.

“You’re copying off her nametag and you still spelled it wrong?” Randy sneers, and his friend Bob Sheldon looks over too, and starts to grin. Soda’s butterflies turn into rocks.

“I just wrote her name. Sherri.”

But his mouth does that thing again where the word doesn’t sound quite right coming out of his mouth as it did in his head and he can feel his cheeks heating up. That always happens. Bob and Randy and their friends always make fun of him for it, too. He tries to make out the letters he wrote on the paper.

He did write a y instead of an i. And his S is kinda weird-looking, too.

Oh. He didn’t mean to do that. His pencil must’ve moved on its own again like it always does when his brain gets jumbled.

“Cherry, you said Cherry! Her name is Sherri! An’ I think you wrote it too, but who knows, I can’t read that at all!” Bob jeers at him loudly, and the whole class is starting to look over. Chet Baker, the kid who mentioned Dallas earlier, is laughing too, and he whispers something into the ear of his partner. Soon everyone is staring at him, and Soda feels like sinking into the floor. Bob revels in the glory of it all.

“Leave it to dumb ol’ Sodapop to mess it all up!”

The classroom explodes into laughter, like that was the greatest insult of all time and not some lame comment from little kid.

“I like it, actually,” a voice says suddenly and Soda thinks for a second it’s an angel come down to earth. But it’s just Sherri, and she’s handing Soda a glue stick.

“Cherry. I love that. It’s going to be my new nickname.”

She elbows him gently and smiles at him. Her eyes are so green. Soda thinks green eyes are his favorite; Cherry has green eyes, and so do both of his brothers and his dad. That’s almost all of his favorite people on Earth, except for his mom. Her eyes are brown, like his own.

“I really like it, Soda.”

He really likes it too. Soda wishes he could’ve stayed in first grade forever, sometimes, because back then Cherry always stood up for him and now…

Now they’re sixteen and when he goes to hand Cherry her books, she seems to come back to reality. Her face contorts into something angry, or maybe more defensive, as she snaps, “I don’t need your help, grease. Helping me pick up my books like some wannabe-gentleman… don’t you have a girl, anyway?”

He does. Sandy’s somewhere one floor up in English right now reading some Shakespearean tragedy about star-crossed lovers, and he hasn’t told her he’s dropping out yet, either. He loves—really loves—three people left in the world, two of them are his brothers and one, he thinks, is Sandy, and they’re the only ones of the people he really cares about that he hasn’t told about his plan.

Now that his parents are dead, they’re the only people left he’s truly terrified of disappointing. They’re the only people he ever talk to about his problems.

The only people he felt he could ever ask for help. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t anymore.

So why does it bother him so much when he has to ask Cherry Valance to move her foot because she's standing on a paper that might honestly be his lifeline?

He points it out to her and she goes, “Oh,” and picks it up for him. Even brushes the dust off. Soda watches her eyes scan the top of the paper before his face turns even more red and he has to rip it from her hand.

“You didn’t see shit, soc,” he snaps, and maybe it’s mean and out of character for the ever-so-charming Sodapop Curtis that is known to walk these halls, but he’s embarrassed. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut at the face Cherry’s making and his stomach somehow hurts even more.

Not hurts. He’s got butterflies.

He’s in love with Sandy though, and she loves him back, and who gives a damn if he’s been practically ignoring Cherry for a decade now. Who gives a damn if she was the only person from the entire west side of Tulsa to show up at his parents’ funeral. She’s always gone to their church and it was right after the regular Sunday morning service and it doesn’t mean shit. Even if he didn’t have a box under his bed he’s been filling with cash for a ring to marry Sandy one day, Cherry wouldn’t matter, because she’s a soc and he’s a greaser and he might not be in even the average level English class like Sandy is, but Soda asked his mom about it once back when Darry was in sophomore year and was reading it and so he knows how Romeo & Juliet ends.

Soda’s in love with Sandy. She loves him back. He flips the collar of his flannel up because he’s a greaser and he’s gotta look tuff or tough or whatever and keeps walking.

“Sodapop!” Cherry calls, and he shouldn’t turn around but there’s classes going on right now and no one’s watching them.

“What?”

“I just—you aren’t stupid. You just learn different than everybody else. You don’t have to do this.”

He stares at her. Maybe she is still kinda nice. But nice girls don’t date guys like Bob Sheldon who’ve picked on him for a decade now because sometimes he talks funny and because he can’t read or write or do anything like people his age are supposed to, on top of everything else that comes with being a greaser.

Guys like Bob Sheldon who do nothing but get drunk and beat on poor kids like Johnny Cade until they aren’t themselves anymore and never will be again.

“School just ain’t going to be the same without you brightening up everyone’s day, Soda,” Cherry calls after him, but he pushes through the door to the stairwell and pretends her words aren’t eating him alive.

“It just ain’t fair you never got any help!”

He wanted to be a teacher once. So did his mom, once upon a time, that meant college, and she had no money and had a baby at eighteen, so she never even had a shot of working in a daycare. And Soda’s dumb and nobody wants a dumb teacher, so he’s never going to be able to make a difference in the lives of kids like him.

Cherry’s right, he never got any help. That’s why he wanted to be the one to help the next generation. But it’s not going to happen.

She stood up for him once. She used to check his work for him before he handed it in. She would whisper-read when they were supposed to be reading silently so he’d understand the passage. They just can’t talk about it anymore because they grew up.

There aren’t many things he’ll miss about Will Rogers High School, but Cherry Valance is admittedly going to be one of them.

Another thing he won’t miss—the grouchy secretary he’s got to hand in the form to. When he gets to the office she gives him a nasty look that just screams get back to class, hood! or maybe something more along the lines of what’s this idiot doing here? He blow in on the way to stupid town?

…Maybe it’s an oh great, another greasy little troublemaker sent to the office.

Clearly that’s the right one, because the first thing she says is “What’d you do? I ain’t gotten a call up or nothin’.”

“I have this withdrawal form to hand in. I talked to our case worker with social services, she says she confirmed with you guys here that my dad’s signature should still be good enough even though he…?”

She swipes the form out of his hands and glances over it. “I’ll have the principal look at it. Get back to class.”

Soda turns, fully intent on finding his backpack and then walking out a side door somewhere instead, and he’s still going to—but just as he’s walking out someone calls his name. He looks back over his shoulder and the principal has stepped out of his office.

“Mr. Curtis, can you do me a favor?” He asks, and Soda nods, just hoping it’s not to do with that form.

He’s handed an envelope, but it’s not for him.

To the Parent/Guardian of Ponyboy Michael Curtis, it says on the front. Soda’s confused.

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s an intake form for high school.”

“Pony’s in seventh grade. There’s a month left of school.”

“Yes, and his test scores are like nothing we’ve ever seen. He’s going to be coming here next year.”

“He’s in seventh grade. Sir, he never even hands in his homework on time! How’s he jumping ahead to ninth?”

“Mr. Curtis, please, just deliver that letter, would you? Saves me the trouble of having to mail it myself. Glory knows you of all people should understand not wanting to waste money on a stamp.”

The butterflies in Soda’s stomach from earlier turn to rocks and he feels like he’s being weighed down again. “I understand just fine, sir.”

He walks back to class, grabs his backpack and walks all the way home.

That night Darry talks about throwing a party for their little brother and Soda has to grin and bear it, because he’s honestly jealous as all hell. He’ll never admit it, though, because he’s as jealous as he is proud of Ponyboy.

But now he’s never going to be able to tell them he dropped out.

Not when Pony’s immediate reaction to the letter is “I get to go school with Soda next year?”

(He then adds, “and Johnny?” but Soda missed that part because he was too busy wallowing in his own guilt.)

Ponyboy’s going to hate this, he thinks the world and more of Soda and he’ll probably find a way to blame Darry for it. But it’s not Darry’s fault, it isn’t their parents’ fault or anybody’s except Soda’s brain for not working like it should. He thinks if his brothers fight tonight he’ll either lose it and kill them both or never stop crying, so he doesn’t tell them that night.

He doesn’t tell them for a month, not until it’s the last week of school and it’s pouring rain and Darry’s roofing job gets canceled for the day. He comes home early to find Soda sitting on the couch watching cartoons because it’s too early to head out to the DX. The clothes he left the house in that morning for school are drying on the radiator and Soda’s nose is red and Darry has to put the worry he’s going to get sick from walking home in the rain aside.

Ponyboy thinks Darry didn’t yell at Soda for dropping out. Well, he wasn’t home for the fallout.

For the “I know school is hard for you. If you really needed a day off, little buddy, you coulda told me instead of skipping. I’ll go call the school now and say you’re sick.”

And the “Sodapop Patrick, what the hell do they mean you ain’t been enrolled at Will Rogers for a month now?”

Or the horrible silence as Darry has to drive Soda to the DX for work in the pouring rain just so whatever cold he definitely caught that morning won’t get worse before it even starts.

No, Ponyboy won’t find out about any of it until he’s back to school shopping in August and jokingly asks Soda if he’s throwing in the towel this year because he’s not buying anything, and Soda casually tells him he’s not going back to school. That working full time at the DX over the summer wasn’t just a summer thing. It doesn’t go over well.

Darry carpools to work on the first day of Pony’s freshman year, because Soda practically begged him to let him have the truck to bring Pony to school alone that morning. Normally the kid would’ve walked, but Soda knows how big of a day this is, and their mom used to always make sure they didn’t have to walk on the first day, not even to the bus stop when they were in grammar school.

They pull up to the curb by the front doors and Soda can see Steve and Two-Bit and Johnny waiting for Ponyboy. He really appreciates Johnny for that. He never goes anywhere in the school that socs go unless there’s a teacher in the room, after he got jumped at the end of the last school year.

It figures he’d show up for Ponyboy, though. If Johnny isn’t with Dally—who’s not there because he got locked up after taking the blame for busting out a bunch of school windows last year even though Two-Bit did that—he’s with Ponyboy. They’re just close like that.

(Actually, Soda’s pretty sure Dally got himself arrested either because he’s simply self-destructive, or so he wouldn’t give himself a chance to kill anybody for what happened to Johnny, but that’s not really the point.)

Soda turns off the engine of the truck and turns to his brother.

“You ready?”

Ponyboy shrugs. He’s chewing on his thumbnail, a nervous habit the three brothers share. Soda gently pushes his arm down, getting Pony’s hand away from his mouth.

“You’re gonna do great, Pony. You might be young but you’re smarter than everybody in there. You’re the smartest guy I know.”

“You know Darry.”

“Darry’s Darry. He’s smart but he’s like—perfect, yknow? He don’t count. And he an’ I both reckon you’re smarter than he’ll ever be. You’re goin’ places, Pony. Really, truly going places. We both know it. You’re on your way up in the world, you’re gonna go so far.”

“People said that about Darry. Look at him now. He’s just a college dro—” Ponyboy cuts himself off and Soda knows why.

“Show ‘em what for, Pony,” he says. “Show ‘em what us Curtises are really made of, okay? Darry gave up his chance for us, but…if anybody’s gonna make it outta this place it’s gonna be you.”

Because Ponyboy was made great things, and Soda wasn’t, and he might still be jealous but his baby brother is going to kick ass in high school.

Soda hugs him and Pony gets out of the truck, and as he starts to walk away, Soda rolls the window down and he calls out:

“Hey, Pony, if you meet a girl named Cherry, tell her I said hi!”

Pony rolls his eyes and waves. Soda laughs to himself as he drives off.

Ponyboy Curtis, talking to a soc girl. Imagine that.

He’s too busy laughing at his own joke to notice Sandy on the sidewalk as he drives past, heading up the steps into the school practically hand-in-hand with a guy who isn’t him.

He does see a girl with auburn hair walking up to school, frowning, and Bob Sheldon’s got an arm around her.

“Great job, Soda! Mrs. Larkin, look how good Sodapop’s doing! He nearly finished the whole worksheet and didn’t give up once!”

“You aren’t stupid. You just learn different than everybody else.”

Soda turns the radio on. “All You Need Is Love” blasts through the speakers. The truck’s windows are down as he heads for the exit of the school’s parking lot.

One head turns.

But Sandy doesn’t like the Beatles.

[socsg1rl]

Am I the only one that feels bad for the socs? In the car, when he goes to talk to Ponyboy, Ponyboy states how randy looked like he wanted to cry but he just didn't want to. I feel like he didn't want to because ponyboy was a greaser and socs are labeled as "too cool" to feel anything. Ponyboy could cry, he could because he isn't labeled as cool. Sure, greasers are labeled as reckless and rebellious but that doesn't mean emotions. Randy didn't want to cry because he wanted to have a tough exterior but ponyboy could see past that since he knew how it was since he lost Dallas and Johnny.

Randy wanted everything to stop so in "That Was Then, This Is Now" he changed to a hippie, who distanced himself from the conflict because he wanted the socs and greasers to stop. He wanted them to stop because he was tired of the violence which was basically useless and to break the cycle of hatred.

I hate people who hate Sherri because she didn't visit Johnny when he was in the hospital. SOME people in the fandom think that she didn't because she just didn't want to but obviously you wouldn't go check on the boy that killed your boyfriend, yes I know that's hard to get in someone's mind.

Sherri is the first one to tell a greaser, who thinks that all socs are bad, that everything is rough all over and basically that socs have it worse, just like greasers with money but socs with feelings.

Last but not least, Bob, the actual antagonist. Robert 'Bob' Sheldon, a soc that's portrayed as tough and aggressive. He's also known for being arrogant, reckless and confrontational. Bob is basically a troubled person who has his own issues with his parents, who don't care what he does. Randy tells ponyboy that basically bob's parents never set any limits which is why he's the way he is.

Bob wanted someone to tell him no, wanting someone to set the limits. He basically wanted someone to care enough to give him a ground to stand on which makes me sad because he didn't get what he wanted, he just got killed due to his reckless behavior and his neglectful parents.

ANDDDD yeah guys.. that's my ramble about the socs that I have deep feelings for. I dnt talk about Marcia since she isn't mentioned much other than she's funny, she's a soc and Sherri's best friend. All I do is yap about the socs, man.

[d8nielaa]

HEYY.. can I pretty please request a KWP story where they have a pretty big fight but the reader is on for cherry ( love emma ) and it's just very angst and KWP just wants to make it up to the reader? PLS, you can write it however

Authors Note: yes ofc anon! we love kwp and ms emma pittman 🩷

Please, forgive me?

Kevin William Paul x fem!reader

*Reader is an understudy for Emma/Cherry Valance

It was a simple weekend performance. At least, that’s what you had thought.

Emma, who plays Cherry Valance in the show, had called out sick, and you, her understudy, had been thrown into the role of Cherry Valance. It was both a dream and a nightmare come true. You’d never performed the role in front of a live audience before, but the adrenaline was undeniable. The show must go on, and here you were, center stage, stepping into Emma’s shoes.

And then there was Kevin.

You had always admired his talent, his intensity. He was perfect as Bob Sheldon. His portrayal of the character was raw, brutal, and magnetic, and you’d never been able to shake the way his presence on stage made your heart race. But today… today everything felt off.

There was tension between you two that you couldn’t ignore. A fight had taken place earlier in the day, an argument that left both of you cold and distant. It had been about the play, about how much time it was taking up, how you were pulling away. You’d argued fiercely, too, about how he didn’t seem to understand how much this meant to you, how you couldn’t just put your dreams aside for him. And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

It wasn’t about Bob Sheldon or Cherry Valance. It wasn’t about the show. It was about you, Kevin, and the chasm between you two that had grown wider and wider until it felt like you couldn’t even breathe in the same room anymore.

The stage was dark, and you sat in the car backstage, feeling the nerves twist in your stomach as the audience waited. Your hands were trembling, but you couldn’t let that show. This was your moment.

You and Kevin hadn’t spoken since the fight. He hadn’t even looked at you during fight and lift call. He’d kept his distance, focusing on his role with cold precision. You couldn’t help but feel that anger in the air between you, the hurt he left behind after the words he’d thrown at you.

The words still stung.

You heard your cue, and everything clicked into place. You could hear the music building, the soft rustle of costumes and the buzz of the audience. Your heart was pounding, but you pushed it all aside. There was no time to think. You couldn’t afford to falter, not now.

Stepping into the spotlight, you were immediately transported into the world of The Outsiders. You were Cherry Valance, standing face-to-face with the tough guys, balancing the role of love, fear, and loyalty.

And there he was.

Kevin, as Bob, a perfect storm of rage and charm. His eyes locked onto yours across the stage, and for a brief moment, the world around you vanished. It was just the two of you. You couldn’t ignore how the tension between you two seemed to hang thick in the air, even now.

Your scene was intense — the moment when Cherry meets Ponyboy at the drive-in. There was no way to escape the chemistry, the fire that burned between the two characters. But between the two of you, the tension was entirely different. It was unspoken, simmering with every word, every movement.

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

You had done it, the show was over and it was now time to go home — but now there was something heavier pressing down on your chest. The feeling that you and Kevin were drifting, no matter how hard you tried to hold on.

Just as you started to walk, you saw him standing near the dressing rooms, leaning against the wall, looking like he was trying to decide whether to approach you or not.

Your stomach twisted in knots. You hadn’t seen him this close since your fight, and the sight of him made your chest tighten with a mix of anger, frustration, and longing.

Kevin cleared his throat and pushed himself off the wall. “Hey,” he said, his voice rough and hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how to start. “Can we… talk?”

You didn’t want to. Not right now. You were exhausted, emotionally drained, but you could see the look in his eyes, the apology buried beneath the surface.

“What do you want, Kevin?” you asked, your voice quieter than you meant it to be, the weight of everything settling on your shoulders.

He winced, the guilt creeping into his features. “I just—look, I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I’ve been a… a jerk.”

You crossed your arms, looking away. “Yeah, you have.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he continued, taking a step closer, his voice almost breaking. “I was just scared. Scared of losing you, scared that maybe I wasn’t… enough for you. And I… I let my pride get in the way.”

You couldn’t stop the lump that formed in your throat at his words. The anger was still there, but it was mixing with something else. Something softer. Something you had been trying to bury.

“You’re enough, Kevin. You always have been,” you whispered, not trusting your voice any louder. “But I need you to understand, I can’t just stop. I can’t just give up everything for us to work.”

He stepped closer, his eyes softening. “I get it now. I should’ve understood that from the beginning. But I was too focused on my own feelings and not on what you needed. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t important.”

Your heart squeezed, but you held firm. “I need this, Kevin. This play, this role, it’s a part of me. You can’t take that away.”

He nodded, his expression serious but full of regret. “I know. I see that now. And I will support you. I promise.”

You swallowed hard. You wanted to believe him, to accept his apology, but there was still a wall between you two. You still couldn’t shake the pain of the words he’d thrown at you in the heat of the moment.

“I don’t know, Kevin,” you murmured. “I want to believe you, I really do. But it’s not just about the play. It’s about… everything. About you and me, and if we can actually make this work.”

He nodded again, taking a deep breath. “I’m willing to fight for it. I’ll fight for us, for you. I can’t promise I’ll always get it right, but I’ll try. I just need you to give me a chance.”

You looked into his eyes, really looked, and saw the sincerity there. For the first time in a while, you could see him. The real Kevin. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

With a quiet sigh, you took a step forward, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay. But you have to meet me halfway, Kev. You can’t just hold me back.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his hand reaching for yours, tentative but hopeful.

And for the first time tonight, you let yourself believe him.

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Authors Note: again not my best work but, what can you do? sending all my love to those who are being affected in the fires..it's a scary thing and I also live close to the hills down in socal

[northernlightalaska]

How they would ask you to prom (part 2!)

WARNING!!! SWEARING<BAD GRAMMAR AND EVEN WORSE SPELLING!

Also gang lines are color coded and bolded!

____________________

Curly

now thank gosh he just got of reform just in time for this! he might have to go back to reform for maybe stealing a thing or two for for you and many hot wring a car for this but hey he hasn't got caught!

"Hey dolly! wait up!"

curly caught up to you as you were taking a walk

"Oh uh hi curly I didn't know they let you out of reform"

"yeah they did I was behaving real good since you know prom season"

"I thought you hated prom?"

"Well uh... oh fuck it will you go to prom with me?"

"oh well uhm sure curly I'd be happy to!"

Y/n smiled and curly handed a gold/sliver bracelet

(Just chose gold or sliver for yourself since idk which one to chose!)

" oh wow this is like super pretty- hey wait a minute did you steal this for me?"

"maybe doll a man don't steal and tell!"

"curly Shepard!"

Angela

Now lets get this strange she ain't asking you! your asking her if you think she'd be that head over heels for you are crazy! JUST KIDDING SHE IS THAT HEAD OVER HEELS FOR YA!

"Hey y/n! Y/N!" Angela whispered yelled since they were at the movies

"Girl hold on!" Y/n put her coke in the cup holder of Angela's car

"whats up?"

"soo you know how like proms coming up right?"

"oh yeah did Bryon ask or did ponyboy?"

"what? ew no I want to ask someone.. and their name starts with a y and their last name ended with an n.."

"oh really who..?"

"oh my god your clueless! Its you will you go with me! You name starts with a Y and your last name is I/n and it ends with an n!"

"Oh yeah I would defiantly prom more if I went with you"

Yeah now suck on that curly! Angela thought taking a sip of y/n's coke

"hey that's my coke!"

Tim

did you only know Tim because him and Dallas catcalled you and your friend yeah... did you still like him and thought he was pretty cute? Yeah... BUT I CAN FIX HIM! (no no you cannot but good try man!)

*whistle*

"damn doll that outfits make ya look pretty good"

"Oh hi Tim thought you were some creep"

Tim put out his cigarette

"you knew it was me huh?"

"yeah"

"anyway so you know how it's like prom season or whatever"

"yeah I know just got a dress last weekend for it"

"Well maybe We should I don't know go together? and we could go back and place afterrr"

"Oh Yeah I'd like to go with you"

"Good wouldn't wanna have to send my gang after your date if you already have one"

"wait what?"

"Oh nothing doll don't worry you pretty head about it"

Marcia

Now what a sweet couple! you guys are gonna be some of the cutest their! oh look its Marcia getting you too some snacks huh and shes writing something on your cup to bad they didn't have glass coke what what is she writing?

"Hey y/n I'm back! sorry about the wait the line was long hers your coke they didn't have those glass bottle ones"

"its okay at least a got a coke- huh whats this writing on it?" y/n turned the coke to see the writing "Will you go to go to prom with me? ps form the girl who got you it"

"oh gosh Marcia I'd love to go with you! I'm so excited!"

"phew thank god! I thought you were gonna say no"

"I would never say no to go to prom with you!"

Sherri (cherry)

You both were hanging out at her house since you had a project

"You know.. I think we'd be the best couple at prom.."

"really I think so too"

Y/n doodled on her paper and cherry blushed

"maybe we should prove that right and go.."

"yeah I'd love to go with you cherry and we can go get some ice cream after!

"yeah I'd love that! I hope they have rocky road or cherry or heck even orange!"

Bob Sheldon

Was the boy kind of an ass? yes.. did you still like him and crush on him?" Yes..

Y/n was patching bob up after he got into a drunken fight with some greaser and lost and was still haft drunk

"hey y/n I think we should go to prom!" He slurred his words

Well drunk saying sober thoughts...

"I'd like to but ask me sober okay?"

Y/n put a band aid on his cut

-⛸-Later when bob sober up-⛸-

"hey y/n"

"yeah?"

"you know how you told me to ask sober?"

"yeah I remember why?"

y/n laughed a little

"well I wanted to ask again"

"yeah sure I'll go with you bob"

"oh cool see you you then"

Randy

You two were driving around just maybe looking for greasers to brother I mean going to get some snacks

"Hey y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"You maybe would wanna go to prom?"

"Yeah sure I'd love to go to you"

"wait really?"

"Yeah really"

Randy smiled and you two keep keep driving around

Randy smiled knowing he'd just prove bob wrong

___________________________

Hi! thank you so much for reading part 2! check my blog for part one with the greasers! (this may not be that correct)

[chefediaboiv]

Clappers

Im gonna keep leaking the secret. The traffic of geeks hits speeds of dumb, no I don't want or wanna give you a lollipop but she likes when I speak in tongues. Telling me to shut the fuck on my freedom of speech on who and why on the breach of my plush fund? Oh no come come. I can lead you to who's holding out for some gum drops, eyes red as the devil's dick; bloodshot. Jay won't even tell silent Bob what's in his glove box, pictures of a dogma. No honor with cheap shots from Wisconsin, thank you Ohio. Every card I drew scary, no hate on your Bible. That's a Dilbert, who's line was a diamond dick and your still hurt. Sure wish any cigarette you had came from the cancer team, that's what you get for not figureing out how to play the tambourine. All this child abuse, you knew better then to raise your hand at me. Now your festering about a little spinal tap, learned a time attack. Then get pissed off that I already know how to take my time with tacs, toe tagged the FM radio hobby as the time ticks. Now somebody is using a pencil to cassette rewind it back but I'm sick. Touch that door and you'll see how much more elaborate I convince. It could take years for a nigga to come up with some timeless shit, just tell him to take his time with. That bit of advice is profound, timeless shit. I struck out an entire team for seven innings, remember what I said bout the crazy man's flexes. I wasn't kidding, repeat is a better answer then lemurism. I've never met so many black people that can't keep a riddim. For a frosted flake, Toby McGuire is a great position and drew uncles Bill for the trouble. Oi, it's no mystery to me why they Jake Gyllenhaal'd her bubble boys, image is more important then the pro ferrets Sara Bellum, you told him some shit that you're actually scared to tell him. My mojo loco and your ex husbands a career felon, they update every time I wipe my ass. He say, she say, he's the shit and I can't smell him. There's no amounts to the fucks I give that I won't tell em. It's over boy with your mud donk, any reason my actual opponents don't show to get mud stomp. A Papai I see era in you rushing to Wilson, for a Pat on the back you better belichick the whole million. Your religion must be Christiana Aguilera trust me your coaches know the rent. I'm not gonna waste words on fools, hold your sense. Your too bitch for my blood, trust me I know the stench. Can you keep up I hear a go home baljeet attack in the distance, castration is what we do to the wimp men. You thought Sheldon was smart I make the big bangs lookalike simplins, your name doesn't get points on this SAT little chitterlins. Looking to buff your GPA, you may wanna put in the effort. King's orders for negating the other way, Sepatown Sa da tay! Go that way. Stool pigeons and what they do, on your ride to badder Babe Ruth's who don't mind the bandito's payday. Remember comic view didn't work out for your laced little JJ, is it gold Dupree. Your a little behind the times, spell check doesn't go with loose leaf. Never seen or heard my talents, play that role loosely. There is no max with no Goofy, Billy Blanks keep the wiz on hold til bacalito learns from smarter people. Great see ya Moana about vitamins, there you go cutting into your time again.

[tulsa-trash]

Can you do dating bob Sheldon headcanons please? 😊 (u can include nsfw if u want)

Dating Bob Sheldon Headcanons

WARNING(S): NSFW content, swearing, mentions of alcohol abuse+physical abuse

Note: I wrote Bob Sheldon Headcanons that kind of relate to this, if you haven’t read it I would just for a little more context. You can find it here.

The most popular couple in town oh my.

If you’re someone who doesn’t like a lot of attention or having your name in practically the entire teen population’s mouths, you’re in for quite a ride.

A lot of girls at school, mainly socs, are so envious of the fact that you’re with him. The gossip and rumors are endless, it can tend to be pretty overwhelming. The talk of your high school peers can sometimes get to you and cause problems with your relationship. If you confront Bob about it he’ll always deny and sweet talk you until you’re reassured enough.

“Is it true you were makin’ out with Cherry Valance under the bleachers? ‘Cuz that’s what everyone’s been tellin’ me.”

“Who? Doll you know I only have eyes for you.”

He’s a smooth b*stard I’m not gonna lie.

He’s also a really good liar watch out sis.

The first time he met you was at a homecoming dance. He confidently strolled over to you and told you how gorgeous you looked in your dress before asking you to dance with him. You couldn’t refuse, he was just too damn charming. He gave you a ride home and walked you to your front steps, he placed a sweet kiss on your cheek before he left. You were hooked right then and there. 

Def the type to help carry your books and/or bag for you in school. He always walks you to class and eats lunch with you. 

Never lets you pay for anything when you go out anywhere together, he absolutely refuses no matter how much you insist. 

Always has a hand on you. He likes to have a hand on the small of your back mostly. He can easily pull you towards him, plus he can slide down and grab some a*s if he really wants to. 

He’s a huge flirt, he’ll shower you in compliments and praise constantly. 

“You’re absolutely breathtaking, darling.”

Bob is lowkey insecure as hell, if you praise him he’ll quickly be putty in your hands.

“You look handsome today, hun.”

“I do?” 

Lots and lots of dates. The both of you go out together all the time. Every now and then you’ll go on double dates with Randy and Marcia.

Your family loves him to death. They know him and his family have such a fine reputation. Whenever he goes over your house he behaves like the perfect gentlemen, they adore the way he carries himself.

He rarely talks about his family and his home life. If you persist it only leads to him snapping at you... so you just chalked it up as a sensitive topic.

“I just don’t see why you can’t tell me more about your family, you know everything there is to know about me--”

“Well you don’t have to know every single little detail about me and my life so just leave it alone.” He would growl. 

You’ve only met his parents once when they invited you over for dinner at his house. Bob was very hesitant, but you were so excited to finally meet them he couldn’t say no to you. 

The dinner was very tense, and awkward to say the least. Mrs. Sheldon was more talkative than Mr. Sheldon, his daddy seemed pretty grumpy. 

Very possessive and is indeed the jealous type. Guy friends are a big no, if a boy so much as looks at you a certain way he will make a scene.

The first time you had s*x was in the backseat of his car one night after attending a house party together. You had already been going steady for a few months, and he had been dying to see you naked ever since he seen how that homecoming dress hugged your curves perfectly.

It wasn’t until he was hovering over your trembling, bare body did he realize just how hungry and selfish he was acting. He yanked off your clothes pretty quickly, his hands roamed everywhere, his kisses were rough and sloppy; after months of waiting he finally had all of you for himself and he couldn’t help but get carried away.

He could see how nervous you were when his blue orbs met your own, his touches became softer and the pace slowed down. Right before he entered you he made sure you were ready. 

“Are you nervous?”

“A little.” You admitted, your cheeks growing even more red than they already were.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before trailing the back of his hand down the side of your cheek to your collarbone. “Don’t be, beautiful. I’ll take care of you.” 

The beginning of your relationship is mainly all sunshine and rainbows, because he’s on his best behavior. As more time goes by Bob becomes more careless.

After being with him for a while he becomes more reckless with his drinking around you. You and him end up getting into a lot of fights because of the way he acts when he’s drunk... it frightens you. 

“You’re drinkin’ too much, Bob. It’s scarin’ me.”

“Ah, you don’t know nothin’. Quite bein’ a nag.” He’d slur. 

“You’re the one bein’ a buzzkill! Gettin’ obliterated and startin’ fights ain’t fun, Robert!” 

“You wouldn’t know fun if it slapped you in the face, woman.”

You’ve gotten close to breaking up on a few occasions due to catching him flirting with other girls. Whenever you mention leaving him, Bob instantly becomes hysterical and horrified. He can’t lose the one good thing he has going for him.

“I can’t keep doin’ this with you, Bob.” 

“Yes you can! I’ll do better-- I’ll be better for you, I promise.” He’d swear up and down desperately. “Just... please don’t leave, alright? I love you. You’re my everythin’.”

One day as you watched him change in your bedroom, you noticed multiple bruises and lacerations on his torso. At first you thought it was just from him getting into a fight. But it was then you noticed that there was a huge variety of old and new scars, along with cigar burns on his shoulder blades. You questioned him about it and he refused to speak on the topic.

“Babe...” You scanned his back with a concerned gaze. “Who is hurtin’ you like this?”

He tugged his polo over his head roughly, “Nobody. It’s all old.”

“Bob--”

“I SAID IT’S NOTHIN’! DROP IT GOD DAMNIT!”

It took you a moment to put two and two together, but when you finally did you felt sick to your stomach. It had all made sense now, why he never wanted you over his house and why he never talked about his parents. 

That night you held him in your arms while he sobbed and wailed. He didn’t have to say a word, you knew. The poor boy was an absolute mess, he was broken. By god you just wanted to fix him.

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 3 - Bodega

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, is it a date?, 2.7k

WARNINGS: cancer mention, lines in Spanish will have translations in the tags

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes me these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2

Alex followed the gentle clack-clack-clack of the wheels eagerly, watching as Willie glided this way and that through the street. He shoved down the thought that his walk was only going to be a short one. After a few blocks, Willie slowed to a stop outside a bodega and waited for Alex to catch up before going inside.

“Hola, ese!” The guy behind the counter called as they entered.

Willie nodded and raised his eyebrows at him in greeting, lifting off his helmet and leaning his board against the wall of the counter. Immediately, an orange striped cat hopped up onto the surface with an excited little ‘prrrrp?’ and approached so Willie could pet him.

“Hey, Sheldon,” he said, massaging behind the cat’s ears as it rubbed its head aggressively against his shirt. Then, Sheldon sniffed Alex’s sleeve in curiosity as he stood timidly amid the unfamiliar.

“He’s friendly,” Willie assured. “Unless you’re allergic,” he added cautiously.

Alex smiled as he took the cat’s face in his hands, rubbing the sweet spots on his neck.

“No, good thing I’m not.” Sheldon was already purring, the sound soothing Alex’s slight shakiness. Willie smoothed the fur along his back.

“Have you been good today?” he asked in a baby voice.”You been treating Escobar right?” The cat meowed and rubbed against Willie’s chest.

“He caught two mice this morning,” The man, whom Alex assumed was Escobar, said. He was trying to wipe what looked like grease on his hands. “He’s happy because I gave him sardines.”

“Thanks, man,” Willie told him. “By the way, this is Alex.”

“Nice to meet you,” Alex said, realizing his hands had been gripping his fanny pack anxiously and loosening them.

“Good to meet you, Alex,” Escobar offered his wrist to shake, his hand being dirty. Alex shook it awkwardly and then Sheldon pushed his way in between and rubbed his head against his hand. Willie laughed.

“He seems to really like you,” he said.

“All I did was pet him,” Alex replied.

“Well, if Willie likes someone, the cat usually does, too,” Escobar informed him.

Alex smiled, unsure what to say to that.

“Que pasó con tu mano?” Escobar directed to Willie in concern, looking pointedly at his hand.

Willie only laughed and lifted the hand in question.

“Scrapes everyday,” was all he had to say.

The man only shook his head as he moved to put away the rag he’d been wiping his hands on.

“Te tienes que cuidarte mejor,” he said as he came back to the counter. “So what are we eating today?”

“We’ll see,” Willie said. He turned to Alex. “Do you want anything?”

He blinked, flustered.

“Are you - are you sure?” The words it’s not a date, it’s not a date, began repeating in his head incessantly. Right? A guy can buy another guy he just met food...after inviting him to follow him...on his way to get food….

“Yeah, I’ve got you covered,” Willie told him, moving over to a part of the counter where a sandwich menu was posted on top of it. Alex felt a bass drum going in his chest and tapped his toe to mimic it, hoping he could play it off as just taking time to decide.

“Take your time, amigos, I gotta wash my hands real quick,” Escobar said before disappearing.

“I don’t understand most of what he says,” Willie murmured so only Alex could hear. “But I get the general idea.”

He could only smirk in response. Perusing the menu, Alex quickly made a selection, still hesitant about accepting Willie’s offer. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around the bodega. He’d been to a few around L.A. but they all had their differences. This one was rather spacious, with some tables set up outside, and of course the sandwiches were an uncommon feature.

“So,” Willie started, grabbing his attention. “Do you often follow strangers through the city?”

Alex exhaled nervously, only then realizing what he’d just done.

“No,” he shook his head. Willie leaned on the counter, smirking. “No, this is kind of a first. Why, do you get followed a lot?”

Willie only bit his lip and shook his head. They chuckled together for a moment.

“I just come here every day during my lunch break,” Willie explained. “To check on Sheldon. Figured if you were game, you’d come.”

Alex looked at him in confusion.

“You explained none of that back there; you just nodded.”

“And yet….” Willie said, gesturing toward him. The unspoken truth hovered between them so potently Alex expected to receive a static shock.

“So...is Sheldon your cat?” he asked to diffuse the tension. Sheldon perked up at the sound of his name and pattered over to them.

“Yeah,” Willie responded as if he’d been distracted by his thoughts for a second. “I found him a few months ago and he was just really sick and weak and I couldn’t leave him like that, so Escobar was nice to let me keep him here since I can’t have him with me.”

“Why can’t you - ” Alex began before Escobar came back through, rubbing his newly cleaned hands.

“Okay, primos, we ready?” he asked.

“Yep!” Willie said, flashing a look to Alex that he’d answer him later. “Just the usual for me. You know what you want, Alex?”

“The, uh, chicken panini,” he said quickly. He glanced over at Willie again and got a tiny nod that yes, he was fine to get a sandwich. As Escobar got to work making them, they went over to the tables outside and sat down.

“I figured I could thank you a little bit, considering the generous tip I got this morning,” Willie said.

Alex swallowed, remembering how hard he had to convince the boys to leave a good deal of money so Willie could get into the show in the evening. It wasn’t until Bobby had made up something about getting more fans that got Luke and Reggie to agree. In retrospect, the count of bold decisions he was making that day was record-breaking.

“I wouldn’t have asked you to return a favor,” he said. “But I do appreciate the sandwich.” He felt Sheldon rub against his leg.and smiled as he looked down. “You weren’t kidding when you said he was friendly. This is the happiest cat I’ve ever met.”

Willie nodded. “He’s changed so much since we found him.”

He paused and just looked at Alex for a moment. 

“You don’t relax much, huh?” he wondered aloud in a soft manner.

Alex looked down at his hands once again keeping a death grip on the strap of his fanny pack, released them, and put them down in his lap.

“No better time to start than now, right?” he said, taking in a couple deep breaths. He couldn’t help it. One look at Willie made him feel like time fell from orbit - whatever that meant. His hands still needed something to do though, so he pulled out his drumsticks again and lightly tapped on the edge of the table. Willie bobbed his head to the rhythm, scrunching his nose.

After a few minutes, they heard Escobar call out and they went to collect their sandwiches. Willie glanced at the clock above them and grabbed his board.

“I don’t know how, but it’s already almost time to head back,” he said.

Alex hadn’t figured him to care about punctuality, but took his sandwich from Escobar, ready to follow Willie back toward the hotel. There was no chance he would find his way back alone. Escobar wagged a finger for him to come closer. Nervously, Alex leaned toward the counter.

“Tú tienes cara de fresa,” he said, to which Alex only blinked cluelessly. “Pero me caes bien.” The man simply nodded, smiling slightly. Alex looked between him and Willie, neither of them offering a translation.

“Th...thanks,” he stuttered. He leaned down and scratched Sheldon’s head to bid adieu.

“I’ll be back later for Sheldon,” Willie told Escobar as they exited.

Before Willie mounted his board, he got a few good bites into his sandwich. They had gotten about half a block away before Alex dared to ask.

“Do you have any clue what he said to me?”

“I think it was a compliment,” Willie said, mouth slightly full of food.

They continued back toward the hotel, eating their sandwiches as Alex simply ruminated over everything that had just transpired. Willie glanced over occasionally, always with a smile, and clearly travelling slower than he had before so he didn’t leave Alex too far behind. As they finally approached their destination, Willie dismounted his board for a moment.

“Hey,” he said, the soft tone Alex had heard earlier coming back. “Thanks for going with me. It was nice.”

Alex smiled, momentarily losing his entire working vocabulary to giddiness.

“No problem,” he said finally. “See you around?”

Willie nodded.

“See you around.”

Back at the Pearl, the band was set up for their sound check. Luke was an uncontained mass of energy at this point - kissing his rabbit’s foot countless times, swinging his arm tie around to see how far a distance he could hit people from, and his hands rarely leaving his guitar. Alex had a feeling it was only going to get worse the second he saw Julie. They all assembled on the stage and took up their instruments, waiting for the sound tech to instruct them.

“Okay, Reggie, give us a line,” was heard from the booth. Reggie improvised a bass lick on the spot for about thirty seconds, which was far more than the sound guys needed. It was a wicked line, though, and Alex couldn’t blame him for riding it out. He could see Luke and Bobby raising their eyebrows, hoping they could play with it later.

The techs guided them through the instruments one by one, then microphones, and then prepared for them to play together. This was the first time they were all playing with earpieces to hear everything properly and it was certainly an exciting change. Alex could hear them almost as if he were listening to their own demo and he couldn’t describe the feeling.

On cue, Luke played the opening riff to Now or Never and the energy immediately flowed as they all joined him.

“Take off, last stop, count down till we blast open the top…”

Nothing like getting to play to take the edge off of everything. He’d started the day early and thought there would be nothing more nerve-wracking than getting on this stage. Sure, he knew he could do it, but the pressure to somehow gain the support of hundreds more people in one go had been mounting on him the last few days. Fans who came to him after shows and told him that he made a difference to them? That he was something more than just an awkward teen who was bullied for being gay and having nut allergies? It was surreal. Alex wanted to keep reality close most of the time. Making music was the exception where he was happy to escape.

They finished the song, and as Alex swept his hair out of his eyes he saw a figure stand up from sitting in the middle of the empty venue, clapping their hands.

“You guys, that was phenomenal!” Julie Molina was saying, making her way onto the stage.

“Julie!” all of the guys cried out, nearly in unison. Luke was already bounding over as she made her way up to the stage. Reggie and Bobby lifted the straps off their guitars and followed suit as Alex casually brought up the rear.

“Hey guys,” Julie said, returning all of their high-fives and fist bumps. “I’m so excited for tonight, we’re going to have a good show.”

“I’m ready for us to blow everybody away,” Luke said enthusiastically. Alex, Reggie and Bobby exchanged knowing looks but refrained from commenting. Julie probably thought he was talking about the band. Luke probably thought the same, funnily enough.

“I have my own sound check to do, but it’ll be good to hang with you guys until the show opens,” she told them.

“Can we stick around and watch?” Luke asked.

Julie shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, go ahead!”

“Sweet!” Reggie said, already taking a seat. Bobby settled down next to him while Alex took the seat behind them.

He remembered when they met her it was at some battle of the bands out in Bakersfield. She’d been part of the duo Double Trouble, and her friend Flynn had gotten sick shortly before they were supposed to go on. She took the stage anyway and had the audience at her feet, and Alex had never seen Luke so entranced. At the end, they invited her to jam until they were forced to shut down at about one in the morning. Everything that had transpired in those few hours was unforgettable, and the guys agreed they would all gladly do it again.

That was a year ago. Now, with her first album out, the guys had all been stoked to get the call to open for her. Alex was pretty sure Luke had been keeping tabs on her the whole time, and he likely didn’t realize how obvious it was. There was something about the way he got very defensive when the guys occasionally suggested going back to the songs they’d gotten started with her, and how he refused to do it without her.

The four of them sat mesmerized as Julie’s fingers elicited the most heartfelt and energizing melodies from the piano. A soft, swelling joy came over Alex, and he wanted to give Julie the strongest hug when she finished. Her music was touching and he couldn’t help but need to express that to her. Peeking at the two below him, he saw Reggie clearly shedding some tears and Bobby clenching his fist because it wasn’t the right moment to wipe them away.

Suddenly one of the crew members walked onto the stage, making Julie stop playing. He muttered something to her that the boys couldn't hear. She sat straight with fear in her eyes and hurried backstage without a word. Luke turned around to look at the rest of his band and they all mirrored his concern. Slowly, they rose and headed toward the green room where they found Julie on the phone.

“Dad, what happened?” she was saying, audibly shaking.

Alex held out a hand and they all stopped in their tracks. He looked at Luke and shook his head. Whatever they were hearing, he figured she didn’t want them listening in on. Luke knit his eyebrows, and Alex could see the internal fight going on in his mind as he considered staying to comfort her or giving her space. After a moment he nodded to Alex and they pulled back into one of the dressing rooms.

None of them said a word as they waited. Alex pulled out his drumsticks and tapped them on his knees to fight off the rising anxiety in his chest. Nobody bothered looking at the clock and nobody made eye contact. Those three words they’d heard repeated on a loop in Alex’s brain, and he was sure they were in the minds of the others. That hug he had thought about giving felt both highly necessary and very inadequate, and he didn’t even know what the phone call was about.

After some time, Julie appeared in the doorway. She looked around at all of them and breathed deeply.

“My mom is in the hospital right now,” she said soberly. “She’s been in cancer treatment for a few months now and it was in remission, but it’s coming back."

Her eyes remained cast toward the floor, and each of the guys hesitated to move.

"I can't cancel tonight, but…" she began saying. Luke raised a hand to cover his face, clearly afraid of the rest of that sentence.

"I'm sorry guys, but I need some time to myself." She left, but Alex saw her face twist with pain before she was completely out of sight and he thought he felt his heart snap in two. Everyone looked at Luke as he sat at a loss for words.

Finally, Luke straightened up and a calm fierceness took over his countenance.

"We gotta make tonight the best, you guys, you hear me?"

Each of them nodded solemnly.

"Alright. We aren't legends for ourselves, tonight. We're legends for Julie."

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 10

A/N:  The response to last chapter was so amazing and I have been LOVING answering your anons and comment questions!  I hope this chapter brings some much needed, uh, happiness to your lives.  We’re seeing them get closer and closer..........😊

November 19th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was eating Doritos straight out of the bag.  

It was a Tuesday night, and she was on the couch with Minerva in her lap and Kasha beside her watching TV.  The Leafs had lost to Las Vegas 4-2, and Aberdeen was ready to call it an early night – if only so she could put a facemask on before she went to bed.  She didn’t have to be in the office tomorrow until about 10, which meant that she could sleep in.  Plus, her eyes hurt.  She’d been reading like a mad woman during all her days off, researching everything she could and trying to learn the history of the Maple Leafs: all the different players, the eras, the iconic moments, the not-so-iconic moments – everything.  It was a lot to learn, but she knew that the second she typed the words into the Google search bar.  She also knew she wouldn’t learn everything in four days, but alas, she was trying.  She was doing what she knew she had in her.  She was trying.  

Kasha snuck one last Dorito before she rolled up the bag and put it back in the designated “snack” cupboard in their kitchen.  They folded up the blanket, fluffed the pillows on the small couch, and made sure Minerva had some food and water in her bowl before closing the curtains and retreating to their bedrooms.  Minerva hopped onto Aberdeen’s bed, and she scratched behind Minerva’s ears which she knew she liked before changing into her pajamas and going to her washroom to wash her face.  

“Do you mind if I phone Evan?” Kasha called out from her bedroom.  “I won’t be too loud, I promise.”

“Go for it!” Aberdeen said, truly not minding.  She’d hear a few mumbles at most – nothing more – and she knew because Kasha did this often.  It was sweet, and they were cute, and Aberdeen honestly didn’t mind.  Kasha’s dad still didn’t know, which meant they were in their own world, which was nice.  She and Kasha were still harbouring secrets for each other, as they always would.

Minerva meowed when she came back in the room.  Aberdeen sat on her bed and cradled her in her arms for a few minutes, scratching and kissing her all over.  Just as she was about to shut off her light and tuck herself into bed, her phone began to ring.  She looked over to see Brendan’s name flashing across the screen.  

She froze.  Brendan never called this late.  She picked up immediately.  “Good evening Mr. Shanahan,” she greeted him.

“You need to be ready in half an hour with a suitcase packed for four days,” he said, his voice stern but sounding somewhat preoccupied.

Aberdeen stood up immediately.  “Oh, okay.  Of course.  Um, why?” she asked.

“We’re taking a red eye to Phoenix.”

She felt like throwing up.  That had to mean something was wrong with the team.  A player was injured, or being traded, or maybe demoted?  What if it had something to do with Kyle?  What if it was about John?  Was his captaincy at risk because they had only won two games in regulation in the past sixteen games?  “Okay.  No problem.”

“I’ll be there with Lou in half an hour.  Tell nobody,” he said before he hung up the phone abruptly.  

Aberdeen began to freak out.  She changed into a pair of clothes and threw her suitcase onto her bed, Minerva meowing at her and watching as she stuffed outfits into her suitcase.  Minerva even tried climbing into the suitcase a few times, which made Aberdeen sad – all she wanted to be doing was cuddling with her cat, not thinking about the Leafs.  She grabbed her travel bags that had her toiletries and travel-sized skincare and makeup products and threw them in as well.  When she was finished, she zipped it up.  She took a deep breath.

Minerva meowed.

“I’m sorry baby,” she whispered, scratching behind Minerva’s ears again.  She grabbed her credentials off her dresser and put them around her neck.  

She exited her room and knocked softly on Kasha’s door.  “Give me a second,” Aberdeen could hear her say to Evan.  “Come in.”  Aberdeen opened the door, popping in about half way.  Kasha immediately saw that Aberdeen was wearing regular clothes.  The look of worry on Aberdeen’s face was a tell-tale sign something was wrong.  She put her phone against her chest.  “Oh my God Aberdeen, what’s wrong?”

“I’m taking a red-eye to Phoenix,” she whispered, making sure Evan wouldn’t be able to hear her through the phone.  Not that he’d say anything.  “Something’s happening.”

“What’s happening?” Kasha asked, her eyes wide.

“I don’t know.  Brendan hasn’t told me.  But this is very unexpected and I’ve just had to pack for four days which means I’ll be in Colorado too.  I’ll be back Sunday.  But can you please watch Minerva?  I know you weren’t supposed—”

“Aberdeen, of course, it’s not even a question,” Kasha said.  

“You can’t tell anyone I’m going,” Aberdeen said.  “I don’t know what’s happening, but you can’t say a word.”

“No no, of course not,” Kasha shook her head.  “Can you at least text me when you land?  So I know you’re safe?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aberdeen nodded, her mind running a mile a minute.  What if it was William?  What if it was Jason?  “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Aberdeen.  This is your job now,” Kasha said.  “I’ll take care of Minerva, don’t worry.”

***

Aberdeen waited in the condo lobby for the town car.  When she saw it pull up, she began walking towards it, pulling her suitcase behind her.  Lou got out and loaded it in the trunk for her, and she opened the back door to sit in her usual seat.  

Brendan was, of course, already there, in a pair of slacks and a comfortable looking sweater.  “Hi Mr. Shanahan,” she said, putting on her seatbelt.  It was then and only then that she noticed another presence in the front seat.  Usually, of course, it was just her and Brendan.  

“Aberdeen, the only people who know the following information I’m about to tell you are Larry, Kyle, myself, and Lou,” he began.  She nodded her head, not believing she was privy to this information before so many other people just by virtue of having to travel with Brendan.  She glanced over quickly to the man in the front seat.  She saw a familiar face smiling back at her.  “You know Sheldon Keefe,” Brendan said as he noticed them looking at each other.

“Of course,” she said.  He was head coach of the Marlies.  He was around often.  Had multiple meetings with Brendan throughout her time working there.  

“Well, he’s the new head coach of the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

***

November 20th, 2019

After boarding the MLSE private jet – not first class on a commercial flight, not even another chartered flight, the MLSE private jet – and everyone sleeping most of the way to Phoenix, they landed and immediately checked into the same hotel as the team without telling a single soul.  Everyone went straight to bed but were notified by Brendan that they had to “lay low” for the next day and would be leaving for the arena, where the team would hold their practice, at 1:30pm.  Aberdeen barely slept, and had to stay cooped up in her room so nobody would see her and know Brendan arrived.  It was torture.  

When she arrived at the arena with Brendan and Sheldon, Brendan told her to sit in the stands and wait.  That’s when she got really nervous, because she knew he was prepping himself to fire Mike Babcock right after the practice, even though it was going on as they spoke.  But she did as she was told, sitting and clutching her iPad in her lap so hard her knuckles were white.  

She noticed William first, of course, his blonde hair peeking through his helmet, as he kneeled on one knee in front of Mike Babcock as he addressed the team.  John, Jason, Auston, Tyson – they were all there, and she picked them out one by one.  Everybody was facing away from her, looking at the whiteboard.  Her leg bobbed up and down uncontrollably.  In a mere, what, thirty minutes, they wouldn’t even have to listen to him anymore.

When the team stood up and did some last-minute drills, Aberdeen noticed Kasperi look in her direction.  William was skating over to him, and when he stopped in front of him, William did a double take.  Her heart fluttered at the moment she knew he realized it was her.  He would have almost missed his cue for the drill if Kasperi didn’t tap him.  When he was finished the set-up drill and skated back to his place, he looked in her direction again, transfixed.  

That was when her phone buzzed.  She took it out and saw a series of texts coming through from Brendan.  

Kyle will be texting you soon.  Please go into the locker room with him while he speaks to the team about the coaching change.  Sheldon will be there too.  Let me know how it goes, as I will be speaking to Mike.  

When we release the announcement expect crazy media.  I will speak to them.  Kyle will not.  If Kyle is not done speaking to the team by the time the announcement is sent out and media comes in, don’t worry.  Stay with Kyle.

I think the team will appreciate seeing your friendly face when this comes down.

You will have to help set up for a media press conference tomorrow but the Coyotes will also provide help.  Me Kyle & Sheldon.

Thank you for not leaking.

By the time she looked up from her phone, half of the team was already down the tunnel.  John, Morgan, and Auston had stayed out to speak with Mike a little bit more, but she took that as her cue to leave the stands and at least start making her way towards the locker room.  She knew the team probably had to undress, shower, and change into their regular clothes before Kyle said anything to them, but she was so anxious she couldn’t help it.

Another buzz from her phone.  This time, when she looked at it, ‘Head Empty’ showed – the name she put for William, so nobody would know it was him.

why are u here?

She had to resist every urge in her to reply.  She couldn’t.  Brendan had sworn her to secrecy, and had already thanked her for that secrecy.  If she typed even one word, William would know what was going on.  So she ignored him.

whats going on minskatt?

is everything ok?

pls answer me minskatt. what is happening

can i come see u?  where are u?

She put her phone on silent.  She couldn’t take it.  She held in every emotion she had as she walked through the arena and hallways, flashing every worker her credentials, before finally arriving at the visiting team’s area.  She walked through the doorway and saw Kyle.  He smiled and waved her over.  

“Thanks for coming,” he said as she approached him, still clutching the iPad to her chest.  

“Yeah, of course.  No problem.”

“You know Aberdeen, Brendan trusts you,” he said.  He could tell she was nervous by how white her knuckles were.  He thought that maybe saying that would put her at ease.  “That he made you come on this trip – that he made you privy to the information before a lot of other people…that says a lot.”

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders.  She wasn’t so sure.  “I’m just doing my job Kyle.  He told me to be packed in thirty minutes and I was packed in thirty minutes.”

“But you didn’t leak it.”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows.  “I…why would I leak it?” she asked.  It was the most absurd concept to her.  “I would never do something like that. He thanked me for not leaking it too—”

“I know,” Kyle smiled slightly.

“But why?” she asked again.  “There’s nothing in it for me.”

“Really?  It’s interesting you see it that way,” Kyle said.  “You could have sold that information to any newspaper or reporter and they would have offered you a job.  A chance to write, which is apparently what you want to do, according to Brendan at least.  But you didn’t.”

Aberdeen hadn’t even considered that.  Sell the information for a writing gig at a national newspaper?  She didn’t even know the opportunity was there, truthfully.  What it revealed to her more than anything was that others had done it before – betrayed the team in some way.  She couldn’t even consider it.  She shook her head.  “This is my job,” she said, her voice small.  “I would never burn this bridge.  I’d never sell Brendan or the team out like that for personal gain.”

Kyle smiled.  “I’m going to chock it up to the fact that you’re young,” he said.  “You’re only twenty-one, Aberdeen.  This city is rife with opportunity for people who take advantage of others.  But you’re not like that – at least yet.”

“I’d never take advantage of someone.”  

Kyle smiled.  “Good.  I like a person with conviction.”  His eyes left hers as he noticed someone walking behind her.  He nodded his head at whoever it was.  “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He opened the door for her, ushering her into the locker room.  As she turned a corner, she saw all the guys sitting at their stalls.  Quite a few of them noticed her come in and looked shocked.  When they saw Kyle follow behind her, they knew something was up.  

“Hey guys,” Kyle began, addressing the room.  “I know John let you know you all needed to stay back.  It’s because I need to speak to you guys.”  Aberdeen looked to her left and saw Sheldon lurking in the shadows.  He smiled at her and she smiled back.  “I want us to have a long, constructive conversation before you guys go back out there…because when you do, there’s going to be a big change,” Kyle continued.  A lot of the guys looked confused.  “That change being…well…Mike Babcock has been relieved of his coaching duties with our club,” he announced.  She watched as some of their jaws dropped.  “And your new head coach is someone many of you know very well – Sheldon Keefe.”

When Sheldon walked into the room and stood beside Kyle, the team broke out into a round of applause.  Guys like Zach, Travis, and Andreas were smiling and clapping for him so Aberdeen could only assume that they had played for him on the Marlies.  Jason seemed extremely happy.  Tyson looked like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders.  

She watched William.  She couldn’t tell what he was feeling.

***

November 21st, 2019

It was William who texted Aberdeen first that night, when they got back to the hotel after the game.  im coming over and u cant stop me.  At least he gave her warning this time so she didn’t have a sheet mask on and her hair wrapped in a towel.  When she heard the lightest knock on her door, against all her better judgement, she ran over and opened it.  

William slipped into her room, wearing trackpants and a Gucci t-shirt that probably cost more than her last paycheque.  She closed the door and locked it before turning around to face him.  “Hi,” she said, her breath caught in her throat.  Here he was, in her hotel room…again.

“Why didn’t you answer my texts after practice?” he asked, getting right into it, not bothering with pleasantries.  

“Will, I couldn’t,” she said.  “I knew but I couldn’t say anything.  I couldn’t risk it.  Brendan swore me to secrecy.  I was on my couch eating Doritos, and then one hour later I was on the MLSE private jet on my way here.  I still can’t believe I am here.”

William nodded his head.  He broke eye contact with her as he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.  “I’m sorry.  I was just – I was just so worried when I saw you.  I mean I was happy, don’t get me wrong, but you know.”

“Yeah.”  She looked at him, lost in his own thoughts.  There was a moment of silence because, Aberdeen thought, he was still processing everything that happened today – and that didn’t include the game they won.  A good start for a new coach, she thought.  “Will?”

“Yes minskatt?”

“How are you feeling about everything?”

He let out a long breath – one he didn’t know he was holding in – as he pushed himself further onto the bed.  He rubbed his face with his hands as she moved to sit on the opposite side of the bed cross-legged.  “I don’t even know minskatt,” he finally admitted.

“I mean…I don’t mean to tell you what to think, but there must be some…I don’t know…relief,” she said cautiously.

He looked over at her, smiling slightly.  “Yeah.  Relief.”

“Because, you know…the backhanded compliments.  You don’t have to take his shit anymore.  You have a coach now who actually, like, values you and your skill and doesn’t throw you under the bus all the time,” she clarified.

“Yeah, I guess.  Conflicted that I feel relief, though.”

It was glaringly obvious that he didn’t want to talk about it – well, that, or he really didn’t know what to feel about it all.  He was hard to read; he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like she did most of the time.  And she didn’t know whether to blame him, the time of night they were having this conversation, or something else.  “Will—”

“Minskatt—”

“Can you just like…talk to me, please?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper.  She didn’t even look at him; she looked down and fiddled with the rings on her fingers nervously instead.  “I just want to make sure you’re okay, Will.”

His hand reached out and grabbed hers in her lap, making her stop fiddling with her rings.  Her skin felt like it was on fire as she looked up at him as he rubbed his thumb quickly over the back of her hand.  Her mind quickly flashed back to the first night they were together in her bed – how electrifying his touch was then, too.  Nothing had changed.  “I’ll be fine, minskatt.  You don’t have to worry about me,” he said, shifting to lie down on his side with her hand still in his.  

But she did.  That was her problem.  She was getting herself deeper into this mess even though she knew she had to get out.  Like, he wasn’t even supposed to be here, yet here he was.  Never mind just being in her hotel room – now he was on her bed.  Lying down.  “Will—”

“There’s been a lot of change in my life already, minskatt.  This is nothing,” he smirked, letting go of her hand.  

She knew that.  She remembered what he told her about his family moving around a lot.  It seemed like the only thing constant for him was change.  She thought maybe his long-term contract brought an end to that, but there were so many other variables in hockey she constantly forgot about.  “So long as you’re alright,” she said.  

“You know what would make it more alright?”

“What?”

“If you tell me how freaked out you were stepping onto that private jet for the first time,” he smiled.

Aberdeen started to giggle uncontrollably.  She shielded her face in her hands and shook her head, hearing William’s infectious laugh.  “Don’t even get me started.”

“Come on!” he beckoned.  

“It was torture.”

“Torture?”

“I’m not used to all that, Will,” she said, finding herself lying down on her side to face him.  She probably shouldn’t have.  “Like obviously it was nice – don’t get me wrong.  Beautiful.  But it was all so…crazy.”

“Crazy?” he just kept repeating her words.  

“Not all of us are accustomed to Gucci t-shirts and private jets,” she chastised.  “God, Will.  Sometimes I feel like the theme song to Murder, She Wrote is just playing in your head on a constant loop.”

“What’s it sound like?”

“Oh my God,” she mumbled, pulling her phone out from charging and opening the YouTube app to find the song.  She played it out loud for William, and the more the theme played, the harder William laughed.  His eyes crinkled and his smile stretched across his face; her eyes crinkled at the sound of his ridiculous laugh.  More than anything, she was just happy that he was laughing after everything that had happened.  

Will shoved his face into the pillow as he continued to laugh, the song ending not long after.  “Nobody roasts me quite like you do, Aberdeen.”

She thought about the list of the things she’d say he looked like whenever he asked “What do you think?” when he walked in with his game-day suit on, her most recent being, “You look like a medium pepperoni pizza with garlic dipping sauce.”  The guys got a kick out of that one when they heard about it.  Kasperi was even recording them all in the notes app on his phone.  “You love it,” she said without thinking.

“Of course I do,” he mumbled, his dumb smile still on his face.  “Tell me something Aberdeen.”

“What?”

He stretched out his hand again, one of them gliding over the skin near her elbow.  “What do your tattoos mean?”

It was her turn to shove her face into the pillow.  She knew this would come up one day, and truth be told, she wondered why it didn’t happen earlier.  “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got a lot of time.”

He did?  That was news to her.  It was late at night and he was in her hotel room instead of his own.  “This one…” she began, pointing to the first, “‘to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield’…it’s the last line of one of my favourite poems, Ulysses by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.  Do you know it?”

“No.”

“Well, it's a good poem.  You should read it,” she quipped.  “It’s about, like, the need of going forward, despite challenges, despite tragedy, despite anything.  About being strong in will, pushing forward relentlessly.  You know…persistence.  Never facing life passively.  It’s an attitude that I want to have in my life too.  An attitude I want to try to embody every day.”

William’s warm smile made her nervous.  “And you’re other one?”

She paused.  “That one’s even more personal.”

“Tell me.”

“Do you promise not to laugh?”

“Of course.”

She paused.  “This one is from Seneca.  He’s a Roman philosopher.  ‘We are waves of the same sea’.  It’s…my family,” she began.  “Mom is Scottish but grew up in Northern Ireland, and my dad is from Iran.  And if you know anything about the history of those two countries, it’s, like, focused on people’s apparent differences with each other creating conflict.  But in Canada, when they met, despite the cultural differences, they came together.  So like, we’re all waves, but at the end of the day…we’re part of the same sea.  We’re in this together,” she explained, embarrassed.  “I don’t know.  I just thought it was beautiful.  We can have all these differences, but at the end of the day we’re part of the same sea.”

The look on William’s face was one of pure adoration.  He was biting him bottom lip trying to suppress a huge smile, and his eyes so blue and dewy-looking she thought she would faint if she looked at them any longer.  “What’s wrong?” she asked.  Maybe he thought the whole explanation was stupid.

“You’re just so adorable, minskatt,” he said, not trying to hide his smile anymore.  “I could listen to you talk for hours.  Sometimes I even just imagine you talking so I can hear your voice.”

“You do?  Really?”

“Aberdeen…I think about you when I’m not even thinking.”

Her heart stopped beating.  She felt a rush of blood warm her cheeks as she pushed her face into the pillow again.  God, he was really going there, wasn’t he?  As they were laying in the same bed together.  “You can’t just say stuff like that to me and think I’m gonna react normally.”

“I know,” he said.  She shot him a look.  “Aberdeen.  I could listen to you talk all day and night.  I’m serious.  And besides, who was Ulysses or Alfred, Lord Tennyson anyway?”

“You don’t know?!” she asked, flabbergasted.  

William shook his head.  Aberdeen began talking, and he began listening.  And to William, all was right in the world.  

***

November 22nd, 2019

When Aberdeen awoke sometime the next morning, her body still felt tired and fatigued.  She knew the day before was long and tedious with the press conference and the game, but she thought sleep would rejuvenate her.  Apparently not.  She brought her hand up with her watch and took a look at the time.  It was still only 6:30am, so no wonder she felt the way she did.  Why in the hell was she waking up now?  

She sighed.  

Then something moved out of her corner of her eye.  A body.  On her bed.

As if on cue, everything from last night came flooding back into her mind.  William coming over to her room.  Talking about Mike Babcock’s firing and how he felt.  Talking about her tattoos and what they meant.  “Sometimes I even just imagine you talking so I can hear your voice.” “I think about you when I’m not even thinking.”  Then he’d asked who Ulysses and Alfred, Lord Tennyson were and she’d fucking taken the bait hook, line, and sinker so easily.  They had ended up talking for so long they just fell asleep.  Together.  In the same bed.

Oh my fucking God.

She looked at how peaceful his face looked.  God, he was fucking beautiful.  Just…beautiful.  But he couldn’t be here.  He shouldn’t have been here in the first place.  It went against everything.  “Will…” she said softly, hoping he’d wake up.  He didn’t.  “Will,” she said more forcefully.

“Hmph?” he grumbled.

“Will, you have to go.”

He furrowed his brows at the sound of her voice, obviously not expecting it.  He opened his eyes slowly, only to see her staring back at him.  “Minskatt?”  

“Will, it’s 6:30, you have to go back to your room,” she whispered.

He looked around, realizing just like she did what had happened.  “I don’t want to.”

“I know you don’t want to but you have to go before everyone starts waking up,” she reasoned.  “If anyone catches you walking out of my room Brendan will have my head on a spit.”

He took her words into consideration before nodding his head and getting up slowly.  He looked at the time before running his fingers through his hair.  He looked back at her as she lay in the bed looking at him.  “I’ll see you at breakfast, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head.  

“Good,” he said as he got up, making his way over to the door.  “I’ll see you in a bit.”

When the door closed behind him, Aberdeen sighed and brought her hands up to cover her eyes.

She was fucked.  

[thinkveganworld]

Here’s Part One of a series of articles I wrote a while back:  

Goebbels and today’s mass mind control: Part One 

How PR opinion-shapers turn the people against their own interests By Carla Binion (”thinkveganworld.tumblr.com”) 

Today’s right-wing public relations spin has much in common with the propaganda methods of Hitler’s PR man, Joseph Goebbels. Goebbels admired Edward Bernays, a self-proclaimed founder of the public relations industry.  Bernays, a Vienna-born nephew of Sigmund Freud, opened a New York office in 1919.  According to John Stauber and Sheldon Rampton, (“Toxic Sludge is Good for You,” Common Courage Press, 1995) Bernays “pioneered the PR industry’s use of psychology and other social sciences to design its public persuasion campaigns.”

Bernays wrote in “Propaganda,” (New York: 1928, pp. 47-48) “If we understand the mechanism and motives of the group mind, it is now possible to control and regiment the masses according to our will without their knowing it.”  Bernays referred to this scientific opinion-control as the “engineering of consent." 

In his autobiography, Bernays discusses a dinner at his home in 1933 where, "Karl von Weigand, foreign correspondent of the Hearst newspapers, an old hand at interpreting Europe and just returned from Germany, was telling us about Goebbels and his propaganda plans to consolidate Nazi power.  Goebbels had shown Weigand his propaganda library, the best Weigand had ever seen.

 Goebbels, said Weigand, was using my book ‘Crystallizing Public Opinion’ as a basis for his destructive campaign against the Jews of Germany.  This shocked me.  Obviously the attack on the Jews of Germany was no emotional outburst of the Nazis, but a deliberate, planned campaign." 

Today, corporations spend millions on public relations campaigns to "crystallize public opinion,” often in an effort to convince the public that harmful things are actually good for us.  Sometimes the companies start by bending the minds of our elected representatives. 

This is the first part of a series.  In part one, we’ll focus on the ways in which corporations and their public relations mind-shapers worked to destroy the Clinton health care plan.  Today forty-four million Americans, about one in five people, have no health coverage, and many people cannot afford needed pharmaceutical drugs.  Most Americans probably wonder why, despite repeatedly broken campaign promises, Congress never does anything to improve the health care system. 

As far back as November 8, 1999, a Newsweek article reported that half or more of eligible heart attack patients are at greater risk because they can’t get needed beta blockers.  The article stated that two-thirds of people surveyed say they are worried that health care is no longer affordable.  Conditions haven’t improved since then.

In 1993, the Clinton administration tried to do something about the high price of prescription drugs, hinting at possible government-imposed price controls.  The pharmaceutical industry then turned to the Beckel Cowan PR firm to oppose the administration’s designs on lowering the cost of prescription drugs – although, of course, the Clinton plan would have benefited the public.  Stauber and Rampton write that Beckel Cowan “created an astroturf [or, fake grassroots] organization called 'Rx Partners’ and began deploying state and local organizers to, in the words of a company brochure, 'generate and secure high-quality personal letters from influential constituents to 35 targeted members of Congress.’" 

At the same time, Beckel Cowan managed a mail and phone campaign "which produced personal letters, telegrams and patch-through calls to the targeted members’ local and Washington, DC, offices.”  The PR firm built a network of supporters in 35 congressional districts and states. Pharmaceutical companies weren’t the only corporations to oppose an improved health care system.

The insurance industry went to work to fight against the Clinton health care plan, recruiting PR-man Robert Hoopes.  According to Stauber and Rampton, the 300,000 member Independent Insurance Agents of America (IIAA) hired Hoopes as their “grassroots coordinator/political education specialist." 

Campaign & Elections magazine reported the IIAA activated "nearly 140,000 insurance agents during the health care debate, becoming what Hoopes describes as a new breed of Washington lobbyists,” wrote Stauber and Rampton.  Hoopes said the lobbyists “have behind them an army of independent insurance agents from each state, and members of Congress understand what a lobbyist can do with the touch of a button to mobilize those people for or against them." 

In Campaign & Elections magazine ("Killing Health Care Reform,” October/November 1994) Thomas Scarlett writes of the insurance companies PR moves, “Through a combination of skillfully targeted media and grassroots lobbying, these groups were able to change more minds than the president could, despite the White House 'bully pulpit.' 

Never before have private interests spent so much money so publicly to defeat an initiative launched by a president.” The Coalition for Health Insurance Choices (CHIC), an insurance company front group, led the attacks on health care reform.  According to Consumer Reports, “The HIAA [Health Insurance Association of America] doesn’t just support the coalition; it created it from scratch.”  Stauber and Rampton write that PR-man Blair G. Childs masterminded the Coalition. 

Describing the fight against health care reform, Childs said in 1993, “The insurance industry was real nervous.  Everybody was talking about health care reform.  It felt like we were looking down the barrel of a gun.”  He added, “We needed cover because we were going to be painted as the bad guy.  You get strength in numbers.  Start with the natural, strongest allies, sit around a table and build up to give your coalition a positive image." 

To battle health care reform, Childs said the coalition brought in "everyone from the homeless Vietnam veterans to some very conservative groups.  It was an amazing array, and they were all doing something.” (Blair Childs speaking at “Shaping Public Opinion: If You Don’t Do It Somebody Else Will,” in Chicago, Dec. 9, 1994.)  

Childs advised industry health reform opponents on selecting names for their fake grassroots coalitions.  He said they should use focus groups and surveys to find “words that resonate very positively.”  (Examples included the words “fairness, balance, choice, coalition and alliance.”) 

His own coalition sponsored the famous “Harry and Louise” television spots.  Those ads used strategic words to convince the public that Clinton’s health care plan was overly complex – a “billion dollar bureaucracy.” Propagandist Rush Limbaugh also fueled the anti-health care debate on his radio show with frequent “calculated rants” aimed at his dittohead audience.  

PR-man Blair Childs said his coalition ran paid ads on Limbaugh’s show to encourage Rush’s listeners to call members of Congress and urge them to kill health care reform. Stauber and Rampton say that congressional staffers often didn’t know the callers were “primed, loaded, aimed and fired at them by radio ads on the Limbaugh show, paid by the insurance industry, with the goal of orchestrating the appearance of overwhelming grassroots opposition to health reform." 

During 1992 and much of 1993, before the propaganda blitz, both Democrats and Republicans were leaning toward a health reform bill according to James Fallows (The Atlantic, January 1995.)  Fallows writes, "Bob Dole said he was eager to work with the administration and appeared at events side by side with Hillary Clinton to endorse universal coverage. Twenty-three Republicans said that universal coverage was a given in a new bill." 

By 1994, the insurance corporations’ PR attacks had changed the political environment.  Stauber and Rampton write that "Republicans who previously had signed on to various components of the Clinton plan backed away.” Even Democratic Party Senate majority leader George Mitchell “announced a scaled-back plan that was almost pure symbolism.  Republicans dismissed it with fierce scorn." 

Although Hitler’s propagandist used mass mind control for more sinister goals, today’s corporate propagandists have the following in common with Goebbels:  They use the same opinion-shaping techniques he did, and they use them for the purpose of turning the people against their own interests.  When large numbers of American citizens suffer or die because they can’t get needed medicine or surgery as a result of corporate propaganda, it becomes obvious that Goebbels and today’s industry PR spin doctors have produced fruit that is similar in kind, though different in degree. 

The public benefits from understanding corporate PR and its character and intentions.  Hitler said, "Only one thing could have broken our movement: if the adversary had understood its principle and from the first day had smashed with extreme brutality the nucleus of our new movement.”  (Speech to Nuremberg Congress, 9/3/33.) 

Corporate America’s movement to undermine affordable prescription drugs, universal health care and other public health and safety interests has to be understood before it can be fought.  Stauber and Rampton say the PR industry resembles the title character in the old Claude Rains movie, “The Invisible Man.”  Rains’ character uses his invisibility to get away with robbery, murder and other crimes.  

The film was made using special-effects techniques such as hidden wires to make ashtrays, guns and other objects appear to float in mid-air, as if they were being moved by the invisible man. “Instead of ashtrays and guns,” write Stauber and Rampton, “The PR industry seeks to manipulate public opinion and government policy.  But it can only manipulate while it remains invisible." 

In part two, we’ll look at specific techniques today’s public relations ploys have in common with Goebbels’ methods, and we’ll examine the corporations’ and think-tanks’ Goebbels-like attacks on environmental protection.

[kennibean]

A huge thank you to vhsbelle for getting me to make this.

Welcome laities and gentleman and non-binary folks. Today I present to you: My version of Bob Sheldon’s Backsory

———

As a kid Bob always got what he wanted except for attention from his parents. He was a neglected child and his parents replaced their job as parents with toys and games. He made up imaginary friends to give him the attention he needed. As he grew older he would make actual friends but they would be fake friends that were only there to give him a reputation. He secretly hated his friends and his family and his life in general.

When he grew into his mid to late teenage years the divide between soc and grease became more clear. He saw the bond that greasers had and longed for it. As most of want the opposite of what we already had. Bob was different than your average stuck up soc. He would choose feelings over material things any day. He wanted to spend just a day as a greaser to see what it felt to have a bond to others.

When he started dating Cherry, he thought that material things would be the only way to get her to bond with him. So he would constantly be buying her things and treat her like she was helpless. That’s what I think Cherry meant when she said that Bob could be sweet. But she stayed with Bob because she saw right through his act. She wanted to help but she didn’t know how. So Cherry thought it would be best to stay with him to try and figure out a way to help.

Then his friends started getting drunk and going to loud beer blasts at 2 am. That’s when he saw that alcohol and booze could ‘solve his problems’. His parents also never yelled at him and blamed themselves for not teaching him how to behave. But they never had the nerve to punish Bob.

He would jump greasers because that is what his friends did and he also jumped them to build his reputation higher. Fighting also helped him blow off steam. So he would always be looking for a fight but since socs don’t fight socs he fought greasers. Bob also got drunk and high to get his parents to punish him. To be actual parents. To treat him fairly. But they never did.

And when Johnny killed Bob I think that he would be somewhat glad that he was put ot of his misery of mixed emotions. But I also feel that Bob would’ve dying because he never got the chance to correct his ways and live the life he wanted.

Sorry if this is not good. I just thought that there should be a little more depth to one of the most important characters in The Outsiders.

Thank you for reading if you did.

[8osbabe]

Could you write a modern AU but the Socs and Greasers are actually friends, and everyone is a reincarnation of themselves from the 60s? And Pony's like hanging out with Bob or something and all of a sudden he gets flashes of his past life (Johnny dying, Dally being shot, Soda leaving for Vietnam) and it scares the shit out of him because it seems so real

the modern au! only one person asked for. i really liked writing this and can write more if anybody’s interested.

———

“it’s completely corrupt, the whole institution, really. i mean, yeah, the movie was decent, and of-the-moment considering the area fifty one craze, but so were the other twenty-something alien movies that came out this year.”

cherry valance sets her latte down on the table. the way she frowns when she looks back up at him almost has ponyboy curtis worried that she’s about to say something serious.

“ponyboy,” she reaches out to touch the hand he’s resting on the table, as if she’s gearing up to break the news. “it was a bad movie.”

“it was a modern take on a cult classic movie based on the sixties. it rivals Grease, it might’ve even been better.”

ponyboy takes a condescending sip from his iced black coffee, another one of his hipster habits.

“actually, i’m sorry that today’s society is so far removed from quality cinematic masterpieces. they were better, then.”

cherry smiles softly to herself, the kind of smile that went well with her eyes. ponyboy hadn’t really liked green eyes, like his own, until he’d met her.

“curtis, if you are ever getting a girlfriend, you’re going to have to stop acting like a holier-than-thou indie-kid.”

she casts a dramatic glance at the coffee shop they were sitting outside of. she hadn’t heard of it until ponyboy referred to it as “the last place that serves decent coffee.” ponyboy would rather die than set foot in a mainstream starbucks.

ponyboy laughs. “how am i going to get on without you to tell me how it is?”

“it’s only two weeks, pony. i’ll be back before you know it. it’s just—,” she gets a far away look in her eyes before continuing. “bob’s parents are always doting on him with vacations, but he figures this one will be bearable if i go with him.”

“ah, yes, ‘always getting doted on with vacations,’ oh the horror,” he answers sarcastically, leaning back in his seat. he’d never thought bob sheldon was good enough for cherry. wasn’t it always that way when it came to your best friends?

“ponyboy,” cherry scolds. “you don’t have to like him, but you could at least try to understand him.”

“yeah. you’re right, i’m sorry.”

ponyboy’s cell phone chimes, lighting up to reveal a text from darry.

“shoot. i’ve got to go help darry pack.”

“i should go finish getting my things, too.”

she rises from her seat and pulls ponyboy into a tight hug.

“tell darry i said hi, okay? good luck, pony.”

“you’re the one who needs the luck,” he smiles, and cherry stares pointedly at him before walking away with a grin.

back home, darry’s putting the last few of his clothes into a cardboard box. there’s not much darry can take to college since he’ll be living in an eight by twelve dorm.

ponyboy runs a hand through his sweaty hair, winded from the walk home. “is that the last of it?”

“think so.” darry sighs, and looks at ponyboy sentimentally. it’s out of character for darryl, and frankly it makes ponyboy uncomfortable.

“i’m gonna’ miss you, alright?” ponyboy wants to laugh at his brother’s aggressive affection.

“—and when i get back, you better have dyed that back,” he says gesturing dramatically towards pony’s box dyed hair. “and you better get your license.” there he is.

“yeah, yeah.” it was embarrassing being the only sixteen year old he knew without a license, but he figured it wouldn’t be necessary if he couldn’t afford a car. darry was only going to college on a scholarship, else he’d be stuck in this town forever.

he hushes his voice down to a near-whisper, glancing at the bathroom door where soda was showering down the hall.

“—talk soda down from enlisting, will you? i don’t think i’m getting through to him. if he studies, gets his GED, he can do anything else.” he sighs. “i’ll be sending you guys a paycheck every month, so don’t let him use money as en excuse, alright?”

ponyboy nods, and he’s relieved when he sees johnny cade walk through the screen door.

“hey pony, you busy?”

“not at all,” he picks up a deck from off of a shelf.

“cards?”

johnny nods and moved to sit down across from him at the dining room table as ponyboy shuffles the cards.

“where ya’ been, johnnycake?”

“at the lot. they kicked me out actually, seems they’re going to start building there or somethin’.”

“i ran into randy, actually.”

“oh?” ponyboy asks. he knew randy well enough from school, and even though he was bob’s friend, he liked him alright. “is his head still stuck in the seventies?”

“like hell. he was there protesting the build site. apparently they’ve got important plant life there.”

“he’ll get over it, being a hippie, it’s all just a fad.”

johnny cade laughs curtly. “a fad, huh? almost as unbearable as yours.”

ponyboy just shakes his head and deals the cards, noticing a bruise on johnny’s knuckles.

“what’s that about? you fight with your parents again?”

johnny sighs. “yeah, i punched a wall. mom got to talking about wishing she’d never had me, and god maybe she’s right, y’know?”

“come on, johnnycake,” ponyboy pats him on the shoulder. “who would keep dallas from killing me if you weren’t around?”

“speak of the devil.” dallas winston pushes open the front door, his expression sour but he was doing a decent job of hiding it. he’d listened in on the conversation with johnny.

“aw, dally, take that shit outside, you are not smoking in my house.” ponyboy generally avoided smoking, since it was unhealthy, but he’d be lying if he said he never thought about taking it up just because it looked cool.

dallas blows smoke in ponyboy’s face. “what can i say? i’m a classic man. won’t find me smoking that flavor-vapor junk.”

“whatever, man, have fun living to the ripe old age of next tuesday,” ponyboy retorts, rolling his eyes.

“i ain’t ever gonna’ die,” dallas disappears into the kitchen, probably to raid the fridge.

ponyboy shudders. when he blinks, it’s gone, but for a moment he could have sworn he saw dallas with bullet holes through his back, chest, head.

“you alright, pony?” johnny looks concerned.

ponyboy shakes his head. “i don’t know, i’ve just been having a lot of these nightmares lately. weird thoughts, intrusive-like. i’ll just tell my shrink next time i go.”

johnny seems unsatisfied with the answer.

“is it about your parents, like before?”

“—not my parents. us, all of us.”

ponyboy looks through the window.

the sun was setting.

the horizon was gold.

[velvetsweater]

fucking sorry | bob sheldon 

God, this is going to be difficult, Bob thought. He stared into the rear view mirror of his Cadillac outside of Randy’s home, and practiced what he was going to say. The engine was left running in case he had second thoughts. Apologizing clearly didn’t come naturally to Bob. Genuine apologies for that matter. 

Truthfully, a phone call would have been enough to make amends, but this time Randy seemed fairly upset. Upset enough to rattle Bob’s usually unbothered mind for the past two weeks. Had it really been two weeks since we last spoke?  

He turned the engine off and sighed. This wasn’t like him at all. What happened to all his confidence?  It wasn’t that Randy wouldn’t accept an apology or was a difficult person himself, but Bob always seemed to say too little when he should say a little more. Randy wasn’t like his other friends. The ones who’s opinions meant nothing to him. He was much more---he could admit that, right?

He hopped out of his car and without knocking went inside the home. The house smelled of chamomile tea and radiated a warmth that his home never did.

“It’s me.” Bob said, passing Mrs. Anderson towards the stairs. She hummed a hello, unfazed by the intrusion.

Randy’s door was unlocked and a small tune danced all throughout the hallway and into Bob’s eardrum. He pushed it open slightly, enough to go unnoticed.

His friend sat at his work desk, snacking on a granola bar and listening to an album by The Four Seasons. Bob mentally snorted. They weren’t bad, but they weren’t The Beatles.

“I thought you had better taste than this.” Bob’s voice cut the silence with such ease.

Nonetheless, Randy jumped at bit, choking in the process. He didn’t seem surprised to see him, just frazzled by the scare. “Jesus, don’t do that! You tryna kill me?”

Bob stepped in and closed the door behind him. “You should really lock your door, Ran. Anyone could walk in here and see you doing God knows what.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Ever heard of knocking? And I couldn’t anyway if I wanted to. My dad isn’t about ‘Locking doors in my house!’” He said, mimicking his father’s military-like cadence. They both laughed shortly. Bob tried to smile away the awkward silence that followed. Randy began tidying up his work space, before sitting down more comfortably on his bed. Bob stared quietly.

“I was waiting for you.” Randy finally said.

“So you knew I’d come?”

He shrugged. “Sooner or later. I wish sooner--like a phone call or at school or something. Later makes me think you won’t.”

“Yeah,” He shrugged back. “You should know by now that I would, though. I always do.” Bob said, an edge of sincerity making its way past the wall he usually had up.

“I guess what matters is that you’re here now.”

He nodded. “I felt kinda bad about everything and wanted to make sure you were okay and other stuff. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“Good. Cool.”

Randy patted the spot next to him. Bob shook his head and said he was fine.

“What happened?” Randy asked, pointing to the scar on his friends brow and lip.

“Oh yeah,” He touched it as if he had forgotten it was there. “It’s nothing. Just some bums looking for a fight.”

“They hit a bingo.”

Bob laughed lightly. “Yeah--I started it.”

“I figured.” Randy looked down, a lopsided smile making its way across his features.

“So, uh, before I forget,” Bob shoved his hands in his pocket and took out a note with an address. “There’s a party this week at Jamie’s if you wanna come with. I mentioned it a while ago.” 

“Right.” Randy stared at the crumbled piece of paper in his friend’s hand before looking back up. “Is that it?”

Bob rose a brow at the brisk inflection in Randy’s tone. So he was still a little peeved.

“No it isn’t it. I came here because I’m fucking sorry.” Bob said.

“I’m glad to hear you’re ‘fucking’ sorry and not just ‘plain’ sorry. The differences really do matter.” Randy continued to ring out his attitude.

“Well I am, alright?” He said, gruffly and then remembered he was supposed to be apologizing. “I did a lot of thinking--about everything. About you.”

“Me?”

“Me?” Bob mocked Randy’s modesty.

A genuine smile came from the lanky boy’s features. Bob looked away and shrugged, unable to hide his own smile. They were going to be okay.

[rayinberkeley]

When was the first time Big Bang Theory made you cry?

Alright, you've had enough time. Big Bang Theory spoilers. Only because I'm curious..... what made you cry?

The first time BBT made me cry was not the finale.

It was several seasons ago. Bob Newhart stars as Arthur Jeffries, also known as Professor Proton. And if it's weird to you I remember his character's real name, you'll probably laugh that I had a Professor Proton in my life as well: Don Herbert, aka Mr. Wizard from Mr. Wizard's World. He instilled in me a love of knowledge much like Proton did for Sheldon. He taught me about time zones, the earth's weird rotation and why we're closer to the Sun in our winter in the northern hemisphere. Even how to use a chain to decipher how you'll fly over a globe instead of trying to use a flat map, because of the curvature of the earth means you'll probably fly over Greenland to get to Europe. I used that trick when I went to England and figured out what I'd be seeing outside the plane's window.

Well, of course Professor Proton, Jeffries, passes away (Bob is still with us in real life) and it shakes Sheldon. But he shows it in his own unusual way. Jeffries comes to him in his dream and tells him to appreciate his friends. And out of nowhere, he just reaches over and hugs Leonard.

Oh god..... that still hits me like a ton of bricks.

I know Sheldons get on peoples' nerves, but I've also always known Sheldons. I know their troubles. I remember Anya from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a demon, not understanding human emotions. Buffy's mother dies and she doesn't understand. She asks if anything was going to be done with her head, and everyone loses it on her, but she doesn't understand, and she breaks down crying because death was so stupid and she didn't understand why it took people she loved when they couldn't just be immortal like her.

Yeah, the same vengeance demon who was scared of bunnies.

I understand full well not knowing how others feel with normal emotions. Sheldon's growth was powerful, because it means others can grow too, if you'd just be patient with them instead of disposing with difficult people like everyone does, all too goddamned often. I get so sick of people just unfriending people like they're disposable, over stupid little reasons. People need someone who'll be there, to help them grow, and forgive their mistakes.

So the final episode, when he stars calling everyone by name from the dais in his speech, he calls on Doctor Rajesh Ramayan Koothrapali. He calls on Doctor Bernadette Marianne Wolowitz. Oh shit, will he do his usual thing with Howard?

"Astronaut Howard Wolowitz."

I broke down right there. He gave him his title of respect. And told them all he loved them. That was so big. That meant so much. Astronaut.

And tell me Howard's wedding ceremony wasn't the best ever. You'll be lying. On the rooftop so Google will capture it in its images. Giving Bernadette a star pendant but taking it back so he can give it back to her, so she can tell people she wears a star that's been up in the stars. This is the perverted little shit, doing the most amazing thing you've ever seen. That got me, but not like Sheldon grabbing Leonard after Jeffries' funeral.

So yeah, I was a wreck, and I remained one in the closing. We expected someone to move away or leave. Like the Golden Girls. Dorothy needed to make Leslie Nielson stay in Miami instead so she could stay with her sisters. I mean did you see Golden Palace? They were nothing without her! Instead it was the breaking up of good friends, and that was what wrecked me. But BBT stayed together. Why can't people stay together? Why can't I have those friends that stay together like that? Yeah, the Golden Palace chicks had Cheech, but so what? Although did you see Cheech on Celebrity Jeopardy? Motherfucker shocked us all. He could give Ken Jennings a run for his money, I bet.

Never mind. Way off track.

Then came Young Sheldon and the whole feeling as a kid, like he was a neutrino that would never bond with anybody, but we realize now that he will. And they showed everyone as a child at that moment. I'm like, okay, so is my family of friends still out there? Because that's hard for me to believe sometimes, when I still feel like a neutrino, and I want to be a quark.

Just like Young Sheldon, I once set up an entire birthday party and sent out invitations to everyone in the neighborhood and had absolutely not one person show up. Not one. I sat there and cried, just like he did when nobody showed up for the Nobel Prize announcements. I knew that one all too well.

When I first got to California, there were half as many seasons of BBT. I owned the first five on DVD. I was scared to try to get out and meet new people. I would sit and watch reruns binge watching because it comforted me. Sean could tell you this. I would hope that California would give me this group of pals because I didn't get them in Georgia, or Louisville, or Tucson. I didn't even know how to try. I'm too Sheldon I guess. I'm still wondering if I'm really that to anybody sometimes.

There are no prizes in my future, unless for some reason what I write finally makes it and I get some Hugo or other literary prize. Although I can't even get friends to read my stuff, so... probably not.

(PS: One of the stories I’m working on now is located here, called...)

(I’m just saying.)

So yeah, I've internalized this show. I internalized Golden Girls too. It's just odd to me how characters on TV stick together through incredible odds when all I've ever seen people do is throw each other away. Joined organizations to be a part of something and I've only seen them fall apart. Tried to be a part of a community only to discover they really aren't one. It's rough. I don't want to watch life happen on a screen. I want it to be real. But this is what I've got. And maybe it's a bad model since reality is so different.

But please, appreciate each other. Appreciate the Sheldons even if they drive you nuts. Appreciate me. We have so much hardship as it is. and life is short. When we don't live it, and live it together, we're throwing it all away.

I don't wanna do it all on my own. I wanna look down if I win something and be able to say I didn't get there on my own. I want people to thank. I want people who helped me get there. On your own isn't heroic. It's unnecessarily hard. And it makes it all feel meaningless.

In a sense, these characters are my pretend family. I don't have one in real life, really. So it's hard to say goodbye. But we did. And it was beautiful. And what matters, what I said when I met that man from England (who turned out to be another dick that disposed of me for no reason in Belgium) was that it's wonderful having someone that it genuinely hurts to say goodbye to. It's a pain everyone should enjoy. Otherwise, what good was any moment you ever had with anybody if in the end you can just get rid of them for no reason?

Please think about that. And appreciate each other. And let me in on a little bit of that, will ya?