#but i struggled with the wallowing then too. were i a Teen at school with Olivia's character i would be so desperate to tell GROW UP

[thedreadvampy]

I tried listening to Olivia Rodrigo and I'm sure this is really good for its target audience of Teen Girls Going Through A Breakup but has she actually ever put out a song that isn't about a guy cheating, breaking up with her and moving on to someone else?

like babe he's not coming back it's been 2 years you gotta find something else in your life

[pepstarvanmoon]

I really wonder what GAs think about Mike’s overall storyline in S3 and how it extended into S4.

When I first started S3 (I didn’t start shipping Byler until the rain fight and didn’t go deeper into the fandom until after finishing S4), I didn’t really care about what Mike had going on.

He was being a typical teen with their frustrating and dismissive ways, but I wasn’t really bothered by it? I didn’t really care until it started to feel sort of shoved in my face? Like being late to the theater, ditching Dustin on his first day back, everything with Hopper tbh, lying to El, advice from Lucas, not playing DnD to look for gifts at the mall, the break up, not playing DnD (again) to wallow in self-pity and to be gross boys lol (part of that scene is just so El and Will can react to Mike being gross like why).

By the time we got to “they’re conspiring against me!” I started rolling my eyes every time Microbial’s relationship issues became the focus of a scene. It was starting to piss off other characters, too, so I felt kinda justified in how little I cared.

Then the store scene where they’re patching up El’s leg and Mike struggles (badly) not to SAY “I love you” to her face, but to somehow get her to say it for him? (Like some weird school lesson trying to get students to find the answer without outright saying it like it’s a curse or something. This show has never needed I love you’s to convey that a couple is in love, so this whole thing felt unnecessary to me my first watch). I remember sitting there wondering why I should gaf about this plotline at all. It was so drawn out for what felt like no reason, and it didn’t seem to be going anywhere? “I know that I…” Are you sure you know, Mike? Like say it or move on.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but it really had no impact until they force you to remember it during the move out scene where El says she loves him too (weird btw seeing as we got the “I love her and I can’t lose her again!” BEFORE the “you’ve never heard that term…?” I guess it was to have a ‘funny’ scene after that first encounter with ther meat flayer? Idk maybe I need to rewatch S3)

I guess they left it open ended after that uncomfortable kiss scene because it’s clearly still an issue in S4, but in my initial watch, more than it not making sense to me, I just sort of found it boring? It might’ve just been my bias because I started to enjoy Will and El’s characters more than Mike’s at the time, and Madraosis’ constant (and minuscule) problems were making them both miserable. To have it pick up again in S4 annoyed me because the S3 finale made it seem like their relationship was okay, but… did they really resolve anything?

Honestly, my biggest gripe was it being included at all. It felt unnecessary and boring at the time, but if they’re gonna keep pushing Mike’s inability to say “I love you” and function normally while in a relationship after all that bs in S3, it better be for a decent reason. It was no longer as cut and dry as I thought when I watched S4, and it’s difficult to grasp that a lot of people watching the show still think this way.

I mean, just imagine Nancy spending a whole chunk of S2 trying to convince/tell Steve she loves him and treating Jonathan like an afterthought before they get together that SAME season (like a romantic and less traumatizing spin on what happened with Barb (RIP), where they clearly demonstrated how bad it was that Nancy was getting swept up in her relationship with Steve).

Nancy getting back with Steve at the end of S1 was annoying for a lot of people, but more of an “eh, whatever” until they started having problems again in S2. Why is it literally the same storyline?? It’s pretty blatant, too. I hardly see any GA really questioning it, and if they do it’s always chalked up to bad writing (which… yeah). If it’s not because Mike and El are having legitimate problems, or about Will’s confirmed feelings, then what do the Duffer’s want me to think?

(first post but I've been lurking here so long it doesn't feel like it.)

[bangtansbun]

Endgame || Gorgeous

pairing: jeon jeongguk x f. reader

genre: fluff and pining

word count: 1,550

warnings: just a lot of pining on yn’s end.

a/n: this is the start of everything and i really cannot stand how sweet they are. please listen to the song to get a better feel for the emotions running through yn’s head. I know this isn’t a very long written part, but I think the scene fits perfectly. lemme know what you guys think after you read!!

song: Gorgeous by Taylor Swift

Masterlist

The two of you had always been this way. Always wanting to spend time together regardless of whether you’d already seen each other 5 times that week. It was movie nights and sleepovers in Jeongguk’s room, late night pizza parties in yours, and everything in between.

Originally there had been nothing there, just a pure, loving friendship of the best kind. However, as you’d grown into your teen years you started to realize that some of the feelings you had toward him may not be of the friend variety. Jeongguk started to change too. Although you weren’t sure if his feelings changed, the physical change he underwent was very apparent. No longer this scrawny and gangly boy, but someone with a strong jawline, defined abs, and thick thighs. Of course you knew this because in all the years you’d been friends you’d changed in front of each other at least a million times. Only turning away when when the more intimate parts of your bodies were being exposed.

Needless-to-say, it was hard not to notice the rapid change in his body.

His personality had changed a little bit too, but only in a way that made your crush for him grow even more. He used to be so shy and quiet. Always kind of keeping to himself. And while he still preferred you to other people even now, he was more outgoing and goofy than he was when he was younger.

All of that to say, it was hard to ignore the feelings of jealousy when girls at school talked to him. The pang of disappointment when he’d turn down a hang out session with you to do something else. The turmoil you went through when he’d talk to you about his crush of the year and dates he went on here and there. Although none of them ever turned into something serious, you still always felt regretful anytime he was spending a romantic evening with someone other than you.

That said, you’d invited Guk over to play minecraft with you and just chill, no school work, no talk of school at all. Just you and him playing minecraft and spending quality time together. However, he got bored about halfway through you building a new base and decided to take his laptop out to play his own games. Normally you wouldn’t care, but when he was playing with you he was sat in the same chair, cheeks almost touching, and warmth from being so close to you. Now he’s sitting on your bed cross-legged and the coolness of his body no longer next to yours is settling uncomfortably into your bones.

The idea was popping into your mind the instant you noticed he wasn’t even responding to you anymore, too focused on his game to carry on the conversation. You were going to bother him. Would it cause him to lose his game? Maybe. Would he be mad at you for it? Only for a minute or two. Would it be worth it? 100%. You couldn’t go without his attention for one more second.

Without thinking twice, you quickly get out of your chair and leap onto the bed, effectively tackling him in the process. He quickly moves his laptop out of the way so as not to let you break it and braces himself for the impact. You’re immediately going for his sides, knowing he’s most ticklish there. He lets out a yelp and tries to tickle you back so as to distract you from your attack. “You little brat!” he gasps out. “What?? You weren’t even t-talking to me, Guk!” the stutter falling out  of your lips when he gets you where you’re most ticklish.

You started out hovering over him, but he’s shifted the position and now he’s on top of you. Desperately trying to tickle you so that you’ll stop in your tracks.

It worked.

The position he put the both of you in, having moved you with ease, has caused a shift in the air. You thought it was just you. Being this close allowing you to notice just how gorgeous he is. His brown hair flopping in front of his face, the cute bunny teeth that poke out when he’s trying to conceal his laughter, and the way his nose scrunches right before he laughs. You can’t help but be mesmerized by him. Completely lost in his chocolate brown eyes, almost twinkling when he’s looking at you. He was so cute you couldn’t stand it. All of those years of teasing him and play fighting with him leading up to this moment. You not only had a big fat crush on him, but you might also be in love.

You thought it was just you, but it wasn’t. 

He felt the shift too, your faces so close to each other now, and the warmth from your bodies spreading between the two of you. Your lips just a hairs breadth away from each other. But just as quickly as you had attacked him, he’s moving off of you. “Ah, sorry yn,” he says as he rubs the back of his neck, something you know he does as a nervous habit. “I didn’t mean to ignore you, you know how I get with these games sometimes,” a light chuckle coming out of him as he avoids your gaze. You’re still lying down on the bed, your breathing still struggling to return back to normal after such close proximity to him. “Uh, it’s okay, Guk. It doesn’t matter, just wanted to spend some time with you and we are, so that’s all that really matters,” you finally move to sit up, trying to bring some normalcy back to the room.

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you, which normally wouldn’t  matter, silence being comfortable from years of friendship, but this time the awkwardness is palpable. Jeongguk is the first one to break the silence, “why don’t you show me what you’ve been working on while I was sucked into my round?” You’re quick to get up from the bed and bound over to your gaming chair. You always loved showing him your intricate builds or mineshafts that you’re able to clear out, skillfully evading the mobs that would spawn erratically.

With that, the energy between you guys starts to go back to normal. You two spend the rest of the evening just like that, chatting lightly and advancing in the game together. Eventually, 10pm rolls around and the two of you start to feel tired, needing to get ready to go to bed so you both can feel rested for school tomorrow morning. You walk Jeongguk to the door, “bye Gukkie. Thanks for hanging out with me tonight,” you say with a soft smile. “Of course, yn. I’m always down to hang out with you.” With a smile and wave, he walks across the street to his own house, and you’re left to sit in your messy feelings.

You flop back down onto your bed with a huff. What was going on with you? This crush has been going on for a while now and you’re usually able to repress your feelings enough for everything to continue as normal. This time was way different, you felt like your feelings for him were practically oozing out of you. He could probably smell the desperation on you. God, you hated how much he made you want him. Sure he was your best friend, but he wasn’t really yours to have just by default. You wished he’d be yours though, it’d make this whole ordeal a lot less painful. 

Your roll over onto your stomach and groan into your pillow. Wallowing, that’s what you were going to do for the rest of the night. Felt like the right next move to you considering your predicament. 

Just as you’re making a plan of turning on netflix and drowning yourself in ice cream in the dark, you hear your phone go off with a *ping.* 

From gukkie:

[10:17pm] thanks for having me over. really hope you’re not mad at me for ignoring you for my game. you still seemed kind of weird when I left :/

Damn, he could read you like a book. Although, while you were feeling weird when he left, his reason for that is wrong, so you’re still able to skillfully evade confessing to him.

To gukkie: 

[10:20pm] no, of course i’m not mad at you. i’m just tired is all and i hate my classes tomorrow so dread is setting in. don’t worry guk, i had a good time :)

Leaving it at that, you turn your phone on do not disturb for the rest of the night, as you usually do so you can actually make sure to get some sleep, select the kdrama you’ve been watching lately, and dig into a tub of ice cream until you’re so tired you can’t keep your eyes open anymore. You go to sleep feeling a sort of emptiness, but also not because even though you were sure Jeongguk would never like you back in that way, at least you got to keep him as your best friend. There was always comfort in that and that could keep you going, at least for a little while.

[epicstuckyficrecs]

2020 Half-year fic rec for Steve Rogers’ birthday!

I made a poll on Twitter to know if people would be interested in me doing a half-year “best of” fic rec like I did last year , and the response was overwhelmingly positive, so here it is! 😊 These are my favorite fics of the year so far! (in no particular order)

Complete

Two Colors, White and Gold by Carelica (Canon-Divergent | 36K | Explicit): He’s here, he’s alive. His hand is on a tree.

Deep Sea Diving by AidaRonan/ @bisexualstarbucky​ (Shrunkyclunks | 5,4K | Explicit): Steve’s wallowing in heat-related misery under a shade tree in Central Park when a man walks by in bright red booty shorts and a crop top. RIP Steve Rogers. It was nice knowing you.

Some things you do for money by pushdragon (BDSM AU | 72K | Explicit): Steve’s wholesome take on domination has suddenly become the hottest thing in the business. He should be cashing in on his newfound celebrity, but instead he’s distracted by the guy who works odd shifts in the club’s bar, fresh out of prison and damaged in ways that don’t show.

the hand you want to hold is a weapon (and you’re nothing but skin) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid​ (Post-WS, Sex Pollen | 13K | Explicit): Steve gets sex-pollened. He handles it just fine, and then Bucky shows up.

Dear Mr. Postman by odetteandodile (Modern AU | 52K | Teen): “I’m um—your mailman,” Bucky says, lamely. Or—Steve and Bucky revive an old friendship, get married (but totally just as friends, for reasons), and navigate a few of the many trials of the heart that come with falling in love with your best friend. 

good on my own (needed me) by mcwho (Modern AU | 12K | Explicit): There are some mistakes that could be made by anybody. Anybody. Bucky taught high school pretty much his whole life, and that was fine, those were kids, and he knew all of them anyway, which meant there was very little chance of him accidentally fucking any of his students during an impulsive post-marital-breakdown Grindr hook-up. Which is exactly what he had done with Steve.or: bucky has not let steve rogers fuck him since his sophomore year (Part 1 of himbo-verse)

Latte Art and Slow Dancing in the Dark by deadonarrival (Modern AU with powers, Daddy kink | 89K | Explicit): Bucky is a somewhat well-adjusted former army sniper that got his shoulder blown out. He took his discharge and went home to finish school. His best friends and roommates (Nat & Clint) are CIA agents and tip him off that their local Sbux is hiring. He gets a job there and meets none other than the hottest guy on earth. So how does one get a date in the most top secret government location in the US? What happens when that guy is more than just a hot dorito and wants to give Bucky everything he wants? 

That Boy Is a Problem by 2bestfriends  (Modern AU | 10K | Explicit): In which a twinky little goth punk named Bucky puts a leash around Steve’s dick and he’s really into it. (The leash is a metaphor. For now.)

bullet in a gun (but in the end, my time will come) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid​ (Post-Endgame, Canon-divergent | 25K | Explicit): Post-Thanos, Bucky Barnes has happily settled into a life of peace and pining. That’s when alternate versions of the best friend he’s secretly in love with start showing up.

Like it’s the Only Thing I’ll Ever Do by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (ABO AU | 39K | Explicit): When Steve opens the door, Bucky feels like he’s been living in clouds for the past few days, maybe even his entire life. Steve is life, Steve is happiness, Steve is the sun. He has such a visceral reaction to seeing the Alpha that he feels his knees go weak, feels his body draw tight towards the other man, pulled in. Or big Alpha Steve moves into sweet little Omega Bucky’s apartment building and a roller-coaster build of a romance ensues.

A Company Man by mambo/ @whtaft (Modern AU | 75K | Explicit): No matter what it is, the truth is the same: Steve Rogers is in love with Bucky Barnes, a married man.

How to Fuck With (and Feed) Your Soulmate by BlueSimplicity/ @bluesimplicity73​ (Soulmate AU, Shrunkyclunks | 114K | Explicit): It’s called the Grey Space; a patch of skin marking you as blessed and the first sign you have a soulmate. Steve Rogers didn’t have one when he crashed into the ice. But he did when he woke up in the future. The second sign is the Sense, a sharing of one the senses to help soulmates find each other. Steve’s Sense, taste, is rare, but he loves a challenge and a soulmate is a gift from the Fates. Except instead of a blessing, it’s a curse, since his soulmate is a dick. Bucky Barnes loves food and a homecooked meal is something he cherishes. When his Grey Space starts to itch, Bucky can’t help his excitement, since the Sense he and his soulmate share is taste. But not for long. Whoever he’s bound to has the blandest diet in the world, ignoring all Bucky’s messages. After weeks of putting up with tasteless food, Bucky decides to strike back.

Strangers in the Street by crinklefries/ @spacerenegades (Canon divergent | 15K | Teen): Every five years, Bucky meets the same tall, blond stranger.

Departure by Nejinee/ @nejineeee (Arrival AU | 80K | Mature): Captain America is recruited by the U.S. government to assist a linguist and her team of scientists in communicating with aliens after twelve mysterious space ships appear across the globe overnight.

Compatible - A Romantic Science Fiction Thriller in Four Parts by the1918/ @the1918​ (Shrunkyclunks, ABO AU | 33K | Explicit): When young nanotech engineer Bucky Barnes finds himself falling head first in love with none other than Steve Rogers, he ends up getting a lot more of the Alpha than he– or science– could ever have imagined possible.

WIP

four dreams in a row where you were burned by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (canon divergent, post-Endgame, 1945 alternate timeline | 10/? | 58K | Mature): When Steve uses the last of his Pym Particles to travel to 1944 and save his best friend, he doesn’t have a plan beyond leaving behind the battlefield and living his life alongside the people he loves. But the life that finds him is not the one he expects.

A Matter of Trust by chicklette/ @chicklette​ (Singer Bucky, Fake relationship | 7/13 | 26K | Explicit): At 43, James Barnes is a washed up old man. He’s got a dozen Grammys in the hall closet, an agent that can’t get him a deal, a decade-old case of writer’s block, a moody teen-aged daughter, and the gorgeous actress Natasha Romanova for an ex-wife. Enter Steven Grant Rogers, struggling twenty-something, orphan, and someone who has no idea who Barnes is. The two men meet by accident, doing nothing more than passing the time in a quiet bar. But when a pap gets a shot of the two men embracing, Bucky takes it as a chance to finally come out as bisexual, and his agent makes him a proposition: Ten new songs and one very sweet boyfriend will get him a new record deal that will maybe, just maybe put him back on top. Now all he has to do is write the songs, convince the kid, and not fall in love. Should be easy, right?

Bespoke by the1918/ @the1918​ (Shrunkyclunks, ABO AU | 6/10 | 61K | Explicit): “I love you, too. So fucking much,” Steve answered. His voice sounded cracked and exhausted, an exposed nerve ending in the shape of a man. “Some days I still don’t believe you’re real. Feels— feels like somehow, I’ve always loved you. Even when I didn’t know you.” Bucky smiled softly at that and felt his heart threaten to explode. Still straddling his lap, he reached a hand up to cup Steve’s cheek. “You’ve always known me,” he stated, simply. “I was made for you, remember?” (Part 2 of Compatible)

Series

couldn't get the boy to kill me by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (Shrunkyclunks, SHIELD Agent Bucky | 12 works, complete | 74K | Explicit): Captain America and the Winter Soldier are a terrifying duo on the field, working together with a well-oiled precision that tears through their enemies. Captain Rogers and Agent Barnes are distant coworkers, all polite nods and mission briefings. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are fire and gasoline; it never ends well.

the hero's shoulders by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (Shrunkyclunks, Post-CW, canon divergent | 3 works, not complete | 32K | Explicit): Sequel series to couldn't get the boy to kill me

~

Honorable mention for Where The Interstate Ends by paperstorm/ @paper-storm​ because it was posted last year but I only read it recently!

[introvertguide]

The Best Years of Our Lives (1946); AFI #37

The next film on the AFI list is the epic drama, directed by William Wyler, about the men coming home to their families after WW2, The Best Years of Our Lives (1946). The timing on the films\ was perfect to help families deal with the struggles of returning war veterans. It deals with unfaithful partners, loving partners who have to learn to except injuries of their loved ones, and families who have made a life out of being without a father in the household and nobody is quite sure how to proceed. The movie was nominated for 8 Oscars and took home 7 of them including Best Picture and Best Director. Harold Russel won Best Supporting Actor as well as a special award for encouraging fellow veterans. Mr. Russel was the only actor to ever win two acting awards for the same role in the same year. There is more to be said about the actors and the story, but it seems now is a good time to go over the plot of the film. This, of course, involves...

SPOILER ALERT!!! WHAT HAPPENS IN THIS FILM IS NO BIG SURPRISE, BUT I WOULD STILL RECOMMEND WATCHING IT FIRST AND THEN COMING BACK AFTER TO READ THE REVIEW!!!

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

The plot follows the lives of three veterans returning from service at the end of World War II to the fictional midwestern town of Boone City: USAAF bombardier Fred Derry (Dana Andrews), naval petty officer Homer Parrish (Harold Russel), and platoon sergeant Al Stephenson (Fredric March). Before their respective military service, Fred was a soda jerk who married Marie (Virginia Mayo) shortly before shipping out. Al was a banker living with his wife Millie (Myrna Loy), adult daughter Peggy (Teresa Wright) and teen-aged son Rob. Homer was a star high school athlete living with his parents and sister, next door to his girlfriend, Wilma (Cathy O'Donnell). Homer lost both hands during the war and returns with mechanical hook prostheses.

Each man faces challenges integrating back into post-war society. Homer deals with the adjustments he and his family and Wilma face in light of his disability. Al's penchant for alcohol and the adjustments of returning to the banking business cause tension with his family and business associates. Fred, who experiences flashbacks of his bombing raids, becomes frustrated with the wife he barely knows and an employer who fails to appreciate him, and who eventually fires him when Fred punches a man in defense of Homer. Fred and Peggy become attracted to each other which puts the married Fred and Al at odds. Fred eventually leaves his cheating wife, and with no seeming future in Boone City, he decides to catch the next plane out. At the airport, Fred visits an aircraft boneyard and has another flashback. He is roused by a work crew boss who agrees to hire Fred to help disassemble the war planes for prefabricated housing material. Now divorced, Fred serves as best man at the wedding of Homer and Wilma, where he sees Peggy and they reunite.

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

I have watched this film 4 times in the last 6 weeks because I kept meaning to do the review and then something happened. I had a move out of state, my dad was sick, I got a sudden group of students...it has been interesting. It has allowed my to really digest what this film is all about. A couple things that surprised me are how the women play all the tough characters, which was very abnormal for the time. Fred plays second fiddle to a cheating wife. Al tries to get his family to go out on the town. Homer doesn't want to talk about what is bothering him while Wilma shows undying love and loyalty. All of the men's roles basically described how Old Hollywood expected women to act at the time.

Let's go into depth with the characters a little more. Fred is having some kind of PTSD issue caused by seeing a man burned in a bomber. He apparently saved a bunch of men, but his memories still haunt him. He married a gold digger that loves a man in uniform before he left and she turns out to be a dud. He falls for Peggy Stevenson, daughter of one of the men he met on the plane home. He moves in too early and gets told off by her dad but his garbage wife divorces him and he goes back for Peggy. A lot of men got married right before leaving and returned to a wife they didn't really know. This was a real and present danger at the time this film came out and it was brave of them to address it so head on.

Al was the big man around the house and made all of the money for the family and his wife and children basically served him before the war. Al went off and became a sergeant so he became used to people doing what he said. He returned to a family that had learned to get by without him and had their own life so he is at a loss of what his place is in the family so he just gets drunk to cover up the awkwardness. His wife, Millie, and his daughter, Peggy, have angelic patience with the unsure man of the family and help him find his place again. This aspect of the movie was more about the strong women of the family although Fredric March was the one who received an Oscar for his performance.

Homer is the character I think most people remember about this movie because he was missing his hands. He was afraid to see his girlfriend and family because of the hooks that replaced his hands might be frightening. It did take some getting used to, but his girl seemed to love him just the same. Homer seemed to think that she would not like him anymore because he couldn't do all of things he could before. He had a little difficulty with tone because he would go from demanding independence one minute to wallowing in self pity the next. What is so good about the film and the character is that injured veterans tend to go through the stages of grief over the loss of a limb or motor function of a limb. It is likely that he would be all over the spectrum emotionally.

There were quite a few racial slurs about the Japanese people because there were very hard feelings for the bombing of Pearl Harbor, especially from the Navy and Air Force. It is a little hard to listen to today, but it does convey they American sentiment of the time. It also makes sense that you really have to hate somebody to want to fight and kill them, so I understand why all of the these characters would feel that way about people from that country.

Some of the scenes were a little uncomfortable to watch because awkward feelings about returning home and fitting back in with their families and society is not a comfortable subject. Al was especially hard for me to watch because he tried to hide his feelings with copious amounts of drinking. His first night back when he hit on his wife thinking she was somebody else and when he made a speech at his company's "welcome home" party both stand out as especially cringy.

So does this film belong on the AFI top 100? Of course it does. It is multi award winning and gives the viewer a feel for that moment in time right after WW2 when all the military people were coming home. Would I recommend it? Yes. It is one of the few movies of the time period that weren't touting America's superiority and instead focused on the toll that going to war took on the people who fought and those waiting back home. It is quite a long film with some cringy moments, but it is well worth it and very memorable.

[morningfears]

Rose Tattoo [Chapter Five]

Rating: PG-13 (this chapter is a little heavy! See the TW below)

Summary: Stevie has her first appointment with her new therapist. She and Cal take a walk in Central Park but a figure from his past ruins their night.

Word Count: 7.3k

TW: This chapter includes suicidal thoughts, self harm, anxiety, depression, talk of mental illness and past abuse. The first half of the chapter is a little heavy. If you need to skip the first half (or the entire chapter itself), please do so. 

CH. 1 | CH. 2 | CH. 3 | CH. 4 | SERIES MASTERLIST

The chair that Stevie had been stuck in for nearly an hour had been comfortable at first. It was plush, cushioned and roomy enough for her to not feel constricted, but as she fidgeted anxiously, it grew increasingly uncomfortable. She couldn’t find a position that worked for her, nothing made her feel at ease, so she settled for sitting with one leg beneath her and bouncing her other knee as she stared at the clock on the wall.

She found herself all too aware of her surroundings. The ticking of the clock thundered in her ears, each second passing felt like a lifetime and seemed to mock her as it melted away. The hiss of the heater, the metallic screech of the vent above her head, sent goosebumps erupting across her skin. The unbearable heat of the office felt suffocating and made it that much harder for her to breathe as she sat and waited for her appointment to begin.

She hadn’t been to a therapist since high school and she felt a bit of residual resentment as she glanced around the office. She had been forced then, dragged against her will to sit and talk to a stranger after her mother spotted new scars on her thighs and didn’t know how to handle it, and hated every moment of it. She felt alone, misunderstood, and didn’t want the rationality that her therapist offered her. She wanted to wallow, to live in her misery and let it drown her, but not this time.

This time, she went willingly.

After her first visit to her therapist as a teenager, Stevie was medicated. She was given something she considered an all-purpose drug meant to tackle her anxiety and all of the nasty things that came with it and, for a while, she was fine with it. She had long since stopped caring what anyone thought of her and if medication made her mind a safer place for her to be, she knew that she could tune out the stigma surrounding it. However, when the medication made her feel like a stranger in her own skin, uncomfortable and more anxious than before, she made the decision to stop taking it and no one fought her.

Her doctor declared that someone so young - she was barely sixteen at the time - shouldn’t be on such a heavy medication. Her mother, a woman who had been on medication more than half her life for her own bipolar disorder, didn’t want Stevie to endure the same fate. They decided that she seemed fine, over the teen angst that resulted in her harming herself, and in a better state of mind after only six months on medication so they let it go.

She stopped taking her medicine and stopped seeing her therapist and learned how to hide her suffering a little better.

If you’d asked her, she would have told you that she was fine during that period and, for some parts of it, she was. She was functional, able to maintain high enough grades to earn academic scholarships and breeze through college. She made friends, she made memories, she lived; however, it often felt as though she were an outsider looking in. She kept her struggle hidden, only commenting on her lack of sleep or appetite when she was busy enough to cover it all up with a reasonable excuse, and felt that she was managing it adequately.

In the rough waters of depression and anxiety, Stevie had become a professional swimmer.

However, Angela’s death was something that she couldn’t manage, not even somewhat. She was the only person that Stevie confided in, the only one that knew from the hazy look in her eyes or the bouts of silence Stevie sometimes lapsed into just how deep in her head she was, and Stevie had returned that favor for her. But when Angela got sick, Stevie no longer had anyone to talk to. She couldn’t tell Angela how her illness was effecting her life. She couldn’t tell her that she was afraid of what would happen if she died.

When Angela died, Stevie couldn’t tell her just how much she would miss the best friend she’d ever had.

In the months leading up to Angela’s death, Stevie’s emotions grew more and more unmanageable. She returned to old habits, her thighs were covered with more new scars than she ever imagined she’d see, and began to isolate herself from her support net. She knew, rationally, that they would lend an ear and be sympathetic if she were to reach out to them. Everyone knew how close they were and how much they meant to one another. It was understandable, how she felt, but she’d managed her feelings for so long on her own by avoiding them, by pretending that they didn’t exist and removing herself from any situation that might force her to talk about them, that she didn’t know how to ask for help.

She wouldn’t have made the decision to see a therapist had it not been for the growing intensity of the intrusive thoughts. Her life had been falling apart for a while, long before Angela’s death, but that was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. Her family was falling apart before her very eyes, a process that began in her teen years but sped up after she left for college, and her mother was turning into someone she didn’t know. She didn’t know what she would return to when - if - she returned home and she had no idea how to cope with it all.

She was living her dream but it had turned into something of a nightmare.

Stevie didn’t want to die. She knew that. But it seemed like the only option that made sense. She had her dream apartment and her dream job in her dream city. She was young, free, and living the life she always imagined she would but she still wasn’t happy. If that wasn’t enough, she couldn’t imagine there being anything that would make her happy.

So why not end it all, if there was nothing left to live for?

The moment that thought crossed her mind, she knew that she needed help. She had a lot to live for, a lot to be happy about, and it was a chemical imbalance in her brain that was telling her she didn’t. Rationally, she knew that. But every time she stood by her window, staring down at the pavement below, and every time she spotted the bottle of sleeping pills she’d been prescribed but never used, she thought about how easy it would be. And that scared the shit out of her.

She wanted to live. And although the idea of sitting in a therapist’s office and taking medication for the foreseeable future wasn’t something she liked, she knew that it had to be done.

“Stevie?”

Stevie lifted her head, torn from her thoughts by the sound of a soft voice calling her name. She blinked away the unshed tears that lined her lashes and gave the doctor she’d booked an appointment with a tight smile as she stood from her chair. “That’s me,” she confirmed, holding out her hand for the doctor to take, “nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Stevie. I’m Audrey Maxwell. Come on in and we’ll get started,” Dr. Maxwell instructed, her tone gentle and patient smile lifting her lips as she ushered Stevie into her office.

Stevie bit back a sigh as she took a seat on the plush blue couch, settling into the corner and placing a pillow over her lap as she waited for Dr. Maxwell to take her own seat. She was young, no older than mid-thirties, and polished but not overly so. She had kind eyes and a gentle smile that Stevie imagined made it easy for people to trust her.

“Alright, Stevie,” Dr. Maxwell hummed, her voice light and tone airy as she placed a box of tissues on the coffee table that sat in front of Stevie, “what brings you to me today?”

Stevie wasn’t sure where to even begin. It was a culmination of a lifetime of anxiety and depression, of childhood trauma and teenage angst. It was her family falling apart, her best friend dying, her dream life not being enough to make her happy. It was thinking about suicide when she didn’t want to die.

“Life, I guess,” Stevie answered with a shrug as she stared at the throw pillow in her lap. “I’ve always been anxious and depressed. I was medicated for a while as a teenager but I hated how it made me feel so I stopped taking them. And things have just gotten worse since then.”

“How have they gotten worse?” Dr. Maxwell asked, her question gentle but a firm guidance for Stevie to delve into specifics.

“My best friend died a few months ago. We grew up together. She was more like my sister than anything and when she was here, I felt like I could deal with it. Things were bad before then.” Stevie hesitated for a moment, her tugging at a loose thread as she released a shuddering breath. “They’ve always been bad but it was manageable, at least.”

“Why don’t you start from the beginning, then?”

Stevie knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the beginning of the end was her childhood. However, she hadn’t exactly opened up to anyone - not even Angela - how how rough it had been. It wasn’t a time she liked reliving and she felt her heart begin to race as she recalled the events that pushed her to develop less than ideal coping mechanisms.

“My mom is bipolar,” she began, her voice shaking and her hands trembling despite her grip on the pillow. She didn’t dare look at Dr. Maxwell, she knew that she would cry if she did, so she kept her gaze on her lap as she continued. “She wasn’t handling it well when I was a kid so when she and my real dad divorced, he ended up getting custody. But as unstable as my mom was, he was worse.” Stevie paused, willing her voice not to crack as she swallowed thickly.  “It was emotional abuse for years, telling me that no one loved me and my mom didn’t want me. He didn’t hit me until I was older but I was just a kid. I didn’t understand. I wondered why no one loved me. And it just… it was all downhill from there, I guess.”

Stevie fell silent for a long moment. She could hear her own ragged breathing, heavy and labored in her ears, and could feel her body shaking from the anxiety. She knew that her childhood was where her problems began, she knew that leaving her trauma unchecked for so many years was unhealthy, but thinking about it was hard. And talking about it was even harder so instead of dwelling, she moved forward.

“My mom got on meds, started seeing a new doctor, and got custody. Things were fine. We never talked about it because it was almost a competition to her. Her dad was abusive and my dad abused her, too. She had it worse and she told me that every time I bought it up. I didn’t feel like I had the right to be upset but when I got older and started to think about it, it hurt. I went to therapy and got medication but I hated it. So, I stopped taking the pills and stopped going and everyone just assumed I was better. I let them because I didn’t have a reason to be unhappy. I didn’t have a reason to be happy, either, though.”

Dr. Maxwell remained quiet as Stevie attempted to gather her thoughts. She watched as Stevie bounced her knee, tapped her fingers against the arm of the couch, and blinked back tears as she summed up the most recent years of her life. Her words rushed out in a flood, the dam breaking and her panic overwhelming her as she fully committed to honesty to get the help she knew she needed.

“I should be happy now. I have every reason to be,” Stevie stated, a pained laugh leaving her lips as she shook her head and brought hand up to her hair. “I’m living in my dream city in a great apartment and I have my dream job. I have everything I’ve ever wanted but I feel so guilty. I’m living my dream while everything else is falling apart.”

Stevie fell silent again, her nails digging into the arm of the couch as she swallowed the lump in her throat and offered a weak laugh. “My best friend, who should be here with me, is dead. My mom is off her meds and self-destructing and nothing I say seems to be helping. My step-dad is going to leave. My brother has already left and decided he doesn’t want to be part of the family anymore. I feel guilty for being here but I don’t want to go home and try to fix everyone else’s lives if that means destroying my own."

“Feeling guilty wanting to put yourself first is, unfortunately, a common experience. But that doesn’t mean it hurts any less,” Dr. Maxwell acknowledged as she nudged the tissue box a little closer to Stevie. “You deserve happiness, Stevie. You have had a hard life and just because things are falling into place now doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to grieve for the things you’ve lost.”

Stevie listened and attempted to process Dr. Maxwell’s words as she acknowledged the circumstances she’d been placed in. “You shouldn’t have to destroy your life to fix someone else’s. I understand that you care and that you want what’s best for your family but you alone cannot fix them. You cannot control other people’s actions. The best you can do for your family is tell them how you feel and urge them to seek professional help for themselves. Your mother needs a doctor, Stevie, not her child telling her that going off her medication is unwise. You are doing what is best, what is healthiest, for you but putting those boundaries in place and I’m proud of you for that.”

Stevie bit her lip, unsure of how to respond to Dr. Maxwell’s assurances. “I don’t like feeling like I’m not in control,” she confessed, her grip loosening on the arm of the couch as she attempted to process what she’d just been told. “I couldn’t help Angela, I can’t help my mom; what can I do?”

“You can live your life,” Dr. Maxwell. answered, her tone gentle as she offered Stevie a soft smile. “I know that it’s hard to let go of control but you can only control yourself. You can help other people all day long but, at the end of the day, it’s up to them to accept that help. You have to take care of yourself, too.” Dr. Maxwell paused for a moment, her gaze on Stevie not scrutinizing but genuinely curious, before she asked, “What makes you happy, Stevie?”

Stevie almost felt ashamed that she had to stop and think about the things that made her happy. She hadn’t sought happiness in a long time and found that the answer didn’t just occur to her. She felt as if she were grasping for straws, looking for light in the darkness, and knew that she sounded unsure as she answered. “My dog,” she confessed, her voice quiet and small in the confines of the office, “and writing. I love walking in the snow, too.” She hesitated as another, more recent, source of happiness appeared in her thoughts. She didn’t want to voice it aloud, it felt too real, however, she wanted help and she knew that honesty was the only way to get it so she added, “And I met this guy recently. He makes me happy, too."

Dr. Maxwell nodded, a gentle movement as she asked, “What about these things makes you happy?”

When it came to Max, Stevie didn’t have to think about it. “My dog is always happy to see me. He loves me, even on the worst days. He can tell when I’m not feeling great and does whatever he can to make me feel better. He’ll lay on the couch with me or go on a walk without being dramatic or huffy about the weather if I need to get out of the apartment.” With writing, Stevie felt less sure. “As for writing, it’s just the one thing I’ve always been good at. It lets me escape and be whatever I want. It makes me feel like a person,” she admitted with a light shrug.

As she thought about Calum, Stevie paused. She didn’t know what it was about him that made her happy and she didn’t know how it came to be that when asked about happiness, she thought of him. There was just something about him that put her at ease and she appreciated it. She appreciated his presence and she told Dr. Maxwell as much.

“The guy, Calum, is nice. It’s easy to talk to him. I haven’t wanted to get to know anyone in a long time but I want to get to know him,” she stated, her voice small as she thought about the way Calum made her feel.

He made her feel happy, light and carefree when she was normally a ball of anxiety, and she selfishly wanted that to remain a constant in her life. But she felt that she had to give him something in return and she didn’t know what she could offer that he would want.

“What’s stopping you from getting to know him?” Dr. Maxwell asked, with all the logic of a therapist and none of the panic that existed in Stevie’s head.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Stevie answered immediately, “I don’t want to let him in and then disappear or do something stupid and hurt him. It wouldn’t be fair. And I told him that. I told him I wasn’t ready for a relationship but I would really love one. I just…” Stevie hesitated, her hands stilling on the pillow and her shoulders slumping as she said, “My dream life hasn’t made me happy. It hasn’t stopped me from thinking about just… ending it. I don’t want to drag him into my life only to give in to those thoughts.”

“Sometimes you need to find little things in life to keep yourself going,” Dr.  Maxwell explained, sitting forward in her chair as she waited for Stevie to meet her eyes. “The little things that make you happy - your dog, your writing, this guy, friendships, going for walks in the snow - are the things you should nurture. Use them as tools to seek other avenues for happiness. Pushing these things away because you’re afraid you’ll hurt them if you give in to those thoughts will only make it easier. Give yourself something to hold on to, something to keep moving toward.”

Although Stevie knew that, it was still painful to hear it spoken. It was hard to hear someone else rationalize what she’d been too afraid to tell herself. However, Dr. Maxwell continued, “Make some friends, plant some roots. Get to know this guy. Tell him that you’re trying your best for now and ask for patience. Let him know where you stand and hope that he’ll stand with you. That is the best you can do right now, for everyone. Try your best to be there for your mother but know that you can only do so much. Try to live a life Angela would have been proud of. Your best doesn't have to be your all. It just needs to be what you're capable of at the moment. You can't be all things for all people but you can be your best."

Stevie still felt guilty. She still felt guilty for not knowing how to help her parents. She felt guilty for living when Angela couldn’t. She felt guilty for wanting Calum, even though she couldn’t be enough for him immediately. But Dr. Maxwell was right. She couldn’t be all things for all people but she could be her best she hoped that her best was enough.

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

“I’m going to take a walk through Central Park. Want to join me?”

Calum stared at the message from Stevie, surprise clear on his face as he read over it. They had shared a few messages in the week that had passed since their trip to the Empire State Building but they were mostly small talk; asking about the other’s day, a few good morning greetings, a question about a record shop as Calum was looking for a gift for Mali. And he had done most - all, actually - of the initiating so he was surprised that she was the one reaching out to him. However, he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the role reversal as he looked up from his cellphone and glanced at Mali and Tāne, asleep beside him on the couch.

Like most days, he didn’t have anything planned. He’d gone about his daily routine of work, picking Tāne up from school, finishing his last few customers as Mali and Tāne worked on homework, and having dinner with them both before they settled in to watch a movie before bed. He normally read to Tāne, usually a classic tale that demanded he adopt multiple different voices, but it had been a long day. The end of the week was nearing, as was his first court hearing, so he wanted to pack as many appointments into his schedule as possible to give himself a little time off to breathe.

He would’ve been content to go to bed when Tāne did - usually around seven on a school night and it was already past six - but he found himself itching for the opportunity to see Stevie again. He stared at the message, contemplating whether he should ask her for a rain check or wake Mali up to see if she would mind putting Tāne to bed. However, before he could make a decision, Mali spoke.

“Just go,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep as she attempted to move away from Tāne without waking him. She gently untangled herself from the sleeping child and rubbed her eyes, cursing when a smudge of black stained the back of her hand. “Fucking eyeliner,” she huffed, rolling her eyes before she returned her attention to Calum. “It’s almost time for bed and I can handle that. I need to write, anyway,” she mumbled as she ran a hand through her bleached hair, a stifled yawn leaving her lips as she did so.

“How did you even…?” Calum trailed off, staring at his sister in confusion and slight awe for a long moment, before he shook his head and unlocked his phone to respond to Stevie’s text. “When did you become a mind reader?”

“When you elbowed me in the head trying to read the text,” Mali informed him with a wry grin as she rubbed the red spot on her temple where Calum had hit her. “I wanted to see what was worth injuring your sister. Tell Stevie I said hi.”

Calum laughed as he stood from the couch and dropped the remote on the fabric beside Mali. “I’m not doing that,” he assured her, his voice full of laughter as he nudged her shoulder before leaning down to press a soft kiss to Tāne’s forehead. “Thank you. I’ll be back by ten.”

“Mm, your curfew’s not until eleven, though,” she teased as she watched him cross the living room to reach for his coat and shoes near the door. “Don’t do anything I would do.”

Calum shook his head fondly and tossed Mali a wave over his shoulder before he stepped out his home and began the walk to Central Park. As he weaved through the crowds, he felt a mixture of emotions swirl in the pit of his stomach. He felt nervous, giddy and excited to see Stevie again after how well their trip to the Empire State Building went. He felt like he did in high school, excited to see the girl he had a crush on and hope that she would give him a bit of attention, but he also felt a little foolish.

His pace slowed as he thought about what he was doing. For the first time in nearly five years, he was letting someone new into his life. He was letting someone else bring him outside of his comfort zone and pull him away from his home. He was letting someone into his heart and he felt a little silly for being so willing to drop what he’d been doing - even if it was just watching his son sleep on the couch - for someone he wasn’t sure would extend the same effort.

He liked Stevie. He wanted something more than just a few meetings, here and there. He wanted dates and hand holding, good morning texts and good night phone calls. He wanted to know that she would be there, that he wouldn’t wake up and find that she had been nothing more than a beautiful dream, but he knew that she wasn’t there. Not yet, maybe not ever. 

He respected that she wasn’t interested in a relationship at the moment and though he remained hopeful she would be someday, he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He wanted to remain realistic, to keep it firmly in his head that she had been honest with him, but rushing to meet her made him feel like he’d gotten stuck with his head in the clouds.

That didn’t seem to matter, though, the moment he spotted her lingering near the entrance to the park. She was dressed down, in a pair of simple, light wash jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, and for the first time, she wore her hair straight. There was no signature eyeliner, a stark black contrast to the hazel of her eyes, and Calum was surprised to see how soft she looked. She looked exhausted, defeated by the day, and Calum longed to wrap her in a hug.

The thing that surprised him the most, however, was the smile that graced her face when she spotted him. It was small, an upturn of the corners of her lips, but it was genuine and brought a light to her face and a warmth to Calum’s heart as he matched it. She looked happy to see him and though that only sent him higher into the clouds, he was glad that she was just as excited as he was.

“Sorry for dragging you out,” she began, her smile turning sheepish as she met Calum’s eyes, “I forget sometimes that you’re a parent.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her, his smile remaining as he stepped a little closer to move out of the way of tourists entering the park. “Mali, my sister, is staying for the week and she’s handling bedtime. Tāne likes it when she sings to him.”

“It runs in the family, huh?” she asked as they followed the few tourists and stepped into the park themselves. When Calum shot her a look, confused as to what she meant, Stevie breathed a quiet laugh and clarified, “The singing. When I told Tāne where my name came from, you sang Landslide for him. You have a nice voice.”

Calum felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “It’s nothing compared to my sister’s,” he assured her, “she’s playing a show on Sunday. If you’re not busy, I’d love for you to come with me.”

Calum expected her to hesitate, to think about her answer for longer than a split second, but he was surprised yet again when she nodded. “That sounds really nice,” she agreed, her smile returning to the soft, sincere upturn of her lips. “I’d like that.”

Calum didn’t want to offend Stevie, however, there was something different about her and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. She seemed a little more at ease than she had in their last few conversations, a little more relaxed, and he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you okay? You seem… different.”

Stevie laughed at Calum’s question, an amused exhale of breath as they wandered down a lit path, and nodded. “I’m okay.” She paused for a moment, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip in a way that Calum was quickly associating with her thinking, before she confided, “I had my first appointment with a therapist today. It was something I needed to do and it felt good to talk.”

Again, Calum was surprised by her honesty. He’d gotten used to cagey answers and hesitation but he liked how straightforward she was being with him. And although he wanted her to talk to him, to feel comfortable opening up and letting him in, he knew that he wasn’t a professional and with the experience she’d been through, that was what she needed. He was happy for her, glad that she’d been able to talk with someone, and he told her as much as his hand brushed hers.

“I know it’s hard to open up,” he said, turning his head to face her as they passed a small fountain, “but I’m glad you got the chance to. I hope it helps.”

“I think it will,” she nodded, a hopeful lilt to her voice as she met his eyes once more. “How was your day?”

“Busy,” he replied, his shoe brushing an errant rock in the path as they watched a jogger pass them by. “I have the rest of the week off so I’m trying to get to as many clients as I can before then,” he explained as Stevie nodded in understanding.

“Any reason why?” She asked before quickly adding, “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.”

It was Calum’s turn to hesitate as he mulled over her question. She had been honest with him, her candor refreshing and her willingness to answer straight a nice change of pace, and he wanted to return the favor. He wanted to be able to have that dialogue with her, to be open and honest about what they were going through so there were no surprises if the day ever came for them to be together, but it felt odd letting someone he was just getting to know in on the most distressing situation in his life.

However, having an outside opinion, the thoughts of someone who didn’t know El and their history, might help him understand the situation a little more fully.

“My ex, Tāne’s mom, El, is trying to get custody of him. We have our first hearing on Friday,” he finally admitted. Stevie surprised him for the third time that night by grabbing the hand that had been bumping into hers and he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Calum.” Stevie’s surprise was evident in her voice as she squeezed Calum’s hand. “Do you… If you want to talk about it, I’m more than willing to listen.”

Calum offered her a weak smile as they crossed a small bridge. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he pointed out, his voice quiet and seeming to float on the breeze as they stopped in the middle to glance out at the water. “We were supposed to be a team, partners in parenting even after the breakup. But she didn’t want to be a parent. She wanted to enjoy her twenties. I did, too, but I wanted to be a parent more, I guess.” Stevie remained silent as Calum collected his thoughts, her hand warm in his despite the chill of the air surrounding them. 

“Sometimes I wonder if she ever really wanted him, you know? I wonder if she just had him because I was so excited about him and wanted to be a dad so bad. It was so easy for her to just pack up and walk away. Last year, she even had papers drawn up to waive her parental rights but didn’t sign them. I just… I didn’t see this coming and I don’t really know what to do about it,” he admitted.

It felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest as he admitted his feelings to her. It was part of his hesitation in seeking her out - he still felt guilty for spending so much time thinking about her when he had much bigger things to worry about - but he knew that he needed to tell someone who wasn’t invested in the situation. At least not wholly.

“I don’t have kids,” Stevie began, her voice quiet as she stared out at the water and pointedly away from Calum, “and I don’t know what you’re going through as a parent but as a child of divorce, I know what happens when the judge gets it wrong at a custody hearing. I don’t know your ex and I only know a little of you but one thing I have no doubt about is that you love your son. You do your best to care for him and I know that he’s in good hands with you.  I just hope that a judge can see that and makes the right decision, the one that’s best for Tāne.” Stevie hesitated for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed, before she turned her head to Calum and asked, “I’m not trying to advocate for her, I don’t know her, but do you think your ex is genuine in wanting Tāne now or is it to hurt you?”

“I don’t know,” Calum admitted, shrugging his shoulders in defeat as he met Stevie’s eyes once more. “I don’t think she ever wanted to be a parent. I think we were in love and she just gave me what I wanted. Or maybe she just didn’t love me enough to want to be a parent with me,” he guessed, a dull ache flaring in his chest as he thought about what his son could have had. “If this is to hurt me, though, it’s fucked up. It’s the only thing she could do to hurt me but that doesn’t make it any better.”

Stevie remained silent as she stood by Calum’s side. Instead of trying to offer comfort with clumsy words and a lack of knowledge about the situation, she squeezed his hand a little tighter and stepped a little closer to his side. Their arms touched, body heat seeping through the fabric of their sweatshirts, and they would have been content to stand their for hours, silent and contemplative, had a voice not cut through the night and sent a shot of icy dread straight to Calum’s heart.

“I thought that was you, Cal.”

Calum stiffened and bit back the annoyed, incredulous laugh he wanted to huff as he released Stevie’s hand and turned to face the couple that stood just steps away from them on the bridge. They looked like they’d been out for the evening, both dressed for dinner with her in heels and him in nice slacks and a button down, and Calum wanted to roll his eyes.

The universe was testing him, sending him a reminder of where his head should be, and he didn’t much appreciate it.

Elise Wells, El as she had always preferred to be called, stood before him looking exactly as he remembered. In her heels, she stood nearly as tall as him. Her jet black hair was still long, hitting around the bottom of her ribcage, and perfectly curled. Her skin, the same golden shade Tāne had been born with - the only thing of hers he got, really - was still free of ink and Calum was reminded of the different paths they’d taken in their lives.

“Hi,” she said, a smile on her face that looked almost too genuine for him to trust, “it’s good to see you.”

“You, too, El,” he returned with a sigh, no smile on his lips as he met her eyes for the first time in nearly three years.

El looked him over, her piercing brown eyes taking in the faded blue buzzcut with a flicker of disgust - she had never been a fan of his desire to change his hair or cover himself in tattoos -, before she turned her attention to the girl at his side. As Calum spared Stevie a glance, he realized that the two of them couldn’t be more different. Whereas El was all sharp lines and polished perfection, Stevie was soft smiles and beautiful chaos.

Calum realized in that moment that that was what drew him to Stevie. She was the polar opposite of what he’d always gone for, a complete 180 from the girl he always dreamed about. She wasn’t the metaphorical other half he’d been missing, she was a compliment to the things that he already had. She made him want to amplify the good in himself, the softness he saw and the swirling chaos that lived in his head, and he suddenly understood why he felt so desperate to keep her around.

She was everything he’d always wanted but had been too stubborn to admit he needed.

“Since Calum is being rude, I’m Elise,” El introduced, cutting her eyes to Calum before offering Stevie her hand with a smile that he recognized as one of her polite, yet angry, expressions. “You are?”

“Stevie,” she returned, shaking El’s hand quickly before dropping them back to her side and covering them with the arms of her sweatshirt once more. “Nice to meet you.”

“Mm,” El hummed dismissively, giving Stevie a once over before she returned her full attention to Calum. “Where’s Tāne tonight?”

“In bed by now,” he informed her with a sigh, wanting nothing more than the conversation to be over and for El and her boyfriend - who, Calum was amused to see, looked just as uncomfortable as he felt - to leave. “My sister’s watching him.”

El, who had never gotten along with Mali, made a face at the mention of his sister and Calum clenched his jaw in an effort to keep himself from saying something he’d regret. He’d done enough of that the last time he and El spoke and he didn’t want to give her any fuel for her case. “That’s nice,” she finally hummed, her tone deadpan and her eyes narrowed as she glanced between Stevie and Cal once more, “it’s nice that someone other than one of those guys is watching him while you go out.”

Calum already felt somewhat guilty for leaving on such short notice, without really planning to have Mali babysit or telling Tāne goodbye, and El’s comment hit him like a punch to the stomach. Not only did she insult his friends - who she also never really got along with - she was insinuating that he pawned his son off on others while he went out and had fun.

He didn’t want to feel bad, it was rare that he did anything other than go to work and return home to spend time with Tāne, but the one night he did might be enough for her to use against him in their custody battle.

“Well, I’d love to stick around and chat but we’re running late for reservations. I’ll see you on Friday,” El assured him, a sickly sweet smile on her lips as she gave him a wave before purposely bumping into Stevie on her way off the bridge.

Stevie and Calum stood in silence for a long moment; Stevie surprised at what had just happened and Calum allowing his thoughts to run wild. He knew that he shouldn’t feel guilty for spending one night away from his son, it wasn’t a common occurrence and he didn’t intend to make it one, but seeing El reminded him of where his head should be.

Stevie wasn’t interested in a relationship, not yet, and he didn’t have the ability to focus on one until the custody battle with El was over. However, he couldn’t bring himself to give up on either as he turned to glance at Stevie and asked, “Can we try this again some time? I feel like I should head home.”

“Of course,” Stevie nodded, a small smile on her lips as she folded her arms over her chest and began walking the way they’d come. “Just let me know when you want to.” Calum could see that she had more that she wanted to say as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and he had to bite back a surprised laugh when she admitted, “I don’t mean to be rude or stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I’m not a fan of her.”

“Yeah,” Calum nodded, a rueful smile on his lips as thought about the others in his life who weren’t fond of her, either. “Not many people are. I’m sorry about that, by the way. She’s… yeah.”

“You don’t have to apologize for someone else’s actions. I get it. I just hope that everyone goes well for you on Friday. If you need anything, you have my number,” she reminded him, the genuine smile from before returning to her lips as they approached the entrance much quicker than he hoped they would. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, his appreciation genuine as they stood, face to face, and watched the other with a sort of curiosity that Calum was closely associating with his growing feelings for her. “I… this has been tough and I feel like we’re both in weird spots in life but it’s nice to feel something good right now.”

“My therapist told me today that you have to find the little things that make you happy, that keep you moving. If a walk in the park is one of those things, so be it. If getting to know someone new is it, that’s good, too. Let the little things bring light right now,” she advised, her eyes meeting his and shining with sincerity. 

Calum nodded, appreciative for the advice, and returned her smile with one of his own. “Tonight was nice,” he told her as he stepped just a little closer, his hand reaching out to squeeze hers one last time. “It brought light.”

“Yeah, it did for me, too,” she assured him, her eyes flashing with an emotion Calum didn’t quite understand before she squeezed his hand and let go. “I’ll see you later, Calum.”

“See you later,” Calum agreed, watching her walk away yet again.

He wished that things weren’t complicated, that he could just tell her how he felt and that she would feel the same. He wished there wasn’t a custody battle looming over his head and a dark cloud over hers. He wished he’d met her a long time ago, when they could’ve just dove in without worrying about having to sink or swim.

However, he resigned himself to acknowledging that he hadn’t as he began his walk back home. He’d met her at a time in his life - and hers - that made things complicated. But he hoped that when all was said and done, when the dust settled and everything was fine, the complications would have made them stronger. 

But, as he walked and thought about what he planned to do going forward, he reminded himself that things were always darkest just before the dawn and the most beautiful roses bloomed after the heaviest storms.

____________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I’m sorry it’s so heavy. I always intended for this chapter to be a little heavy but this week has been rough so it got a little heavier than I planned.

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[starkeristheendgame]

Starker Valentine

Firstly, I want to start by wishing @softstarkerstuff a wonderful Happy Valentine’s, and also every other wonderful noodle that may see this! This is my second time participating in a challenge and I am beyond excited! Softstarker requested a High School AU where childhood best friends drift apart after Tony rejects Peter’s feelings for him. Naturally, Peter has the mother of all glow-ups over summer and Tony is quickly forced to reconsider.

I didn’t wanna go absolutely crazy on the word count for this, so I haven’t actually written out the majority of the backplot. This fic takes place after said rejection and focuses on the requested act of Tony developing his character in order to deserve Peter’s affections.

(I said that and this ended up being over 4,000 words!)

@starker-valentines 

TW: Light Angst | (Not) Unrequited Love

“Tony. Get up,” Natasha hissed above him, and ordinarily the glint in her eye would have been enough for Tony to hop to, but the situation outweighed whatever horrible consequence she could bestow him, and he shook his head.

“We live here now,” Clint shrugged happily, popping another nacho into his mouth from the bowl he’d swiped before joining Tony in an act of solidarity on the floor, hiding behind a countertop in the kitchen. Natasha arched a dangerous eyebrow at the other boy, and even Tony twisted to look at Clint.

“Why are you down here?” Tony asked, risking leaning over Clint’s thighs to peek around the corner. Fuck. He couldn’t see him anymore, but that didn’t mean it was safe to move. He blew out a harsh breath and curled back up against the counter, scowling.

“Barnes has that leather jacket on again,” Clint announced simply, as though that explained anything at all. Above them, Natasha heaved a put-upon sigh, settling for kicking Tony in the shin with an unimpressed frown.

“Him I can understand,” she begun, motioning to Clint, who paused like he didn’t actually know if he ought to be offended or not. “But you. I had higher expectations of,” she sniffed, eyes scanning the room behind them before she reached down, grasping a fist of their shirts and hauling them to their feet despite their yowls of protest and clamours to hide behind her.

Heart in his throat, Tony cast a quick glance around, but couldn’t find the object of his fears. Or... The person. He relaxed a fraction, mindlessly pawing at Natasha’s iron grip with the dull awareness that his shirt would likely be crumpled.

“Idiots. The both of you. If I were less of a friend I’d complain about you ruining my night,” Natasha sniffed as she begun to drag them out of the kitchen, Clint still desperately clinging to his snacks and having no qualms about stealing a bowl. Tony kept himself alert as they walked, fugitively scanning the rooms as they made their way towards the door.

He couldn’t exactly say he lamented leaving - Contrary to every single clichè American film, high school house parties were often measly affairs, more pizza than booze and always with that one weirdo pretending they were absolutely wasted off alco-pops and mixers. 

This party was largely no different, thumping music that made it hard to talk, pizza that had long gone cold and Tony would rather starve than touch, shitty drinks with a 4% content.

Mm, but no. What made this party truly, utterly horrific, was the fact that Peter Parker had shown up. And really, that sounded meaner than it was intended. Tony didn’t hate Peter - Not even close. Wasn’t disgusted by his presence but terrified of it.

Peter was - Or rather, had been, his best friend. This is where Tony’s sort kind of did realise the typical ‘teen film’ plot.

Boy meets boy. Boys grow up as childhood best friends, joined at the hip and vowing during recess to never, never, ever break friends. Boys navigate pre-teenhood together. Boy gets crush. 

Apparently, other boy also gets crush. Boy admits crush. Other boy is too emotionally repressed and terrified to admit crush. Boy rejects boy. Summer comes. Boy gets glow up. Other boy now doubly regrets rejection and is left to wallow in pitiful regret and jealousy.

Yeah. Tony liked it about as much as he liked Marmite, which was to say, not at all. When Peter had rolled over on their bed, eyes imploring and voice soft as he admitted his feelings, something within Tony had died. 

Because Peter was this perfect, pretty thing he was destined to never have. The flower that Tony was too scared to pick because he didn’t want to see it wither and die.

“He’s gone all thinky and melancholy again,” Clint complained at his side, and Tony thumped him on the shoulder, tripping over the welcome mat as Natasha lugged them along like reluctant suitcases. 

Tony would have given a smart quip in response, something scathing about how Clint was also running away from someone, but a soft voice interrupted the quiet of the front yard just as they reached Tony’s car.

“Tony?”

Fuck. Fuck. Don’t turn around. It was easy to pretend he hadn’t heard, grabbing Clint by the scruff to stop the moron from turning and waving as they hauled into the car. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t face it. Him.

They were barely even in the car before Tony begun to pull away, Clint and his nachos rolling around in the back as the teen struggled to buckle himself in. From her seat up front, Natasha eyed him.

“Coward,” she announced, and Tony immediately agreed without shame. He was, of course. He was a coward. Had been from the start, from the moment he was old enough to let his feelings morph from the love of a friend to just...Love. He drove with a grim expression and an ache in his chest that felt like drowning.

He lay in bed for the remainder of the night, nose filled with chamomile and flora and heart aching with every memory that encompassed all that he had left of Peter. He had run away that night, recoiling from the prospect of ruining something he loved, and knowing he was ruining it by running. A vicious circle; a rat maze he was destined to run forever.

The torture of it had only increased upon their return, when cheeks round with baby-fat had slimmed and sharpened, when Peter’s unruly curls had smoothed into rolling, silky waves. He’d worked out over summer a little too, no longer just slim but lean. Summer glow-ups were nothing new, but Peter’s had hit hard.

Peter’s new looks had only succeeded in turning him from a neutral, friendly nerd to the newfound adoration of Queen’s Public High School, the boy suddenly inundated with attention and propositions. Peter seemed to have taken it in stride, not exchanging his personality for popularity, and still sat with the same two friends at lunch, still studied hard and ignored the feral social ladder.

It only made Tony love him all the more.

His sleep was restless and by Monday he was tired and grouchy, stalking through the halls towards his locker with a pair of deep shades covering his stinging eyes. Natasha cast him a glance as sympathetic as she could offer when she had made her opinion of his torment clear, and steered him towards first period. 

Peter was already there when they arrived, slouched over his desk and engaged in an enigmatic conversation with Ned. Tony allowed his gaze to linger for exactly six seconds before he slumped in his own desk, decidedly across the room from Peter and slightly in front, so he wouldn’t have to spend any of his lessons watching the other boy and lamenting the loss of his warmth.

A shadow fell over his desk and Tony slowly lifted his head from where he had been staring at the floor, willing his migraine to jump ship. The shadow belonged to one Steve Rogers, who’s summer glow up had happened over the previous year, and who had gone from your average joe with pretty eyes and a jawline to a six foot tall, broad-shouldered, lean hunk of very biteable meat. If Tony wasn’t fairly (entirely) certain one Bucky Barnes would knock all his teeth out, he’d have tried a taste.

“Can I help you?” he asked blearily, tipping his head so his glasses dipped and he could see Steve without a vignette of black. Steve merely raised an eyebrow, and Tony narrowed his eyes suspiciously in response.

“Hm.” And then Steve turned away, striding towards his own desk. Tony blinked dazedly at the now empty space, cast a sideways glance at Steve who sat down and begun to talk to Clint without a peek in return, and sighed. Ah. So Peter’s presumable warning about not going after Tony for breaking his heart must be nearing its end, then.

Wonderful.

At lunch, Tony snuck off campus and drove to the nearest Starbucks, returning to Natasha’s side with a coffee that was more espresso than water. He slouched in his seat and gave a pathetic whine, rubbing at his temples, and she slid a manicured hand through his hair, deliberately catching the tips of her nails on his scalp.

“If you weren’t such an emotionally repressed baby, you wouldn’t be like this,” she ‘soothed’ gently, and he cast her a sideways scowl.

“Yes, thank you for that. Nothing compares to your compassion and support,” Tony grumbled, scowling at her from behind his glasses. He needn’t remove them - she knew him well enough by now. Across the table Clint leaned forwards, petting idly at Tony’s forearm whilst his gaze remained steadily on Bucky from across the hall.

“Thighs like that should be illegal,” he sighed dreamily, and Tony and Natasha raised a brow in unison. Tony wasn’t the only one afflicted with love-interest related drama; Clint had gone and fallen in utter besottment with Bucky Barnes, also known as the second side of Steve Rogers’ coin. 

Unlike Steve; Bucky had always been tall and broad, with a slick haircut and a face that was already breaking hearts across the school.

Tony’s gaze drifted, away from Barnes’ denim clad thighs and instead to the sweater-clad form besides him. Peter was sprawled in his chair, sipping absently at a Cola and paying delighted attention to whatever conversation was happening. He looked... 

Soft. Soft in a way that Tony knew was huggable, touchable. His sweater was a deep blue to match the unlaced Doc Martins on his feet and his hair was askew like he’d been running his hands through it all morning.

“Stark!”

Fuck.

“What can I do for you?” he ground his teeth, voice faux sweet as he turned to eye Ms. Hill, who arched a brow at him and leaned down, plucking his coffee cup from his grasp.

“Please, correct me if I’m wrong, but last time I checked, the campus lunch hall didn’t stock Starbucks,” she announced, voice steely as she stared him down. Tony only offered her a short smile and an easy shrug.

“Correct.”

“Well then. I hope you’re sufficiently fuelled for a long day - you have detention. Immediately after last period.”

Tony simply cast her a serene, unbothered smile, taking his cup back before she could throw it in the trash. Tony’s grades more than made up for any mishaps he might incur, but Howard would still be displeased with him. Even more so at the triviality of why he was facing detention. 

Neither of his friends deigned to say anything about the instance, though Clint had given a dramatic wince at his punishment and had tossed a scowl at Hill’s retreating back - ever the supportive friend.

Natasha disappeared shortly before the end of lunch, though Tony had long since learned not to question her. He’d once found her lounging behind the bleachers, making a scalpel out of a piece of plastic card, some gum and a pencil. 

Since then he hadn’t dared to think too hard about what she might be doing whenever she wasn’t sitting in view and judging everyone.

She was back by the time last period rolled around, sitting primly in her seat with her book open, interest lost in a magazine she had apparently pulled out of nowhere. A glance at the cover showed it was a rifle magazine and Tony was not, at all, surprised.

Last period was history, and their tutor was a decidedly crabby old man who was never pleased with the efforts of his students. He was a fair grader - Never shorting them of their achievements, but he sung little praise and always had something to say about improvements.

They'd been given homework that no amount of groaning would rescind, and Tony pulled his from his bag with a sigh, rooting in his bag for a pen. In this class, he sat at the back, and it gave him a full vantage of where Peter was practically sitting in the lap of the pretty girl that had transferred here not too long ago. He had a vague notion of her name, but he knew for a fact that Peter always called her 'MJ'.

"Students! I should hope your weekend was spent wisely. Anyone not in possession of their homework will receive a detention," Mr. Ardell announced, hands clapping together. Tony breathed through his nose at the sound, pressing at his temple.

"Stark. This is not a nightclub nor a fashion show. Take the glasses off, and keep them off," he added in a snipe, and Tony forced a brittle smile, steadfastly ignoring the way that soft, honeyed eyes turned to him as he slid his glasses off And set them on his desk.

Even the typical 'bad type' student or the dumbest of them all listened to Mr. Ardell. The man had a booming voice and no hesitation about dealing punishments. 

At a glance, Tony could see that every student had their homework on their desk. Every student except Peter, who was rummaging around in his bag with a growing sense of urgency. Tony perked.

That was unusual. Peter often had his homework out before the teachers even got a chance to ask. Tony’s gaze remained fixed on the boy, who was now frantic as he dug around, mindlessly passing Mr. Ardell his homework as the man roamed the room, collecting sheets, right up until he stood opposite Peter, who floundered.

“I... I did it! I packed it this morning. It was right in my folder and now it’s gone!” Peter breathed, panic blossoming in his eyes. Mr. Ardell was quite clearly having none of it as Peter rambled and rifled through his bag, until Mr. Ardell finally held up a hand. Despite himself, Tony sucked in a breath, wincing in sympathy.

“Detention, Mr. Parker. And such a shame. You’re one of the few that don’t frequently make me wish I had the money to retire sooner,” Mr. Ardell sighed, and Peter crumpled. 

It made Tony’s heart clench in his chest, sympathy surging through his veins. He had no doubt Peter had done the homework - But perhaps he’d simply forgotten to pack it.

He was sitting there, chin on his palm as he watched MJ comfort Peter, when he sat bolt upright.

Detention.

Tony had detention.

That meant -

“Aw, fuck.”

“Mr. Stark!”

As Tony packed his bag at the end of class, Clint came sidling over, nudging him with a meek smile. “Hey, man. It’s not that bad. Just put some earbuds in. I bet he hates your guts too much to talks to you anyway!” he added cheerfully as they strode from the room, and Tony cast him a flat look.

“Gee, thanks.”

“No problem! Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow. I gotta dash if I wanna make it home to walk Lucky before food!”

And then, there was just Tony and the rapidly emptying hallway. He heaved a sigh, ground his teeth, and strode towards the detention room. It was only half an hour. 

That was nothing. He could make it. The wild notion of fleeing and dealing with a double detention tomorrow crossed his mind, but Tony could only stand being in school for as long as he had to, and with a duck of his head he strode down the hallway at a faster pace. The sooner he got there, the sooner it was over with.

He reached the door and was about to push it open when the sheet of paper caught his eye.

Detention students - Room 3A12.

Tony frowned, but turned on his heel, making his way towards the other room. Perhaps that one was being cleaned or something. He was putting his earbuds in when he pushed into 3A12, Guns’n’Roses already filling his ears when a yelp of; “don’t let the door shut!” filtered through, followed by the soft slam of the door behind him.

He blinked across at Peter, who had stopped mid-stride, arm outstretched, looking pained. “Fuck! It locks from the outside. Now neither of us can get out,” Peter whined, and Tony scoffed.

“None of the doors in this place lock only from the outside.” to prove his point he turned, grabbed the handle, and slammed shoulder-first into it when it did not move as he did. Tony frowned, lips thinning as he jiggled the knob, tried again.

It wouldn’t open.

“Who the fuck installs a door that doesn’t open from one side!” Tony exploded, panic beginning to seep like cold water through his veins as the reality of the situation hit him. He was stuck alone in a room with Peter. Opposite him, Peter groaned and sank back down onto the -

“Son of a bitch.” They weren’t even a proper classroom. There were barely ten tables in here, a tiny whiteboard and a miniscule teacher’s desk. They couldn’t have been put in a smaller room if they tried. But speaking of the teacher's desk…

“Where’s the teacher?” he asked, nose crinkling. Opposite, Peter heaved a sigh, fidgeting on the edge of his seat and tugging at the ends of his sleeves.

“I don’t know. I’ve been in here for ten minutes, nobody has come in,” Peter sounded quiet, miserable, and Tony’s heart squeezed uncomfortably within his chest as he sunk down into a chair, frowning. 

Maybe the teacher was just held up with a student. They’d arrive soon enough, and Tony could be out of here and far away from that plush mouth, those dark eyes.

The minutes ticked by, with nothing but the sound of the clock on the wall. Tony tried texting Natasha and Clint, but they were both home already. If Peter had text anyone, he’d had similar luck, because ten more minutes passed and still not a soul even passed the door. 

Tony blew out a breath and tossed his phone down, running a hand through his hair and leaning back in his chair. From the corner of his eye, he could see Peter watching.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring.”

“There’s not a lot in this room to look at.”

Tony gave a soft sound, eyes closing behind his shades as he settled. This wasn’t so bad. He could do this. They just had to wait and hope that a caretaker came around, or that someone called the reception to report that they had not come home. More minutes ticked by.

“You’re still staring.”

“I can’t help it. I haven’t...I haven’t seen you in a while,” 

Tony sucked in a breath, eyes closing and fingers beginning a tempo against the table. No. He couldn’t do this. If he did this; he’d crumble. He’d get to his knees and beg for all he’d lost, and he couldn’t do that. Not as a Stark, and not to Peter. Couldn’t lead Peter to a reckless end.

“We’re in all the same classes,” he noted roughly, and Peter made a soft, frustrated sound besides him. Tony winced but said nothing more, steeling himself. Peter deserved better than him - especially now, when it would look like Tony only cared because he’d changed. Except... Peter hadn’t changed all that much. He’d just filled out a little, gained some confidence.

“You’ve been avoiding me and ignoring me.”

“So have you,” he replied evenly, relenting to the fact that Peter wasn’t going to drop the issue. He let his head loll to the side, almost startled when he found Peter leaning forwards, arms around himself, staring at Tony with shining eyes.

“I haven’t wanted to. You pushed me away, disappeared, came back and won’t even look at me”.

Tony ground his teeth, chewing his tongue. “It’s not like I wanted to either, Peter, but I couldn’t…” Couldn’t be around you, knowing that, and not taking advantage of it. Couldn’t see you hurt. Couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t.

“What, you were so disgusted with me you couldn’t even bear to be around me?” Peter sounded defensive now, voice hardening slightly, and part of Tony was thankful. Yes. He could do barbed. He could fight. He could take Peter hating him. At least he wasn’t hurting him further, that way.

“I’m not disgusted at you,” he replied quietly, turning his gaze away. He couldn't bring himself to say anything else, throat tight and hands gripping his desk to stop them from shaking. He thought about ringing Clint, bribing him to come open the door, but Peter spoke again.

"I get it if you don't like me that way but... It's not fair. Treating me this way. Being so... Awful about it.”

"I'm not being awful. I'm…"

"Running away from your feelings? Yeah. That's kind of your MO.”

And Peter said it so bitterly that Tony flinched, teeth clipping the edge of his tongue as he sucked in a breath. Low blow. An emotionally neglectful childhood was bound to leave it's scars.

Peter seemed to regret his words immediately, because he actually stood, taking a few steps to reach for Tony. Despite himself Tony leaned away from the reaching arm, mindless of how much he longed for the contact.

"I didn't mean…"

"Words said in anger are still words with intent.”

"Tony…"

"I can't do this. I can't pretend to hate you and I can't be around you without wanting what I can't have!" he didn't explode, but it was said with some degree of passion, standing to round on Peter, who sank into a chair, looking up at him sorrowfully.

"You can have me!”

If only.

"You said it yourself. I run from my feelings. I can't have you because I'll fuck it up, and I’d rather lose you without hurting you and without attaching myself. I'm a fucki-"

The rest of Tony's emotional rant was cut off sharply as Peter reached up, grasping him by the front of his shirt and hauling him down, so he had to brace himself with one hand on Peter's chair back and the other on the table as Peter's plush mouth met his own, clumsy and a little too forceful.

A man with a stronger will would have pulled back. Would have stuck to his cause and not been selfish.

Tony was not that man.

He let his lips part, opportunistic of the way Peter gasped against him, licking into his mouth and moving his hands to cradle Peter's jaw, relishing in what he knew would be the only time he could indulge his festering love.

There was a click, and then -

"I told you it would work.”

They jerked apart, mouths red and eyes wild, Tony twisting to find none other than a prim looking Natasha and a dubious looking Steve taking up the doorway.

"What." Tony managed, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Obviously this was a set up. A good one, too. It took forever to sneak around and replace the door lock. You two were disgusting and all... Pining. It had to be stopped," she announced, like a mad plot was nothing unordinary.

But turning, looking at the flushed grin on Peter's mouth and the sparkle in his eyes... Well. It was worth getting another detention for missing the first, and it was worth the hours of agonising emotional talk with Peter, tears and sloppy kissing and the jeers from their friends when they came into school on the Wednesday, hand in hand.

"How come I wasn't in on the whole plot?" Clint whined at their table during lunch, casting a mulish glance around them. Natasha gave a sigh and pet at him with faux pity.

"Because you're an idiot with a big mouth," she informed him, twirling a lock of hair around a finger. Overnight she'd gone from fiery copper to a blue-black. It suited her well. Some black lipstick, and she'd be every boy's wanna-be-goth-girlfriend.

"Only we get to insult the idiot and his big mouth," came from above them, and none other than one Bucky Barnes ducked down, pressing a kiss to Clint's cheek, before moving on to Steve.

"That's... New," Tony managed, glancing across at Peter, who looked equally perplexed. Clint had the decency to look sheepish.

"At least I didn't need to get locked in a room to sort my shit out," he grumbled, and Peter giggled, before kissing the affronted look off Tony's face.

Tony wasn't good at feelings. And he'd never been in love before. But Peter was worth it. Peter was worth trying, learning for. 

[bookiemonsterph]

The Isle Of The Lost

Synopsis:

Twenty years ago, all the evil villains were banished from the kingdom of Auradon and made to live in virtual imprisonment on the Isle of the Lost. The island is surrounded by a magical force field that keeps the villains and their descendants safely locked up and away from the mainland. Life on the island is dark and dreary. It is a dirty, decrepit place that's been left to rot and forgotten by the world.

But hidden in the mysterious Forbidden Fortress is a dragon's eye: the key to true darkness and the villains' only hope of escape. Only the cleverest, evilest, nastiest little villain can find it...who will it be?

Maleficent, Mistress of the Dark: As the self-proclaimed ruler of the isle, Maleficent has no tolerance for anything less than pure evil. She has little time for her subjects, who have still not mastered life without magic. Her only concern is getting off the Isle of the Lost.

Mal: At sixteen, Maleficent's daughter is the most talented student at Dragon Hall, best known for her evil schemes. And when she hears about the dragon's eye, Mal thinks this could be her chance to prove herself as the cruelest of them all.

Evie: Having been castle-schooled for years, Evil Queen's daughter, Evie, doesn't know the ins and outs of Dragon Hall. But she's a quick study, especially after she falls for one too many of Mal's little tricks.

Jay: As the son of Jafar, Jay is a boy of many talents: stealing and lying to name a few. Jay and Mal have been frenemies forever and he's not about to miss out on the hunt for the dragon's eye.

Carlos: Cruella de Vil's son may not be bravest, but he's certainly clever. Carlos's inventions may be the missing piece in locating the dragon's eye and ending the banishment for good.

Mal soon learns from her mother that the dragon's eye is cursed and whoever retrieves it will be knocked into a deep sleep for a thousand years. But Mal has a plan to capture it. She'll just need a little help from her "friends." In their quest for the dragon's eye, these kids begin to realize that just because you come from an evil family tree, being good ain't so bad.

Title: The Isle of the Lost Series: Descendants Author: Melissa de la Cruz ISBN: 1484720970 (ISBN13: 9781484720974) Pages:  311  pages (Hardcover) Published: May 5th 2015 by Disney-Hyperion Genre: Fantasy, Young Adult, Middle Grade, Children, Adventure

My interest in this novel was thanks to initially seeing advertisements for the first made-for-television Disney movie, The Descendants, which, much like the book here, focuses on the offspring of four of the most notorious neer-do-wells in the Disney universe. (And, as a sidebar, the movie is honestly good, clean fun! I know I’m not in the target audience for it but I really did enjoy it, and the songs are super-catchy.)

Overall, I found The Isle of the Lost to be a speedy, entertaining read. Plot-wise, the novel focuses on and fleshes out the lives of four young antiheros: Mal, daughter of the evil fairy Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty; Evie, daughter of the vain Evil Queen from Snow White; Jay, son of the wizard Jafar from Aladdin; and Carlos, son of puppy-hatin’ Cruella De Vil from 101 Dalmatians. These four teens, their parents, and others like them (read: villains) have been eternally banished to the Isle of the Lost by edict of King Beast (from Beauty and the Beast) who rules the United States of Auradon. As far as the four leads are concerned, they aspire to be as bad as their parents, but they’ve not quite earned their proverbial stripes.

I really enjoyed the character dynamics here, which is what caused me to bump this up from three-stars to four-stars. Even though this is a fantasy story, the teens have to contend with making their parents proud (something that’s a part of growing up even in the real world). Mal struggles most of all as her mother rules the Isle; Evie hopes to maintain her mother’s high standards of outer beauty; Jay is determined to be the best thief on the Isle; and Carlos, who is an inventor at heart, struggles with his fur-loving mom and her demanding ways.

Even though these kids are the flesh and blood of notorious folks, I called them antiheroes for a reason. They’re not do-gooders by nature, so the titles of “hero” and “heroine” don’t fit. On the other hand, these kids aren’t full of cold-blooded, black-hearted evil either, so they don’t qualify as true villains. Instead, they’re antiheroes – figures who are neither consistently moral nor abjectly immoral and who make good, moral choices at times. The best instances of this arrive in the book’s latter half where the gang seeks out the Dragon’s Eye, a magical artifact that will cement Maleficent’s power. Even though from the start Mal acts like this is all about her, her attitude changes and she shows that she’s not entirely like her mom in a good way. As a whole, while there is some teenage drama here (something I cringe at if it happens too much), it’s not all-encompassing as the story focuses more on developing the lead characters as individuals, not having them constantly squabble or wallow in angst.

Overall, character-wise, this is a fun romp, and long-time fans of Disney will be pleased with the incorporation of many familiar faces, from the members of King Beast and Queen Belle’s court to the denizens on the Isle. The author clearly knows her Disney neer-do-wells and presents them in a light that, much like a Disney film, doesn’t negate the fact that they’re not heroes but doesn’t make them psychotic and bloodthirsty either.

As stated, the characters saved this from being a three-star read for me. Writing-wise, this novel is a simple, quick read for adults, but at times, it’s almost a little too simplistic though it manages not to insult an adult reader’s intelligence and, to be fair, this wasn’t penned with grownups in mind anyway. That being said, the best audience for this novel would be pre-teens and young teens (i.e. ages 10 to 15). Anyone younger probably won’t appreciate the character dynamics and/or Disney villain line-up (as they might be too young to be familiar with much of the canon), and anyone older than 16 might not be attracted to the novel’s delivery. However, I, an adult reader, liked it enough to keep it on my bookshelf and I’d definitely read any related books if this happens to become a series. It definitely has potential and I’d love to read more.

Content-wise, this is a very age-appropriate novel for its chief audience. There essentially is no profanity aside from some invented words and a PG-level word here or there, but the occurrence is so sporadic, if you blinked you’d miss them. There really is no violence other than some nasty (but overall harmless) pranks some of the villains pull. Lastly, there is no sexual content of any kind and the interactions Mal and Evie have with Jay and Carlos are chaste and appropriate for their characters’ ages. Overall, parents and guardians should have nothing to fear in handing this novel off to their Disney-loving pre-teen or teen (though I always encourage parents and guardians to read books first as everyone has a different spectrum for gauging appropriateness for various ages).

In the end, The Isle of the Lost is a fun, frothy read with colorful characters and plenty of potential for future adventures. While the writing itself can be a bit too breezy in terms of simplicity, it works as a vehicle to carry the plot and characters. For pre-teens and young teens, this is a treat; and adult readers can enjoy it, too, for its homage to some of Disney’s best of the worst.

[hispeculiartreasure]

All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Three | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Post-War/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: Teen | Due to language

Word count: 2,930

Chapter 3/24

Warnings: Very brief language

AN: Y’all are getting this chapter a night early because I have had a supremely shitty week and could use some cheering up. So far, this has been the chapter I was most nervous to write because it’s from Bucky’s POV. I have felt so incredibly unworthy of trying to delve into this character because so many fantastic writers I know and love write him flawlessly. It’s been so intriguing for me to explore what Bucky would be like post-war and I think I’m liking where this is going. This chapter has actually turned into one of my favorites and I’m proud of how it came out. Sidenote: Did y’all REALLY think I was going to write something completely void of Steve Rogers???? If you did, you don’t know me that well 😉

Chapter Two

Series Masterlist

Mondays usually were accompanied by drowsiness and wistful thoughts of a weekend passed.

Not for Bucky.

For Bucky, Monday meant he could return to a life where he blends in, where he gets to be the one who observes everyone else. Washing windows is not what he wants for the rest of his life, but for now it felt good to be doing something useful, to have tangible results in front of him everyday. Monday morning means having someplace to be, a set schedule for his day, someone counting on him, and quiet stretches of time alone and away from the worried eyes of his family members.

The pitying glances over breakfast were becoming a bit much for him. Bucky loved his family to death, wouldn’t trade them for the world. But for all their ability to give him space to figure his life out, they sure were clueless that he was keenly aware of the way they looked at him, the way they spoke to him. He doesn’t really blame them, he wouldn’t know how to handle himself either. Most days he pastes on a smile, tells them not to worry, he’d be back on his feet soon. Maybe if he said it enough times, he’d actually believe it too.

Unfortunately Monday also meant dealing with the rest of the boneheaded window washing crew. He was constantly reminding himself to go easy on them, they were just kids. But nothing made him more aware of his age and veteran status than being around them. Compared to their carefree countenances, he realized how much he’d been through, how much he’d seen, how much he’d survived. He should be grateful they were able to be total idiots instead of being shipped off to war. But most days he was tempted to share the number of his confirmed kills so they would leave him alone.

Bucky scales down the building, wind tousling his hair as he looks up to count how many floors he’s finished.

That makes this. . . six.

He peers through the window, pretending to be checking the glass. Scanning the office, he doesn’t see you - his disappointment surprising him.

In the week in which he’d been working on the east side of the building he’d seen you every single day. The way you carried yourself was what first caught his eye - you were confident, poised, not demanding attention but not morphing into a wallflower. You cared about your work, always looking intense and focused. And you saw him. Not in the way people usually saw him - as a figure in the window, someone to be ignored and walked past. In the smallest of ways you were kind to him. You waved every single day, always had time to spare him a smile. There was something about you that was calming. Granted, your interactions were minimal and nonverbal. But you didn’t make him nervous. Which was a rare occurrence these days.

Something in him just wasn’t working lately. Every girl he took dancing, he stepped on her toes. Try to share a meal, he couldn’t find anything to chat about. Dating was easier before he left. Or maybe everything had gotten harder since he’d returned home.

He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit it. Bucky knew he’d changed, he just hadn’t realized how much. Steve had echoed the sentiment a few nights ago.

Reluctantly, Bucky had allowed his idiot friend and Peggy to drag him to a bar after dinner - how the times had changed. It wasn’t one of their old haunts from before the war. Neither Bucky nor Steve could handle the cacophony of noise a club filled with energetic people brought. They bumped into several groups of those kinds of people, including a raucous group of slightly inebriated young women. Suddenly they felt old, weary, uneasy in a place where they used to belong. Or at least where Bucky used to belong, Steve always argued.

This place was quiet, refined even. Conversations were at a dull murmur while a band played casually. No one was here to drunkenly drown their sorrows or celebrate being alive wildly. Almost like everyone here knew the patrons just needed a rest.

“You realize you two don’t have to invite me on all your date nights, right?” Bucky huffed as the three settled at a table near the back.

Peggy smiled coyly.  “Don’t worry, James. You aren’t welcome for the entire night.” Steve choked on his drink, coughing violently while his ears burned pink. Bucky’s response had been something along the lines of “gross”.

After the usual chit-chat, Steve had waited for Peggy to excuse herself to refresh their drinks before broaching the subject.

“Doing okay, pal?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky responded, rolling the last sip of his whiskey in its glass.

“You sure?”

Bucky recognized that voice. Eyes flicking back to Steve’s guilty face, his suspicions were confirmed. “Alright, who’s been in your ear this time? Ma? Becca?”

“I’ve got my own eyes and ears.” Steve waited a beat before adding, “But your ma did mention-” Bucky groaned, not hearing the rest of the sentence. “Don’t be like that. They just care about you, Buck.”

“I know,” he snapped. Then he repeated quietly, “I know.”

“You’ve been dragging a lot. Gotta admit you haven’t been yourself.”

Bucky leaned back, leveling Steve with a hard look. “To tell you the truth, Steve? I don’t know who I am. Nothing that mattered to me before means anything anymore. Once I got to Europe. . . I stopped making plans. Didn’t seem to be much use in dreaming about things that I’d never come home to. But then you, being the punk you are, saved my ass countless times - even caught me falling off a damn train - and somehow I’m back in New York. I didn’t plan on having a 29th birthday or hugging my family again.” He idly scratched at an itchy patch of his beard. “Yet here we are.”

“We’re all lucky to be alive, Buck.”

“But for what?” Silence hung thick in the air at Bucky’s question.

“You know. . .” Steve started, then paused. “I do know where you’re coming from.”

“Don’t try to sell me that bullshit. You’re literally a god-damn hero. There are comic books written about you, movies carrying your name, and you have job security for the rest of your life. You had dinner at the White House on your birthday and bagged a kickass partner in crime. If that’s not purpose, what is?”

Steve had the nerve to look embarrassed. “It may be purposeful. . . but it’s not normal. You know better than anyone else that all I wanted was to do my part in the fight. To say I got more than I bargained for is an understatement.” Bucky could only respond with a snort. “But none of us thought I’d survive the scarlet fever, the arrhythmia, or the anaemia. I was lucky to make it as long as I did. The chances of me surviving the serum injection were laughably low.”

Memories of many days spent at Steve’s bedside float over the table, somehow sobering Bucky even more. “But each year was a surprise. My ma would’ve called it a blessing. I never knew what to do with myself, especially when the war started and I was the only man not being shipped off. . . I was desperate to feel normal. What I got was a hard swing in the other direction.” Steve’s eyes shifted to Peggy at the bar, a whisper of a smile on his lips. “I’m grateful for it, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes I wouldn’t hate it if I had ended up with a stable job, a calm life, and a happy home.

“So I get it. Purpose, normalcy. . . we’re all struggling to find what we lost the last few of years.” Steve clasped Bucky’s shoulder, “But Ma taught me that we always have to stand back up. I don’t care if I have to drag you to your feet, Buck, we’ll get you back up. Whatever we have to do to make it happen.” Bucky knew the stubborn fool in front of him wasn’t going to let him wallow much longer. The tables had turned harshly.

Peggy returned to her seat with three drinks in hand, instantly catching on to the shift in mood that had happened during her absence. Misty-eyed, Steve and Bucky cleared their throats and shifted in their seats.

“And while the pair of you are gallivanting around saving the world, I’m washing windows and living with my family, who don’t know what to do with me.” Bucky had meant it as a joke, but it came out much more bitter than intended.

“Still haven’t heard back from the VA?” Bucky just shook his head at Steve’s question, tossing his drink back in one gulp. “You know you’ll always have a job waiting for you at the SSR as long as me and Peggy are there.”

“Eh, that’s not the kind of normal I’m looking for.”

“What are you looking for?” Peggy asks softly, even gently, for her.

“Guess that’s the million dollar question, huh? A coupla years ago, all I cared about was having a good time and getting through school. Dancing with pretty dames. Maybe get hitched, have some kids.”

“And now?” Peggy prompts in a way that allowed no room for a vague answer.

“I wish I could tell ya, Peg. I really do.”

Peggy’s voice echoed in his mind again.

And now?

Bucky shakes that night from his mind, still not spying you anywhere in the office. Deciding you were either taking a late lunch or were sick, he gets on with his job. Halfway through cleaning the window he notices someone sit at your desk, which was strange. You’ve kept your workplace meticulously tidy since the first day he saw you - surely you wouldn’t appreciate this. Out of the corner of his eye he kept track of the stranger’s movements as he continues to work. Part of him wants to tell the lady to buzz off for you, another part of him can’t wait to watch you take down the person scrambling up your desk, the other part of him. . . . is definitely attracted to the Desk Invader.

He only catches glimpses of her during his task and her chair is angled away from him to tend to a filing cabinet adjacent to her desk, so he can’t see her face. But Bucky could tell she was graceful. Ruby red nails carded through the mounds of files, curled hair shined in its rolled-back fashion. Her dress was a bold blue - and fit in all the right places if he let his mind wander.

Right when he was getting desperate for a look at her, she swivels her chair back to the desk - revealing half of her face. Fine powder, bright red lipstick, nothing he hasn’t seen his sister don at the beginning of her day.

She’s made up like every other girl he’s seen pass through the office. Well, not every girl. You seemed to prefer a utilitarian approach to your appearance, which he didn’t ha--

And then the stranger turns fully towards the window, smiles, and waves at him.

It was you.

Is that actually her?

Bucky leans back in his rigging and takes you in fully. Yeah, looks like the utilitarian approach was out. In was a dame on-trend and truly pulling it off. Before you were beautiful, charming. Now? With the makeup only serving to highlight your features? You were stunning. Shaking his head, he can feel the heat in his cheeks with the realization that he’s been ogling you while you watch. Your smile falters, shoulders drop ever-so-slightly. Not very gentlemanly of you, Barnes.

Bucky touches his own face and hair, raising a brow. Making it obvious that he was looking you up and down, he quirks his head to the side in question.

You roll your eyes so far into your head, a chuckle escapes from him. After a surreptitious glance over your shoulder at the rest of the bullpen, you point towards the office he assumes belongs to your supervisor. He nods. Quickly, but clearly, you raise a certain finger in the direction of the office door.

A laugh emanates from deep in his chest, Bucky’s shoulders heaving. He can’t remember the last time he’s laughed hard enough that his eyes are forced shut. When he opens them again, a similar smile is echoed on your face, definitely pleased with his reaction. You’re sassy. He likes that.

With a remnant of a easygoing-Bucky he’d almost forgotten about, he sticks out his lower lip appreciatively while nodding towards you. Accompanied by a wide grin, he knows you’ve gotten his point. You look good.

You duck your head, but he catches the smile you aim toward your lap. A little something stirs in his chest.

And now?

Then and there, he decides he’s going to allow himself to be impulsive.

Just this once.

Bucky knows for certain he has never completed his job so quickly -and probably never as sloppily. He checks his watch as he smooths down his hair. Just as planned, he’s finished earlier than usual - much to the confusion of the rest of the window washers. After stashing his supplies in the outdoor service closet designated for his team he rounds the building, the front entrance being his destination. The remainder of the team was still cleaning several floors up.

From above Bucky hears his boss shout, “Where you going, Barnes?”

“Don’t worry about it, Harrison,” he shouts back. “I finished. Got something to take care of.”

“You better be here early tomorrow!”

Tucking the tail of his shirt into his slacks, he favors the stairs for the elevator as he climbs to the sixth floor and is met with a giant bullpen of desks and offices.

That’s when it registers exactly how many women work in this office - funny how he hadn’t noticed before you walked in. He’s become accustomed to having little attention paid to him due to the nature of his job but now at least a dozen sets of cat-eye-lined eyes are set on his every movement.

Oh boy.

Trying to be as nondescript as possible he begins to head to your desk when the abrupt clearing of a throat stops him. Sitting at a huge desk immediately in front of the elevator is the most intimidating woman he’s ever seen. Tall and rail-thin, her features seem to be pulled tight with the fastidious bun resting at the nape of her neck. A gold sign affixed to the front of the desk reads: M. Flannery, Office Manager.

“May I help you. . . sir?” Scrutinizing him behind thick-framed glasses, she somehow dons an expression that makes her more severe.

“Umm. . . I’m just looking for someone. . . ma’am.”

“May I inquire who it is you have business with?”

He waves a hand, warding her away from the chock-full appointment book she was reaching for. “No, I don’t have an appointment or anythin’ like that.”

“Then what exactly is the reason you are here?”

“There’s a typist I was hoping to speak with.”

“What is her name?”

Shit.

“Umm, I- we’ve only exchanged pleasantries. I was hoping to catch her name today.”

Mrs. Flannery hums disapprovingly.

“I know where her desk is,” he points to the furthest corner of the office, “she had on a blue dress today. Can I pop over there and say hello?”

“I am afraid unauthorized persons are not allowed past the front desk.” An argument bubbles in him, but he swallows it down after her stern gaze tells him that it was a lost battle.

“. . . Could you ask her to meet me out here, then?”

“The woman you are looking for has already left for the day.”

“Oh.” All his nervous energy deflates and the letdown weighs heavy in his gut. He turns to leave when Mrs. Flannery speaks again.

“You may leave a note with me and I will deliver it to her when she arrives in the morning.”

“I would appreciate that, thank you, ma’am.” He looks down at his empty hands, then scratches the back of his neck. “Got a pad and pen I could use?” She sighs heavily, as if his request is the most inconvenient part of her day. Once she shoves the utensils in his direction, he stares at the paper. In the heat of his impulsivity he hoped he’d see you and know exactly what to say. Now the blank page mocks him. Mrs. Flannery’s pointer finger taps on the desk, urging him to hurry up.

Bucky glances up at the office manager again. “I’m guessing I can’t convince you to give me her name, huh?”

“I am not in the habit of giving out young women’s personal information to every dandy that walks in. I will make sure it gets to the girl in the blue dress.”

Becoming increasingly uncomfortable under her gaze, he scribbles the only thing he could think of and folds the paper twice. Holding out the note Bucky asks, “For her eyes only, ma’am?”

Mrs. Flannery’s eyes narrow as she takes the note from him. “I am offended at the implication that I would violate the privacy of a person’s correspondence.” With an upturned nose she swivels away from Bucky, promptly dismissing him.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

With a spring in his step he returns to the stairwell, whistling a happy tune; purposefully ignoring the room of women still watching his every move.

Chapter Four

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[kpoptimeout]

Top 20 Most Underrated K-Pop Songs of the Decade (2010-2019) PART 2

The 2010s has come and gone before we knew it.  

Continuing with the K-Pop Timeout Tradition (see 2018 Ver) of listing the Top 10 Most Underrated K-Pop Songs because all the other sites are just bothered with the Top 10 that pretty much everyone will have heard of/have fan wars over, below we have created a list of the Top 20 Most Underrated K-Pop Songs of the Decade because 10 spots is not enough to cover the amount of talent slept on.

For these reasons, we have listed 10 of them here in PART 1 and will list an additional 10 in here. This is in alphabetic order NOT in the order of awesomeness because all of them are awesome. Also, all MVs are linked in the song titles because Tumblr won’t let me share that many videos in one post.

Rainbow “Sweet Dream” (2011)

The younger sister group of DSP Media’s highly successful 2nd gen girl group KARA, Rainbow never received much attention at all in comparison, never having received any music show wins since their debut in 2009. While this may be a result of DSP’s mismanagement (e.g. changing the girls’ concept from edgy to cute all of a sudden mid-way in their career and chucking them to promote in Japan before they have a solid domestic fanbase), it was never because of the quality of Rainbow’s music. Even K-Pop critics would agree that their 2011 comeback “A” is an all-time K-Pop classic. However, we would like to bring attention to “Sweet Dream”, because it is one of the best Rainbow songs ever and even more underrated than most of the songs in Rainbow’s already highly underrated repertoire. Following powerful poppy tracks like “A” and “Mach”, Rainbow appeared to be developing a style completely unique of their own in “To Me” and it reached fruition in “Sweet Dream”. It was not just poppy and powerful but showed emotional depth and the beautiful harmonies of the girls. While the girls have all left DSP Media, the girls are super close and they have chosen not to disband, thus becoming the only 2nd gen girl group still active with the full original lineup. The members even self-funded their 10th-anniversary comeback this year. If you love to support beautiful music and an even more beautiful friendship, listen to “Sweet Dream”!

RANIA “Just Go” (2013)

Newer K-Pop fans would probably just know RANIA for Alex’s brief stint in the group and making it the only girl group to ever had a Black member on its lineup. But even before Alex joining the group, RANIA had been known for breaking barriers in the conservative K-Pop industry. Their debut song “DR Feel Good”, which was originally written for Lady Gaga, was seen as too sexy by the Korean public when all they did was wear leather, get low and hair flip a lot. Their later songs continue to be powerful and amazing but it appeared that the public just chose to always label them as the “too sexy” group. “Just Go” is an example of their brilliance that the K-Pop industry was just not ready for at the time. “Just Go” is a party track carried by extremely song vocals and creative choreo where the girls interact a lot with the back dancers. The girls also wore lace full-body suits, leather jackets and actual pantsuits in different scenes throughout the MV. The song exudes so much BDE before BDE even existed as a term. If you want a confident girl group power anthem, “Just Go” is the song for you.

The SEE YA “Be With You” ft. SPEED’s Taewoon (2012)

The SEE YA was MBK Entertainment’s (formerly Core Contents Media) first ballad group after the highly successful Davichi. While Davichi is more of a pop ballad group, The SEE YA being technically a reboot of the RnB group SeeYa went for a darker sound. Their typical sound is encapsulated in their debut song “Be With You” ft. SPEED’s Taewoon, which had lovely harmonisation and also piercing high notes. The vibe of the song simply tugs at your heartstrings like a beautiful melodrama OST. Even the MV itself is a melodrama. MBK really should have promoted the group’s own music more instead of doing lots of cross-group collaborations so more people recognised The SEE YA’s own unique sound. While The SEE YA has disbanded in 2015, their music lives on as extremely underrated masterpieces. If you love dramatic ballads and K-Drama OSTS, you should check out “Be With You”!

SPEED “That’s My Fault” ft. Davichi’s Minkyung (2013)

Another talented group that unfortunately disbanded in 2016 due to MBK Entertainment’s poor management, SPEED is an exceptionally talented group that deserved so much better. Some K-Pop fans may know SPEED for their crazy choreography on heelys, but not as many know them for their vocal and rap talent. SPEED’s debut song “That’s My Fault” ft. Davichi’s Kang Minkyung is one of the rare male idol debuts that was super melodramatic and also pays homage to real historical events. The MV depicts teen love that slowly blossoms in the backdrop of the 1980s Gwangju Democratization Movement of South Korea which ended up with 144 civilian deaths, featuring the acting of Ji Changwook, Park Boyoung, A PINK’s Naeun and Ha Seokjin. For a rookie group to have the skill and emotional depth to convey such a song is rare and there are not even that many veterans groups that have made songs honouring historical events and tragedies. These qualities make it one of the most underrated songs of the decade. If you like songs that pay homage to historical events, you should check out SPEED’s “That’s My Fault”!

SPICA “Russian Roulette” (2012)

When discussing extremely talented but underrated K-Pop girl groups, SPICA would definitely be brought up in such a conversation. The members are all amazing and powerful vocalists with a lot of attitude. Even the visual member, Jiwon, was hitting the whistle register. It is unfortunate that the group was consistently slept on and disbanded in 2017 (although member Bohyung has teased at a possible reunion). It is not an overstatement to say powerful vocal girl groups like SPICA walked so groups like MAMAMOO today can run. “Russian Roulette” is their debut song but it is already K-Pop gold - it showcases every member’s vocal skills and different ranges. The whistle loop in the chorus is also super addictive and memorable. So if you love vocal-heavy girl groups and their songs, you would love SPICA’s “Russian Roulette”!

Stellar “Crying” (2016)

Mainly known for their controversial and sexual MVs, Stellar actually was a very talented group whose talent was often overlooked by controversy due to management by a company that just wanted views when their initial cute debut song “Study” did not generate enough attention. When the group disbanded in 2018, members revealed in interviews that they were uncomfortable with the concepts they had to do and would not have been an idol if they knew it would be like this. And really the company should have allowed the girls more opportunities to do concepts they enjoyed and to showcase their abilities. “Crying” is an example of Stellar’s actual stellar talents - it includes beautiful vocals and harmonies as well as some fun laid-back rap. This addictive summer track would have dominated charts if it was sung by less controversial and already established acts like Son Dambi, After School, AOA or SISTAR. If you love a good summer bop, this is the song for you!

Sunnyhill “Midnight Circus” (2011)

How often do you see a K-Pop song critiquing the harsh realities of the K-Pop industry? Rarely. And Sunnyhill’s “Midnight Circus” is one such song. With the co-ed group donning the concept of a being a dark circus troupe, the song compares the K-Pop industry to that of a circus, where people are forced to perform in dangerous conditions often against their will or in ways they are not interested in. Such insights still ring true today with idols being constantly hurt in poor working conditions or suffering immense and often fatal amounts of stress from public scrutiny. The song itself also draws heavily from instrumentals one would associate with a circus - accordion riffs, heavy usage of the fiddle and also brass instruments. The singing is also very experimental and artsy - at times the members sing like they are speaking dramatically on stage, at times they are whispering ominously. The choreography is also creative and often has the members and back dancers moving like puppets controlled by the circus *cough* K-Pop industry *cough*. The fact that the remaining members of Sunnyhill are currently wallowing in obscurity and do not even have a changing room for their group’s music show comeback stage speaks volumes of how underrated they are. If you love insightful and well-executed concepts, you would be obsessed with “Midnight Circus”!

TRAX/TraxX “Escape” (2018)

In the early 2000s, SM wanted to produce the best solo artist, the best boy band, the best boy band and the best rock band. While they achieve the first two through BoA and TVXQ, SM struggled to make CSJH and TRAX as successful. TRAX has gone through multiple concept changes over the years - from glam metal to pop-rock to ballad now in 2018, the group transitioned to EDM with the addition of DJ Ginjo and rebranding themselves as “TraxX”. A possible reason for previous failures to make TRAX succeed is how their previous styles never fully show the abilities of all members. The glam metal aspect may have helped show Jungmo’s guitar playing abilities but its unique way of singing prevents the mainstream from appreciating Jay’s vocal abilities. While pop-rock and ballad allowed more people to hear Jay’s vocal colour and wide range, it also limited Jungmo’s ability to show his guitar skills. This 2018 comeback is phenomenal and SM should have really promoted “Escape” better - finally with EDM Jay’s godly vocals and Jungmo’s rock guitar skills are unleashed in a way never seen before in K-Pop. While there has been an increase in EDM use in K-Pop this decade, no other K-Pop song has incorporated the genre into K-Pop as well as this song, which also throws in rock. If you love an amazing genre-blender, “Escape” is the song for you!

TOPPDOGG “TOPDOG” (2014)

After BLOCK B’s exit from Stardom Entertainment, the label invested heavily in TOPPDOGG, aiming to make it the Super Junior of Hip-Hop. Honestly, the company should have just marketed TOPPDOGG as the group with the hardest and most diverse rap line in K-Pop because up to this day there is still not a group with as many different and talented rappers. The group had 5 amazing rappers. They also did not lack in vocal talent at all. However, the group never took off and members started to leave to pursue careers elsewhere and the 5 remaining members have rebranded themselves as XENO-T in 2018. “TOPDOG” should have been the song that made TOPPDOGG a household name but somehow it did not. The song was powerful but not a regular powerful boy band track. Sampling Mozart's “Symphony No. 25 in G Minor”, which Mozart wrote when he was only 17, the group hoped to portray the abilities of genius youth and they really did by adding their own electronic and hip-hop flair to the orchestra piece. Even the choreography and MV goes hard and would look futuristic even today with the top-notch CGI. It is definitely one of the best K-Pop tracks of this decade that has yet to be replicated. If you are a fan of dramatic boy band bops, “TOPDOG” is the song for you!

ZE:A “Ghost of the Wind” (2013)

ZE:A, like Nine Muses, never reached their full potential under the management of Star Empire Entertainment, a label which only seems to be able to make 1-3 members of a group into superstars while keeping the whole group itself in nugudom. ZE:A had many amazing tracks but “Ghost of the Wind” is arguably the best of ZE:A and also one of the best K-Pop songs of the decade. The orchestral strings provide the song with a grand and classy atmosphere that also has a sense of urgency. This is complemented well by the theatrical choreography that the members all nailed and the belting of high notes by not one but three members. Yet somehow this song charted poorly when it was promoted and the group is now currently in an indefinite hiatus while members are all pursuing solo careers in different industries from music to even mixed martial arts. If you love an orchestral and grand boy band song, check out “Ghost of the Wind”!

Which K-Pop songs do you think were underrated throughout the decade? Leave your thoughts in the comments section below and let the song sharing begin!!!

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Thor’ Warriors: Oneshot

Masterlist

Thor Odinson x Plus!Size Reader Ex -HYDRA Assassin

Warnings: Heartbreak, fluff, cuddling

A/N: Sorry for the crappy title! The reader has children with Captain America who died during the upcoming Avengers movie, they weren’t married but where lovers, sorry cruel I know, this takes place a little over a year after his death. Thor takes interest & it turns all cuddly & loving & disgustingly mushy. The story stops and picks up several years later with a SURPRISE!

Words: +1,700

Henry was born while on the run from the government for helping Bucky, while the youngest, the one Y/N argued to name Steven Grant Rogers, was born several months after his namesakes death. Honestly, both pregnancies where a surprise having been told numerous times HYDRA had ruined any chances of children, but here the large framed assassin sat, a widower.

The 2-year-old Y/H/C blue eyes, running after Uncle Bucky while little Grant, as she called him, slobbering on a toy on the blanket she shared with the little blue-eyed blonde, a year old & fighting sleep. The fall day warm for once to bring the kids out on the lawn of the compound to let them play & burn some energy.

“Nice day,” came the all too familiar voice of the king of Asgard as he stepped up to the blanket Y/N & Grant shared taking a seat next to the assassin that seemed at home with the little boy that was now getting up to chase after big brother.

“Bucky! You have incoming,” Y/N shouted out to the soldier that scooped the little boy up & took off with him, Henry losing interest when he spotted Thor & came running their way.

“Yes, it is a nice day, what are you doing… look out…,” Y/N warned, watching the toddler barley miss the family jewels as he flopped into the gods lap, large hands quick to grab the little creature & place him on his leg.

“Are you being good for your mother,” Thor began, the little boy shaking his head yes but Y/N shaking her head no.

“Does mom need a break,” he smiled over to Y/N who looked at the god puzzled to where this was going.

“I could always use a break,” she laughed, the toddler having his fill of the god & going after Bucky once more.

“Do you have a baby sitter then,” he asked quietly, it hadn’t gone unnoticed to Y/N that the past week the god had been friendlier than usual since he was spending more time on Midgard.

“What? for tonight,” laughed slightly, it had been so long since anyone had shown interest in Y/N, plus with kids, duties as an avenger, & why would a literal god like Thor take interest in an assassin when he had thousands of prettier women falling over themselves to be with him?

“Aye,” he responded with a sly smile that still made no sense to Y/N who looked quickly to the squealing boys that wallowed Bucky on the grass, then back to mismatched eyes that sparkled as they looked over her thick frame covered in yoga pants & long sleeve shirt.

“What for,” Y/N asked, just a dumbfounded as ever, locking gazes to smile nervously at him.

“I thought…. if you were comfortable with it… I would like to take you out to a quiet dinner where you didn’t have to stop anybody from throwing anything in the floor or smearing it on you would be relaxing, with me escorting you of course,” the god smirked watching the comprehension spread across Y/N’ face with a blush rising in her plump cheeks as mouth dropped open.

“Oh… OH! OH GOD! I'm so fucking rusty at this! Holy shit…. Umm… I …,” Y/N stammered & rambled like a teen making the god blush & watching his smile falter.

“It's ok I wasn’t sure if you were ready,” Thor began, Bucky starting past the two with the struggling boys one under each arm.

“For the love of god Y/N, you need a break & I don’t think Steve would be upset,” Bucky scolded the blushing assassin that finally met the gods gaze as Uncle Bucky carried the boys in.

“Um.. yeah, yeah I would like that, but I'm not sur who will watch the boys.. I mean…,” Y/N began nervously tugging at her long-sleeve, the god finally meeting excited yet nervous gaze.

“It's arranged, Tony helped, said you needed time away as well,” Thor smiled at the fact he had it planned out for her the woman entertained by the gods slyness.

 Oh god this was dating all over again, she & Steve didn’t date, it just…. happened. Nervously waiting for the god to show up at the entrance to the compound, Happy already waiting as the god finally made his appearance in a simple pair of dress slacks & polo that didn’t look bad on him. Y/N tugged at the t-shirt dress that hugged thick curves hopping she didn’t look to momish.

“It's fine, you look beautiful,” the god commented taking her arm in his to walk her to the car.

“Thank you, you're not bad looking yourself,” Y/N retorted, cursing internally at how stupid she sounded.

“I'm sorry, I’ve never dated, ever,” she admitted before they got into the back of the car, noting that despite wearing heels she still had to look up to Thor.

“Well technically neither have I, so shall we be terrible at this together,” he laughed helping Y/N to take a seat, getting in after  her & shutting the door as he got in.

“Well, it's comforting to know that the god of thunder isn’t as confident in Midgardian custom as I thought, because I for one am not, & I live here,” she chuckled as the car pulled away from the entrance.

It was hot, Y/N could feel sweat trickling down ample curves, hands falling to where the god rested up against her, trying to push Thor away with an exasperated huff & the head that laid on her stomach chuckling at her attempts.

“You're burning me up…,” Y/N whined, the assassin lacing nimble fingers in long golden locks that tickled bare stomach & refused to let him move away, strong arms wrapped around round buttocks that where clothed in the thinnest pare of underwear possible to keep from overheating.

“Yet you hold me tight dove,” he laughed, nuzzling at the soft skin before finally scooting up to be face to face with her, looking back behind her at a screen before looking back to the woman in his arms that refused to open Y/E/C eyes.

“What time is it,” she rasped, filling him settle in front of her laying hot forehead to hers.

“10.”

“Morning or…”

“Morning dove,” she could hear the smile in his voice, but it made her panic.

It was a school day, pushing up in the bed as fast as tired body would allow for Thor to pull her back to the mattress, sweaty back flush to clothed front arms tight around thick torso. The boys now 6 & 5 where going to be late for school.

“Henry & Grant, there late for…..,” she panicked, trying to pry out of the gods grasp, realizing it looked that he had already been up for some time.

“I’ve already gotten them ready & I may add taken them to school, so you could rest. They’re getting closer,” Thor admitted & hinted to the clear screen that showed a readout with a female body, displaying heartbeat, O2 levels among the vitals of the little girl that had stilled & was in position.

“I know, few more hours,” Y/N admitted, watching the spikes get higher with another contraction, this one bigger stronger, but thanks to HYDRA she didn’t feel it like she should, nor bothered by having the baby’s father hugged tight, nuzzling at the nape of sweaty neck.

“Are you sure you aren’t hurting,” he worried kissing the shell of her ear calloused hand rubbing over protruding belly as she rolled to her back to look at him with a smile.

“No, same with the boys, just I didn’t carry them to 9 months they were born in 6 because of the serum that we had running through our systems. This is your fault by the way, 9 months Thor really,” Y/N smiled at the god that propped up to smirk at her.

“Well, Asgardians mature slower than others,” he smiled pecking her lips before helping her to sit up, “& you asked me to if I recall it correctly.”

“I didn’t ask, more like, whoops,” Y/N laughed the god gently helping her to stand, though she didn’t put on a lot of weight on, it was still awkward with a growing…. Warrior princess as Thor called the little girl that Y/N carried.

“Why don’t you make some, well lunch now, or there is left overs,” Y/N questions as she made it to the bathroom, shooing the god off to the kitchenette.

“Should you eat before…,” Thor began, before leaving Y/N to do what was needed.

“Normal people no, but I'm not normal & would like a little something before she gets here,” Y/N admitted, making her way to the toilet to empty squished bladder.

The smell of bacon hitting her senses as she steeped out into the bedroom to make her way out & to the small kitchenette. Y/N backing up to the counter to hop up on it to sit next to the stove to watch Thor, but the god was quick to grab thick hips & place her delicately on the surface.

“You don’t know how to take it easy do you? In a few hours we are going to meet our little warrior & you're hopping around all over the place,” he laughed up at her, stealing a kiss before going back to the eggs that were now in the pan.

“No I don’t, because I went into labor with Henry when we were in a firefight with some bad guys. Natasha had to help me deliver him on the battle field because we were pinned down & Grant was delivered by Tony who kept commenting Steve would have killed him if he knew he seen me like that,” Y/N laughed, watching Thor plate the food but stopping to come stand between thick thighs, taking note panties where gone, she had to be closer if….

“And…. my water broke when I went to pee,” Y/N smiled watching Thor turn into an excited puppy.

“Then let’s get you to med bay to meet our little warrior shall we,” he smiled, pulling Y/N into strong arms to carry her to the med bay.

“I can walk,” Y/N laughed as they stepped out of the room they shared at the compound.

“I know, but MY queen should reserve her strength to get our princess here,” Thor spoke gently, taking moderate but long strides to get them to where they were needed so he wasn’t delivering a baby in the hallway.

Tags open! And re-blogs are ALWAYS welcomed!

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99​  @prettybubblesintheair​  @gramaeryebard​  @reallyheckinggay​  @jovanna-shewolf​  @andiyholly​  @katstablook​   @nickyl316h​  @beets1bears1battlestargalactica​ @aslandia726​ @moonfaery​ @furstinnajoelle   @itsbqueenthings​ @lookwhatyoumademequeue​

@whovianwookie86-captainxev@jazzieomega

[artbyeritza]

I hate my art.

I hate my art.

No one else does it like I do.

I think of the times

I could have been drawing

or writing

yet I slid back in to dangerous habits -

excessive self-isolation, crying and gaming.

With each distraction, I paralyze myself,

drowning in doubt

and more insecurity.

I often think of the artists who worked for the royals

and churches

from Europe to the Philippines,

who worked for the rich

and were never crippled in both poverty and this

black hole of dismay in their craft.

Oh, art comes easy these days.

With every insecure, older and small artists,

there is always a younger talent

that gets the publicity and praises.

I was born on the dawn of the first graphic tablets

ever to be made and witnessed.

By making my parents proud of my

high school grades, I secured one

and drew my heart out.

As a child, the artist likes to draw anything.

As a child, the writer writes about anything

with enthusiasm

yet the flames had been snuffed out.

Each artist is subjected to their environment

and it did not lead to the path of being

a professional.

Of course, I love art, but I loved a lot of things in life.

I loved history and the world

so I chose to study about my home continent, Asia.

It was a rich people's college degree

and none of my jobs after ever needed

what I learned from those 4 years.

I longed to use my knowledge and art to combine the two,

I just feel as though I am not talented enough

to enact it.

For a passion project so grand, I needed

support from more than just one person

in my life.

I still try to write about it

and draw

little by little.

I check social media,

with my multiple screens and accounts

and I froze.

I knew the numbers should not get me,

it still does, though

and my brain raced a thousand thoughts.

"That will never probably be my art."

I should have said this at the start

of this poem

that this is not argumentum ad passiones.

I spent most of my active artist days

wallowing in self-pity and convincing people

to like me and my art.

She was a child, immature and needy.

They are mostly okay now.

They found the remedy to not feeling enough

is to not care.

The side effect is that this has been my only proper art

for a while.

They had been "low-key" and almost content with their work

but they often wonder where the teen Filipino artist

had been.

The one who pulled through, opening their art commissions

twice

with not one person daring to ask about their art.

They, who witnessed a fellow small Filipino artist online

who treats art as an outlet for their struggle with depression

and suicidal tendencies and was bullied off the socials

for flooding other big artists' comment section

to get attention for their art.

Is the artist still alive?

I could have said something more

and comforted them.

At one point, they flooded the hashtags of local art community

with their self-harm.

Is the artist within them still alive?

There is some comfort in not knowing everything.

Sometimes, I think,

if artists of the old,

from heavens above,

to the pits of hell

look at us modern artists in the 21st century.

What do they see?

The career of an artist is still the same.

The artist gets paid with their craft.

It is downsized.

Artist rarely can earn enough on their own

to live comfortably.

Capitalism made artists hate each other

and their art.

Yes, you can doubt art, your art and others' art

and do things differently.

Not too differently,

because they will not pay for that.

Even the pursuit of self and individualism

is not a selling point anymore.

Even being a fan and drawing for it

will not feed you.

It will, if you lucked out.

If there has to be a jury or a crowd

to decide how many people liked

what I do,

then I still hate my art.

As an adult artist,

struggling right now

you just grew not to care.

I still hate my art,

there is just no eyes looking at me anymore.

My art would pull no Van Gogh.

My art is where I find the time in this world

to relate and transform something I find value

wherein the person does not.

I hate my art

yet I stare to see and feel all its glory.

It is an audience for one,

for me.

[frederator-studios]

Derek Iversen: The Frederator Interview

Derek Iversen began his unlikely career in animation as a PA on the very first season of Spongebob Squarepants. You might say he was got by The Hook: he spent about a decade with the show, on the production staff before becoming a writer on Seasons 6-9. Since then, he’s written on countless awesome TV shows, become an elected official in the neighborhood of Valley Glen (business card and all!), and created his own Nickelodeon short, “Carrot and Stick” inspired by his dog Rosie, whose image blesses the end of this interview. In honor of his episode of Bravest Warriors premiering tomorrow (5/18), Derek and I sat down to discuss sketch comedy, time travel, and a certain absorbent (and yellow and porous) friend.

Did you always want to be a writer? What’d you want to be growing up?

First I wanted to be a fireman. Then a police officer - huge jump there. Then I wanted to be an astronaut, until I realized I get motion sickness. So I thought I should be an astronomer - a little safer, little less barfing. But in 5th grade, my English teacher Mrs. Carrol gave me high marks on a short story assignment. I got really encouraged by that; I thought, “Hey, maybe I’ve found something I’m good at!” So pretty much from then on, I wanted to be a writer.

Wow, 5th grade? Were you a wunderkind, writing a ton as a kid?

Nah, I wasn’t that ambitious. In high school I took Theater with another great teacher, Mrs. Carrick. She encouraged us to write our own scenes and monologues. So I had the opportunity to try stuff out with my fellow students, and hopefully crack them up with idiocy. Then in college at University of Arizona, I joined a group called Comedy Corner and got really into sketch comedy. I thought if I could make a living doing that, THAT’s what I want to do. There’s nothing like doing live comedy before an audience. It’s thrilling.

Did you stick with comedy after college?

Some friends and I formed our own group! The People Who Do That. We became the kings of Tucson comedy… which, shockingly, didn’t pay the bills. So some of us decided to truck it out to LA to try to make it in the big city.

Did you have a job when you got to LA?

Nope, but I got a really stupid one: phone customer service for a pager company. Let me just say, the introduction of cell phones was NOT the only thing that killed off pagers… but I had a friend working at Nickelodeon, so I managed to get a job as a driver on The Angry Beavers. This was back in the olden days, when if artists needed reference materials, someone had to actually go pick them up from libraries or - RIP - video stores. Soon after, I got a job as a production assistant on a show that Nick had just picked up: Spongebob Squarepants. At the time we all thought, ‘This is a strange little show that hopefully will get a cult following.’ It did a little better than that. So that was kind of my ‘big break’. But it took me 7 years of working on the show to become a writer on it.

How did that path look?

Long and meandering. Because for some time, I thought I wanted to do sketch comedy, and that animation was my day job. I was a PA on seasons 1 to 3 and a coordinator on seasons 4 and 5. In that time I started chipping away at animation writing, because I had to actually learn how to write cartoons. I was used to writing for the stage, and animation is a visual medium. Much more so than even other kinds of TV, let alone theater, so I had to learn to tell stories visually. And stories that kids could relate to—I’d always written for adults, so my stuff went right over kid’s heads. But I wanted to write and kept knocking on the door, and in season 6, became a staff writer. I was one until season 9.

Do you think your background in sketch comedy aided that transition?

Oh yeah, absolutely. When you do a sketch in front of a big throng of crazy college students, it’s clear when it works and when it doesn’t. Sketch taught me not to waste the audience’s time: you get in, do the joke, and get out.

How was working on Spongebob? Any stories, secrets, lore?

It was a wild ride and a lot of fun. I’ve gotta be the only one who remembers this, but I swear it’s true: back in the first season, Steve (Hillenburg, creator) had a sign on his door that read, “Have fun or you’re fired.” It sounds cruel, but it actually set a good tone. We did have a lot of fun! And there wasn't much firing—it’s not like the hatchet fell every time somebody frowned. The crew had awesome camaraderie, and I think that’s reflected in the show. I sincerely believe the environment of a show, how it’s made, affects how it turns out. If a show is made with a tense crew where everyone fears the creator, it shows on-screen. Conversely, if the crew has fun and makes each other laugh, that’s clear on-screen too.

(Season 1 Christmas party: Ennio Torresan, Carly Benner-StClair, Bruce Heller, Mica Nataami, Carl (CH) Greenblatt, and Derek with the devil horns.) 

So despite the sign, no one was afraid of Steve Hillenburg?

No, no, the sign is misleading. He’s a total sweetheart. Success couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy: just a thoughtful, funny, sincere human being.

That’s exactly what you wanna hear about your heroes. What’s your favorite thing about the show?

Well Spongebob is definitely a reflection of Steve! As are the other characters, but mostly Spongebob. And to me, the greatest thing about the show, and the reason I think it’s been such a huge success, is that Spongebob is genuine. He’s without guile. He’s enthusiastic without any reservation. And I think, especially when the show came out, a lot of cartoons in the kid realm starred adults disguised as kids. And Spongebob was never that; he was always for kids, always had a kid’s spirit. That’s part of why we never defined his age: he has kid and adult qualities. He’s just sincere—and sincerity is underrated.

Do you have a favorite Spongebob episode?

Man... that’s like choosing a favorite child. But I’ll go ahead and do it. I have several favorites. One is “SB-129”. I’m a bit of a sucker for time travel - it’s part of why I enjoy Bravest Warriors so much. “The Fun Show” is awesome too, it’s a classic. Of episodes I wrote, “Not Normal” was my first and still a favorite. It’s a bit autobiographical: I was a weird kid and always felt like I needed to conform to some idea of normality. After a while, I decided that didn’t matter and I was going to accept being my weird self. And the same is true of Spongebob.

(Mr. Lawrence (aka Plankton), Vincent Waller, and Derek.)

How did you come to write for Bravest Warriors?

After Spongebob, I was a staff writer on Sanjay and Craig, which Will McRobb and Chris Viscardi executive produced. They’re great guys and a blast to work with. They'd also produced Bravest, so I found out about the show through them. I watched it and just thought it was madness in the best possible way. Last year Will mentioned they were looking for writers, so I gave it a shot. I really wanted to be part of the show and feel lucky that I got to be!

What are your favorite things about Bravest Warriors?

I love time travel and sci-fi, and you get both of those in BW. That’s a treat. But I love that it also goes right to the heart of teen angst. That’s a sandbox I don’t get to play in a lot, as I’m usually writing for kids or preschoolers. It’s a lot of fun to deal with broken hearts, romantic attraction, all that gooey hormonal stuff.

Do you have a favorite character from the show?

I like Danny a lot, because he’s kinda pathetic. I just want to help him out. But I can’t resist Catbug. He’s amazing. And I’m a big fan of Impossibear. Something about his gruffness... he’s selfish in a way that reminds me of Bender from Futurama. If I ever got to do another BW episode, I’d want it to be about Impossibear. Finding the mushy heart he hides inside.

What is your episode, “A Apple, B Banana, C Chili” about?

I did a sort of anti-consumerist screed cleverly disguised as a Bravest Warriors episode. The team succumbs to the power of marketing. They have to escape the clutches of a Costco-like superstore. It seemed like a uniquely weird challenge they hadn’t faced before. I think that’s why it was chosen from the ideas I pitched—when you’re pitching on a show with a lot of episodes, you’ve got to find the part of the floor that hasn’t been painted yet.

Aha - don’t they go in that store to grab Wallow a snack?

Haha yeah. Wallow gets hangry on a mission so they go to buy him some chips or a granola bar or something and it goes terribly wrong. I love episodes like that - we did it on Spongebob too - where it’s the simplest possible objective. The goal of the episode is one tiny thing, and then it balloons out from there and becomes ridiculously huge in a way it never deserved to be.

What would you be if you weren’t a TV writer?

Maybe a lawyer. Or a crazy activist trying to make the world a better place and not getting very far. I’d probably be quitting my job at the EPA right now out of sheer frustration. At least writing cartoons, I can express the absurdity of our world—but hopefully to make people laugh, instead of cry.

What are your favorite cartoons?

Well, Spongebob’s pretty darn good. I always loved Ren and Stimpy, the latest news notwithstanding. I’m a simple man: I love Road Runner. I couldn’t resist the simplicity of the gags. You always know what’s going to happen - Road Runner’s gonna get away and Wile E. Coyote is gonna eat it. But you don’t know how he’s gonna eat it. The magic is in the details. I’m a big fan of The Simpsons. And I enjoyed Aqua Teen Hunger Force; Master Shake cracks me up. I love how stupid and petty he is.

After writing for so long, is it ever still challenging?

Absolutely, it’s always a challenge. I think a lot of people struggle with being too precious with their ideas. It’s a collaborative medium: stories change and change and change again. You can accept compromises and look for the good in them, or you can fight against them. My view is, you have to choose your battles. Even the creator doesn’t have complete control. And the best creators and showrunners delegate responsibilities. They trust the people they’ve hired.  

Do you pitch show ideas around?

I haven’t as much lately; I’m busy story editing a preschool show now called Hanni and the Wild Woods. But I made a Nickelodeon short a few years back with my friend Miles Hindman, called “Carrot and Stick,” about a pair of buddies who live in a junkyard. Their nemesis is a dog named Rosie, based on my own dog Rosie. It’s a mixed media show - a combination of puppets, live action and 2D - so we wanted her to play herself. It didn’t work out. She’s cute and all, but cute doesn’t make you a good actor…

(Rosie, sweet and perfect in every conceivable way aside from acting ability.)

What else are you working on?

Well besides Hanni, I just got back from teaching an Animation Writing class in Jamaica for a few weeks - that was amazing. It was through The World Bank; they’re trying to build an animation industry over there. I’m glad they found me, it was a ton of fun and some of the student’s ideas were really cool. I also have a YA sci-fi book I really want to write. The trick is finding the time to do it; it keeps eluding me. Earlier I said animation is very collaborative - not so with this book. I have a very specific vision, and I’m excited to tell exactly the story I want to tell. I also write as Spongebob and Patrick on their Twitter accounts - which is a tougher gig than it sounds! All of the 140 character zingers have to be contained to their universe. But it’s fun and keeps me connected to the characters, and I love that.

Thank you for the interview Derek! So much fun talking with you. Good luck on all your many projects, I’ll be on the lookout!

- Cooper

[darby-drabbles]

Just some talk about various pairs in the High School AU. (Feel free to send more pairs and combos for me to talk about some other time, I made a post earlier with what characters are involved in the AU)

We don't have a solid timeline of who dates who and when, so those thoughts are kinda tentative, but I mean, I want all the classic ships to still be here!!! It’s just hard to get there if there’s a buncha jealous teens who still need to work out feelings... I also kinda struggled in general with some of this, a lot of the world building was back n forth with @duck-n-clover​ with BOTH our characters and I forgot to think about how some of my guys are just.. Together. Like I know How They Act in this au but what are their Opinions...

Andre & Nathan

TY @agentchimendez​

They probably met through Dante, one of Nate's best friends and Andre's, idk, eventual friend he starts to hang out with frequently. (I’ll talk about them too in part 2 probably) Andre hasn’t had a lot of good friends for a while now and he’s a little skeptical of people liking him and wanting to spend time with him suddenly and immediately. Sounds fake and unrealistic....

I feel like Nate and Andre wouldn't mind hanging out alone together pretty soon though. (I'm sure they're nearly always with other parts of their group, but they WOULD.) Despite Andre being unsure of calling him a Friend and maybe being skeptical, Nate's talkative enough that it'd be decent company AND he doesn’t have to work too hard about opening up. Initial thoughts, Nate thinks Andre seems cool but he wallows in self pity too much and he gets kinda worried about him.. hopefully he's doin okay. Nate will cheer him up!! Andre probably thought Nathan was a little Too Much, but didn't necessarily dislike him. Just. Needs to be his friend in small doses some times. Nate (and Dante) likes to tease Andre A Bit, like with any of his friends, but Andre's not used to Being his friend and gets easily frustrated with that. He doesn't WANT to be Teased he's Sensitive.. Nate likes to pester, and take foods off your lunch tray, and startle you then laugh when you get scared. It's usually Obviously a goof and Andre can kinda react reasonably, but sometimes it's taken a little too far for Andre’s liking to try n laugh off and he snaps at them all.

Nate's always pretty touchy-feely with all his friends, even acquaintances (This boy Loves HUGS!) and Andre's appreciative of him for it. He might not admit it Out Loud, but he likes when Nate randomly wraps an arm around him or touches his arm or back or something like that. Andre isn't used to so much positive physical contact, tbh, and its nice. (no, andre, fist fights and giving hjs to randos under the bleachers doesn't count)

Nathan crushes on people easily and often, so I think he’d like Andre. Andre doesn’t admit his feelings to himself as easily, and is trying to get away from not that great casual hookups at the time he’s getting friendly with him, so I feel like it would take him a little while to admit he’s crushin’? BUt yeah itll happen.

They both skateboard, Andre’s better at it and does actual tricks while Nate’s Learning but mostly just uses it to get around faster. He’s genuinely impressed at even the most simple tricks Andre does..

When Andre breaks him arm, he gets Kriss to paint on his cast a little but he doesn’t have anyone sign it. He’s kinda afraid of bein close to people still and doesn’t think much of it? But eventually Nate just takes his arm and signs his cast and draws a big ole heart and hands the marker to Dante. “There, now it looks like you’ve got friends who want you to get better! ‘Cause you do!” Andre chokes back tears and tries to convince him it was only blank bc he liked the aesthetic of it.

Izzy & Andre

TY Anon

Izzy and Andre feel a bit more reserved. They met through Nate (Izzy's another of his good bffs.) but it probably takes them a while until they'd be comfortable hanging out one on one. I feel like Izzy's heard more bad gossip about Andre, or at least cares about it a little more than Nate would. And she doesn't necessarily hold it against him, he still seems like a Decent guy and not like she's perfect anyway,, but she's aware of what people say about him, while Nate just kinda shrugs those things off completely. Andre thought she seemed cool but a little aloof (like him) and he knew he'd have a harder time getting to know her. He might've thought she was dating Nathan at the time they met? (And who knows maybe they were??) I don’t know how that affects his thoughts but, he did think it..

They eventually bond over liking a lot of similar bands, and helping each other discover new music, too! They’re both kinda, sad kids sometimes and they either bounce that sadness back and forth, or feel At Least a bit comforted that they can relate their feelings, but, it’s hard and u never know which one you’re gonna get when they vent with each other.

Izzy & Nate & Andre & Ricky

I Think eventually this lil group would wanna form their own little punk band, instead of Izzy and Nate joining Mark & Drew’s band like in canon. They’re experimenting with their OWN thing, and they manage to convince Andre to join singing and guitar playing! Darla’s oc Ricky will probably be on the keyboards!

(Levi occasionally jumps in when his schedules free and sings along with em for fun! Not an official member but they welcome him happily.)

This was a sudden thought we haven’t worked out all the details, but it’s a really good thought so it’ll happen for sure!

[hawkins-hoe]

Bullshit - Steve Harrington

Summary: Comforting Steve after his fight/break-up with Nancy. 

Paring: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: Mild swearing

Word Count:1643

READ PART TWO HERE

You watched as the rather large crowd of teens danced in the much too tiny living room at the Halloween party you had been dragged to. Your friend Tiffany claimed that you would be the ‘lamest of lame’ if you didn’t at least make a small appearance at the party; not that it mattered to you, I mean who would even care if you were there or not? But nonetheless you showed up, not dressed up in any costume which was much to Tiffany’s displeasure but that’s what she gets for begging you to come to some stupid house party. You stood there bored out of your mind, you were never much of a party goer, nor a drinker so the red cup with spiked punch in your hand rendered useless. With nothing much to do but watch your fellow classmates make absolute fools of themselves you sat up on the kitchen counter, Tiffany coming over to you for a refill. “You look like a total downer Y/N, why don’t you actually drink what’s in your cup and live a little?” She taunted before taking a sip of the vile punch. “Because unlike everyone here I don’t have the desire to get wasted and dance like an idiot.” Tiffany shrugged her shoulders and wandered back onto the dance floor leaving you alone once again, until the infamous couple of Hawkins High, Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler came around.

You and Steve have been friends since the beginning of eighth grade when you first showed him how to properly use a can of hairspray. But since you both started high school, your friendship was a bit distant; only a casual head nod here and there from each other in the hall, or a  quick chat over some project while in class but nothing prolonged. You were about to say hi to the couple but before you could do so, Steve was yanking at Nancy’s arm trying his best to cut her off from her drinking, clearly she was far past drunk.

“No, you’ve had enough, okay?” Steve told her, pulling Nancy away from the punch bowl that you sat next to. “Screw you!” Nancy yelled back at him, turning around to fill her cup up again once more. You couldn’t help but watch as the two bickered, but it didn’t last long once the bright red punch was spilt all down the front of Nancy’s white blouse. Your eyes widened at the sight, the two of them quickly disappearing to the bathroom. Unsure of what to do after witnessing the tiff between the couple you decided to get a change of scenery, moving yourself to the front yard of the house. The music was quieter and the amount of people outside was minimal, this was definitely more your scene. While you sat outside you examined the stars above you, making out the constellations that you knew. A moment had passed and you were about to head home, when Steve came out of the front door, slamming it shut. Your eyes followed him as he walked quickly to his car, his hand coming up to wipe tears from his eyes. Your heart was saddened at the sight, and without thinking you quickly jogged over to him as he started to unlock his car.

“Hey Steve…You okay?” You asked quietly as he fumbled with his car keys, starting to get frustrated that he couldn’t stably put the key in the lock. Silence feel between the two of you, nothing but a harsh huff of annoyance coming from the upset boy. “Stev-.” “No Y/N! I’m not okay, I can’t even put my fucking key in the lock to get in my car. And on top of that, my girlfriend, well ex-girlfriend now thinks that us being in love was complete bullshit. Our whole relationship? Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit!” The heartbreak was evident in his voice as he snapped at you, but you knew it was out of frustration and not towards you. “Steve, Nancy is drunk, from what I can tell she could barely think straight, I’m sure she doesn’t mean any of that, she still loves you.” You told him, placing your hand on his bicep, trying your best to comfort him as he stood there, leaned up against his car, you beside him. “Drunk or not Y/N, she meant it. She doesn’t love me and that’s not bullshit, it’s the truth.” He wallowed in his own thoughts, his eyes still glossed over from his tears and his face deflated with sadness.

“Why don’t we get you home? It’s getting late.” Is all that you could manage to say, not knowing what else to say to the harsh truth that he had just revealed to you. Taking the keys from Steve’s hand you unlock the door with ease, making him roll his eyes at his own previous failure before you slid into the driver’s side of the car, motioning for Steve to take the passenger seat. “You’ve had a bit to drink and you’ve got a lot on your mind, I don’t think you driving is the best idea.” You told him while you got started on the road, taking the long winding path back to his place.

The drive home was silent mostly because you didn’t have much to say to the brokenhearted boy and after sometime, he has passed out in his seat. Your mind on the other hand was full of things to say, like how the hell someone could break the heart of the sweetest boy you know, or how Steve could fall asleep in the ridiculously uncomfortable car seat. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you had a slight crush on Steve, but what girl with eyes didn’t? A Sweetheart, basketball all-star with amazing hair was quite the trifecta. But you never let your crush on him get out of hand even when the two of you were closer as friends. You knew once he and Nancy started dating that you had to bury the feelings you had for him and that’s what you had done since. It wasn’t as easy as it seemed, to push aside your feelings for someone that you saw nearly everyday, but with time you became adjusted.

Once you had arrived at Steve’s house you turned off the car and leaned over to place your hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Sleepyhead…time to wake up, you’re home.” You whispered to him, shaking his shoulder until you saw his eyes flutter open. Tossing his head back against the headrest he groaned, coming to his reality before he sat up and got out of his car. You did the same, closing the door gently so it wouldn’t wake or alarm his parents. Steve trudged towards his front door, you following behind him and moving him aside to unlock his front door for him, lord knows the last thing he needed was to struggle with another lock and key. But once he was inside and the keys were handed off to him you stood there watching him slump around as he kicked off his shoes. “I’ll see you around Steve.” You muttered to him, stepping back outside to head home, you only lived a few blocks up the road from him.

“Y/N?” A soft voice called out for you, making your heart skip a beat as you spun around with a raised eyebrow.

“D-do you mind staying?” He asked timidly, his eyes wide in appeal. “I know it’s late and you probably want to go home but..I just, I could use someone tonight, some support.” He explained further, toying with his hands as he asked. “Y-you don’t have to, I know we haven’t been…close or talked in awhile but I-.” You cut him off with a friendly squeeze to his intertwined hands, nodding your head in agreement. You saw a look of relief wash over him, something that was enough to put a small smile on your face. The two of you undressed from your coats and quietly tiptoed your way up the stairs to Steve’s room, closing the slightly creaky door behind you two. The room stayed quiet while you two shuffled around, Steve changing out of his party clothes and you doing what you could to make yourself comfortable on the far edge of Steve’s bed.

“You sure you’re okay with staying? You really don’t have to.” Steve told you, crawling into bed beside you, some respectable distance between you two. “I wouldn’t be in bed with you if I didn’t mind staying.” You whisper over to him, tucking the covers up to your chin. “Get some rest Steve.” You assure him with a nod of your head as it lays on one of his pillows. Doing as you suggested, Steve rests his head back as well and closes his eyes, beginning to drift back to sleep.

Your own eyes started to get heavy as the minutes passed, finally giving in and letting your eyes close; the image of a peacefully resting Steve was the last thing you had saw before they closed. The room once again was dead silent only the slight brisk noise of the fan on the ceiling spinning round. “Can I ask you something…?” A sleepy voice mumbled to you, making your tired eyes slightly open, “Hmm?” You hummed back in response, scooting closer to hear what was being asked of you.

“Do you think I’m bullshit?” He asked, voice laced with sleep and exhaustion.

“No Steve, you’re quite the opposite.” You tell him, finding his hand under the covers, lacing it with yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. He gave the slightest squeeze back to your dainty hand, his head coming over to rest against your shoulder, making your stomach fill with butterflies.

“Thanks Nance.”

Author’s note: I think this turned out pretty well! Let me know what you guys think of it and whether or not you want a part two! Thank you!

EDIT: Part two here!! 

[jillmiz]

Sisters...

I’m not sure how much I believe the psychological reasons regarding family birth order. While  there are certainly families where each child has qualities or personalities that fit into the “order” (the firstborn being likened to a surrogate parent to the siblings who follow, the middle child being the peacemaker, the youngest having more lenient rules) there are also many families where the birth order has absolutely no bearing on our personalities, our “roles” or how we view and behave in the world.

 Like my family, for instance.

 I am the “baby” of the three - all girls. The “middle” is a few months shy of being three years older than me, and the firstborn is eight years my senior. 

 And here we go...

The firstborn, has never been anywhere near a surrogate parent to me or the middle. She has never been a role model, a leader, or even a friend. Her disdain for me began probably the day my mom became pregnant and it never really ceased.  A bully; entitled; possessive of her parents. Her ally in the family, when she decided she needed one, was the middle and her favoritism toward her was hurtful. I struggled to convince her to like me, but she refused. I would plop myself onto a kitchen chair when her cool friends were around, hoping to be included in some way. She would tolerate my presence for short periods of time and I accepted that stingy bit of tolerance as if it were an admission of “like,” which it really wasn’t, as much as I willed it to be.  But it was the closest thing to her acceptance of me, even if it was simply because her friends thought I was cute. 

There wasn’t a room in the house she didn’t try to take command of. If one of us had the favorite spot on our parents’ bed, she would take it. If we were watching t.v., she took over the cable box. (For anyone who reads this who was born in the nineties, Google “cable box.” You’ll be appalled at what we had back in the day.) She was the first to use the shower, the one who grabbed our hair when she passed us in the hallway to try to “catch” us using her shampoo. When I bought my own shampoo as a teen, suddenly I was the selfish one. The list unravels. Petty things to most, maybe, but the build-up of all-things-small eventually becomes all-things-large.  I must give her this, at least: she was nice to me twice. Twice. Once, when she caught me sneaking out of the house, she didn’t “tell” on me, and the second time was when I was upset that my friends ditched me. She offered to bring me to Beefsteak Charlie’s (although I would have to pay for myself). So, recalculating, it was actually one and a half times.

I was a sensitive, thoughtful, over-thinker as a child; a chubby, cute kid who loved to read and write, eat frozen Ring-Dings, but also (as the middle tells me now) a bit weird. My bedroom was my favorite, sloppy mess of a place to be (and that sloppy mess that I was then has carried through into my adulthood – it’s part of my charm, I like to say). Thankfully, it was the middle with whom I had a relationship. While never perfect, because she and the other would gang-up on me at times, we did have fun. We played jacks on the kitchen floor, causing the eldest to scream at us for making noise; we played dolls, school, library and whatever else kids did back in the seventies. We shared a room, and our clothes – even though we fought over our favorite jeans or sweatpants more often than not. We shared friends as teens, too.

Moving on, the middle wasn’t quite the peacemaker; she was indifferent to the war of the baby and the firstborn. She was the toughest one, emotionally, but the smallest one, physically. She wanted me to let things roll off my back as she did, but it wasn’t who I was. We called her the “cold bitch of the family” but, as I found out later, she wasn’t, and isn’t currently, quite as cold as we half-joked. Her strength has always been her ability to never allow an overload of emotional or tense situations to make her crumble. Middle’s stature was small, and her spine was made of steel; nobody could knock her down. 

I was always the crier and too sensitive to just allow things to happen but not let them bother me.  As the baby, I didn’t try to take my parents’ attention from the oldest; I wanted her attention – the good, loving kind that sisters were supposed to give each other. It was because I was sensitive- at least I think so now- that it was necessary for my mother to give me the attention; it was because I was a little worrisome to her rather than simply being because I was the youngest. 

It was when my father died that the firstborn decided to take the lead.Or try to, anyway. I was nineteen at the time and resentful of her sudden stab at trying to round us up to be a family. She had never been anyone I looked up to or got support from, so who was she to think she could now become that “surrogate parent?” Dark times didn’t bring us together; it only made things worse. Our family became unhinged and we all parted ways to live our separate lives. I was still that sensitive kid, but the circumstances that changed all of our lives forced me to lose that a bit and toughen my skin. I was on my own and had to be an adult sooner than I’d wanted. I was forced into it and I didn’t need, or want, anyone – especially her – to lead my journey. My mother moved to Florida, the middle and I stayed here in New York and the firstborn lived in Queens. Separation became my surrogate parent since it was that which taught me survival.

The only thing that bound us together as any kind of “unit” was blood and the fact that we all suffered through my father’s murder. Bound as we were through a horrific experience, we’d never been more separate. States divided us, personal struggles plagued us and the art of learning how to be adults loomed over us. We were undoubtedly victims of our circumstances and the more I realized that we were, I knew that I would not allow myself to be a perpetual victim of anything.

It was years later when after many fainting episodes, doctors, and tests, the firstborn learned she had brain cancer. She was just shy of 40 years old and had a new, frightening and rough road to steer herself through. 

I don’t know if I ever said this out loud, but for a long time I was ashamed of myself for my internal reaction to the news of her cancer. I will never forget calling her when I found out, still trying to be a supportive sibling even though she had basically shunned me my entire life. It was April and I was standing in my yard, phone to my ear, listening to her tell me she was going to be okay. The tears I was supposed to shed naturally would not come. I felt like she was a stranger to me, and her terrible news didn’t have the profound effect on me that it should have.  It was almost as if I had struck up a conversation with some random person at the store or in an elevator who revealed to me that they were ill, and I nodded sadly as I offered an  “I’m so sorry” before we parted ways. Finally, I did cry a few tears but maybe more so because of how my non-reaction chilled me.

It was as if I had taken on the indifference of the middle and had also been crowned the new “cold bitch of the family.” I knew in my heart that even if I was seemingly indifferent, I truly wasn’t a cold bitch. A sisterly relationship had never existed though, and that’s how I eventually learned to accept that my reaction was not completely wrong or completely my fault. It has always haunted me, though, because it felt so wrong and cold. Where was the sensitive crier I had always been? Guilt weighed on me but I couldn’t change how I felt.

The middle and I had been married through this period, had kids and subsequently we both got divorced, so our own lives continued to be our own kind of tricky, especially since our mother was entrenched in a new storm in the firstborn’s care. But navigate through, we did.

Thankfully, she beat the cancer and is currently healthy 16 years later. She has some issues because of radiation and chemo, but in the end, she won a terrible battle, one for which I have always  admired her courage and bravery. And I’ve even told her that because I felt she needed to know, although why, I am not so sure.  

Every family battles through their own worst storms and my family has been through some fierce ones. I think those are the times and circumstances when we develop and grow the most as adults. We begin to reevaluate and learn to be who we are now from where  and who we used to be.

I will always be the baby of the family but I never felt that I fit into the “birth order” role. The “baby” learned from struggles, improved through mistakes, embraced her sensitivity and compassion instead of feeling ashamed of it. I no longer resent how my sister treated me; I moved past it.  Wallowing in self pity or struggle never proves helpful to anyone - I’ve learned that. 

For all the roles we play in our families, we are not bound to them forever, no matter our birth order.  I have become somewhat the unofficially appointed leader of my family, or “surrogate parent,” to some degree.  Mind you, I still have some growing to do, and God willing, I will live long enough to do so.  I have lived my life separately from the firstborn for most of my life, but still, there have been some recent issues between us that brought with them a torrential downpour of whatever emotion is right below the cusp of hatred. The middle and I have established our own relationship over the years -and now over long distance - but we know where we stand. We grew together and have become allies. My individual growth has not been stunted, nor reliant, upon either of them though. I no longer feel the need to be accepted or liked by my oldest sister and it makes it that much easier for me to let it all go. It makes it easier for me to help her if I can rather than harbor the weight of any emotional damage she caused. 

If my experiences haven’t enlightened me, or helped me to understand who I am, then I haven’t used them for their purposes.  Luckily, I’ve become enlightened to many things.

One of them being that everything has a purpose.